James Dunn, a prominent New Testament scholar, coined the phrase 'the new perspective on Paul' back in the 1980s. The new ways of reading the New Testament which he tried to capture by the phrase have evolved into a theological science of their own, and have permeated the church through the colossal writings of N.T. Wright. Depending on where you are coming from, the new perspective on Paul is either the best, or worst, thing since sliced bread.
My purpose here is not to talk about the new perspective on Paul, however. I have simply observed, in a variety of theological journals and books, how the use of the phrase 'new perspective' has become a clever attention-grabbing device for an introduction to other topics.
So, for example, the latest edition of the Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society carries an article entitled 'The New Perspective on Calvin: responding to recent Calvin interpretations'.
Hence my own title this week. Actually, I think it pretty much sums up where many young Christians of the twenty-first century are with their faith. We are living in a question-everything, accept-nothing, express-anything society, and cherished traditions within the church are all up for reassessment.
That in itself is not a bad thing. How could I say it was and remain a conscientious Protestant? The Reformation taught us to study tradition itself from the point of view of Scripture, and to have only one ultimate standard of authority. Sometimes, however, we forget that the way things were done in the past is way down the list of authoritative standards.
So my own position is simple: I love tradition, but I am not a traditionalist. I don't object to new things just because they are new, or venerate old things just because they are old. Some things are best buried in the past, and sin means violating Scriptural principles, not time-honoured ones.
Having said all of that, however, I am more than a little conscious of the changing world of evangelical religion, in which new perspectives abound. Just the other week I attended the Cheltenham Bible Festival to lead a couple of seminars there. Conversations with Christians of all denominations and churches made me realise just how fast the pendulum is swinging. If we are not careful, we will end up with new perspectives on just about everything.
I am conscious, for example, of a new perspective on church on the part of many Christians. In many places, house groups are taking over from regular mainline church services. We had house groups too, only we called them gatherings. And they were never a substitute for church services; they were a supplement to them.
I know that the 'church' is the people, not the building, and that even New Testament practice legitimises the meetings of the church in people's homes. But I am afraid that the result of the false piety that justifies house groups on the basis of New Testament practice actually leads to a retreat of the church from its witness in the public arena.
I do not think that there is a more powerful public statement of faith than a church lit up on a dark night, with a full car park outside. It is one of the clearest indications that there are people in a community who love to worship God.
But it is also part of this new perspective that many modern day Christians are questioning the need to be in church (in whatever context) more than once on a Sunday. Where, they ask, is the biblical warrant for that? The Psalmist would have given anything to spend all his days in the house of the Lord; from that approach we have come to a very different, minimalist one: the new perspective on church wants to spend as little time in church as possible.
I am conscious too of a new perspective on salvation. What is the basis of our salvation, and how do we experience it?
The older evangelical tradition was clear in its witness to the objectivity of the atonement, where Jesus was crucified in the place of others to bear their sins, atone for their guilt, and seal their pardon in blood. The gospel came to us with its insistence that we see ourselves as sinners, and respond in faith and repentance to the God who gave his Son for us.
But recent evangelical literature has opened up new perspectives on these fundamentals of faith. Scholars ask whether the penal substitution model is adequate for expressing fully the reality of what happened on the cross of Calvary. What about other motifs, biblical models such as victory, example, or payment?
Revisionist views of atonement then lead to revisionist views of conversion. New perspectives abound on the nature of faith – does faith mean assenting to biblical propositions, or is there some deeper, experiential aspect to it? And having prayed the sinner's prayer, or signed the enquirer's card, is that it? Some new persectives are very persuasive at saying no – that's not it, until you have been baptised in the Spirit or have experienced something deeper.
Then there are new perspectives on Christian living, which have grown out of new perspectives on the place of the law in the life of the believer.
The older evangelicalism stressed that the moral law of the ten commandments was the believer's rule of life, and that these were the laws which God writes on the hearts of his people in the new covenant.
But any mention of the law leads to accusations of legalism, as if law-keeping and legalism were the same thing. The result is a Christian life in which guidance becomes a huge issue. Were the modern church to compile a Shorter Catechism, it would not feel it necessary to devote 40 per cent of it to an exposition of the moral law, and it would certainly drop any reference to the Sabbath.
In the new perspective on Christian lifestyle, Christ is our Sabbath, and our day of rest can be any day we choose; while we are all taking a rest, we can find a convenient day on which to worship (or not).
Things that were a given a generation ago have suddenly polarised Christians, for whom the Christian life is really a spiritual free-for-all.
I am convinced that part of the reason for all this confusion is in the songs many Christians are singing. Many of these songs are subjective in places where the Bible is objective; they are confused where the Bible is clear; they stress feelings where the Bible stresses intellect and will. And, worst of all, they communicate lame theology powerfully.
Do we wonder that there is no Spurgeon or Lloyd-Jones appearing on the scene? It's because the new perspective on everything Christian has tried to ape the world and demonstrate that it's cool to be a Christian.
In actual fact, it is anything but. To be a Christian is to take up crosses, face accusations, be relegated to the periphery. It may not be wise to walk all the old paths, but many of them have good things we need to recover. Otherwise, we are in danger of swallowing a new perspective on the Bible itself, and making it quite unnecessary for our Christian living.

iaind@backfreechurch.co.uk