In my last post I responded to Carl Truman and what I called two kingdom Pietists. These thinkers are every bit as dualistic as Gnostic Pietists, but with an intellectual bent. Mike Horton is another unfortunate example of this mentality and worldview. Horton is a professor at Westminster Seminary in California and author of numerous books. He’s influential in the Reformed community, but has written books for more general Evangelical audiences, so it is important to engage his thinking where he falls into the same trap as Carl Truman.
The piece I’m responding to, written in 2010, is called, “Transforming Culture with a Messiah Complex,” which gives you a hint of what’s to come. This is longer than Truman’s article with a plethora worthy of comment, but I will only be able to scratch the surface of what I think is aweful. Once you learn to see how the assumptions of the two kingdom Pietists work, you’ll learn to question everything they say. Let’s start in the first paragraph when he addresses those Christians who are talking about “transforming the culture.” This sounds good, but to Horton it is not:
The trouble is, these movements can conceive of the church as a substitute for Christ, shifting the focus of Christians from his promised return to your best life now.
The phrase, “your best life now” is a favorite whipping boy for Horton. By it he implies an undue worldly focus on the here and now which is incompatible with a truly spiritual and heavenly focused life. Or something like that. You can see here the distortion of Pietism, the dualistic overly spiritualized tendency to play this life off against the next. Like all forms of Pietism, the Christian life is primarily about going to heaven when you die and personal holiness. If you want a good life in this world, then you are guilty of compromise. When I see that phrase I think, what, am I supposed to want my worst life now? And I guess we’re supposed to be so focused on Jesus’ return, that this life becomes an afterthought or less important. As with Truman, these things are never fully defined or explored, just stated as if we all knew what they meant.
Confusing Liberal Christianity with Cultural Transformation
Horton spends the next several sections doing what most two kingdom Pietists do when criticizing cultural engagement or postmillennialism: comparing it to the liberal Christianity of the 19th and early 20th centuries. As with most of these critics, Horton is adept at distorting what people like me believe, setting up straw men, then refutes something that doesn’t even exist. For example, he compares today’s Christians focused on cultural engagement to the Pelagians of the Second Great Awakening, like Charles Finney, and other moral reformers of the time. Here is one such assertion:
True to their pragmatic and self-confident instincts, American Protestants did not want to define the church first and foremost as a community of forgiven sinners, recipients of grace, but as a triumphant army of moral activists.
This was most certainly true of the liberal Christians of the time who rejected the supernatural foundations of God’s word, but is a slander against modern Evangelicals who believe cultural transformation is a biblical imperative. We used to have a pastor like Horton at a Presbyterian church we attended. In a sermon he said those focused on the culture wars are basically rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. That did not make me a happy camper. Our pastor, and Horton, have a lot in common with D.L. Moody, the great 19th century evangelist, who eventually embraced the dispensational premillennialism of J.N. Darby. Horton writes:
Although he was initially representative of Charles Finney’s social activism, Moody became increasingly pessimistic about the extent to which earthly empires could become the kingdom of God. “I look upon this world as a wrecked vessel,” he would later write. “God has given me a lifeboat and said to me, ‘Moody, save all you can.’”
Most Christians, unfortunately, accept some form of this societal pessimism, as I did to some degree until I embraced postmillennialism in August 2022. Then, according to Horton, I became a “social reformer.” Yet ever since I came across Francis Schaeffer when I was a 20 year-old college student, I’ve believed like he did that Christian cultural engagement is not an option, but like Horton I rejected postmillennialism because I thought it was just a repackaged liberal Christianity obsessed with secular progress. It most certainly is not. Horton just digs the hole deeper in continuing this comparison by comparing the left and the right, as all two kingdoms Pietists tend to do:
As George Marsden has documented in various places, both the Christian Right and the Christian Left derive from this late nineteenth-century evangelicalism. It is this quite recent train of thought (or, more precisely, activism), rather than the profound reflection of Augustine and the reformers, that guides contemporary evangelical activism. . . . The agenda for moral reform may have divided in liberal and conservative directions, but both owe their origin to the revivalism of Charles Finney.
Actually, the left owes its activism to Karl Marx, big difference. Attributing a moral equivalence between left and right is rampant among two kingdom Pietists, as we saw with Carl Truman. And notice the false choice Horton presents to us. Either you have “contemporary evangelical activism” or you have “the profound reflection of Augustine and the reformers,” but by golly you can’t have both! This dualism is so deeply ingrained among such thinkers that anyone who is an “activist” or believes in Christian cultural transformation is to them not spiritually serious. That is blatant calumny, or in a word more modern people would know, slander.
Far from being anything close to the liberal Christianity coming out of the 19th century, modern cultural transformationists are solidly conservative Bible believing Christians. Such Christians, like me, have the temerity to believe the Christian faith was meant to have an impact on every area of life in everything human beings do. We believe the purpose of Christ coming to earth was to bring God’s kingdom and its heavenly influence into this fallen world, just as Jesus taught us to pray it should. This isn’t merely for the church, or for Christians in their personal lives, as the modern Pietists would have it, but for the entire earth, in biblical terms, for the nations who God through Abraham and the Patriarchs promised to bless 4000 years ago.
The Centrality of the Ascension Misunderstood
Then Horton gives a strange explanation of Christ’s ascension to justify his cultural apathy, one that I’ve never seen before. He titles it, “Under-realized Ascension, Over-realized Eschatology.” As he describes what must be a fully realized ascension, it will sound familiar from what all such two kingdom Pietists believe. Here’s how he puts it:
The time that the church thus occupies because of the ascension is defined neither by full presence nor full absence, but by a eucharistic tension between “this age” and “the age to come.” The church is lodged in that precarious place of ambiguity and tension between these two ages, and it must live there until Jesus returns, relying only on the Word and Spirit.
His concern is Christians replacing the absent ascended Christ with the church, and displaying an unrealistic triumphalism in the worldly or cultural matters in which it is engaged. In practice, this “precarious place” he describes means sin and evil triumph over righteousness in this fallen world, and victory is only meant for the world to come when Christ returns.
Then he makes a move all two kingdom Pietists do, where Christians do the “spiritual” things of “relying only on the Word and Spirit,” or, we have to conclude, they rely on themselves. This false choice, which I’ll dissect below, is a pernicious lie. Like all of these thinkers, Horton assumes we know what he means by “relying only on the Word and the Spirit.” We’ll notice he does two things without having to assert them because he assumes them. First, his self-righteousness is evident because anyone who disagrees with him about cultural engagement doesn’t rely solely on the Word and the Spirit, but he sure does. All two kingdom Pietists look down their noses in their supposed spiritual and moral superiority on we cultural engagers who are presumably not “relying only on Word and Spirit.” Only is a small very big word. Second, he makes these mutually exclusive. Either you agree with him and live in this “precarious place of ambiguity and tension,” and thus stop believing God’s kingdom can transform the kingdoms of this world, or you don’t rely on God. It’s like a spiritual Berlin Wall, and if you want to get out you’re basically a traitor.
This is how he perceives this strange idea of an “under-realized ascension.” I guess if you fully realized it, you’d give up these silly notions of God’s kingdom pushing back the effects of the fall and sin in the world, which means you have an “over-realized Eschatology.” What exactly does that mean? The word means the study (ology) of the end or final things, ἔσχατος-eschatos in Greek. It can also mean what the result will be at the end, so after Christ’s second coming. That’s the way Horton is using it. He’s accusing we cultural transformationists of thinking we can bring the final fulfillment of God’s kingdom to the here and now by our own efforts. And we do this by not just leaving Jesus alone up there sitting at God’s right hand, but dragging him down here to get involved in our futile culture wars.
As a convinced postmillennialist who believes cultural transformation is another phrase for discipling the nations, or the Great Commission (Matt. 28), I believe bringing the eschaton into this fallen world is exactly what we’re called to do. It’s crazy to think Christ came to earth, was tortured and shed his blood via Roman crucifixion, rose from the dead, and ascended to heaven to leave the world exactly the way it is, but that appears to be what Horton and two kingdom Pietists believe. To them, such transformation is a possibility in the church and in our personal lives, but that’s it. If it breaks out of the church walls, that’s gravy, unintended consequences of being like Jesus in our everyday life. By contrast what I and all postmillennialists believe is that the purpose of the gospel and Christ’s first coming was to bring the kingdom of God to earth, as I mentioned above. To put it another way, the kingdom of God is as all-encompassing as sin. Think of what that means for the kingdom’s influence on this fallen world. Wherever sin has had its miserable effects, the righteousness of God in Christ lived out through His people will reverse those effects, not just for the church, or in our personal holiness, but in everything we do as human beings made in God’s image. It’s a glorious vision for God’s people on earth. Here, by contrast, is the depressing vision of the two kingdom Pietists:
Yet we must wait for the restoration at the end of the age. We hope and act in the present not in order to save the world or build the kingdom of God, but because “we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken” (Heb. 12:28).
Ugh. We’re supposed to be like the disciples when Jesus was taken up before their eyes, and just look up waiting for him to come back. That’s the Christian life to Horton. Get out the lawn chairs, pour some ice tea, and wait for Jesus to return. Yet the angels mocked them, “why do you stand here looking into the sky?” In effect saying, get to Jerusalem so you can receive the Holy Spirit like Jesus said, then you can get about saving the world and building the kingdom!
The False Choice of the Two Kingdom Pietists
Horton spends the rest of the piece attempting to convince us this dualistic understanding of reality is the true Christian understanding. He wants to assure us that all of life is not “kingdom work.” He tell us what is:
proclaiming the Word, administering baptism and the Supper, caring for the spiritual and physical well-being of the saints, and bringing in the lost are kingdom work. Building bridges, delivering medical supplies to hospitals, installing water heaters, defending clients in court, holding public office, and having friends over for dinner are “creation work,” given a pledge of safe conduct ever since Cain under God’s regime of common grace. In this work, Christians serve beside non-Christians, as both are endowed with natural gifts and learned skills for their common life together.
Only when Christ returns in glory will the kingdoms of this world become the kingdom of our God and of his Christ. Until then, the New Testament does not offer a single exhortation to Christianize politics, the arts and sciences, education, or any other common grace field of endeavor.
The false choice is always one between the “spiritual” and the rest of life, as he calls it our “common life together” with the heathen where we interact on a field of “common grace.” Horton, like all two kingdom Pietists, believes the Great Commission has invalidated the creation mandate given to Adam and Eve. The former as he says here is for Christians doing “spiritual” things, and the creation mandate will only be fully realized when Christ returns. Let’s remind ourselves what this mandate was. In Genesis 1 after God created man, male and female he created them, He commands them:
28 God blessed them and said to them, “Be fruitful and increase in number; fill the earth and subdue it. Rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky and over every living creature that moves on the ground.”
Sometime after this sin entered the world through man’s rebellion and ruined everything. God then declares curses on the man and woman, and on the ground itself, because of sin, and instead of blessing and flourishing in God’s created order, we’ve had hell on earth ever since. According to Horton and all two kingdom Pietists, that’s not going to change. Jesus came to pluck the embers out of the fire and not push back the effects of the fall and make his blessings flow “Far as the curse is found,” in the words of the great Christmas hymn, Joy to the World.
To put this in words most Americans might understand, in Horton’s Christianity there is a strict separation between church and state. Inside the walls of the church is where all the action is, where the kingdom is built, redemption happens, and the curses of sin are overcome by Christ’s righteousness and kingdom reign. Outside is a wasteland of sin, although we have the created order in common. These two kingdoms are completely separate and have nothing to do with one another. Yes, he says, Christians bring their Christian “worldview” to bear upon the common stuff, but as I’ve argued here in detail, a Christian worldview is not enough. Why? Because Jesus is King and has given us the Great Commission to disciple the nations, which means, as Jesus says, to teach them to obey everything he commanded them. Not some things, not most things, but everything. And the word in Greek is nations not individuals. Two kingdoms advocates explain this away. It doesn’t really mean entire nations, just individuals within those nations. Christianity comes down to individual salvation and personal holiness, a narrow, truncated, and limited view of Christianity which claims to be the biblical view, but effectively renders Christianity impotent outside the walls of the church. This is why the once Christian West became the totally secular West. The devil got the culture because Christians were doing the important “spiritual” things and didn’t think it worth fighting for.
The New Testament, according to this view doesn’t offer us, as he says, “a single exhortation” to “Christianize” outside of the Church, as if that was dispositive, as if that settled the matter conclusively. It doesn’t! This is the worst kind of biblicism, as if something isn’t expressly addressed in the New Testament, God has nothing to say about it. The Apostles and the New Testament church didn’t have anything to say about “politics, the arts and sciences, education, or any other common grace field of endeavor,” because those things didn’t exist! Life in the first century Roman Empire was a bit different than life in 21st century America. None of the early Christians expected I would be writing this, and you would be reading it 2,000 years later, so of course they didn’t address issues that took centuries and millennia to develop.
Thankfully, we don’t have to chop up reality because there is only one king, and his name is Jesus. As he told us, he has been given all authority in heaven and on earth, and that means here and now. Paul confirms this in Ephesian 1 when he tells us God raised Jesus “from the dead and seated him at his right hand in the heavenly realms, far above all rule and authority, power and dominion, and every name that is invoked, not only in the present age but also in the one to come.” Paul had to remind his first century audience that Jesus would also have all power and dominion in the age to come because everyone took it for granted Jesus was king in this age, in this fallen world, over all the nations, and everything and everyone in them. One kingdom, one King over all.
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