When Does Error Become Heresy? On Kirk Cameron and Annihilationism
In a recent article, Rosaria Butterfield and Jared Moore suggested that “annihilationism and celibate gay theology are twin heresies and should be denounced as such.” I have great respect for Rosaria, and I believe I understand that concern that lies behind her comments. In an age where many are abandoning the old paths, I am grateful for her faithfulness and her willingness to contend earnestly for the faith. But is annihilationism, like celibate gay theology, heresy?
I do not believe it is.
The article by Butterfield and Moore raises a question that extends beyond annihilationism itself. When does error become heresy? At what point does a mistaken interpretation of Scripture place a person—a pastor, leader, or layperson—outside the bounds of Christian orthodoxy? It seems to me that these are critically important questions.
Though I am not an annihilationist, I know believers who are. They live near to the Lord, they love His Word, and they are determined to keep their consciences captive to Scripture and Scripture alone. They have not arrived at their conclusions lightly or carelessly, nor have they done so simply because they did not want to believe in eternal conscious torment (ECT).
Some time ago, one of them encouraged me to read Edward Fudge's The Fire That Consumes, and I found it compelling. It did not ultimately persuade me, but it helped me to see that there is, indeed, a biblical case to be made for the view that the impenitent will one day be finally destroyed.
In their article, Butterfield and Moore claim that Kirk Cameron “sidesteps biblical argumentation—in part because the exegetical argument in defense of annihilationism is as anemic as the one that defends celibate gay Christianity.” I cannot speak for Cameron, but I can say that this charge, however well intentioned, is mistaken. I suspect neither author would find Fudge persuasive, but I wonder whether, after reading him, they would still contend that the exegetical case for annihilationism is quite so anemic.
The biblical case for ECT may seem patently obvious. That is often the case with the doctrines we hold. To the paedobaptist, it is patently obvious that the children of believers should be baptized, regardless of age. To the credobaptist, it is equally obvious that baptism belongs only to those who can make a credible profession of faith. The same could be said of a number of issues that Christians have historically regarded as secondary. These matters are important. They may even warrant denominational separation. But they are not first-order doctrines.
Baptists and paedobaptists do not generally go around accusing one another of heresy, even when they believe the other side is mistaken. Why? Because they recognize that, as important as the issue is, and as clear as Scripture may appear to them, those on the other side nevertheless share the essentials of the Christian faith. And that is important.
Historically, Christians have distinguished between primary, secondary, and tertiary doctrines. Gavin Ortlund refers to this as doctrinal triage. But in recent years I have noticed a tendency to place more and more doctrines into the same bucket, as if they were all equally important.
We are living in a polarized age. We see it in politics, but it is also evident in the Church. Many evangelical Christians seem increasingly unwilling to distinguish between first-order, second-order, and third-order differences. Almost everything is treated as though it were essential. Every disagreement is viewed as sinful compromise. What I believe is considered so self-evidently true that anyone who disagrees must somehow be suppressing the truth in unrighteousness.
But this creates serious problems.
First, many of our favourite authors and preachers from the past disagreed with us on secondary and tertiary matters. I am a young-earth creationist, but Charles Spurgeon, B. B. Warfield, and J. Gresham Machen are among the many godly men who did not hold to young-earth creationism. John Stott believed in annihilationism. Are these men false teachers? Were they guilty of heresy?
Second, it sows seeds of division that undermine the unity we have in Christ. Octavius Winslow wrote:
"Find the sons of God where you may, belonging to what religious section of the Church they may, kneel with them in prayer, bend with them before the one mercy-seat, and you will be at no loss to ascertain who is their Father. Oh, there is nothing so convincing of the essential unity of God's family, or which constitutes so beautiful and touching a manifestation of that unity, as the clustering together of the Lord's people from their various communions around God's throne of grace."
Winslow goes on to say that Christian love is
"essentially nonsectarian, since it embraces all who love Christ and walk in His commandments, and is as expansive as the length and breadth of the Church universal. If I only love a Christian brother because he belongs to my branch of the Christian Church, or holds my distinctive principles, my love in this case is sectarian, and not Christian."
This is my concern when we begin using terms like heresy to describe men who, like Cameron, love our Saviour, boast only in the cross of Christ, trust in Him alone for salvation, and seek to live for the honour and glory of His name. We may disagree with them on important matters, but we should nevertheless rejoice whenever Christ is proclaimed.
I do not doubt that Butterfield and Moore are motivated by a sincere desire to defend biblical truth. Rather, I worry that they have expanded the category of heresy beyond what is warranted.
Which brings me back to annihilationism.
For decades there has been broad agreement concerning the essentials of the faith. I cannot speak for every annihilationist, but I do know that it is entirely possible to hold an annihilationist view while affirming all of those essentials. Annihilationists are Trinitarian. They believe in the authority of Scripture, the sovereignty of God, creation ex nihilo, the virgin birth, the substitutionary atonement, the bodily resurrection of Christ, and the final resurrection and judgment.
More than that, they believe in salvation by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone. They believe in the new birth, adoption, and progressive sanctification.
In my experience, annihilationists also believe in the torments of hell. The difference is that they believe those torments are of a finite duration. They may last a hundred years, a thousand years, a million years, or even ten million years, but eventually the torments will end, the wicked will be destroyed, and they will cease to exist. They may be wrong—indeed, I believe they are—but it is difficult to see how such a position can be equated with heresy when those who hold it continue to affirm every essential doctrine of the Christian faith.
To call annihilationism heresy is not merely to say that it is mistaken. It is to place it in the same category as those doctrines that strike at the heart of the gospel itself. That is a claim many faithful Christians throughout church history would have found impossible to accept.
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