The sub-title to this lengthy series of articles is: Identifying and Responding to Theological Bombs that Threaten the Integrity of our Movement

 As energetic as I am in refuting the barrage of criticisms launched at the Pentecostal-Charismatic movement, I must admit that in recent days a number of objections have more than a little cogency. I’m not talking about the instances of either sexual or monetary misconduct among previously high-profile pastors and leaders. Nor do I have in mind the reality of pastoral bullying or other abusive forms of so-called “leadership” among those who are regarded as “celebrity” pastors.

 My focus in these articles is the many theological errors that all too often characterize charismatic leaders, errors that frequently are due to inadequate education, or are motivated by a penchant for novelty and are viewed as a catalyst for increased financial gain. These theological missteps are often the fruit of underlying values that are rarely acknowledged or noted by the average Christian. 

In what follows, I’m not suggesting that anyone who embraces one or more of these errors necessarily embraces them all. If they did, they would hardly be qualified for any form of Christian leadership. But no one can deny that we are witnessing a proliferation of bad theology

 (2) Triumphalism

The over-realized eschatology of many charismatics breeds another, related, error that many refer to as “triumphalism.” I have in mind the tendency among many charismatics to claim that victory in all dimensions of life is the divine right of God’s children. We often hear words like “breakthrough” and “overcoming” and “destiny” to suggest that all forms of so-called defeat and struggle and illness are never God’s perfect will for his people.

Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians bears witness to the destructive presence of triumphalism. By this term I have in view, among other things, an over-realized eschatology in which the blessings of the age to come are presumptuously claimed as a spiritual entitlement in the present day. Along with this are an aversion to suffering as something beneath the dignity of a Christian, an emphasis on rhetorical excellence, an expectation of success more as the world defines the term than does the church, an authoritarian approach to leadership, a willingness to tamper with the gospel for the sake of monetary gain (yet another “blessing” to which truly spiritual believers are allegedly entitled), unashamed boasting in ecstatic supernatural experiences, topped off by a physically impressive and relationally assertive public demeanor.

The belief among all too many charismatics is that God never intends his children to suffer from financial strain or physical illness. Faith will always find a path to overcome and “triumph” over adversity. This is not to deny that God often graciously heals us and empowers us to achieve our goals in life. But more often than not in Scripture, we are encouraged to persevere in crisis and to endure persecution and to trust that notwithstanding what we may suffer God is always present and will prevent us from falling into despair and hopelessness.

So much of what passes for contemporary Christianity speaks often of strength and triumph and victory, but not in the sense in which Paul does. For them it means avoidance of hardship and deliverance from weakness. For him it means perseverance in hardship and unyielding faith in spite of weakness. In the case of the former, we are seen as strong and smart and worthy of praise. In the case of the latter, Christ alone is center stage.

The triumphalism present in first-century Corinth and so prevalent in our own day has redefined Christianity so that it promises to the unsuspecting soul freedom from affliction, freedom from suffering, freedom from financial stress, freedom from those who stand in our way, and an ever available and always victorious deliverance into some nebulous higher and undoubtedly more prosperous and pain free life. Paul, on the other hand, was “content” (2 Cor. 12:10) with what they would consider a curse, namely, “weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities” (v. 10b). For only then, and by means of the incessant supply of grace, was Christ magnified. D. A. Carson comments:

“Sadly, too many leaders consciously or unconsciously link their own careers and reputations with the gospel they proclaim and the people they serve. Slowly, unnoticed by all but the most discerning, defense of the truth slips into self-defense, and the best interest of the congregation becomes identified with the best interest of the leaders. Personal triumphalism strikes again, sometimes with vicious intensity. It is found in the evangelical academic who invests all his opinions with the authority of Scripture, in the pastor whose every word is above contradiction, in the leader transparently more interested in self-promotion and the esteem of the crowd than in the benefit and progress of the Christians allegedly being served. It issues in political maneuvering, temper tantrums, a secular set of values (though never acknowledged as such), a smug and self-serving shepherd and hungry sheep” (Carson, From Triumphalism to Maturity: An Exposition of 2 Corinthians 10-13 [Baker, 1984], 164-65).

If all that sounds scarily familiar it’s because the church of our own day is badly infected with this toxic perspective on Christianity and what it means to be a child of God. One need only look at the flamboyant and opulent lifestyles of many in public “ministry” (there’s an obvious reason why I put the word in quote marks), the charge that those who suffer, whether physically, relationally, financially or in whatever way, are at fault for a lack of that sort of faith that would otherwise bring routine victories, together with unsubstantiated claims concerning extravagant and bizarre religious experiences.

The Corinthian triumphalists, says Carson, “were so sub-Christian in their thinking that Christlike gentleness and meekness meant little to them. They preferred manifestations of power, however exploitative and arbitrary they might be (11:20). Paul's gentleness they therefore misjudged as weakness, preferring the triumphalistic pushiness of the false apostles. Paul responds by saying that if it is power they want to see as the absolute criterion of genuine apostolicity, they may get more than they bargained for: he may be forced to display the power of the resurrected Christ, speaking through him in the thunderous tones of punishment, another version perhaps of the judgment meted out to Ananias and Sapphira” (Carson, 174).

Paul’s point is that his life and especially his relationship to the Corinthians mirror that of Christ, who was the supreme embodiment and example of both weakness (in his crucifixion) and strength (in his resurrection and exaltation). Jesus was “obedient to the point of death” (Phil. 2:8b) and refused to retaliate or react against his accusers (Matt. 26:52, 67-68; 27:11-14, 27-31; 1 Peter 2:23). Herein was his “weakness” as well as the public demonstration of his essential mortality. But unlike us, he did not remain in weakness but came to life again through the resurrection “power of God” (2 Cor. 13:4).

Yes, says Paul, I am weak, as Jesus was, a weakness you’ve despised and used to undermine my credibility. But “in dealing with you we will live with him by the power of God” (2 Cor. 13:4b). The phrase “we will live with him” is not, as most triumphalists would prefer, a reference to the final resurrection and our hope of living in Christ’s presence in the age to come. Rather “Paul is speaking of his imminent visit to Corinth when, in unison with Christ and with God’s power, he would act decisively and vigorously against unrepentant evildoers within the congregation” (Murray Harris, The Second Epistle to the Corinthians [Eerdmans], 916).

Don’t let the errors of this sort of toxic triumphalism blind you to the breathtaking reality of Christ’s power available to the believer today. The last thing I want to encourage is a defeatist mentality that fails to celebrate and embrace the countless blessings that are ours now, in this present age. We are indeed one with Christ by faith and his resurrection power is operative in and through us in marvelous ways (see esp. Rom. 15:18-19; Eph. 1:19-20; 3:20-21; Phil. 4:13).

But it is a power for purity, a power for witness, a power that energizes us to persevere in suffering, a power that enables us to triumph over the flesh and to resist the seductive promises of the Devil. It is a power that enabled Paul to confront sin in Corinth and to enforce whatever disciplinary judgments were called for. It is a power that resulted in humility and self-sacrifice and generosity and, yes, even spiritual gifts for the building up of the body of Christ.

It isn’t always easy to know when we should rest content with the blessings we currently enjoy and when we should press forward, laying hold by faith of what is not yet in our grasp. We want to be neither passive nor presumptuous. We long to experience all that is graciously ours now, through Christ, but without demanding of God that he accomplish in and for us what will only come to pass in the consummation. There is often a fine, even invisible, line between the two. May God grant us the discernment to know the difference!