Doctrinal preaching in historical perspective

Trinity Journal, Spring 2002 by Doriani, Dan

ProQuest Information & Learning: Greek Text omitted

The evangelical church of North America is wary of doctrinal preaching. The reasons differ, but doctrinal instruction receives criticism from both progressive and conservative perspectives. The conservative perspective criticizes doctrinal preaching for being insufficiently engaged with Scripture. It regards doctrinal preaching as inferior to continuous preaching through texts (expository preaching) on several counts. First, preaching through Scripture is superior because it forces pastors to address the whole counsel of God, not merely what interests them. Second, sensitive topics can be addressed naturally, as they appear in sequence in the text, so there is no appearance of picking topics or picking on listeners. Third, expository preaching saves time in choosing a text and topic and doing background study each week. Fourth, hearers learn how to read Scripture by observing their pastor do so week by week. Fifth, some say expository preaching stays closer to the Word.

The progressive perspective believes that doctrinal instruction fails adequately to engage the culture or the needs of the audience. Doctrinal preaching stands accused of irrelevance, of addressing the mind but leaving the heart untouched, of being an intellectual exercise that fails to engage the real world. It is said to divide Christians, and bore them with catechisms and proof-texts.

This article will question both charges, while admitting they are not wholly groundless. Three observations are pertinent at the outset. First, the relevance of some theological work is hidden. In reading Christology, we might encounter speculative theology, considering possible mechanisms for the union of the two natures of Christ, or historical theology, treating the progress of the church toward the Nicene and Chalcedonian councils. But as useful as these concerns are when the church confronts heresy, they do not immediately demonstrate the principal uses of biblical truth. Second, there is a class of theologian-Duns Scotus and G. C. Berkouwer come to mind-who seem detached from life. They eschew the language of personal commitment, the first and second person pronouns. Their theology is purely descriptive. They declare themselves, but they do not enlist themselves. They say, "This is the best theory" but they do not add, "I also believe this and commend it to you."' Third, where doctrine is obviously practical, we can apply it unimaginatively. God's omniscience means he knows all our needs and God's omnipresence means we can pray to him wherever we are, but if we fall into bland repetition of these truths, they will grow tiresome.

Drawing on the work of theologians past, I hope to show, first, that in the hands of mature Christian leaders, doctrinal instruction is no foe of relevance. Second, doctrinal instruction need not oppose expository preaching, for it can rest on solid interpretation and can supplement such preaching.

My interest is both academic and pastoral. Academically, I affirm and perhaps slightly extend the views of the history of interpretation of Scripture of Ellen Charry, found in By the Renewing of Your Minds, and of Moises Silva, articulated in Has the Church Misread the Bible? Specifically, I believe Silva correctly argues that the history of interpretation is not essentially the history of error? Further, while the church has slowly moved away from allegorical interpretation, it is neither so common in antiquity nor so rare today as some portray. Indeed, the church has wrestled with certain issues throughout its history: should Scripture be interpreted literally or figuratively? Is its teaching clear or obscure? Is it relative to cultures or absolute for all cultures?3 Further, Silva argues that the exegetical work of the church has always had an interest in relevance, in practical application, as it expounds texts and doctrines:

It is proper and even necessary to approach the Bible with a strong sense of our needs. The problems faced in the gospel ministry often alert us to truths in Scripture that might otherwise remain veiled to us. Proper exegesis consists largely of asking the right questions from the text, and the life of the church can provide us with those very questions.4

If Silva defends the preaching of doctrine obliquely, Ellen Charry does it more directly. Charry's thesis is that Christian doctrines are good for us, that they form excellent persons who have God as their model. Therefore, to be a virtuous person one must know God.

According to Charry, great theologians of the past knew this. Their theology had a moral and pastoral flavor. But Charry argues that the pastoral orientation of theology was nearly lost due to the Enlightenment and especially John Locke. Locke argued that true knowledge rests solely upon sense data and the power of reason to ascertain coherence among ideas. David Hume and Immanuel Kant, two other Enlightenment philosophers with religious interests, accelerated theology's turn toward epistemology, toward questions about the validity of claims to knowledge of God. For roughly two centuries, academic theologians joined philosophers who asserted that logic and empirical observation were the twin sources of truth. Until the last few decades, the role of faith suffered eclipse as thinkers sought epistemological certainty. During this time, Charry asserts, both philosophers and theologians overlooked the roles of faith and wisdom in the gaining of knowledge. The Enlightenment, with its interest in verifiable knowledge, in objective correctness, did not refute the possibility that wisdom for living is real knowledge; it simply forgot about it.6 Further, Charry says, the Enlightenment critique of classic theological knowledge is beside the point, for classical theology never sought detached, verifiable, "scientific" knowledge anyway.