INSPIRATION, REVELATION AND DIVINE ACTION:
A STUDY IN MODERN METHODIST
THEOLOGY
by
William J. Abraham
There are sound reasons for isolating the divine inspiration of the Bible for special
attention. First, the concept of inspiration has become one important ingredient in modern
doctrines of scripture and thus, provides one valuable point of entry into those issues,
such as divine action, revelation and authority, that cluster together in any
comprehensive account of scripture. In this study, we shall find that the concept cannot
be divorced from the idea of revelation: the two are invariably related and together
naturally lead into a general thesis about divine action. Secondly, and more specifically,
attention to the idea of inspiration highlights the content of a person's doctrine of
scripture by indicating the divine activity which is said to bring scripture into
existence. It is generally agreed, of course, that in a Christian account of the origins
of the Bible, God will have some role in its production: the doctrine of inspiration
invariably indicates what precise role God has in the process. Lastly, the idea of
inspiration uniformly indicates where one stands on the whole critical enterprise that has
become such a marked and disputed feature of the modern theological landscape. At the very
least, it is difficult to hedge indefinitely, given the way in which the doctrine has been
so liberally used to inhibit the full range of biblical research.
In this paper, I shall explore the idea of inspiration developed by a number of modern
theologians who stand in the mainline Methodist tradition. This is a neglected field of
study which deserves much more attention than it has received. One suspects that the
widespread myth that Methodists have no theology-a myth all too often trumpeted abroad by
Methodists themselves-has a lot to do with this sorry state of affairs. Of necessity, I
shall be selective, concentrating on central figures on the American scene. Moreover, I
aim to provide a theological assessment of the positions reviewed.
It is useful to begin our study from the turn of the century. By that time, the
tradition as a whole had come under considerable strain. There had, of course, always been
tension within and trials from without. Certainly this was the case with its doctrines of
inspiration, as I have argued elsewhere.1 Thus, there was from the
beginning a tendency to concentrate either on Wesley's blending of revelation with
inspiration or on his commitment to the actual phenomenon and purpose of the Bible as
ascertained by inductive study. It was rare to find anyone who searchingly attempted to
combine these into a comprehensive and coherent account of inspiration. So there was
plenty of scope for rival doctrines of inspiration to develop. Yet there was a fundamental
background of agreement that held these various strands together. At the very least, all
agreed on the cruciality of special revelation for Christian theism as a whole; in fact,
it was this that generally provided the backcloth for their account of inspiration and it
was a matter of degree how far one managed to keep these concepts apart. By the early
years of the twentieth century, however, this foundation began to crumble and was
ultimately replaced by an uneasy pluralism that has of late received official sanction
within the United Methodist Church in America.
One can already sense the winds of change blowing through the work of Olin C. Curtis
(1850-1918) and Henry C. Sheldon (1845-1928). Curtis, who taught at Boston and then at
Drew, is still committed to the view that special revelation is of the very essence of the
Christian faith,2 even though he shrewdly recognizes that the
traditional, apologetic appeal to miracles as a warrant for revelation was inadequate as
developed by his forebears.3 He is very sure that miracles cannot be
given up and provides a judicious defense of supernatural intervention, arguing that it is
in keeping with the purposes of God in redemption to act in an extraordinary manner.4 His doctrine of scripture fits into this framework, for the Bible is
seen as a dynamic and essential means of grace which brings the sinner into peace with
God, amplifies and illuminates his inner life and acts as a vital force in forging
Christian brotherhood between Christian believers.5 He therefore
rejects the need for an inerrant Bible:
Even on matters not scientific, absolute inerrancy in the Bible is not required,
provided the portrait of Christ, the facts and doctrines of redemption, and the principles
of Christian conduct are supplied in sufficiency for the Christian consciousness.6
Curtis was quite sure that it was indeed sufficient, so much so that the whole point of
a theory of inspiration for him was to explain the power and vitality of the Bible in the
lives of Christians.
One senses a measure of impatience as he proceeds to take up the question of
inspiration. He dislikes the "incrusted terminology" of the numerous theories
available and "can spare the space for only bare mention of the four theories which
are typical."7 His own theory, named the endorsement theory, is
an attempt to blend all four into one. It is this that shows how far Curtis is still
wedded to the confusion that bedevils most analyses of inspiration right down to the
present.
As I have argued elsewhere,8 there is an endemic tendency to
construe divine inspiration as a complicated speech-act of God. Wesleyans fall into this
trap as readily as Calvinists and Fundamentalists.9 They tend to
look upon divine inspiration as one mode of special revelation whereby God communicates
with chosen prophets and apostles. As this does not at all square with wide tracts of the
biblical literature ad hoc adjustments are then needed to stretch the concept to cover,
say, the Wisdom material and the Gospels. Curtis' work is as good an example of this as
anyone's.
The very reason for his wanting to combine older theories in one betrays the collapsing
of inspiration and revelation into one divine activity.
There is, I am convinced, no worthy reason for holding one of these theories to the
exclusion of the remaining three. The probability is that the word of God was given by a
combination of all four methods; but it is not now possible for us to decide in every case
precisely what took place.10
Curtis, here, treats inspiration and the giving of the word of God as synonymous. In
turn, a comprehensive view of inspiration involves a summary account of what God has done
in revelation and redemption. Within this process, the psychology of inspiration may take
the form of direct divine speaking, but it may also take the form of enriching human
genius. The important work of the Holy Spirit rests in the Holy Spirit endorsing whatever
was done on the human plane in the historic process of redemption. This endorsement
embraces the original work or deed, its acceptance by the Church when it formed the canon
and, equally, its acceptance by the individual Christian conscience. It is at this point
that we can see how inspiration is being stretched to cover as much ground as possible. In
the process, the link with revelation is severed for the key explanatory concept is now
endorsement, but why this concept should be chosen is a mystery. All it does is fill the
gap that cannot be filled in by the idea of revelation. It does, of course, enable Curtis
to speak of the inspiration of scripture as a whole, but this tells us little about what
the term means in itself and gives no indication as to why it should be applied to all of
the Bible.
Henry C. Sheldon's account of inspiration, like that of Curtis, is a byproduct of his
doctrine of revelation. He is at home with the classical emphasis on divine speaking,12 arguing that God acts in a manner suited to the abilities, maturity and
experience of the recipients of revelation. Scripture is the great depository of special
revelation and commends itself to us by its organic completeness in drawing together
diverse and contrasting material. The revelation it embodies is itself accepted because of
its intrinsic quality, as shown for example by the unique attractiveness of Christ, by the
objective evidence of prophetic foresight and miracle, by the subjective internal witness
of the Holy Spirit and by its superiority over other sacred books.13
For Sheldon, inspiration is intimately related to the whole process of revelation. He
defines it as an "interior divine agency auxiliary to the grasp and expression of
truth, and therefore, serving as a factor in the process of revelation."14 It is not immediately obvious why we should construe inspiration in
this way. More importantly, it is not at all clear what inspiration means here. Sheldon
has merely told us where inspiration occurs-it is a factor in the process of
revelation-and has left the content of the notion quite empty-it is an interior divine
agency. The exposition that follows on the heels of his definitions does not improve
matters. To be sure, we are provided a lengthy list of biblical references which
supposedly indicate how inspiration was given, but these either are too general to throw
light on inspiration or too specific in that they rehearse those texts that refer to the
work of the Spirit in special revelation and thus, perpetuate confusion. Moreover, Sheldon
clearly indicates that inspiration does not guarantee inerrancy, that it can be a matter
of degree, that it extends to the language used, that it is not restricted to the activity
of writing, that it is akin to the enlightening operation of the Holy Spirit in believers
generally and that it goes beyond the intuitional theory by incorporating an element of
direct divine action.16
All this bespeaks a fine theological mind systematically covering the necessary bases,
but it still does not throw any light on what inspiration really is. It leaves the matter
far too obscure as touching its essence. Indeed, Sheldon falls back, almost
self-consciously, into totally opaque language about the activity of God to explain the
heart of his position.
The true theory of inspiration includes the main thought of the intuitional theory, and
adds a good margin for the direct agency of the Holy Spirit, that agency being conceived
as operating dynamically rather than mechanically, and as being akin in its mode to that
which has place in various acts of spiritual enlightenment in the subjects, generally, of
the gracious visitation of the Spirit.17
In tone and style Curtis and Sheldon exhibit a clear change from the work of their
predecessors. Compared to Pope and Miley, the leading Methodist theologians of the
generation before them, one detects a deliberate attempt to come to terms with the issues
that convulsed theology in their day. In fact, Curtis had studied at Leipzig, Erlangen and
Marburg, and both of them were students of the brilliant Boston philosopher Borden Parker
Bowne (1847-1910). However, compared to Bowne, their ideas on revelation and inspiration
are more conservative for Bowne dismantled the underlying theological framework that had
been central to the whole classical Wesleyan tradition. Thus, his fame rests in part on
his moving American Methodism toward a liberal theology which in turn was built on his
carefully-developed version of Personal Idealism. His ideas won the allegiance of some of
the best minds of two generations of Methodist theologians, no mean feat by any standards.
As we turn to expound his account of inspiration, it should be remembered that there is
no necessary antipathy between Idealism and traditional Christianity for many theologians
were well able to harmonize the two.18 Cornelius van Til managed to
combine an Idealist position with a rigorous doctrine of inerrancy.19
There is, however, a clear connection between Idealism generally and Bowne's approach to
revelation and inspiration. What Idealism does is provide Bowne with an underlying picture
of the relation between God and the world which is used to criticize the classical
doctrines of revelation and inspiration.
Bowne, of course, has no intention of dispensing with the concepts of revelation or
inspiration; what he does is reinterpret them along liberal lines. For him. the Bible
embodies a revelation because of the lofty character of its central ideas and
"inspirations."20 As to inspiration, Bowne is very much
aware that it has constantly been understood as a form of divine speaking or dictation;21 equally, he knows that this is difficult to square with the text of
scripture as we have it.22 His alternative is, as he himself
confesses, somewhat indefinite.23 Inspiration simply means that the
scriptures were "written by men who were moved and enlightened by the Holy
Spirit."24 More explicitly, he writes:
Beyond this, Bowne has little to reveal; indeed, he gives the distinct impression that
dwelling on inspiration and the arid discussion it has produced is a distraction from the
true way in which God acts in the world. It is at this point that Browne displays his
Idealist underwear.
God is equally present and equally near in every event. God does not intervene
miraculously; He acts through the natural events of the world; these miracles are
"signs whereby sense-bound minds are made aware of a divine power and purpose which
they would otherwise miss."26 In other words, the language of
divine action needs to be seen as providing an angle of vision that is different from but
not incompatible with, say, scientific explanations of natural phenomena.27 Thus, divine revelation is not something which happens alongside or
above events and feelings, it is another way of describing the progressive development of
those events and feelings in history. Natural events are, after all, acts of God.
Unwittingly unbelievers have built on the false antithesis of the natural and the
supernatural, and have fancied that when natural laws were traced in the revealing moment,
all supernatural meaning was denied. This fancy vanishes when we rise to the thought that
the natural itself is no self-running mechanism, but only the orderly form of the divine
working.28
It is permitted to believe in a revelation by God through man to man for the better
knowledge of God and the greater blessing of men. In the human world, God is less a
with-worker than a through-worker, but He works nevertheless to will and to work of His
good pleasure.29
Bowne's ideas are clearly embedded in the thought of two outstanding theologians who
span two generations of American theology: Albert Cornelius Knudson (1873-1953) and L.
Harold DeWolf (born 1905). Of the two, DeWolf provides a more self-consciously formal
analysis of inspiration. Knudson shows little interest in the matter aside from providing
the standard repudiation of verbal communication. In fact, he treats revelation and
inspiration as synonymous, rejecting both at the same time,30 and is
content to repeat Bowne's analysis of revelation in his own terms, without furnishing any
positive account of inspiration.
It is also important to note that revelation does not stand opposed to what may be
called the "human" or "natural" mode of acquiring knowledge; it does
not necessarily involve the miraculous. History and psychology might conceivably describe
the exact process by which the belief in God arose but this would not exclude a divine
agency. The revelational activity of the Divine Spirit is entirely consonant with a
synchronous activity of the human spirit. Indeed, the two involve each other; they are
different aspects of one and the same process. From one point of view, the quest after God
is a human search, a human striving, but from another point of view, it is a divine
revelation.31
DeWolf's account of inspiration, as of revelation, is a lucid expansion of Bowne's
position. Dismantling the classical distinction between general and special revelation, he
sees all reality as expressive of the activity of God.
All events, therefore, are equally the product of divine activity. What leads us to
separate a particular class as special in revelation has nothing whatever to do with
direct or supernatural divine causation, but has everything to do with the impact of that
event as instructive in acquainting us with the purpose and character of God. Moments that
are more revealingly meaningful to men, moments of special communion with God in which the
worshipper is filled with the sense of His presence and particular historical movements
which preserve in a single, great stream of living tradition various manifestations of
God, these are the constitutive ingredients of special revelation.33
Inspiration is a by-product of these special experiences or moments:
This Doctrine is that the writing of the Bible as a whole was accomplished by an
extraordinary stimulation and elevation of the powers of men who devoutly yielded
themselves to God's will and sought, often with success unparalleled elsewhere, to convey
truth useful to the salvation of men and of all nations . . . Before each part of the
Bible was written, there were such events in the experience of the writers as to induce
the writing. Inspiration is to be attributed primarily to these experiences and only
secondarily to the passages in which they found expression.34
It is not at all surprising that the position embraced by Bowne, Knudson and DeWolf
occupied a prominent place in its time in Methodist circles. Overall, there is a depth,
richness and freshness in their thinking that embodies the best in the modern liberal
tradition. Their writings vibrate with confidence and honesty when compared to the work of
conservatives who self-consciously sought to perpetuate the classical Wesleyan heritage.
If Methodists were simply people who think and let think, they were very good Methodists.
Yet, their account of inspiration is meager and insubstantial. DeWolf is the most explicit
of the three and he is beginning to move in the right direction, but, even then, the
concept of inspiration is idling: it is difficult to ascertain its cash value for
understanding the Bible or our religious lives. This is no accident. Bowne, Knudson and
DeWolf are so preoccupied with a very general analysis of divine action that specific
divine activity like revelation and inspiration are given little attention in their own
right. In this, they are truly modern figures for contemporary theologians, especially on
the Anglo-American scene, are still elaborating the essentials of their approach to divine
action.35
There are several problems, however, that have not been resolved in this tradition.
First, not enough attention has been given to the work on the logic of verbs of action.36 Despite a wealth of material, no general theory of human action has
proved satisfactory; so attempts to work out very general theories of divine action must
be suspect in the extreme, given our present state of knowledge and insight.37
Secondly, as represented by Bowne, the tradition is internally inconsistent. On the one
side, Bowne rejects any idea of divine intervention in the world; on the other, he is
fully committed to the classical ideas of the incarnation 38 and even
the virgin birth of Jesus.39 Indeed, Bowne is remarkably
conservative in his theology and there is unmistakable continuity between much of his
thinking and the theology of classical Methodism, a fact that is too readily overlooked by
historians and theologians.40 However, Bowne and those who come after
him never fully face the tension inherent in their position, so it is not surprising that
the inevitable instability constitutive of their position has had to be addressed by their
modern offspring. The contemporary debate about the incarnation is one attempt to resolve
the problem by the simple excision of one horn of the dilemma.
Thirdly, Bowne, Knudson and DeWolf invariably build their theories about divine action
on slender foundations for they tend to generalize from one or two cases to all cases.
DeWolf furnishes a clear example of this:
If there should occur in the physical world an event which men could not fit into the
formulas which we call causal laws, that event would be no more an act of God than would
the ordinary processes of nature. As Jesus declares, it is God Himself who "makes his
sun rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust."
It is God who feeds the birds of the air and clothes the grains of the field in flowering
glory. If God does these things which are parts of the regular natural order, then no
dividing of a sea nor halting of the sun in its visible march across the sky could be more
completely a divine act.41
We can well agree in his analysis of the divine activity mentioned by Jesus. What is
happening here is that Jesus, drawing implicitly on the general activity of God in
creation as the source of nature's power, picks out God as the crucial causal agent behind
the sun, rain, the growth of flowers, etc. Given God's creative and sustaining role in all
creation, the claims make perfect sense, as recent work on the problem of grace and
freedom by John Lucas has lucidly displayed.42 However, it is sheer
assumption to think that all talk about divine action can be analyzed in this fashion.
Each case must be taken on its merits before general claims about God's action in
revelation, inspiration, incarnation, regeneration, sanctification, and the like can be
sustained. Perhaps this is one point where the old, dusty, hairsplitting debates about the
activity of God in the Christian life that preoccupied Calvinists and their Methodist
opponents can serve as a reminder of the complexity of the issue. Generalizations about
the activity of God should come after we have explored these matters, not before. As it
stands, Bowne, Knudson and DeWolf's theory of divine action is as bizarre and unfounded as
those who insist on construing all divine action as miraculous activity.
Fourth, even if we did arrive at a satisfactory analysis of the idea of divine action,
that in itself is only of limited value. Sooner or later, we must drop the general talk
about God acting and come straight out and say what He does. Once we do so, we then have
to clarify these precise claims as best we can and at this juncture, our general theory
will be of extremely limited value. It is the absence of skill and imagination in this
regard that accounts for the vagueness and obscurity of so much writing on inspiration.
Bowne, Knudson and DeWolf, for example, gave no indication of the metaphors, models or
analogies that would illuminate this concept; somehow we are expected to grasp their idea
of inspiration by gazing at it indefinitely, a policy that is certain to induce
frustration. Even the old, discredited analogies of the Fathers are to be preferred to
this. To be told that inspiration is like God playing on a lyre, at the very least, gives
us something to reject. Bowne, Knudson and DeWolf never quite reach that point in the
negotiations.
Even when they do pause to clarify a particular action of God, they make undue haste.
Bowne and DeWolf are good cases in point. Bowne, for example, treats special revelation as
an alternative way of referring to human insight. He is very reluctant to go into details,
but it is difficult for him to avoid this position.
Mediation is the great form of divine communication. New truth is not painted on the
sky or given to all at once, but it begins in the thought of one or a few, and thence,
spreads. This is the form in which God's revelation of Himself is spread abroad.43
We must see that the revelation consists essentially in the new ideas concerning God
and His will for men, and that all else the history and the writing-are but means of
setting forth and preserving these ideas.44
There is a simplicity and tenor to this outlook that is very attractive to anyone who
has wrestled with the relationship between revelation and the biblical text. Andrew
Greeley sums it up with characteristic flair. Speaking of Sinai, he writes:
Do I really believe that it is God that is doing, God that is acting? Or is the
revelatory experience of which I speak something that men do by themselves and then
postulate the acting of God as an explanation? It seems to me that this is an
inappropriate way to pose the question. Of course, I believe that God acted on Sinai and
in the history of Israel and at Calvary and Easter. I believe that God acts in all human
events and that He acted in a unique way in the dramatic religious encounters. Do I
believe that God really spoke? If one means by this do I believe that he spoke the way He
was depicted as doing in the movie The Ten Commandments, the answer is, obviously, no. If
I am asked if there was really a voice speaking on the mountain that people could hear, I
would say maybe. I wasn't there and I don't know. If there was a voice, it was not the
voice of God. God does not have a voice. It must have been a modification of the air waves
that God produced for the purpose of communication with people. Such an event would be
marvelous indeed, and since I believe in an open universe, I would not want to exclude the
possibility of such an event; but I will assert that under normal circumstances, that is
not the way God works. Indeed, which is more marvelous-a God who works through creating
modifications in the air waves or a God who works through the growth of human insight and
understanding?45
It is tempting to yield to the closing rhetorical flourish. After all, who knows
exactly what did happen on Sinai, for as a means of grace, the biblical traditions display
a rich history of development and adaptation. Moreover, reference to divine speaking must
be read sensitively, bearing in mind that it need not always involve direct divine
intervention in its biblical or, for that matter, its present usage by believers. The
temptation, however, must be resolutely resisted, not least because of the paucity of
options to which Greeley limits us. Greeley shows a lack of imagination, for God has ways
of intervening that go beyond some crude manipulation of the air-waves.46
Moreover, he gives no indication as to how the mere accumulation of human insight enables
us to discern the mind and will of a transcendent, incorporeal agent. The urge to trumpet
some grandly general theory about divine action inhibits his awareness of this problem. So
long as this remains unexplored, then so long will there be a ready market for the
Fundamentalist, who, equally simplistically, identifies revelation au grand serieux
with the text.
We can explore this further when we turn to DeWolf who has a clear grasp of the need to
spell out more fully how God reveals Himself. He very correctly focuses on those human
situations where we are want to speak of revelation.
I may observe actions of a human friend, read his letters and examine various things
which he has made. Yet, I may find him an enigma. I cannot understand the secret springs
of his seemingly strange activities and expressions. Then, one day, a phrase in a letter,
a symbol in his handiwork or a single act suddenly discloses to me his heart. Of such an
occasion, I later say, "It was a veritable revelation to me. In a moment, I came to
understand him." Of course, the new datum which I have observed is no more of my
friend's doing than are a thousand others. But to me, it is more instructive in
acquainting me with his purpose and character.47
Unfortunately, DeWolf proceeds to ignore the significance of his own analogy. It is
precisely because friends do something quite concrete in space and time that their acts
have such profound significance. Many of our acts are especially revealing only because
they are direct, unmediated acts. Even then, not all our basic acts reveal anything
significant. Most of what we do is, in fact, routine and says very little indeed. It is
equally the case with God. Much of what God is doing in the world is beyond our ken for we
are often baffled and bewildered and are, therefore, quite rightly exhorted to walk by
faith and not by sight. It is precisely because God has acted more directly at chosen
points in history to reveal Himself that walking by faith is possible. God has done things
analogous to those more openly direct actions which clear the air and let us know what is
going on. His word communicated face to face with prophets and apostles, His costly
incarnation in Jesus Christ, such direct and unique acts as these done quite deliberately
on God's part in the past are of the very essence of His revelation to us. Reducing such
acts of God to acts analogous to God sustaining the world or clothing the lilies of the
field not only drains these concepts of their content, it destroys the intellectual
foundation of our faith in God and leaves us in darkness.
Bowne, Knudson and DeWolf evade this issue because of their instinctive confidence in
their Idealist metaphysics. In this, they are at one with such great figures as
Schleiermacher and Troeltsch who, in a more radical and consistent posture, dismantled
much more of the classical Christian heritage and made a brilliant attempt to rebuild the
whole structure and content of Christian theology. Unfortunately for all of them and their
followers, Idealism is no longer a live option for most of us. Even if it were
intelligible, it is doubtful if modern proponents could muster much evidence in its favor.
Yet without this foundation, the whole tradition is in danger of collapse. Not
surprisingly, Barth and his followers found it essential to seek out alternative warrants
in revelation to keep the boat of faith afloat. Many of these in turn, however, have
reaped a fresh harvest of problems by clinging to the liberal antipathy to direct divine
action in the world. The only way out is to reach back to a fresh appraisal of those
classical aspects of divine action which have been cast aside in both liberal and Barthian
theologies.48 I, for one, find the whole tenor and content of
Wesley's theology much more satisfactory, at this point, than some of the modern Methodist
substitutes.49
Our excursus on the problems inherent in Bowne and his followers may seem to have taken
us a long way from the idea of divine inspiration. However, it has not been without its
value, for it indicates how general theories of divine action are vitally relevant to our
interpretation of inspiration. As we have seen, it is not surprising that the results are
meager for it is very easy to be bewitched into believing that a general account of divine
action is all that is needed. When this in turn generates its own problems, the chances of
inspiration receiving adequate attention are even further reduced. Hence, one looks in
vain to find a positive doctrine of inspiration in the writings of recent Methodist
theologians such as Edwin Lewis, Carl Michalson, William Hordern, Albert Outler, John
Deschner, Schubert Ogden or John Cobb.50 Clearly, other issues have
arisen to absorb interest and in this regard, Methodist theology shares the general lack
of enthusiasm for the topic in the mainline traditions of the Church.
This is a pity for it leaves a theological vacuum that is all too easily filled by the
voices of aggressive Fundamentalists and conservative Evangelicals. Even those who have
sought self-consciously to return to Wesley as a major model have all too readily yielded
to temptation.51 Mainline Wesleyan theology has, in fact, carried
over important ingredients from its classical heritage which must be absorbed in any
modern doctrine of inspiration and revelation.52 Chief among these
are its commitment to the whole range of modern biblical research and its rejection of
verbal inspiration. No harm, moreover, can come from catching the sense of joy, freedom
and creativity which pervades such a brilliant thinker as Bowne, one figure who stands out
amidst a gallery of able scholars and sensitive Christians. Bowne and his followers
represent a healthy liberal dimension inherent in the theology of the founding fathers of
Methodism that we reject at our peril.
However, there can be no patching over of the errors of their ways. They fail to
wrestle sufficiently with the nature and religious significance of special revelation.
They are far too exuberant in their claims about what God has made known in nature,
history and experience. They lapse too readily into vague and abstract talk about divine
action. They fail to dream up suitable analogies to illuminate inspiration and revelation,
or if they do, they do not grasp their significance. Finally, they ignore too readily the
reality and consequences of our native rebellion against God and thus, elbow out the
importance of grace in our lives. For schooling in these matters, we must recapture afresh
something of the depth and breadth of the historical rock from which the people called
Methodists were hewn. Surely there is cause for rejoicing that the definitive edition of
the works of that elusive eighteenth century evangelist and theologian called John Wesley
is now at last appearing.
Notes
1See "The Concept of Inspiration in Classical Wesleyan
Theology," in A Celebration of Ministry, ed. Kenneth Cain Kinghorn (Wilmore: Francis
Asbury Publishing Co., 1982).
2The Christian Faith (New York: Eaton and Mains, 1905), p.127.
3Ibid., pp. 162-4.
4Ibid., pp. 165-6.
5Ibid., pp. 169-72.
6Ibid., p. 175.
7Ibid., p. 177. Curtis' summaries are too brief and inadequate to
bear repetition here.
8The Divine Inspiration of Holy Scripture (oxford: Oxford
University Press, 1981).
9Wesley, Clarke, Benson, Watson and a host of others take this
route. See my "The Concept of Inspiration in Classical Wesleyan Theology."
10Curtis, The Christian Faith, p. 177.
11Curtis has a sure grasp of the possibility of direct divine
speaking. He insists that prophets and apostles may well have directly received a message
from God. "How extremely absurd it is for any Christian thinker to hold that God
could nor or would not; in the furtherance of redemption, give a prophet or an apostle a
message as definite as human speech." The Christian Faith, pp. 178-9.
12"Special revelation may be outward, in the sphere of external
nature or in the visible history of men and nations;-or, it may be inward, consisting in a
message to some elect spirit among men, who then becomes the instrument of its
communication to others." System of Christian Doctrine (New York: Eaton and Mairis,
1903), p. 76.
13Ibid., pp. 90-118. Sheldon is at this point skillfully
attempting to keep alive an apologetic strain that goes right back to Wesley himself and
was given special prominence by Richard Watson.
14Ibid., p. 138.
15Ibid., p. 139, notes- 1-4. Examples of the former are: Matt.
22:29; Luke 16:17; Acts 15:28; Rom. 15:18-19; 1 Cor. 2:16. Examples of the latter are:
Gal. 1:12; Eph. 3:3; 1 Peter 1:12.
16Ibid., pp. 140-8.
17Ibid., p. 149.
18C.S. Lewis, William Temple, J. R. Illingworth and A. E. Taylor
are outstanding examples of this trend. For brief comment on this,- see my "Some
Trends in Recent Philosophy of Religion," The Theological Educator, 9, 1979, pp.
93-103.
19For details on this see John C. Vander Stelt Philosophy and
Scripture, A Study in Old Princeton and Westminster Theology (Mariton, New Jersey: Mack,
1978), pp. 220-70.
20Studies in Christianity (Boston and New York: Houghton
Mifflin Co., 1909), p. 15, 41.
21Ibid., p. 31.
22Bowne rehearses the standard objections with consummate skill.
Ibid., pp. 31-39.
23Ibid., p. 31.
24Ibid., p. 29.
25Ibid., p. 28.
26Ibid., p. 61.
27Bowne's analysis of religious language has clear affinities
with the thought of the later Wittgenstein and his followers. Ibid., pp. 65-71.
28Ibid., p. 83.
29Idem.
30The Doctrine of God (New York: Abingdon, 1930), p. 109.
31Ibid., p. 215.
32A Theology of the Living Church (New York: Harper and Brothers,
1953), p. 65.
33Ibid., pp. 66-7.
34Ibid., p. 76.
35Especially noteworthy in America are Gordon Kaufman in
God the Problem (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1972), especially chp. 6, and
Schubert Ogden in The Reality of God and other Essays (New York: Harper and Row, 1963),
especially chp. 6. In England by far the most incisive work has been done by Maurice Wiles
in The Remaking of Christian Doctrine (London: SCM, 1974).
36I have in mind here all those verbs that speak of our doing
something in contrast to verbs that speak of our passively undergoing something; or all
those verbs which speak of our causing something to happen as opposed to something merely
happening to us.
37For a useful introduction to the Philosophy of Action, see Alan
R. White Philosophy of Action (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1968).
38See Studies in Christianity, p. 88.
39Ibid., p. 385.
40The tradition represented by Bowne is generally conceived as
"rampant liberalism," to use the term employed by William J. McCutcheon. (see
The History of American Methodism, Vol. 3, ed. by Emory Stevens Bucke, New York and
Nashville: 1964, pp. 262-289). Bowne's theology is much more complex and orthodox than
this label would suggest. Equally misleading is the conservative Wesleyan image of Bowne
which would dismiss his theology as an attempt to accomodate to the growing worldliness of
late nineteenth century Methodism (see, for example, Timothy L. Smith,-Called Unto
Holiness, Kansas City: Nazarene Publishing House, 1963, p. 46). Bowne's theology embodies
several elements that are central to Wesley's theology. The following are pervasive in his
thinking: the essentials of the orthodox faith (for example, the Incarnation, the Trinity,
and salvation by faith), the importance of a person's relationship with God, the primacy
of love as the key attribute of God, holiness of heart and life, the importance of reason
and experience in theology generally. Unfortunately, we do not have as yet a fair and
comprehensive history of Methodist Theology. Robert E. Chiles' Theological Transition in
American Methodism, (New York and Nashville: Abingdon, 1965) is invaluable but much too
Barthian in theological perspective to be satisfactory. Moreover, Chiles uncritically
accepts the content of Wesley's theology as a standard by which to judge the tradition as
a whole. This overlooks the tensions and problems inevitably inherent in Wesley and
ignores the need for adaptation and development.
41A Theology of the Living Church, p. 66.
42John R. Lucas, Freedom and Grace (London: SPCK, 1976). See
especially the essay "Freedom and Grace" in this collection of essays, pp. 1-15.
43Studies in Christianity, p. 77.
44Ibid., p. 41.
45The Sinai Myth (Garden City: Doubleday, 1975), p. 23-4.
46I discuss this issue further in Divine Revelation and the Limits
of Historical Criticism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1982).
47A Theology of the Living Church, p. 66.
48For an excellent summary of the continuity between the Liberal
and Neo-orthodox theology as regards direct divine action in the world, see Kenneth
Cauthen, The Impact of American Religious Liberalism (New York and Evanston, Harper and
row, 1962), pp. 239-43.
49I discuss this issue at length in Divine Revelation and the
Limits of Historical Criticism.
50I suspect that the situation is little different in Britain.
51See, for example, the early issues of the Wesleyan Theological
Journal. For an important historical review see Paul Bassett, "The Fundamentalist
Leavening of the Holiness Movement,1914-40," Wesleyan Theological Journal, 13, 1978,
pp. 65-91.
52For a review of the classical Wesleyan tradition on
inspiration, see my "The Concept of Inspiration in the Classical Wesleyan
Tradition," in A Celebration of Ministry.
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