For a more thorough, classical explanation, check out the homily on justification here.

First of all, the Anglicanism that most people are exposed to around the world today is not purely classical Anglicanism. It is Anglicanism that has been filtered through the lens of the nineteenth century and the rise of church parties. Often, the flavor of churchmanship in a particular country is determined by which set of missionaries first established an Anglican presence there. And in theologically mixed churches, like the Church of England and the Episcopal Church, individual dioceses and even individual parishes can be radically different from one another, depending on whether they would call themselves Anglo-Catholic, Evangelical, Broad Church, Liberal, Charismatic, or something else entirely. This does not mean that you will not encounter classical Anglicanism in a church that comes from one of these party perspectives, but it is often the case that a church’s party affiliation trumps its affiliation with Anglicanism. You show up expecting to hear preaching and teaching that reflects the principles of the 39 Articles and instead receive teaching from the Roman Catholic Catechism, the Heidelberg Catechism, or whatever slick book the individual priest happens to have been reading that week.

This presents a huge problem for lay people who have been learning about classical Anglicanism and assume, quite understandably, that if it says “Anglican” or “Episcopal” on the sign outside than it is going to teach the Anglican faith inside. I get notes on a regular basis from frustrated lay people who want to know how they can find a parish where they can become classical Anglicans and not merely Anglicans in name. There are people out there hungry for the Gospel as Anglicanism historically preached it, and yet nominally Anglican churches are often woefully ill equipped to respond to these seekers when they walk through the front door on a Sunday morning.

This problem is compounded in North America because a succession of schisms in the last hundred years has produced numerous church bodies claiming to be authentic Anglicanism all occupying the same space. How does one navigate the alphabet soup between TEC, ACNA, AMiA, REC, ACC, and others?

I’m afraid I don’t have a very good answer to this question. The divisions amongst us are shameful, as are the ways in which we have allowed Anglicanism to be co-opted and held hostage by various theological movements. The first order of business for Anglicans around the world today ought to be a strenuous effort at theological education that trains clergy to understand and teach classical Anglicanism.

But in the mean time, how can a lay person determine whether any given parish is the right place to be? Well, first and foremost, I would look at the parish website. Then, I would pay the parish a visit, preferably on a Sunday morning, although a week day service may also provide a good opportunity since the place will be less crowded and the priest may have more of an opportunity to speak with you. Any priest worth his salt will want to meet with you after you have attended worship, to get to know you and to allow you the opportunity to ask questions about the parish. When you get to that stage and you’re sitting in the priest’s office, here are a few questions that I would ask if I were in your shoes:

1) Do you believe that Jesus Christ physically rose from the dead and that it’s only through faith in Him that our sins are forgiven and we come to be saved?

It is appalling that we live in an age when we cannot take the answer to this question for granted, but there we are. If the answer to this is anything other than an unqualified “yes,” turn around and walk right back out the door. This is a good question to ask because it saves you time on having to ask a whole bunch of other questions about the creeds, the scriptures, etc. If the answer to this question is yes, you can be pretty well assured that the answers to all those other questions will be the right ones.

2) Does the worship in this parish come straight out of the Book of Common Prayer and do you view the prayer book as an authority over what you can and cannot teach?

It is not necessary for every single service to be a prayer book service. In fact, there are certain special services, like the Stations of the Cross or the blessing of a home, that require a different book. Nevertheless, the basic content of a normal Sunday service ought to be coming from the Book of Common Prayer, even if it has been augmented to include a few extra things that are consistent with it. The style of worship may vary dramatically. One parish may have a praise band while another has an organ and a vested choir. One may have incense and extra processions while another may have a long, expository sermon or a chance to receive the laying on of hands for healing. All of that is secondary. The use of the prayer book, both as an essential form of worship and as an authoritative source of doctrine, is mandatory if the parish is going to be able to claim to be authentically Anglican.

3) Do you believe in the faith as it is taught by the 39 Articles?

Here you may find that the priest wants to start to explain or make certain distinctions about his understanding of the theology of the Articles. This is fine, up to a point. The Articles have been understood in more than one way over the centuries, and it is possible for people to have a good faith disagreement over the interpretation of one point or another within them. What you want to beware of is the priest who says that the Articles were a nice document that formed part of our history but that they do not have any relevance or authority today. Similarly, watch out for interpretations of the Articles that go beyond the plain grammatical sense of the words themselves.

4) Do you believe in justification by faith alone?

Again, there are multiple ways to articulate this doctrine, so be prepared for the priest to offer an explanation. The priest may very well want to move from the topic of justification into the less well defined topic of sanctification, which is fine. The thing to be cautious about is the priest who is unwilling or unable to affirm that he believes in the doctrine of justification at all.

5) Do you believe that Holy Baptism really does wash away our sins and make us one with Jesus? Do you believe that in the Holy Eucharist Jesus Christ is really and truly present and that we really and truly receive His Body and Blood?

There should be no quibbling about the first of these. Baptism either saves or it doesn’t, and if the priest believes that it doesn’t then what the priest teaches is not Anglicanism. On the second question, as to Christ’s presence in the Eucharist, the priest may wish to explain or to offer some caveats about how he understands the Real Presence. What you need to be assured is that he believes, unequivocally, that Jesus is present in the Eucharist and that when you come forward in faith you truly partake of His Body and Blood. Any hint that this is all symbolic or that it is just meant to remind us of what Jesus has done for us and not to actually give us Jesus, and you can bet that classical Anglicanism has no place in that parish.

In the current state of Anglicanism, if you can get good answers to all of the above, you’re way ahead of the curve. Nevertheless, as a bonus question, you may wish to ask this:

Bonus: Do you believe in the necessity of bishops in the Church?

I say “bonus” not because I think that the answer to this is unimportant, but because it is so very difficult to find Anglican clergy today who will give a full-throated defense of this basic theological principle, even if they are sound, classical Anglicans in every other way. Now, very few Anglican priests will tell you that having bishops is bad, and most will tell you that maintaining the historic, apostolic succession is a good thing, but they may lose their nerve when the question comes around to whether or not having bishops is essential. Some small amount of equivocation on this point shouldn’t rule the parish out for you, especially if the answers to all the questions above have been the right ones. After all, whether the priest believes in the absolute necessity of bishops or not, if he is an Anglican he has to be in relationship with a bishop somewhere, which means that your connection as a lay person to the historic episcopate is secure. Still, if you get a priest who is willing to say, without a doubt, that episcopacy is necessary in the life of the Church, it is time to celebrate, because you have found yourself a truly authentic, truly Episcopalian, truly classical Anglican.

Respect the Priest

All of that said, I wouldn’t recommend walking into the priest’s office with a print-out of this and a pencil to check each item off. It’s best to allow for these questions to come up in the flow of a natural conversation. Remember, the priest is trying to find out as much about you as you’re trying to find out about him. After all, it’s a big deal for him if you decide to become a part of his parish, not just because it means one more body in the pew that he can count towards the average Sunday attendance, but because it means one more person whose soul he is responsible for. He is quite literally placing himself under judgment by welcoming you in, so be kind and avoid being adversarial, even if the answers you get to these questions are not what you would hope to hear.

Common Prayer

The last and most important thing to do before joining that new parish of your dreams is to pray about it. Ask God’s blessing upon the priest you have spoken with, upon the people of the parish, upon the bishop, and upon you that you may have the clarity with which to see whether this is God’s calling for you or not. In the state of things today, you may have to drive some distance to get to a classically Anglican parish, but it is worth it if you can be assured that you are in a place where the Word is truly preached and the Sacraments are truly celebrated and received.

With that in mind, I think that it is hard to understand Anglicanism without understanding its relationship to monarchy. And in turn, the relationship to monarchy is difficult to understand without accepting the place of poetry and drama in Anglican tradition. The heart and soul of Anglican faith is expressed liturgically, after all, and liturgy is nothing if not poetic and dramatic.

The Sacred Poetic

It should not be a surprise that many of the great figures of early Anglicanism were renowned almost as much for their literary achievements as their theology. Take, for instance, the poet John Donne who became a priest in 1615 but was well known both before and after for his poetic exploration of faith. Or the eighteenth century Irish Anglican Jonathan Swift, known far and wide for his fiction and satire, but only remembered by a few for being the Dean of Saint Patrick’s Cathedral in Dublin. Men like these found an artistic expression for their faith not because the Church lacked a more appropriate outlet but precisely because the Church that they knew, the Church that was their mother, was herself an artist. Is it any wonder that arguably the greatest Anglican theologian of the twentieth century was not a priest or a bishop but a professor of literature and a writer of fantastic stories named C. S. Lewis? This is the water in which the ship of Anglicanism sails, and it is impossible for us to reach that ship if we are unwilling to get a little bit wet in the process.

God Save the King

Anglicanism is also a tradition that is deeply tied in to a particular understanding of the role of the state in relation to the Church and the figure of the monarch who bridges the gap between the two. This, of course, is something that many Anglicans around the world have tried to get away from, particularly in America where the democratic notions of the enlightenment are revered in an almost god-like way, but the Anglican view of monarchy is inescapable in the Anglicanism of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Henry VIII relied on the idea of the divine right of kings to justify separation from Rome, and Charles I defended this notion all the way to the scaffold. Episcopacy and monarchy are tied to each other, both being believed by early high Anglicans to be expressions of God’s providential order. This does not mean that the king is infallible nor that he can alter the faith as he pleases. Some bishops eventually became non-jurors because they had sworn an allegiance to James II that they would not abandon, but some of those same bishops had earlier been willing to go to the Tower of London to oppose policies under James that they believed to be contrary to the catholic faith. Defiance of the king, however, is not the ideal. When all is in working order, the state functions for the good of the people while upholding the principles of the faith, the Church functions for the salvation of the people while respecting the place of the state, and the monarch stands as the embodiment of both, leading both through his example as much as through decree.

Monarchy in a Democratic World

And yet, the vast majority of Anglicans today live in places where there is no monarch, and even in England where the queen is still considered the supreme governor of the Church, the power and prestige of the monarchy has been reduced to something purely ceremonial and symbolic. So what place, if any, does this history of divine right monarchy have in worldwide Anglicanism?

One of the things I enjoyed most about reading Lewis’ The Chronicles of Narnia was the way in which he described the kings and queens of his fairytale world. They were brave, kind, and just. They defended the weak and they were the first to march into battle. When they made mistakes, they made penance. When they were victorious, they shared the victory with those who had sworn loyalty to them. That is what monarchy is about. The monarch is to model Christian virtue and heroism. When that kind of a symbol of strong leadership is wedded to the ceremonial of ancient liturgical worship, there is a development of character that takes place in the heart of the believer. It is not something that can be achieved simply through instruction. It has to be experienced.

Kings and queens in the real world have never been so good as the kings and queens of Narnia. In fact, some of them have been downright horrid. Nevertheless, the ideal of kingship is meant to be found in the office of the monarch, and the majesty of that office, the regal, larger-than-life nature of the king, helps to communicate that ideal, because ultimately the kingship of classical Anglicanism is not about the individual man or woman sitting on the throne but about the kingship of God. The monarch on earth is an icon of the monarch in heaven. It always jars me a bit when I see pictures of Queen Elizabeth out and about in her Sunday best or King Juan Carlos I of Spain wearing a business suit. There is something missing when there aren’t crowns, robes, long red carpets, and men with swords at their side. As the old saying goes, the medium is the message.

Worship as Poetry in Motion

That said, the days of the old monarchy are long past in Europe and never existed in America or in other parts of the world. Perhaps this is ultimately for the best, as the abuses of monarchy often outweighed its benefits. Nevertheless, modern Anglicanism retains something of the spirit of this ideal in the poetry of worship. Ours is not a dry worship built solely upon puritan notions of biblical correctness. Ours is a worship in which we may experience the God of the Bible, in which there are priests, processions, crosses, chalices, vestments, movements, gestures, and even occasionally incense, all of which is in the service of bringing not just our minds but our whole being into the presence and holiness of God.

The way that we come to know God is not all that different from the way that we come to know anyone else. If I want to know my next door neighbor, I could do a bunch of research on him and find out what he does for a living, where his favorite restaurants are, how he votes, and how old his children are, but knowing all of that would not actually bring me to know him. The only way for me to know him is to come into his presence and listen as he speaks to me and shares his life with me. We know God the same way. This is why the locus of our doctrine as Anglicans is not confessional but liturgical. We are kinesthetic beings. We learn through doing. We learn through symbols that we can experience with our senses. We learn through stepping into the narrative rather than hearing it described to us.

Worship that does not express the majesty of God is just as unsettling as monarchy that does not express the majesty of kingship. And truly godly worship should let us know that the one we worship is truly our king.

Scripture on Baptism:

Matthew 28:16-20
Mark 16:14-16
John 3:1-21
Romans 6
Titus 3:4-7
1 Peter 3:17-22 (noting especially verse 21)

Additionally, there are a number of places in Acts where we see entire households, including infants, being baptized – Acts 2:39, 16:14-15, and 18:8, for example.

Scripture on the Eucharist:

1 Corinthians 11:20-34
John 6:22-71
Matthew 26:26-28
Mark 14:22-24
Luke 22:19-20
Luke 24:13-35 (noting especially verse 30)
Revelation 19:9

If after watching you want more info, here is a good place to start.

How Can We Know?

So election is clearly a wonderful thing, and to know you are elect is to rest assured of God’s mercy towards you, but how can you know that you are elect? According to Holy Scripture, there is a sure and certain means for knowing, and it does not require you to read the tea leaves of your heart in search of some sign that you have become the super apostle you always knew you could be. It is an objective assurance, wholly independent of you and your actions, that is completely verifiable, and it comes directly from Our Lord. “Make disciples of all nations,” says Jesus, “baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28:19). If you want to know whether you are elect, all you need to know is whether or not you have been baptized.

This is, of course, a scandalous teaching to those who have come to view Baptism merely as a human work done to show honor to God, but Scripture is clear that Baptism is much more. In fact, Scripture tells us, quite literally, that “Baptism now saves you” (1 Peter 3:21). Baptism is not a human work. Baptism is a holy mystery–a sacrament–in which we become united with Christ in His death and resurrection (Romans 6:1-14). When we are baptized, we receive the Holy Spirit. The grace of the cross is poured out upon us, forgiving our sins and making us one with Christ. We are joined to Him by a sacred, irrevocable bond. We are regenerated, given the new life of Christ to replace the old life that was terminally poisoned by sin. As the 1979 BCP puts it, we are “marked as Christ’s own forever.” Or better yet, as Mark 16:16 puts it, “Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved.” Not might be saved. Not has the potential to be saved. Will be saved. If you are baptized, you are among the elect of God.

Anglican Teaching on Baptism

That this is the teaching of Scripture is apparent. That it is also the teaching of classical Anglicanism is equally apparent, given the structure of the classical baptismal liturgy. As the priest is about to baptize a person, he blesses the water to sanctify it “for the mystical washing away of sin” and then prays that in this washing the person to be baptized will “receive the fulness of thy grace, and ever remain in the number of thy faithful and elect children.” In 1662, when the liturgy was split into separate versions for infants and for “those of riper years,” this prayer was retained in both places, indicating that even infants who could not make any sort of declaration for themselves were nevertheless recognized to be elect post Baptism.

Immediately after the priest baptizes a person and makes the sign of the cross upon his or her forehead, the priest says the following (with my emphasis added):

SEEING now, dearly beloved brethren, that these persons are regenerate, and grafted into the body of Christ’s Church, let us give thanks unto Almighty God for these benefits, and with one accord make our prayers unto him, that they may lead the rest of their life according to this beginning.

There is no question, at least within the confines of the rite itself, that the person who has been baptized has been regenerated by Christ. This again is the same for infants as for adults. Baptism is not something we accomplish for ourselves, nor is it an empty sign which simply shows God your intention to be faithful, but it is rather a divine act through which God grants to us the grace of the cross. It is Christ’s work to save us made manifest in our lives.

This in no way invalidates the teaching that our justification comes to us through faith alone. Rather, this is the fruition and logical extension of that same teaching. Faith is not a work that we perform. It is the trust that we have in Christ that is given to us by God. Baptism is where we receive the grace that allows us to have faith in Christ. Understood in this way, there is no reason why infants cannot have the same kind of saving faith as adults. Faith is not an intellectual process. It is a response to grace freely given.

Falling Away

Baptism is the mark of our election. It is an objective sign, independent of us, that God has chosen us and will never abandon us. Yet there are many people who are baptized who reject the Christian faith. How can this be? Doesn’t this violate the promise? Not at all. God does not abandon those whom He has chosen. A person who has been baptized has already been given the saving grace of Jesus Christ, even if that person walks away from the faith. Nevertheless, if a person rejects that grace, they effectively reject their election. This does not mean that God has abandoned them. Far from it! They have, however, chosen to abandon God. There is no work that you can do to earn your salvation. It is given to you absolutely freely by God. The only work you can choose to do, if you wish, is to reject the free gift that you have been given. We are not required to say “yes” to God or to cast a vote in favor of our own salvation. If we want to cast a vote at all, the only one available to us is “no.” We are either the passive recipients of God’s saving grace or we actively reject it.

While this way of understanding election leaves a great deal unexplained, it does accord with the teaching of Scripture and the Church. In Matthew 13, Jesus tells the parable of the sower and the seeds, indicating that there are some who will fall away. In Hebrews 6, we hear about how difficult, even impossible, it is to be returned to repentance if you have “fallen away.” And throughout the New Testament, there is language about perseverance and following the course to the end. None of this makes any sense if it is impossible for a person to reject the grace given in election.

Don’t Worry, Be Baptized

Nevertheless, election remains a comfort, because we can know for sure that it has been given to us simply by knowing that we have been baptized. We need not worry that our faith is insufficient. The only way to reject the promises given to us in Baptism is to reject them outright, to literally say, “No, God, I will have nothing to do with you.” The very fact that you are worried about the insufficiency of your faith is likely a sign that you have been given saving faith. And if you are worried about your children, the best comfort you can have is in their baptism. Do not worry that you will screw your kids up by not teaching them the faith adequately–you will screw them up by teaching the faith inadequately. But their salvation is not up to you, it is up to God, and if you have had your children baptized then you can rest assured that the promises of Christ have been delivered to them, no matter how imperfect your parenting may be.

Rejoice, friends! Rejoice to know that you are a beloved child of God who has received His promises of mercy and forgiveness! Properly understood, election and predestination are nothing more than the blessed assurance of the Gospel. Jesus Christ died for you, His grace is available to you, and you can know for certain that you have received it. I cannot imagine a greater comfort than that.

Photo at top of Bishop Mouneer Anis of Egypt baptizing an infant taken from here.

As the season of Advent draws to a close, it is probably as good a time as any to talk about the end of the world. Robert writes:

As someone who, having spent childhood in a nominally RC family, gradually became awakened to Christ and Christian faith, the hope for the eschaton has come to seem to me an indispensable part of the faith. It frustrates me that so much public discussion of this doctrine, the Parousia of Christ, is dominated by date-setters and fringe fundamentalists. Could you speak to this issue, the importance of the Parousia, from an Anglican perspective?

This is indeed a question that has gotten a lot of press in recent years. Between guys like Harold Camping predicting the exact date when the world will end and books like the Left Behind series articulating a vision of a violent apocalyptic future, it seems that one of the things that Christians are becoming best known for is our thoughts on the end of the world. And with so much juicy, mysterious, and difficult to understand but nevertheless Hollywood friendly material in the Book of Revelation, is it any wonder that so many Christians today gravitate towards apocalypticism?

The word eschaton that Robert uses is a fancy word, derived from Greek, that just means the end. In theological study, eschatology is what we call the study of last things. And it’s true that the Bible tells us that the world, at least as we know it, will one day come to an end. From there, however, the picture becomes a bit hard to put together. What Scripture reveals is limited, and what the Fathers believed about this subject was all over the map.

The reason why Advent is a good time to address this subject is because Advent is a season in which we are called to prepare ourselves for the second coming of Christ. The word Advent actually means coming, and the word parousia is a Greek word that is often used to denote the second coming or second advent of Our Lord at the end of time. The readings and the prayers that we use during this season reflect that sense of preparation and anticipation, not just for the yearly remembrance of Jesus’ first coming at Christmas but also for His second coming for which we joyfully await.

Classical Anglicanism is minimal in what it teaches about the parousia and the eschaton. Given the limited amount of information revealed in the scriptures and the lack of patristic consensus, this minimalism is not surprising. The Anglican Reformers and Divines simply did not spend a lot of time discussing this subject. Likewise, classical Anglicanism does not take the time to refute some of the ideas that have been espoused by modern Christians, like the idea of a “rapture” in which believers will be sucked up into the sky prior to final judgment (see the video above), simply because such concepts are only at most a century old and therefore were not being discussed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. But this minimalism does not mean that Anglicanism has nothing to say about eschatology. On the contrary, the Anglican teaching on the end of the world is very important because it provides a capstone to the overall picture of salvation that is painted by the New Testament as read and understood by the early Church. And the primary place to find this teaching is in the prayer book collect for Advent.

The 1662 BCP has collects for each of the four weeks of Advent that are essentially unchanged from what was in the earlier prayer books. Only the first week’s collect really addresses the subject of eschatology. However, in 1662 the rubrics were changed to require that the collect for the first Sunday of Advent “be repeated every day, with the other Collects in Advent, until Christmas-Eve.” This instruction is given again on each subsequent Sunday. This emphasis on the daily repetition of the collect indicates how seriously the subject is to be taken. The collect reads as follows:

ALMIGHTY God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility; that in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal; through him who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Ghost, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Herein lies the central teaching of Anglicanism upon last things. And from this prayer, and the readings that surround it, we can gather several important details about the Bible’s teaching:

1) There will be an end to the world

Anglicanism affirms that there will be a time when the world as we know it will cease to be. What exactly that looks like is hard to say. There are a number of prominent contemporary theologians, N. T. Wright being among them, who argue that the end of the world does not actually mean that the world will cease to be but rather that the world will finally be fully restored to what it was in creation, with all creatures living in harmony with one another. This is certainly a valid argument to make, so long as it does not undermine the teaching that all things as they are will eventually come to an end.

2) We are living in the last days

On the second Sunday of Advent, the traditional BCP lectionary calls for the reading of Luke 21:25-33. This passage, read along with the collect above, focuses a great deal of attention on the subject of last things. In the passage, we are told that “This generation shall not pass away, till all be fulfilled.” While in the apostolic age, this verse was often interpreted to mean that no one would die before Jesus returned, by the end of the patristic era “this generation” was being associated with the Church. We are living in the last days because we are among the generation of the Church, the generation of those who live between the Lord’s Ascension and His return, and that return could come at any moment. The time is near. Luke points us to various signs that will mark the end, including calamities and wars. When the end comes, we will know. It will be obvious.

3) We cannot know when the last day will be

It is significant to note, when looking at the collect and the readings, that no effort is made anywhere to try to pinpoint a possible date for Christ’s return. In the 1979 BCP, the reading for the first week of Advent in Year B is Mark 13:24-37 in which Jesus says that “about that day or hour no one knows, neither the angels in heaven, nor the Son, but only the Father.” If even Jesus Himself does not know when the end of the world will be, suffice it to say that we will not be able to figure it out either. The point of revealing to us that the end is coming is not so that we can play guessing games with it, nor so that we can take out a map of world events and try to match them to the predictions made in scripture, as some modern Christians have been prone to do, but so that we may be prepared, as the season of Advent calls us to be, so that we may not be caught by surprise when the last day comes.

4) We will be judged

On that last day, the collect tells us that Jesus will return and that He will “judge both the quick and the dead,” echoing the language of the creeds. And this is where we start to approach a sensible and pastoral reason why we should be paying attention to this subject, even though idle speculation is unwarranted. What matters is not figuring out when the last day will be but understanding that on that day we will be judged. That is the day when it will be determined whether we are to spend eternity in the glory of God, in the company of angels, in full communion, in peace, love, and joy, or whether we will suffer the pain of eternal punishment in the place prepared for the devil and his angels from the foundation of time. So, yeah, it’s a big deal. The Son comes to judge in the place of the Father, and the judgment He renders will be a perfect judgment. And as we are born into sin, if our works and merits are all we have to offer when we come to stand before that judgment seat, we will be doomed to face the justice that we so swiftly deserve.

5) The grace of Christ renders us just

If we rely on our own works to save us, we are doomed. Fortunately, God has provided another way. In the collect, we ask for grace to “cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light, now in the time of this mortal life in which thy Son Jesus Christ came to visit us in great humility.” We ask, in other words, for faith, to trust in Jesus and to thus receive the grace that comes from His sacrifice, the grace that wipes away our sin and replaces it with God’s love. And we ask for it now. Not in the future. Not on the day of judgment. But now, so that “in the last day, when he shall come again in his glorious majesty to judge both the quick and the dead, we may rise to the life immortal.” If we have faith now, we will receive the grace of Christ, and thereby the last day becomes not something to be feared but something to be joyfully anticipated, the way that little children anticipate Christmas morning. For those of us who are in Christ, the last day will be the day when all the promises are finally fulfilled, when we are no longer hindered by our sin, when we begin the great adventure of life with God to its fullest.

Eschatology is an important part of Christian theology because it gives us hope for the culmination of all things in Christ. However, eschatology only makes sense if it is tied to a much larger, much deeper story about Jesus and His saving work for us. Talking about the end of the world without talking about the Incarnation, Crucifixion, and Resurrection makes no sense. We are called by God to be one with Him in faith now and to let Him worry about the last day. So long as we live in faith, we will not be caught unawares.

So if the Anglican teaching on predestination is not Calvinist, nor Arminian, nor Universalist, what is it?

Allowing for Mystery

In order to understand the Anglican teaching, we need to remember the central tenet of Anglican doctrine, what I often refer to as the Anglican Principle. As I have argued here before, the hallmark of Anglican theology is the notion that Holy Scripture reveals all that we need for salvation, but that we only come to a right understanding and application of Scripture when we read it through the lens of the early Church. We need believe nothing but what the Scripture says, but we only come to rightly understand what the Scripture says when we understand how the Church has received it.

The Anglican Principle helps us to understand why every doctrine of Anglicanism does not perfectly add up in a systematic way. Not that our teaching contradicts itself, but there are places where God’s Word has only revealed so much to us, where there is a mystery about how God acts and why, and in those places, Anglicanism is content to allow the mystery to stand. This is frustrating to those of us who like to have no loose ends, myself included! This frustration leads us to try to systematize and normalize our theology, to come up with logical proofs that smooth out the rough edges and help us to feel like everything in our faith makes sense. It is an understandable impulse, but when we do this we impose a system of thought onto Scripture rather than allowing Scripture to form us. “My ways are higher than your ways,” says the Lord, “and my thoughts than your thoughts” (Isaiah 55:9). Our job is not to make it all make sense but to accept what God has revealed to us. Anglicanism may not always line everything up as perfectly as more systematic traditions, but the Anglican teaching is faithful to the whole of Scripture, even when there are parts that we cannot fully grasp.

William Beveridge makes exactly this point when he begins his explanation of Article XVII in his Ecclesia Anglicana Ecclesia Catholica, a large volume exploring each of the 39 Articles in some depth. Beveridge lived from 1637 to 1708 and served as the bishop of St Asaph in the Church in Wales towards the end of his life. “Though in the other articles we may make use of reason as well as scripture and Fathers,” he said, “yet in this we must make use of scripture and Fathers only, and not of reason. For as the ordinary priests were not to enter into the holy of holies, so neither is carnal reason to venture upon this mystery of mysteries.”

Choosing Us Purely Out of Love

Beveridge begins by setting the scriptural basis for the Anglican position in Ephesians 1:4-6 and 2 Timothy 1:9. These passages illustrate that God chose those whom He would save before the foundation of the world and that His choice was “not according to our works, but according to His own purpose and grace, which was given us in Jesus Christ before the world began.” Beveridge then bolsters these claims with quotations from the Fathers, principally Augustine. The core of Anglican teaching on predestination, which is shared by Lutherans, Calvinists, and Universalists, is that God chose His elect long before they were born and thus irrespective of anything they may do or not do. His election is completely gratuitous, completely free, and unaffected by our choices.

Election as a Comfort

Article XVII proceeds to explain how God’s election leads to God’s calling of His elect, which they respond to by grace, being made one with Christ and having their lives conformed to His, which Beveridge points out is explained in Romans 8:29-30. Election and predestination do not work apart from Christ. Rather, it is only through Christ that one can receive the gift of God’s election. And this is followed in the article by an explanation of how the knowledge and realization of being elect affects the Christian:

…The godly consideration of predestination, and our election in Christ, is full of sweet, pleasant, and unspeakable comfort to godly persons, and such as feel in themselves the working of the Spirit of Christ, mortifying the works of the flesh, and their earthly members, and drawing up their mind to high and heavenly things, as well because it doth greatly establish and confirm their faith of eternal salvation to be enjoyed through Christ, as because it doth fervently kindle their love towards God…

This is the beauty of the doctrine of election and the reason why it is rendered to us in the first place. There may be many things that God does not fully reveal to us about who He is and what He does. Certainly, the reason for our election is one of those things. Yet, God does reveal to us that He elects some and He also reveals to those who are elect that they have been elected. And the reason He reveals this to us is so that we may take heart and be comforted that our salvation is secure, that God will never abandon us, and that no matter how feeble or infirm we are, God’s promise to us is inviolable. Citing Romans 8:31-33, Beveridge says, “If God hath elected us, it is in vain for men or devils to accuse: if He be our friend, it is in vain for any one to be our foe.”

Election of Some, Promise to All

Of course, as soon as we acknowledge this comfort given to the elect, it is difficult not to wonder then about those who are not elect. The article speaks about those who are “curious and carnal” who choose to toss aside their election, as the previous post in this series made clear, but there is no word here about God fashioning or making others for damnation. In fact, Beveridge points out that the article ends by reminding us that “we must receive God’s promises in such wise as they be generally set forth to us in Holy Scripture.” Citing Matthew 11:28 and John 3:16, Beveridge says that if we are to follow the article’s direction, then we must believe that “Though they are but some that God hath elected, yet his promises are made to all.” Therefore:

In the application of which and the like promises, we must not have respect to the eternity of God’s purpose, but to the universality of his promise. His promises are made to all, and therefore are all bound to lay hold upon his promises: and as we are to receive his promises, so are we also to obey his precepts as made to all.

Herein lies the paradox. God’s promises are made to all people. His love is for all people. Jesus died so that all may be saved. Yet only some have been elected. How can this be so? How can both of these things be true simultaneously? Beveridge’s answer is simple. Both are true because God says so. The inner workings of God’s election are not our concern. God has not revealed them to us. What God has revealed to us, He reveals for one reason and one reason only, that we may be comforted to know God’s love for us and to know that God will never abandon us. Our concern is not to worry about whether or not the person next to us can be saved but to know that we are to be saved. There are, of course, those among the Fathers, Saint Gregory of Nyssa being the primary example, whose hope was that all would be elected and thus all could be saved. This is a beautiful hope and it is something we can certainly place before God as a petition. But again, our concern with election and predestination is not to peer into God’s mind and see how He plans to sort things out, but merely to come to know that He can, does, and will save us despite our evil intentions and He does not require anything from us to make it happen. His election of us, just like His gift of dying for us, is rendered to us totally and completely without charge.

So how then can we know for sure that we have been elected? And even though we cannot lose our election, can we nevertheless reject it? These are the questions we will turn to in the next and final post in this series.