Christian Living

Adam Smith is acclaimed by historians as being the “father of modern economics.” His 1776 treatise, The Wealth of Nations, is still published and widely read, and its influence seems hardly diminished over time. Its ponderings have bolstered generations of subsequent economic thought. Margaret Thatcher was reportedly such a devotee that she would regularly carry a copy of Nations in her ever-present handbag.

Among Smith’s lasting contributions to microeconomics is the concept of “economies of scale.” Theorizing about the characteristics of free-markets, he coined the enduring idiom “the invisible hand.” What can those who lead 21st century Christian schools possibly learn from an 18th century economist? My belief is “Plenty!”

A tale of two schools

Trinity Christian School sits at the crest of a gentle hill in a largely residential suburb. Founded in the mid-1960s, Trinity moved from the inner-city to its present location slightly more than a decade ago, after the members of its sponsoring church voted to rebuild on more acreage. Its current facility—a wing of the new church complex—is spacious and well-equipped. Nevertheless, the decentralized new location likely hastened declining enrollment. Students once numbered over 600; today there are about 200. The school’s budget is now stretched tight, with revenues scarcely meeting essential expenses. Raising tuition to increase revenue doesn’t seem feasible; the administration fears that doing so would force some current families to leave. Although there is no imminent crisis, church elders have privately discussed the possibility of closing the school should its financial situation worsen.

God and the Gay Christian addresses the morality of homosexual conduct, specifically within “committed, monogamous same-sex relationships” (41). In the introduction and first chapter, most of Vines’ energy went into framing the debate as a matter of personal suffering (i.e., here’s what happened to me and is happening to homosexual Christians everywhere) and as a matter of progress (i.e., the church should improve its understanding of homosexual morality just as it has improved its understanding of other matters in Scripture).

Chapter 2 continues Vines’ efforts to frame the debate in these terms. (Kindle location numbers appear here rather than page numbers.)

The importance of progress

The section “New Information, New Viewpoints” sets the stage for the chapter by recounting Galileo Galilei’s famous 17th century conflict with the Roman Catholic church. To Vines, it’s a classic example of a traditional interpretation of Scripture that Christians, with the aid of science, eventually discovered to be in error.

The traditional Christian understanding of homosexuality is wrong. Dead wrong. Cruel, even. Why, you ask? Simple. It’s wrong, Matthew Vines argues, because it makes homosexuals feel bad about themselves.

Shifting tides

Homosexuality is a big issue in American culture today. Like a stack of dominoes, the moral floodgates of our culture, already dangerously weak, have collapsed. There have been a veritable flood of victories by triumphant homosexual activists on every conceivable front. In the election of 2008, both then-Senator(s) Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton stood against so-called “gay marriage.” This position seems hopelessly naïve to political sophisticates today. Texas Gov.

The NT seems to teach that believers must obey in order to be transformed, yet must be transformed in order to obey. The language of responsibility and action abounds, but so does the language of sovereignty, humility, and dependence. Students of the doctrine of sanctification have long struggled to understand how both can be true and how faithful believers should think and act in response.

I’ve recently suggested that many have embraced what amounts to a theology of giving up when it comes to Christian growth—and that they have done so because what they see in themselves and others seems to fall so far short of “read your Bible, pray every day and you’ll grow, grow, grow.” But even this sense of frustration with self and others tends to arise from—or perhaps fuel—a view of the sanctification paradox.

My aim here is to survey four solutions to the paradox and briefly evaluate their merits.