Charismatics are those Christians who believe miracles happen. Cessationists are those Christians who believe they don’t: Either miracles stopped happening after bible times, or they never did happen, and every “miracle” has a plausible non-supernatural explanation.
There’s a third category, but they don’t have an agreed-upon title yet. We can call them either semi-charismatics or semi-cessationists: They definitely believe in miracles, and they definitely believe miracles take place nowadays. But they believe miracles are nowhere near as commonplace as charismatics claim they are, or should be. They believe miracles are rare.
Because they don’t clearly fit the one label or the other, they’ll swerve round them. I’ve met people who identified themselves as “cessationist”—only to find out they’re not really cessationist, but they call themselves so because they believe commonplace miracles ceased. Or because they definitely don’t consider themselves charismatics. But neither are they true cessationists. I’ve likewise met “charismatics” who won’t believe any of the testimonies they hear about miracles, because while they do believe in miracles, they think they only occur during special circumstances—and these special circumstances just don’t happen often.
It’s open for debate.
While I personally disagree with this point of view (because I’ve seen otherwise), I agree it’s an area where Christians are free to disagree. The scriptures never tell us at what rate we should see miracles take place: Daily, weekly, monthly, yearly, decennially, once a generation, centennially?
Obviously there are certain time periods where we see a whole slew of miracles take place. At the Exodus, the LORD dumped a series of plagues on the Egyptians, then spent the next 40-plus years visibly appearing to the Hebrews in a pillar of cloud and fire, feeding them six days a week with manna, and regularly dispensing food, water, commands, grace, and judgment. We can say with certainty one of the features of the Kingdom of God, at this point in history, was daily miraculous dependence on God. But is this one of the features of the Kingdom today? Some say yes. Others no.
Jump forward to Jesus’s day. In the gospels we see Jesus performing miracles with great regularity. Again, there was feeding the people, but there were also acts of healing, exorcisms, words of knowledge (notice how frequently, when Jesus spoke to people, his responses had to do with what they thought rather than what they said aloud), and the odd demonstration of might over nature, such as walking on water, stopping the weather, or killing a fig tree. We don’t know the frequency of Jesus’s miracles. Nor do we know the frequency of the miracles which took place after Jesus ascended and the apostles took over. Maybe they were daily, like during the Exodus. Maybe not.
Still, most Christians agree: If we’re gonna base our beliefs and practices on bible, we should see miracles like the folks in the bible saw miracles. God is almighty, and there’s no reason he can’t intervene in spacetime whenever he wishes, and make something happen where we can’t.
Experience-based theology.
But if the frequency of miraculous happenings isn’t based on bible—’cause the scriptures give us neither rate nor formula—then what’re we basing our beliefs upon? Obviously it’s either wishful thinking, or something more solid: Personal experience.
Let’s deal with wishful thinking first. Some Christians believe miracles happen all the time, ’cause they want miracles to happen all the time. They want God to intervene more often than he does. They’re praying really hard he will, and live in anticipation. You’ll have to ask them whether they get results. Other Christians are really hoping miracles won’t happen—but more about them in a bit.
Hopes aren’t experience. But I’ve found a lot of Christians tend to see our hopes met. Which leads us to experience: Some Christians believe miracles happen all the time, for it’s precisely what they see. Others believe miracles don’t happen so often, because it’s precisely what they see.
Both of us assume our experiences are the norm for all of Christendom. If miracles always happen to us, they oughta happen to everybody, at about the same rate. Or if miracles are rare for us, they oughta be rare for everybody. With rare exceptions, humans like to think we’re normal. We tend to use our experiences as the baseline for what “normal” is. Particularly in theology.
As I explained previously, our theology isn’t solely based on bible. We bring our biases and baggage to our interpretations of the scriptures. When the bible is silent, we fall back on the things we already believe. If we don’t expect or experience the supernatural on a regular basis, we’re not necessarily gonna look for it, try for it, and see it. Really, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.
But because we claim our theology is based on bible, we try to find proof texts for all the things we already believe. If we’re sure miracles are everywhere, we look for biblical proof, find some, and run with it. If we’re sure they’re not, we look for biblical proof… and yes, we do find some, and run with it as well. But as I said, the scriptures don’t tell us at what rate we’re expected to see them. We don’t know whether the events of the Exodus are God’s norm or a special case. We don’t know whether miracles continued after the Exodus at the same rate. We don’t know whether God’s intent for greater achievements than Jesus made means we’ll perform more miracles than Jesus did, or only greater ones. I’d like to say we’d perform both greater and more frequent miracles. But I can’t prove it from the bible any more than cessationists can prove their personal preferences. So I’ll just admit my bias, and move on.
The miracles we don’t wish to see.
Now, why might Christians wish against commonplace miracles? Believe it or not, there are some very good reasons they don’t care to see them.
There are a lot of Christians who hope God will do stuff so they won’t have to. You’ve seen Christians who pray, “God, make me be a certain way.” Even though we know God doesn’t want to change our behaviors for us, but help us develop our self-control so we cooperatively stop these behaviors. It’s not about God doing all the work, nor us; it’s supposed to be synergy, achieved through our relationship. But people would much rather God do it all, and not them; or they’d much rather keep sinning and fall back on grace. Either way, they want quick ’n dirty miracles which bypass a relationship with God. No submission. No humility. No real fruit.
You’ve seen Christians pray, “God, fix our city,” then sit back and do absolutely nothing to help God fix the city—even though we’re supposed to be God’s hands and feet, the instruments he uses to make his Kingdom come. Quite rightly, many Christians object to the sort of cheap-grace miracles which permit Christians to remain couch potatoes. They don’t want to see God enable or endorse such behavior. I absolutely don’t blame them.
Christians pray, “God, make me prosperous,” yet don’t care to do any hard work. We pray, “God, heal my illnesses,” yet a lot of this poor health is due to a rotten diet, lousy habits, and no exercise. We pray, “God, break my addictions,” yet skip the 12-step meetings, avoid the accountability to sponsors, and really refuse to practice even really weak self-discipline. We pray, “God, reform my church,” yet never correct Christians who misbehave, nor encourage one another to repent and get religious about God. We don’t cooperate with God. Should God answer such people with miracles, and allow the misbehavior to continue?
One of my peeves are those charismatics who come forward every Sunday morning to feel God’s presence, then once they received their spiritual high, they leave the church building and don’t follow him whatsoever, the rest of the week. If a miracle produces no fruit, what good is it? And semi-charismatics are right to complain about such behavior.
But they’re not correct to say there’s nothing miraculous about it—that because there’s no fruit, there’s no God. One can actually practice the supernatural without fruit. Paul wrote about tongues, prophecy, faith, and good deeds, all done without love. ) Moses is a really good example of how God provided water to the Hebrews, yet Moses’s rotten attitude ruined the lesson God wanted to convey through the miracle.
In my experience, this sort of thing happens all the time. It should never, but it does. For his own reasons, out of his own generosity, God performs such miracles anyway—because he isn’t limited by our sense of propriety. He has free will, y’know: He does things his own way, for his own reasons.
God can permit a fruitless minister to heal the sick: He wants the sick healed, and is willing to overlook the minister for the sake of the sick. We might really wish he wouldn’t act: “Really? Through that guy?” We just know the misbehaving Christian will point to the miracles: “See? Here’s proof God’s with me!” Of course, those of us who know our bibles know better. Fruit, not miracles, is proof of God’s endorsement. Knowing this, we shouldn’t be so worried about miracles, and rumors of miracles, surrounding certain iffy preachers and ministries. Miracles aren’t fruit.
The uncomfortable miracle.
Of course, other Christians hope against commonplace miracles because they don’t wanna be proven wrong. They prefer a universe where God interferes rarely, and stays away till the End. An imminent God disturbs them. The only way they can be comfortable with God’s omnipresence is if God is everywhere but passive: He watches, and never acts. The only way they can be comfortable with God’s almightiness is if God is all-powerful but limits himself so much, he may as well be powerless. The only way they can be comfortable with God’s sovereignty is if it’s so subtle, hidden, and secretive, we can feel like we answer to no one. Or just plain answer to no one.
So yeah, people don’t believe God performs many miracles because they don’t want him to. And as I said, it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. Don’t want God to act? Or only want him to act rarely? Then he’ll accommodate you.
But—again, in my experience; I can’t really speak of it any other way—if you let him out of the box, he’ll stun you with just how active he is.