Introduction: A Conversation with My Friend, Pastor Dean

One of the people I most enjoy talking theology with is my friend Pastor Dean. We’ve taught classes together off and on for a few years, and he’s one of those rare voices you can trust to think deeply without simply repeating the party line. When I bring him a tough question, I know I’m not going to get a rehearsed denominational answer—I’m going to get an honest one.

That honesty is something I’ve always admired in him. A while back, he told me a story from one of his trips overseas. While in Israel, he was offered wine by his hosts. He accepted it—not because he wanted to defy anyone, but because he understood that in that culture, to refuse a gesture of hospitality would be deeply disrespectful. The irony was that his denomination asks pastors to take a vow not to drink alcohol—a rule, as he put it, that’s a holdover from the pre-Prohibition era.

When I once told him I thought that was a dumb rule and not biblical, he just smiled and said, “I know. But that’s what they do here, and it’s a small sacrifice to take the vow.” No excuses, no defensiveness—just simple integrity.

That’s Dean: thoughtful, principled, and unafraid to hold tension between conviction and compassion. It’s why I so value our theological conversations. His honesty cuts through pretension, and his insights often bring clarity when I’m wrestling with difficult ideas.

So when Dean sent me the following reflection on my recent post about Perichoretic Salvation, I knew it would be worth sharing in full. His comment not only affirms the heart of what I was trying to express but also extends it in ways that deepened my own understanding.

Dean’s Comment

Nomen,

Wow! You have opened my eyes to a whole new way of thinking and life as well.

I’m sorry for the delay in getting back to you. I was on a trip to Turkey and Greece for almost 3 weeks. The last day of the trip I caught a cold, and along with being very tired upon my return, I was not up for doing much for a week.

I must say, I was blown away by what you wrote. The concepts and ideas do explain a lot of Scriptures in a way I had never thought about before. And I agree with you about the nature of the Trinity being one in love, yet not merged together. Reminds me of what marriage is supposed to be, yet we so often fall short of that ideal. The Marriage Supper of the Lamb kept running thru my mind as I read what you wrote.

I liked your statement: “This is why Gifford’s framework resonates so deeply with me. It unites doctrine and devotion, theology and life. It reminds me that correct belief is not the final goal but the scaffolding for relationship — the way of knowing that enables the way of loving.” At the beginning of what you wrote I was worried you were making an “either/or” distinction between doctrine and practice, and wanted to say, “It’s not either/or, it’s both/and.” Without correct doctrine/thinking about who God, Jesus, and the Spirit are, we cannot have correct practice/love. The Mormons think Jesus is Lucifer’s brother, so how can they have correct love for a Jesus who doesn’t exist in reality. So your statement that correct belief is the scaffolding for relationship allied my concern. But doctrine is only the scaffolding, it is not the building itself.

Also, you are right – we, (and I include myself in this), often emphasize correct doctrine because we don’t understand what it means to be “in Christ” – to be in Him and Him is us, united In love. My brother Sam is a linguist who used to be with Wycliffe. He taught me that “in Christ” is a container concept. Just as water or milk is poured into a cup, we are “in Christ.” Yet the milk is not the container, and the container doesn’t become milk. But what you have described is far beyond a cup and milk illustration. It is a mingling of lives, of sharing everything openly because we are loved and not condemned. All we have and enjoy is our relationship with the Godhead is because we are “in Christ.” Just as we shared Adam’s sin and fall because we are “in Adam,” we now share all of Christ’s rewards, inheritance, blessings, place next to the Father in the heavenlies, divine nature, and love of the Father because we have been placed “in Christ.” What Christ has earned, received and been given by the Father, is also ours “in Christ.”

On our trip to Turkey and Greece, the group of us who went experienced some amazing things and places, and it brought us together as a group. We learned to love and care for each other in a way I had not experienced before with such a large group. Jody Mills had a bad hip, and numerous people helped her go up and down stairs and kept her safe of slippery, uneven stones. It jelled the group and everyone began looking out for each other and encouraging and helping each other. That was true Christian love among God’s family. It helped me to understand your question: “Is there, perhaps, a fourth level of perichoresis — not only Trinity, Incarnation, and Union with Christ, but believers indwelling one another through the Spirit?” My initial response was, “Yes, there is when love and caring for each other is the defining glue.” So maybe that should be the main idea for your next book, or doctoral thesis!

This is amazing stuff!

Well, thank you for sharing all this with me.

Dean

Conclusion: When Theology Touches the Heart

Reading Dean’s reflection genuinely moved me. It’s one thing to write about theological concepts, but it’s something else entirely when those ideas come alive for someone who knows Scripture, history, and ministry as deeply as he does.

Dean’s affirmation meant more to me than I can express. To have someone I deeply respect—someone who has walked the pastoral road with wisdom and humility—see and feel what I was trying to communicate was profoundly encouraging. His analogy of doctrine as scaffolding struck a chord with me as well. The structure matters, but the point is always the relationship it supports—the living edifice of love.

What touched me most was his reflection on what it means to be in Christ. I’ve heard many metaphors for that phrase, but the way Dean described it—as a mingling of lives bound by love and not condemnation—captures the very heart of what I think Gifford’s Perichoretic Salvation is pointing toward.

It gives me comfort, honestly, to know that someone I hold in such high regard sees this the same way I do. I hope to explore the “fourth level of perichoresis”—believers indwelling one another through the Spirit—in a future post. That may be where this whole journey of thought is leading.

For now, I’m simply grateful: grateful for friendship, for honesty, and for a shared pursuit of the God whose love is always greater than our understanding.

Excerpt

A pastor friend and fellow teacher shared reflections on my post about Perichoretic Salvation. His insights on doctrine as scaffolding for love and believers abiding “in Christ” deepened my own understanding—and reminded me that theology, at its best, is a shared act of worship.