Holiness rooted in the heart
Michael Reeves
The difference between an evangelical and a non-evangelical understanding of holiness can be seen well in a difference between the 17th-century Puritans and their contemporaries, the high-church Caroline Divines. Perhaps the most influential of the Carolines was William Laud (1573–1645), Charles I’s Archbishop of Canterbury.
Laud loved what he called “the beauty of holiness”, by which he meant liturgical orderliness. He strictly insisted that the clergy must follow all the rubrics of the Church of England’s prayer book, and was deeply concerned with clergy attire and the maintenance of church buildings and their physical beauty. And it was a particular sort of building he preferred: despising the Reformation – or “Deformation,” as he called it – he preferred new churches to be built in the pre-Reformation, Gothic style, with an architectural emphasis on an altar instead of a Communion table. For, he said, “the altar is the greatest place of God’s residence upon earth, greater than the pulpit; for there ’tis Hoc est corpus meum, This is my body; but in the other it is at most but Hoc est verbum meum, This is my word.”
James Talarico & the rise of liberal Christianity
James Talarico was not even born the last time Texas elected a Democrat as senator, in 1988. Yet on 3 November 2026, he won 55% of the vote. Sixty-seven per cent of Texans identify as Christian, while 27% are classed as Evangelical Protestants.
Politics is a complicated business, and it would be foolish to reduce an election involving millions of voters to a single cause. But for Christians, there is something about Talarico’s appeal worth noticing.