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In the 1998 movie Shakespeare in Love (spoiler alert), a young William Shakespeare is still trying to make a name for himself. The Deus ex machina tragicomedy depicts a long train of fortuitous (or providential) events that provides him with the inspiration for his most famous play (Romeo and Juliet) and the means to overcome seemingly insurmountable obstacles that appear to stand in the way of ever bringing it to the stage. The play (at least for purposes of the movie) turbocharges his career and "sets the stage" for his artistic immortality.
At one point in the movie the character of Philip Henslowe, the theater owner where Romeo and Juliet is to be staged, is threatened with violence by a creditor; the bubonic plague has closed Henslowe's theater and Romeo and Juliet cannot be shown, leaving Henslowe with no way to pay his debt. Henslowe tells his creditor not to worry, that nothing is awry because "the natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster." The creditor asks him what they need to do to avoid disaster, and Henslowe says, "Nothing. Strangely enough it all turns out well." When the skeptical creditor asks how things will turn out well, Henslowe replies, "I don't know, it's a mystery." A second later a town crier announces the theaters are reopened, saving Henslowe from a violent death. The words, "I don't know, it's a mystery," become Henslowe's catchphrase in the movie. When other characters repeatedly ask him how the show can possibly go on in light of insurmountable obstacles that keep popping up to block it, Henslowe tells them, "I don't know, it's a mystery."
One of the tragicomic aspects of the movie is that none of the characters realize they are caught up in a work of the Holy Spirit, and the play they think is being written by Shakespeare is actually God's. They careen desperately about never realizing that God has them in His grasp, an ignorance which leads to Romeo's line in the play (repeated twice in the movie), "O, I am Fortune's fool!" I find this line of dialogue to be a summation inside a broader depiction of our everyday life and our current state of awareness of the Holy Spirit and His work.
Too many of us waste our time and angst believing ourselves to be Fortune's fools instead of God's beloved. How much greater would God's glory be if the players in His tragicomedy fully comprehended the all-encompassing power of the Holy Spirit? How much sooner would God's Kingdom drop like a curtain and close this tragicomedy of men?
At one point in the movie Shakespeare wagers with a nobleman that the true nature of love can be shown by a stage play, a wager the Queen overhears and over which she makes herself the arbiter. After watching Romeo and Juliet, Queen Elizabeth declares Shakespeare the winner. The true winner, of course, is God. His love, exercised through the Holy Spirit, lifts up and ennobles the weak, the senseless, the inept and the sinful, and employs them in the production of a masterpiece. Shakespeare in Love could aptly be re-titled, God in Love.
Echoing the Henslowe character's description of providence ("I don't know, it's a mystery"), John Piper, in his book Providence, writes: "Providence is all-embracing and all-pervasive, but when God turns the human will, there is a mystery to it that causes a person to experience God's turning as his own preference – an authentic, responsible act of the human will."
But is the working of the Holy Spirit really such a mystery as Henslowe says again and again in the movie? Is it really an imperceptible turning of the human will, so that we perceive it as our own preference, as Pastor John Piper writes?
That hasn't been my experience. Not even close. My will was a well-guarded castle the Holy Spirit had to take and re-take by force every time I backslid, every time I started to fall away. It is easy for me now to look back at the man I was and see the difference the Spirit has made, and to cry out my thanks to God. His work on me has by no means been unseen or unfelt.
I became a Christian exactly four years ago, pretty much out of the blue; before that, an atheist and an unrepentant sinner. And so many times I had been a hair's breadth from taking that extra dark step by declaring my eternal contempt for all of humanity.
I was saved directly by the Holy Spirit's intervention. There was no Bible reading, no pastor, no Christian friend or family member who initiated my conversion, mainly because, as a sinner, I avoided those influences. For a person as mired in sin as I was, only the Holy Spirit could have saved me. I have four copies of the Bible given to me over the years by friends and family, one from an anonymous source, but the printed Word alone could not rescue me. Why? Because I could not bring myself to read the Bible. Why? Because it was terrifying. The Bible condemned me to Hell. More importantly, the Bible wanted to take away the guiding principle of my life at the time, which was sin, and I couldn't "live" without it. I needed to be saved first, to have the comfort of the Holy Spirit with me, before I could face the Bible. Without the Spirit, the Book was scarier than a Stephen King novel.
For nearly all of my four-year Christian life, I knew almost nothing about any doctrinal differences within Christianity. I assumed they involved details that had no bearing on me. Earlier this year, however, the pastor of a church I sometimes attended preached that personal experiences of God are not to be sought after, that there are no more personal revelations or communications from God, and to state otherwise is to be an egotist and a Gnostic, which is to say, not Christian.
That message really shook me up, even though I was pretty sure I wasn't a Gnostic. I was, however, a person whom the Holy Spirit would not leave alone, and I became concerned that these interactions and communications were "wrong." Immediately I doubted my salvation. When you come from where I've been, you tend to do that.
I stopped attending church in person because I didn't deem myself fit to go, thinking that I needed to get myself "squared away." More importantly, I stopped chasing Christ. When He called I sent Him to voice mail and I didn't read His text messages. When He tried to show me something, I looked away. Random world, random universe, all run by random chance. I am, and we are, just Fortune's fools.
But then Christ further revealed His character to me. No matter how hard I tried to brush Him off, He wouldn't leave me alone. He kept tapping me on the shoulder, tugging on my sleeve. I couldn’t get Him to stop. About a month ago the Holy Spirit arranged for me to see the printed statement of faith of the church that had me thinking I was a Gnostic. I was surprised to see that one of the beliefs required for membership is that Christians no longer wield revelatory or confirmatory gifts, which ended with the compilation of the Bible.
For me that statement was striking, because the flip-side of Christians wielding revelatory and confirmatory gifts is the Holy Spirit bestowing such gifts. And if God wants to give gifts to Christians, how can a man-made doctrine stop Him? It sounded like blasphemy. The second thing that struck me was that it categorically excluded Christians like me. I started to get the sense that the doctrine might be the problem, not me.
So about a month ago the Holy Spirit moved me to do some research. The first thing I looked into was why modern Christian churches no longer believe in miracles. That led me to the debate between cessationism and continuationism, which I didn't know existed. Three weeks ago I didn't know what cessationism meant. I had never read a word written by Pastor Piper or thought of Shakespeare in Love in religious terms. Since then I've wised up quite a bit. The insights passed to me by the Holy Spirit guided my research and led me to the following shocking conclusions.
1. Cessationism dangerously encourages blasphemy against the Holy Spirit
According to Jesus blaspheming the Holy Spirit is the only unforgivable sin (KJV, Matt. 12:31; Mark 3:28-30; Luke 12:10; 1 John 5:16 ["There is a sin unto death"]). And yet cessationist pastors do not hold back from harshly criticizing Pentecostals, charismatics, Gnostics, Catholics and others who have had direct individual experiences with the Holy Spirit. This criticism sometimes includes verbal descriptions or even videos of church services in which the worshipers are moving in odd ways, running around, babbling or otherwise behaving in a manner they attribute to the Holy Spirit. Cessationist pastors sometimes even accuse the worshipers of being under demonic influence. If, however, any of the worshipers are actually being driven by the Holy Spirit, then this becomes the unforgiveable sin the Pharisees committed when they accused Jesus of exorcising demons with the devil's power (KJV, Matt. 12:31-32; Mark 3:28-30). If this unloving accusation of demonic behavior is accompanied by a call for an amen or other agreement from the congregation, and one or more of the worshipers being criticized is actually under the influence of the Holy Spirit, anyone who agrees risks being defiled by what comes from their mouths and committing the unforgivable sin. Cessationism encourages the careless handling of spiritual nitroglycerine.
Even outside of worship services, cessationism is dangerous, not only because of the general condescension it teaches, but also because it teaches that there are no Godly personal experiences outside of Scripture. If a follower of cessationism takes that teaching to heart and is presented with the testimony of another believer who claims to have had an interaction with the Holy Spirit external to the Bible, the follower of cessationism must conclude either the witness is lying or that he interacted with a demon. Both accusations put the cessationist on dangerous theological ground. If the follower of cessationism responds with what he believes must be true (that the witness is lying or demon-influenced), then he has blasphemed the Spirit if the witness is telling the truth. To call someone who is testifying about a blessing of the Spirit a liar is to call him a child of the father of lies and to accuse him of doing his father's work (KJV, John 8:43-45, in which Jesus teaches that a child of satan cannot recognize the truth even when it is told by the truth Himself).
At one point in the movie the character of Philip Henslowe, the theater owner where Romeo and Juliet is to be staged, is threatened with violence by a creditor; the bubonic plague has closed Henslowe's theater and Romeo and Juliet cannot be shown, leaving Henslowe with no way to pay his debt. Henslowe tells his creditor not to worry, that nothing is awry because "the natural condition is one of insurmountable obstacles on the road to imminent disaster." The creditor asks him what they need to do to avoid disaster, and Henslowe says, "Nothing. Strangely enough it all turns out well." When the skeptical creditor asks how things will turn out well, Henslowe replies, "I don't know, it's a mystery." A second later a town crier announces the theaters are reopened, saving Henslowe from a violent death. The words, "I don't know, it's a mystery," become Henslowe's catchphrase in the movie. When other characters repeatedly ask him how the show can possibly go on in light of insurmountable obstacles that keep popping up to block it, Henslowe tells them, "I don't know, it's a mystery."
One of the tragicomic aspects of the movie is that none of the characters realize they are caught up in a work of the Holy Spirit, and the play they think is being written by Shakespeare is actually God's. They careen desperately about never realizing that God has them in His grasp, an ignorance which leads to Romeo's line in the play (repeated twice in the movie), "O, I am Fortune's fool!" I find this line of dialogue to be a summation inside a broader depiction of our everyday life and our current state of awareness of the Holy Spirit and His work.
Too many of us waste our time and angst believing ourselves to be Fortune's fools instead of God's beloved. How much greater would God's glory be if the players in His tragicomedy fully comprehended the all-encompassing power of the Holy Spirit? How much sooner would God's Kingdom drop like a curtain and close this tragicomedy of men?
At one point in the movie Shakespeare wagers with a nobleman that the true nature of love can be shown by a stage play, a wager the Queen overhears and over which she makes herself the arbiter. After watching Romeo and Juliet, Queen Elizabeth declares Shakespeare the winner. The true winner, of course, is God. His love, exercised through the Holy Spirit, lifts up and ennobles the weak, the senseless, the inept and the sinful, and employs them in the production of a masterpiece. Shakespeare in Love could aptly be re-titled, God in Love.
Echoing the Henslowe character's description of providence ("I don't know, it's a mystery"), John Piper, in his book Providence, writes: "Providence is all-embracing and all-pervasive, but when God turns the human will, there is a mystery to it that causes a person to experience God's turning as his own preference – an authentic, responsible act of the human will."
But is the working of the Holy Spirit really such a mystery as Henslowe says again and again in the movie? Is it really an imperceptible turning of the human will, so that we perceive it as our own preference, as Pastor John Piper writes?
That hasn't been my experience. Not even close. My will was a well-guarded castle the Holy Spirit had to take and re-take by force every time I backslid, every time I started to fall away. It is easy for me now to look back at the man I was and see the difference the Spirit has made, and to cry out my thanks to God. His work on me has by no means been unseen or unfelt.
I became a Christian exactly four years ago, pretty much out of the blue; before that, an atheist and an unrepentant sinner. And so many times I had been a hair's breadth from taking that extra dark step by declaring my eternal contempt for all of humanity.
I was saved directly by the Holy Spirit's intervention. There was no Bible reading, no pastor, no Christian friend or family member who initiated my conversion, mainly because, as a sinner, I avoided those influences. For a person as mired in sin as I was, only the Holy Spirit could have saved me. I have four copies of the Bible given to me over the years by friends and family, one from an anonymous source, but the printed Word alone could not rescue me. Why? Because I could not bring myself to read the Bible. Why? Because it was terrifying. The Bible condemned me to Hell. More importantly, the Bible wanted to take away the guiding principle of my life at the time, which was sin, and I couldn't "live" without it. I needed to be saved first, to have the comfort of the Holy Spirit with me, before I could face the Bible. Without the Spirit, the Book was scarier than a Stephen King novel.
For nearly all of my four-year Christian life, I knew almost nothing about any doctrinal differences within Christianity. I assumed they involved details that had no bearing on me. Earlier this year, however, the pastor of a church I sometimes attended preached that personal experiences of God are not to be sought after, that there are no more personal revelations or communications from God, and to state otherwise is to be an egotist and a Gnostic, which is to say, not Christian.
That message really shook me up, even though I was pretty sure I wasn't a Gnostic. I was, however, a person whom the Holy Spirit would not leave alone, and I became concerned that these interactions and communications were "wrong." Immediately I doubted my salvation. When you come from where I've been, you tend to do that.
I stopped attending church in person because I didn't deem myself fit to go, thinking that I needed to get myself "squared away." More importantly, I stopped chasing Christ. When He called I sent Him to voice mail and I didn't read His text messages. When He tried to show me something, I looked away. Random world, random universe, all run by random chance. I am, and we are, just Fortune's fools.
But then Christ further revealed His character to me. No matter how hard I tried to brush Him off, He wouldn't leave me alone. He kept tapping me on the shoulder, tugging on my sleeve. I couldn’t get Him to stop. About a month ago the Holy Spirit arranged for me to see the printed statement of faith of the church that had me thinking I was a Gnostic. I was surprised to see that one of the beliefs required for membership is that Christians no longer wield revelatory or confirmatory gifts, which ended with the compilation of the Bible.
For me that statement was striking, because the flip-side of Christians wielding revelatory and confirmatory gifts is the Holy Spirit bestowing such gifts. And if God wants to give gifts to Christians, how can a man-made doctrine stop Him? It sounded like blasphemy. The second thing that struck me was that it categorically excluded Christians like me. I started to get the sense that the doctrine might be the problem, not me.
So about a month ago the Holy Spirit moved me to do some research. The first thing I looked into was why modern Christian churches no longer believe in miracles. That led me to the debate between cessationism and continuationism, which I didn't know existed. Three weeks ago I didn't know what cessationism meant. I had never read a word written by Pastor Piper or thought of Shakespeare in Love in religious terms. Since then I've wised up quite a bit. The insights passed to me by the Holy Spirit guided my research and led me to the following shocking conclusions.
1. Cessationism dangerously encourages blasphemy against the Holy Spirit
According to Jesus blaspheming the Holy Spirit is the only unforgivable sin (KJV, Matt. 12:31; Mark 3:28-30; Luke 12:10; 1 John 5:16 ["There is a sin unto death"]). And yet cessationist pastors do not hold back from harshly criticizing Pentecostals, charismatics, Gnostics, Catholics and others who have had direct individual experiences with the Holy Spirit. This criticism sometimes includes verbal descriptions or even videos of church services in which the worshipers are moving in odd ways, running around, babbling or otherwise behaving in a manner they attribute to the Holy Spirit. Cessationist pastors sometimes even accuse the worshipers of being under demonic influence. If, however, any of the worshipers are actually being driven by the Holy Spirit, then this becomes the unforgiveable sin the Pharisees committed when they accused Jesus of exorcising demons with the devil's power (KJV, Matt. 12:31-32; Mark 3:28-30). If this unloving accusation of demonic behavior is accompanied by a call for an amen or other agreement from the congregation, and one or more of the worshipers being criticized is actually under the influence of the Holy Spirit, anyone who agrees risks being defiled by what comes from their mouths and committing the unforgivable sin. Cessationism encourages the careless handling of spiritual nitroglycerine.
Even outside of worship services, cessationism is dangerous, not only because of the general condescension it teaches, but also because it teaches that there are no Godly personal experiences outside of Scripture. If a follower of cessationism takes that teaching to heart and is presented with the testimony of another believer who claims to have had an interaction with the Holy Spirit external to the Bible, the follower of cessationism must conclude either the witness is lying or that he interacted with a demon. Both accusations put the cessationist on dangerous theological ground. If the follower of cessationism responds with what he believes must be true (that the witness is lying or demon-influenced), then he has blasphemed the Spirit if the witness is telling the truth. To call someone who is testifying about a blessing of the Spirit a liar is to call him a child of the father of lies and to accuse him of doing his father's work (KJV, John 8:43-45, in which Jesus teaches that a child of satan cannot recognize the truth even when it is told by the truth Himself).