Young, Restless, No Longer Reformed, by Austin Fischer. 116 pages.

Eugene:
Cascade, 2014. Critique by Joe Drisdale.

Austin Fischer pastors at Vista Community Church in Temple, Texas. In his book,

Young, Restless, No Longer Reformed, he relates how his early belief in Neo-Calvinism

failed to agree with his emerging understanding of Christ. This lead him to further

scrutinize some of its key points and to rebuild his theology around a loving sacrificial

God.

Fischer’s introduction to Calvinism came through his youth pastor, who gave him

a copy of Piper’s Desiring God as an answer to his restlessness for “more.” He accepted

Piper’s conclusion that “Romans 9 is like a tiger going around devouring free-willers like

me,” and declared himself Reformed (p. 12). He also equated the Calvinistic view of

God’s glory, metaphorically, with the gravitational pull of Sagittarius A. When forced to

explore key theological issues as a college student, he realized that some of these views

had “pushed God into the void of mystery” (p. 28). ‘Greater good’ arguments, the idea of

hell, and especially the concept of predestined reprobates failed to equate with the idea of

a just and loving God.

Fischer resolved to start over, utilizing a “ruthlessly Christocentric” foundation.

This also meant leaving Calvinism, which for him was a depressing experience. He came

to appreciate Moltmann’s reflection on Jesus as the foundation and criticism of all

theology. The mangled, endlessly giving Lamb he now understood as the center devoured

the “black hole of deity, endlessly collapsing in on self” (p. 50).

Noting the moral inadequacy of sub-biblical theology that Barth recognized in

Protestant liberalism, Fischer defends his conservative approach. It led him to recognize

the Creator’s act of crucified love as His ontological self-revelation in five ways: (1) His

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revelation discloses His sovereign, free, self-giving, suffering, crucified love; (2) God

gives of Himself (3) His giving love stands in contradistinction to human love that takes;

(4) God wills His glory for the sake of His love; and (5) God’s love is both necessary and

complete, so that the gravity of His glory derives from His giving.

Fischer then defines free will beginning at Creation. God created man in His

image, with a limited degree of freedom. But, man chose to live outside of God’s will.

Rather than revoke free will, God in Christ crucified Himself to warrant forgiveness.

Christ’s voluntary act of gracious self-giving is described in the kenōsis hymn (Phil. 2:5–

11), which He established as our example. Furthermore, He chose to be self-limiting, as

opposed to controlling, out of His desire for genuine, reciprocal love.

Uncertainties about the extent of free will, the first sinful impulse, precisely how

salvation works out, and the existence of evil (Auschwitz imagery) have remained

troublesome. Alvin Plantinga partially satisfied his concerns, though, on the premise that

God knowingly created the world with evil as a necessary aspect of a world where great

moral good and genuine relationships between the Godhead and humans were possible.

Fischer nevertheless is confident in his level of meaningful knowledge. It includes some

Calvinist ideas, some doubts, but absolutely no doubt about Christ at the center.

Based on this understanding, and informed by the gospels, he sees discipleship as

the most important objective for all believers: Jesus proclaimed the gospel; God sent this

Son to establish Him as King; the King commissions the Church to bear witness to the

world of redemption in Him and to embody the kingdom as His people. In light of these

truths, Fischer prefers free-will theism, because it coheres organically with Gods plan. In

contrast, Calvinism can produce faithful disciples, but the task requires that adherents

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explain away the premise that human will is predetermined.

Revisiting Romans 9, Fisher suggests reading Paul’s message in light of his

Jewish heritage and the first century milieu in Rome. This perspective reveals that God

partially and temporarily hardened Israel for failing to pursue righteousness by faith (not

because of a foreordained, unconditional decree of damnation), and that Gentiles were

grafted in because of their faith. The passage, then, displays the “wideness” of God’s

mercy (p. 104).

Fischer relies (above) on the scholarship of Witherington III and N.T. Wright. He

has nonetheless been accused of mirror-reading. In fairness, though, his primary accuser

(whose philosophical background outshines his New Testament expertise) might

rightfully be guilty of defending Calvinism via conceptual parallelomania). Based on the

text, though, Paul is certainly retelling the story of Israel – which culminates in Christ as

the Messiah – in chapters 9-11. And, his passion for fellow Jews is undeniable (9:1-3;

10:1; 11:1-2; c.f. 7:21-24).

The author’s chosen genre, combined with his style of question raising and

creative use of metaphor, effectively exposes premises that just do not seem to agree with

the scriptural image of God. His supporting references generally provide enough depth to

validate his questions. Additionally, His position on a Christocentric theological position

as a test against soteriological arguments may not solve all the problems, but it does set

an important precedent. One might argue, for example, that Calvin recognized a

Christocentric scheme in God’s plan. He certainly defended the view of Irenaeus that

Christ is maker of heaven and earth, and “very God” (Institutes I, xiii, 27). And he

recognized in Christ the “saving seed,” in whom humanity could recover what was lost in

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Adam (Institutes IV, xiv, 21). Yet, that did not change his positions on predestination and

free will. The real value, then, is how a Christocentric view can impact community, and

how it makes evangelism meaningful. It helps shape a healthy perspective—one that

recognizes and accepts the reality of hard theological questions. These things are all the

“stuff and substance of theology at its best” (p. 67).