Open Theism as the Antidote to Theistic Fatalism and Prosperity Theology

Well, I haven’t written much for a while! We’ve been so busy adjusting to the Georgia lifestyle, that I’ve found it difficult to think about one thing long enough to put together a blog entry. That being said, I’ve finally developed a few thoughts on—you guessed it—Open Theism. My favorite topic and hobby horse.

Unquestionably, no other theological concept has been as profoundly influencing as my move to the Openness of God position. It has shaped nearly every idea I have of God, Christ, and humans. In fact, it is so fundamental to my thinking now, that I’m really thinking of it less and working out more of the implications of that theology in my own practice and preaching.

As a preacher, I haven’t done any sermons directly on God’s openness. Really, I doubt I will for this reason: most people pretty much already operate on the assumption that the future is open and that God is responding to us actively, not as if he has eternally known all events. They may pay lip service to eternal foreknowledge, but few are really operating under that system.

I do, however, hear it from pulpits. One of my favorite preachers, Alistair Begg, recently did a few lesson sets on his podcast called “The Benefits of Expository Preaching” and “The Basics of Expository Preaching.” (See “Theo’s Podcasts” to the left to download.) Both sets were excellent and well balanced. However, within these he reemphasized his own Calvinist background under the assumption that, in expository preaching, you don’t begin with Calvinism, but if you teach the Bible, you’ll get around to it. One experiences moments of despair when one realizes just how many people do not hold to one’s own position. But I don’t have to convince anyone do I? Why pressure myself to do so? That having been said, I find that few methods for developing a blog entry are as prolific as listening to someone say something and working out a response to it. Recently, there are two events inspiring this entry: one is a statement made by a local minister, the other an investigation of a few area ministers.

The Statement:

A theological statement made recently has led me to dub a new term: Theological Fatalism. I have coined this term to describe the position, whether Calvinistic or Arminian (what’s the difference any more?), that God’s foreknowledge of our suffering somehow works into his master plan for the human race. The statement I heard was something like this:

“So and so is dealing with cancer again. We don’t know why God is allowing her to experience this. But we can bet that God has been preparing her throughout her entire life to deal with this tragedy.”

Personally, one of the weaknesses of the Calvinistic and Arminian views of foreknowledge is that it requires Christians to develop theodicies explaining why God would allow them or why we shouldn’t ask why. In this case, the classic “soul making theodicy” is appealed to: God knew it would happen, decided to use it for a certain purpose, and went about preparing this person (presumably through other hardship or trials?) to deal with it. I think it begs a few questions:

QUESTION: If God knows the event is going to happen, how much sense does it make to say that God is “preparing” someone to experience it, or planning to “use” it?

EXPLANATION: If God has KNOWLEDGE of an upcoming event, then we must understand that he KNOWS the event is going to happen. It seems ridiculous and repetitive, but it is necessary to point this out. What Arminian Christians seem to misunderstand is that foreknowledge (the knowledge that something will happen) NECESSITATES that no other event CAN happen. In other words—if God eternally knows an event will happen, NO OTHER EVENT CAN HAPPEN. If another event happens, then God didn’t really know it would happen. He can’t change that event, because the event he knew would happen has to happen. So the idea that God “knows” an event will happen and works around it within time is really nonsense. Here is why: for any one event which happens, there are millions—perhaps billions—of events within time which lead up to that event and which are necessary for that event to happen. The holocaust, for example, did not happen suddenly and with no warning! A very specific set of events happened which led to the Nazis taking power and Hitler’s regime.

Let’s say God KNEW with ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY that the holocaust would happen. If this is the case, he knew exactly what every person in the world would do—who would try to stop it and fail and who would not do anything about it until after it began. He knew who would die, who would suffer, who would react. He knew every event in time. Hence, we can see that if God pre-knows with certainty that one single event will happen within time, he has to know EVERY single event which will ever happen in time which leads up to that event. He has to KNOW everything.

If he knows everything that will happen, how can he “prepare” any of us for anything? If he knows what will happen, all that can happen is what he knows will happen—and if he interacts, he changes what he knew would happen to what he wants to happen. What happens then is not what he knew would happen—so he couldn’t have KNOWN it, he could only have “thought” it. What he “knew” wasn’t what was going to happen—his “knowledge” wasn’t knowledge, but “belief.” And his belief was wrong.

God’s “preparing” someone for an event is only possible if God can interact with those of us in time. He must be able to work within our lives to change us and move us. In order to do that, we have to be ABLE to change. If God knows what we are going to do, then he must allow us to do what he already knows we are going to do—we cannot change from what he already knows we will do. He cannot interact with us within time. (At this point, let me reiterate that my position is that the God of the Bible is ALWAYS interacting with those of us in time—the future is open to possibilities, even within the mind of God—see the verse in the upper left hand corner of the page!).

To say that God is “preparing” someone for something can only be understood in one of two theological positions: Calvinism or Openness. The open sense allows God to work within time because God does not know all of the events of the future—they are open possibilities in his mind. In the Calvinist sense, God has decided what will happen to everyone and is just working out the entire system outside of any free-will of humans.

The notion that God will prepare someone for something he knows will happen, or plan to use an event he knows will happen, necessitates that he knows and is planning to use ALL the events of history. In fact, it really necessitates that God is “determining” all of the events of history. In other words, if we assume that God is able to do anything—to act at all—within a system in which he knows the future, then you must abandon any understanding of human freedom because you have become a determinist. ARMINIAN FOREKNOWLEDGE BREAKS DOWN INTO AUGUSTINIAN DETERMINISM when you start talking about God acting or using events he knows will happen. If you combine God’s foreknowledge of an event (which cannot be wrong) and his eternal desire to use that event then there is little else one can turn to other than determinism. Let me explain one more way. If God knows all events are going to happen and decides to use one of them within his plan, then it must be that all the events leading up to that event happen in order for that event to happen in order for God to use it. Nothing else CAN happen other than the event which God wants to happen so that he can use it.

The entire system must be determined if we are going to assume that God is able to act within the system and knows what will happen (i.e.: no human freedom). If the system isn’t determined (i.e.: human freedom), and God knows what will happen, then he is not free to act within it and contradict anything he knows will happen. God is, therefore, limited by his knowledge (which is the point of my entire master’s degree project). Arminian theology really breaks down into determinism or deism. Take your pick.


Another problem with the statement is this: if God is preparing a specific person to experience a specific problem, what does that say about other people who suffer? Perhaps one can speak of God’s use of the suffering of someone battling cancer in their old age. Perhaps God prepared that person to experience that to use it to his glory (in my opinion, it is just happening and God is working within it). But what about a young girl who is molested by her uncle or cousins? Does God prepare young girls when they are toddlers to experience such things and use them for a specific purpose? The soul-making theodicy is VERY, very poor at explaining these things.

Open Theism doesn’t require a theodicy. God does not plan events or plan to use events he knows will happen. He created an open system with a possibility of evil and works within that system. But I don’t have to justify God’s foreknowledge of terrible events! I can concentrate on God’s answer to the problem of pain being the CROSS, not a theodicy.

The Investigation:

No doubt the reader has heard of an investigation of six nationally known religious leaders regarding their personal finances. Two of those being investigated come from the Atlanta area. One is Creflo Dollar, of World Changers. Dollar, according to an article in the Atlanta Journal Constitution on November 14, 2007, is defending his lavish lifestyle based on his belief that his riches are directly proportionate to his faithfulness. It’s straight prosperity theology.

The area I currently live in is a very affluent area. We, personally, are not affluent by the same standards as some of our neighbors (by others we are). However, I’ve noticed a real emphasis on prosperity theology in this area and I’ve come to a conclusion.

Prosperity theology is really only popular in affluent areas! One doesn’t go to the Christians in Haiti and preach that the reason they are in poverty is because they don’t have enough faith! The truth is, in prosperity theology the “faith” has not preceded the wealth, but the other way around. Those who are wealthy have examined their belongings, asked why they have them and concluded, “It must be because we are such faithful Christians!”

It’s idolatry, not Christianity. It seems to me that the promise in the New Testament is that Christians will suffer. And the example of the New Testament is that those with the most faith are showing their faith in suffering, not in riches and glory. Show me a New Testament exception to this rule!

It seems so clear in the New Testament. Why do people not see it? I think that Augustinian determinism has something to do with it. Why would one need to explain one’s financial success theologically? Why can’t a Christian who has a lot of money simply chalk it up to his own financial prowess, hard work, inheritance, luck in the lottery…whatever? Why does God have to be behind that? Well, if God is determining every event which happens, one has to start asking why some people have so much and some people do not!

At any rate, Open Theism seems much better suited to deal with disparity of incomes. God is not deciding every event which happens, but the system is open. People can become millionaires if they are so inclined and able. Some people will suffer in poverty because that is also a possibility. God may work within the system and may promise to take care of his people (provide their needs to a point). But I don’t have to answer the question, “Why does God choose some for riches and some not?”

A lot about a little, I guess! Comments?

Hubben and Why I May not Vote in the Upcoming Elections

I just finished (actually, it's taking me so long to read or blog lately, that I really finished it weeks ago but am just getting around to finishing this blog) reading Dostoevsky, Kierkegaard, Nietzsche and Kafka by William Hubben. Not an especially long read, the book is a brief analysis of the life and works of four wildly important existentialists. Hubben does a good job outlining a type of progression of thought, beginning with Sören Kierkegaard. Dostoevsky is next, then the nihilism of Friedrich Nietzsche, and finally Franz Kafka desperate in hoplessness and lack of meaning.

One amazing insight of these "Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse," as Hubben refers to them, is how insightful they are about 19th century Christianity. Each, for different reasons, found the merging of Christianity and government to be ultimately distasteful and a complete rejection of what Christianity has always stood for. Though Dostoevsky's Russian nationalism is emphasized as a theme, this paragraph on Nietzsche said much:

"In the vein of Kierkegaard's thinking, with which he was unacquainted, Nietzsche, the Antichrist, is indignant about the unholy fusion of state and religion, as he also believes that the state prevents the Single One from attaining his dignity. Original Christianity taught man not to conform to the state and even to separate himself from his family for the sake of the spirit. Our statesmen, 'anti-Chrisitians in their deeds,' have clearly changed this. They attend communion. they promote 'Christian' thinking in their speeches and schools. The chasm between the world and the faith of Jesus has been eliminated. Now the Christian is a soldier, a judge, a patriot who knows nothing about non-resistance to evil. He defends his honor instead of accepting humiliations; he is as proud as though he had never heard of the humble Galilean's teachings, and the Church has become precisely that institution Jesus had wanted to abolish." (108)

Assuming that Hubben's treatment of Nietzsche's thoughts on Christianity are accurate (and from what I've read of Nietzsche, they certainly don't contradict his thoughts on Jesus), I think this paragraph has some weight. Though Nietzsche's relationship to Christianity is, at the very least, antagonistic, he does make a particularly insightful observation of the result of the fusion of government and Christianity--that it damages Christianity. Though I don't think the statement "separate himself from family for the sake of the spirit" is accurate, the notion that the statesmen misunderstand Christianity is absolutely true.

In my time I have noticed that this fusion is most often used as a manipulation tactic by both of the main political parties. Each has a propensity to proclaim itself "Christian," and loves to relate its planks to Christian values. This consistently sets Christians in a strange position in which they feel the need to "vote their Christian values," but find themselves voting for a person whom they do not understand, know, or trust, because they have assumed that his views are really the "Christian" views.

Let me start another way. I have always been turned off by businesses which advertise on their signs or in their Yellow Page ads that they are "Christian" businesses. You find plumber ads with the ichthus symbol and lawyer signs with Bible verses. But what does one have to do with the other? What does the business owner gain from such a maneuver? Is he promoting the Kingdom of God? Is our call to advertise that we are Christians or is the call to behave like Christ? My conclusion is that the reason business owners do this is that so many Christians are convinced that Christianity is supporting Christian entertainment and frequenting Christian businesses to promote other Christians.

Similarly, politicians love to talk about their "faith." But I've never heard a politician describe a faith that I felt I had much in common with. I have voted pro-life since I was old enough to pull a lever because I felt my Christian faith necessitated that. Yet, those who claimed to be pro-life never acted on their pro-life positions. And, on top of that, the global situation has only worstened as those I have voted for have made decisions which have now turned into other problems.

The bottom line is, I'm not sure I'm voting this time for two reasons. One, as a citizen I doubt very much I'm going to find someone I really can get behind. Two, as a Christian, I don't think it's the point!

I think Bonhoeffer's thoughts on Luther are relevant to my thinking on this now:

"It was the Reformation that broke asunder the unity of the faith. That was not because Luther willed it so. He was indeed wholly concerned for the true unity of the Church. But the word of the Bible forced him to the conclusion that the unity of the Church can lie only in Jesus Christ as He lives in His word and sacrament, and not in any political power. In this way he shattered the whole structure of the Church, which was founded upon Roman tradition. Only a Pope who submitted unreservedly to the word of the Bible could be the shepherd of a united Christendom. But the Pope, bound as he was by tradition, was incapable of submission, and that is why the unity of Christendom was destroyed. The corpus christianum is resolved into its true constituents, the corpus Christi and the world. In His Church Christ rules not by the sword but solely with His word. Unity of Faith exists only in obedience to the true word of Jesus Christ. But the sword is the property of the secular government, which in its own way, i the proper discharge of its office, also serves the same Lord Jesus Christ. There are two kingdoms which so long as the world continues, must neither be mixed together nor yet torn asunder. There is the kingdom of the preached word of God, and there is the kingdom of the sword. The kingdom of the Church, and the kingdom of the world. The realm of the spiritual office, and the realm of secular government. The sword can never bring about the unity of the Church and of the faith. Preaching can never govern the nations. But the Lord of both kingdoms is the God who is made manifest in Jesus Christ (Ethics, 95-96)."

For what it is worth, I'm not certain how closely Bonhoeffer's synopsis of Luther on the topic actually mirrors his own views, but I like the paradox offered here.

This is a disjointed thought--but I've found my time so precious lately! I'm busy and loving my new job.

Final thought. Please pray as I'm working on a new article submisson. The last few weeks have done more to solidify some of my thinking on church leadership and gender roles than any time I have spend studying. I am considering writing an article rethinking 1 Timothy 2-3 based on my recent sermons. You can check them out by clicking the link to my podcasts.

Thanks!

Scattered Thoughts: Pacifism, Bonhoeffer, the Move

Greetings to those who occasionally visit my Abyss. Amidst the frenzy of our move and all of the emotions we experienced in picking up our lives and going to Georgia, and as I have attempted to develop a routine for writing sermons (which, now that I have time to do it right, I am actually enjoying again), I have had some random thoughts to share.

First, thanks to all of my friends who interacted with me on the topic of pacifism. Between the posts (which are immortalized in print) and the discussions we had in person, I feel I have a much better grasp on the topic than before--and I've come to understand more fully the view that many of my closest friends hold. Believe it or not, you all influenced me much more than I may have let on. I think I've been forced to re-evaluate my dilemma and approach it from a strictly Christian viewpoint. In asking, "How did Christ approach the dilemma that I have posed?" I found myself thinking of the woman caught in adultery and how Jesus dealt with that. Here we have a woman who was being unfairly persecuted (where was her lover?) and was going to be killed by a merciless gang of lynchers. Granted, their actions, by some interpretations, were protected by Jewish law. Yet, Jesus understood the real ins and outs of the situation. How did he approach it?

My pacifist friends will be proud of me, I hope! Jesus did not fight. He knelt in the sand and wrote something (I have my theories). Then he stood up and told whoever had not broken the law to cast the first stone. Jesus approached the situation non-violently. Ironically, he risked a great deal of violence to himself in doing so. And I think that may be the key. As Christians, on a personal level, where we can, perhaps we are called to suffer for others more so than fight for them. That was, actually, Jesus' entire philosophy of dealing with violence, was it not? It was to receive violence in lieu of someone else. There. I've said it. You've moved me.

I still cannot get past the separation I find inherent in NT teaching about the role of government and its use of violence in situations. It seems to me that, if God has ordained this, then there is some justification for war. I still hold that there is a paradox on war in Christian teaching. Yet, I am moved closer in my own walk to the position of many of my friends.

Interestingly, Bonhoeffer moved from being a pacifist to an attempt to assassinate Hitler. The explanation provided to me was that Bonhoeffer recognized that Hitler's regime was a product of the non-action of the church when it could have done something. Therefore, he moved to violence as a secondary position--not as good as the primary, but necessary according to situation. I think I agree with Bonhoeffer. There is a point at which it is too late to say, "This is what we should have done."

I'm reading Ethics by Bonhoeffer right now (amidst other things--see Theo's Picks for the link). My new schedule affords more time for reading and personal study. (Perhaps I should have made this move a long time ago.) Bonhoeffer is fascinating me with the idea that the whole study of ethics is really a product of the fall--in that people believe they can be the source of knowledge of good and evil. In fact, my first sermon at Castle really ended up being about that (I borrowed heavily from Paul Axton's genius chapel sermon). Once we have updated Castle's podcast, I will add the link to the Abyss. Because of the profundity of some of his comments, I was thinking of just adding a few quotes for discussion, if anyone is interested.

"To know good and evil is to know oneself as the origin of good and evil, as the origin of an eternal choice and election. How this is possible remains the secret of Him in whom there is no disunion because He is Himself the one and eternal origin and the overcoming of all disunion. This secret has been stolen from God by man in his desire to be an origin on his own account. Instead of knowing only the God who is good to him and instead of knowing all things in Him, he now knows himself as the origin of good and evil. Instead of accepting the choice and election of God, man himself desires to choose, to be the origin of election. And so, in a certain sense, he bears within himself the secret of predestination. Instead of knowing himself solely in the reality of being chosen and loved by God, he must now know himself in the possibility of choosing and of being the origin of good and evil. He has become like God, but against God. Herein lies the serpent's deceit. Man knows good and evil, but because he is not the origin, because he acquires this knowledge only at the price of estrangement from the origin, the good and evil he knows are not the good and evil of God but good and evil against God. They are good and evil of man's own choosing, in opposition to the eternal election of God. In becoming like God man has become a god against God." (Ethics, 23)

"Man's life is now disunion with God, with men, with things, and with himself." (24)

"Knowing of good and evil in disunion with the origin, man begins to reflect upon himself. His life is now his understanding of himself, whereas at the origin it was his knowledge of God. Self-knowledge is now the measure and the goal of life. This holds true even when man presses out beyond the bonds of his own self. Self-knowledge is man's interminable striving to overcome his disunion with himself by thought; by unceasingly distinguishing himself from himself he endeavours to achieve unity with himself." (29)

"No longer knowing good and evil, but knowing Christ as origin and reconciliation, man will know all. For in knowing Christ man knows and acknowledges God's choice which has fallen upon this man himself; he no longer stands as the chooser between good and evil, that is to say, in disunion; he is the chosen one, who can no longer choose, but has already made his choice in his being chosen in the freedom and unity of the deed and will of God. He thus has a new knowledge, in which the knowledge of God, yet no longer as the man who has become like God, but as the man who bears the image of God. All he knows now is "Jesus Christ, adn him crucified (I Cor. 2.2), and in HIm he knows all. As one who is without knowledge he has become the one who knows only God and all things in Him." (37)

One of my favorites:

"The voice of the heart is not to be confused with the will of God, nor is any kind of inspiriation or any general principle..." (41) He goes on to discuss that the will of God, at its base, is the metamorphasis of the human.

In some of my earlier wrestlings with the "will of God," Bonhoeffer sums up beautifully and solves the problem:

"But when all this has been said it is still necessary really to examine what is the will of God, what is rightful in a given situation, what course is truly pleasing to God; for, after all, there have to be concrete life and action. Intelligence, discernment, attentive observation of the given facts, all these now come into lively operation, all will be embraced and pervaded by prayer. Particular experiences will afford correction and warning. Direct inspirations must in no case be heeded or expected, for this could all to easily lead to a man's abandoning himself to self-deception. In view of what is at stake there must be a lofty spirit of sober self-control. Possibilities and consequences must be carefully assessed. In other words, the whole apparatus of human powers must be set in motion when it is a matter of proving what is the will of God. But in all this there will be no room for the torment of being confronted with insoluble conflicts, or for the arrogant notion that one can master every conflict, or even for the enthusiastic expectation and assertion of direct inspiration. There will be belief that if a man asks God humbly God will give him certain knowledge of His will; and then, after all this earnest proving, there will also be the freedom to make a real decision, and with it the confidence that it is not man but God Himself who, through this proving, gives effect to His will." (43-44) Beautiful!

Anyhow, I'm liking Bonhoeffer! Thoughts?

Pacifism and Reality

Numerous recent discussions with some of my closest friends have repeatedly concerned the topic of pacifism. It is no wonder to me that this view is enjoying a revival of sorts. Myth of a Christian Nation deals largely with it. And I think that it is good that the discussion is reemerging. (Perhaps I am just being re-introduced to it.) Evangelical Christians have not helped the kingdom of God by taking (on the whole) what appears to be a radical pro-war stance which is Zionistic and not consistent with Christian values.

However, I think the pacifist view has a few weaknesses. I've dealt with those in earlier posts, but I wanted to throw out a few responses to comments made by a friend of mine in a discussion on pacifism recently.

The central idea (as I can tell) to the Christian pacifist viewpoint is Jesus' claim that his kingdom is not of this world--else his servants would fight! What is drawn from this, and from the command to love our enemies, is that Christians are not called to fight--that's worldly kingdom thinking. And, from the point of view of the role of the church and the method of evangelism the church is to use, I think it is relevant to discuss this. But is this teaching in all cases relevant to the Christian's attitude toward civil government?

In our discussion, I (again) threw out the topic of the holocaust. In the early 40's of the last century, Hitler's Germany was mercilessly slaughtering millions of people. The question is, "Is this not a justified reason to enter a war--even as a Christian called to love his enemy?" One of my friends asked the question recently, "Do you think when Jesus said to 'love your enemy' he meant we shouldn't drop bombs on them?" The sarcasm of the comment implies that war is a direct contradiction to the teaching of Christ. However, I asked my friend a few days ago, "Yes, we are commanded to love our enemy. But we're also commanded to love our neighbor as ourselves. So, what do I do when my enemy is trying to kill my neighbor?" I ask, "Do you think when Jesus said to love our neighbor, we should be concerned that they not be murdered?"

The answer I bumped into that evening is the same one I've found in similar discussions. It is that "You can always argue some exception to the rule, but we don't develop theology based on these exceptions." In other words: the reality is that WWII is the anomoly, and the rule is much easier to apply in every day life. However, I think the pacifist forgets that the doctrine of pacifism has inherent practical implications. OF COURSE, the first thing someone who does not subscribe to pacifism is going to say when approached is, "So, how do I put this into practice?" Is it really such a rare thing that a Christian must decide whether to go to war? In reality, it is doubtful whether any generation in the last two hundred years (maybe ever) has NOT had to wrestle with this question. So, I don't think the pacifist escapes the practical consequences of his viewpoint by arguing that pacifism's practicality is irrelevant. Violent situations do happen and it is up to the pacifist to explain how his view is rightly lived out in light of real-world conflicts.

Also, I think the pacifist muddies the water by referring to Jesus' statement that the kingdom of God is not of this world. Here is how: when Jesus refers to the kingdom of God, it is a reference to the church--not the nation! (Thanks, Greg Boyd--though I'm not sure you'd like the conclusion I'm drawing.) And Paul also stated that government is ordained by God to bear the sword. There seems to be an implication that human government has the God-ordained responsibility to utilize violence in order to protect the welfare of the public. Keeping in mind that Jesus' indictment regarding the kingdom of God is specifically about the church, it would seem that there is a difference between the attitude Christians take regarding the role of the church in the world, and the attitude we might rightly take in participating in violence in civil matters. I think this is a much better way to understand the instances in the New Testament in which Roman soldiers come to belief in Christ, yet no mention is made of their abandonment of their posts. Even the NT reveals a paradox on the issue--perhaps reality in theology lies somewhere between the poles of conservative zionist warhawk and pacifism?

It seems to me that the church's role is a counter-cultural phenomenon--but one which operates within culture. New Testament teaching is not polar, it is paradoxical. Our job is to discover the proper balance.

I welcome responses from some of my friends on this issue!

The Goal of Relative Timelessness: Have My Cake--Eat It Too

Just finished Alan Padgett's chapter in Ganssle's edited work, God and Time. The book describes four different views on this relationship, with contributions from Paul Helm (Augustinian), William Lane Craig, Alan Padgett, and Nicholas Wolterstorff. I bought the book largely for Nicholas Wolterstorff's chapter on "Unqualified Divine Temporality." Wolterstorff defends what is, largely, my view on God and time. His chapter was good, no doubt. For the most part, I related to what he was saying the best. However, it was Padgett's chapter that, I think, really went the furthest in attacking a strictly atemporal view of God.

Padgett really makes the distinction between two extremes: everlasting eternity (temporal eternity), and timeless eternity (atemporal). With a very short section on what he sees as the weaknesses of the former, he spends many pages taking apart the latter. At the center of his complaints about atemporality are its problems with coherence. It is not, to Padgett, that the atemporal model is, in itself, a completely incoherent view. "The main objection [Padgett has] to the timeless model is simply stated: It is true only if the stasis theory of time is true. Since the stasis theory of time is false, we should reject the timeless view because we should, whenever possible, bring coherence to theology." (GT, 95)

Padgett goes on to make a very good argument for the "process" view of time over the stasis view. According to process theories,"temporal passage is a real part of the physical universe" while stasis theories "deny the reality of temporal passage."(96) He insist that "even a timeless God must await the present moment to act on really existing (present) things, if the process theory of time is true."(97) In fact, Padgett even seems to admit the concept of real change in the person of God, something classical theology works very hard to deny--yet clearly contradicts scripture.

Overall, I like Padgett's approach to atemporality. However, I found him a little frustrating, and here's why: he insists that atemporality is necessary for a coherent theology, but still tries to bring stasis theory into theology in the back door. In his section "Eternity as Relative Timelessness," having argued brilliantly against atemporality, he turns around and affirms a "God outside of time" mentality. Distinguishing between "pure duration" and temporality within created space-time ("measured time"). His reasoning, God has created space-time and so, must transcend it. His transcendence over time must be such that even his own time (God's time--pre-created space-time) must be ontologically dependent on him. But my question is, "why?"

It seems to me that we are sometimes too worked up about the transcendence of God. The notion that God created or is necessary to his own temporal (or atemporal) existence seems silly to me. What is wrong with stating that God has a nature, whether it is temporal or eternal? Is there something wrong with God if he doesn't transcend his own nature?

Scripture speaks of God's inability to lie. Does this mean he doesn't transcend truth? He cannot be tempted, either. There is nothing wrong with stating that God has a nature. I happen to think his nature is temporal, so that his temporality is not something he must transcend. It simply is what he is.

Just a short note on Padgett's chapter. Overall, it is good, but in the end he moves to atemporality in order to protect God's "Lordship over time." But I think this is unnecessary.

A Boydian Response to the Bridge Tragedy

In several of my posts, I've discussed the topic of God's will and attempts to: interpret how events fit in God's will, discern what God's will is, and explain why God allows bad events to occur. I have taken the position of an open universe, meaning that God simply created a system in which people (and angels) can choose wrong and events like this can happen. This system means that sometimes tragedies will occur, disease will attack, and accidents will happen. It means God has created a system in which the agents of that system have some control over what happens. It also means that God does not control every event, but interacts with that system dynamically. There is reaction with God--and not every event fits into his cosmic plan. Sometimes what God wants to happen doesn't happen.

On Greg Boyd's blog, Greg posted a response to an Augustinian preacher who attempted to rationalize the bridge collapse in Minnesota in light of God's purpose in the event. As Greg usually does, I think he nailed the response perfectly. Read his blog entry here.

Greg Boyd's Spiritual Warfare Q&A

Greetings friends. This post is just a quick one. I want to share a message by Greg Boyd and Paul Eddy. It is actually a 2 hour Q&A session on spiritual warfare. In it they touch on certainty, openness, the will of God, sin, Christianity and the political spectrum, and many other topics. They come to a lot of the conclusions I've come to and published on this blog. And, since we all have a tendency to promote who we agree with, I think the whole thing is definitely a stroke of brilliance.

You can find Greg Boyd's podcasts by searching for "Woodland Hills Church Sermon Podcasts" in iTunes or by clicking Greg's name.

You can also go to Greg's website and download a non-iTunes version. Either way, the message you want is "Spiritual Warfare Q&A."

Why It Doesn't Matter to Christians if the Government Sanctions Homosexual Marriages

OK, the title is over the top, I know. But I want it to catch your attention. Let me begin by saying that I am a committed Christian and that my view of homosexuality itself is in line with that of most conservative evangelicals. The Bible is pretty clear that homosexual acts are sinful. Though I think most Christians really misunderstand homosexuality and underestimate its roots, I can't say I approve of it as a legitimate alternative lifestyle.

That being said, I have to admit that the whole legal battle to keep marriage between a man and a woman does not interest me in the slightest. Here are two reasons why:

1. Those concerned have a tendency to say that allowing homosexuals to marry one another will "destroy the sanctity of marriage." Because marriage has traditionally been seen as heterosexual only, giving legal sanction to same-sex marriage will set America on a slippery slope. If the government sanctions gay marriage, before long polygamy and bestial marriages will follow. And Christians all over are worried sick that America will take one step further from God (as if it is currently close to God). But does it follow that allowing homosexuals to have a legal union similar to marriage (even called marriage) removes the God-ordained sanctity of marriage? I don't think so.

When I was a child, we often played a game called "house." Most of us have done it. You get together with your friends, someone acts like a mommy, someone else like a daddy, you line up some teddy bears as "the kids," and have tea. "Mommy" and "daddy" call each other "dear" and "honey." If they are particularly adventurous, mommy and daddy may pretend to kiss each other when daddy or mommy leaves for work. "House" is a game played by children in which they mimic the actions of their parents, playing a game about marriage. It's pretty innocent and normal. In the game, however, the children refer to themselves as "married." They pretend to be "married." They even refer to themselves as "husband" and '"wife." Yet, the sanctity of marriage is generally considered intact throughout the charade.

Of course, there is a difference. The government does not sanction "playing house." Children who pretend to be married to not have legal partnership as spouses. They do not actually act as beneficiaries of life-insurance policies. They are not given legal, married status. But here is why I think they are no different:

If marriage has sanctity, it has inherent sanctity. The ground given by Christians is that God created and ordained marriage, therefore it has a special place and role. I think they are right about that. I even think they are right that marriage is designed by God to be between a man and a woman. In fact, I believe it so firmly that I don't think someone who does it wrong can remove that sanctity. If two children pretend to be married as a game, they don't impugn the sanctity of marriage. They're just playing a game. In the same way, if two men decide they love each other and want to get "married," does what they are doing (which isn't marriage as defined by scripture anyhow) really remove the sanctity of marriage? If someone else comes along and says, "I recognize this as a legal union," does it remove it then? No. It doesn't. God planted its sanctity. It cannot be removed just because people do it wrongly. If it could, those of us who have done heterosexual marriage so poorly would already have ruined it.

Let me use another metaphor. Say all of America recognizes the game we've come to know as golf. There is usually a course involved, people use little white balls and expensive clubs, and you try to hit the ball into the cup in as few strokes as possible. But, say a small group of people have decided that they want to play golf by using small wooden mallets to hit larger wooden balls across the lawn through metal wickets (croquet). They begin to petition the government to get croquet recognized as a legal form of the game "golf." They want recognition that those already playing croquet, have, in fact, all along been playing "golf." Say, then, that the government sees no problem with this and begins to consider sanctioning croquet as golf.

Now, of course, avid golfers all over the country are furious. The golfer's rulebook clearly defines what golf is, and it is not croquet! Some even say that no respectable golfer in his right mind would even consider touching a croquet mallet, much less calling that silly game "golf." They argue that, changing the name of croquet to "golf" will impugn the inherent dignity and beauty of golf.

Let's say that the duffers lose, and those with the mallets are now golfers. Now what? What happens? Well, you have a lot of people playing golf as it was. You also have a lot of people playing the game formerly known as croquet. Have the games changed? No. Just the names. Are croquet players actually playing golf? Only in name. They still aren't doing the real thing. They've just changed the vocabulary. Golf itself hasn't changed at all. It's just that some people are now more easily able to live in their fantasy. But they'll never win the Masters! And, most likely, real golfers will just start calling golf something else (like American golf--remember the same thing happened with football when Americans started calling their game the same thing the rest of the world calls "soccer!").

If the government gives homosexual couples the legal right to refer to themselves as "married" it doesn't actually change marriage. Marriage as ordained by God is intact. It always will be. Marriage doesn't need our protection to survive. We, as individuals, need to use it correctly to survive. And this requires individual commitments. So what if the government decides to redefine marriage? God hasn't. But the interesting thing is, he doesn't ever stop people from sinning. He only warns them not to. So, two men now think they are married and receive legal benefits? Is their relationship any less sinful than before? No. Is marriage, in God's eyes, any different? No. Does it matter that they can collect life insurance on one another now? I don't see why. Why should I care who is the beneficiary on their life insurance policies? I'm concerned, primarily, with the condition of their souls, not their work benefits.

That's reason one.

2. I used to think differently about this. But when did Jesus tell us to legislate Christianity? It just seems odd to me that we expect a nation that is so far from God (and all nations as nations are far from him) to want to live by his rules. Sinners sin. Why should I expect them not to? Why do we expect people who aren't Christians to behave as if they were? Is that the way Jesus approached sin?

Look at it this way. God ordained the sexual relationship between a man and a woman, within marriage. Yet, since time began people have been getting it wrong. Throughout history there has been adultery and prostitution (isn't it called the oldest profession?). Yet, when Jesus (God in flesh) walked on this earth, he didn't lobby the Roman government to make adultery illegal! He didn't even try to illegalize prostitution (which we have done). In fact, when Jesus did find someone about to be stoned for adultery (within Jewish law), what did he do? He rescued her from that fate and told her to stop sinning.

Jesus met sin differently than contemporary American Christians want to. We want the government to enforce Christian values on people who aren't Christians. But Jesus met sin by living among sinners and offering them love, hope, and a way out of the problems caused by their sins. Aren't we actually doing the opposite of early Christianity in demanding that the world bend to make us more comfortable?

Greg Boyd's book The Myth of a Christian Nation has been helpful to me in these thoughts. I've been thinking this way for some time, but he's given me some fuel. His idea is that we aren't called to legislate Christianity from the top down, but to evangelize from the bottom up. His point is that, even if we win the battles for prayer in school, heterosexual marriage, and abortion (which we won't), we aren't doing the work of the kingdom.(pp.114-115) Let me add to his point. Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world, or else my servants would fight." Perhaps today he'd say, "or else my servants would lobby." Really, when we concentrate on keeping Christian values as the legal norm, we aren't thinking of others. We're thinking of ourselves. We're trying to keep America comfortable for us. But that's not the proper mindset for Christians. First century Christians weren't about governmental reform. They were about a counter-cultural phenomenon known as Jesus Christ. They preached love, acceptance, and repentance. Why aren't we?

So, let them get "married." It doesn't affect my marriage. And, more importantly, it doesn't change my mission at all.

Post-post: Having read a little further in Boyd's book, I stumbled across some pages in which he deals specifically with this (really!). I thought it prudent to include a few quotes:

"Do evangelicals fear gay marriage in particular because the Bible is much more clear about the wrongfulness of gay marriage than it is about the wrongfulness of divorce and remarriage? No, for the Bible actually says a good deal more against divorce and remarriage than it does against monogomous gay relationships. Do they go after this particular sin because the research shows that gay marriage is more damaging to society than divorce and remarriage? It seems not, for while one might grant that neither is ideal, there's no clear evidence that the former is socially more harmful than the latter--especially given the fact that divorce and remarriage is far more widespread than gay marriage. But in any case, this point is completely irrelevant since the present issue isn't over gay unions. The issue is only over whether these unions should be called 'marriages.' To the best of my knowledge, no one has shown that the social welfare of our nation is significantly harmed by what monogamous gay unions are called." (Myth of a Christian Nation, 137)

"We evangelicals may be divorced and remarried several times; we may be as greedy and as unconcerned about the poor and as gluttonous as others in our culture; we may be as prone to gossip and slander and as blindly prejudiced as others in our culture; we may be more self-righteous and as rude as others in our culture--we may even lack love more than others in the culture. These sins are among the most frequently mentioned sins in the Bible. But at least we're not gay!" (Boyd, 137-8)

"To be clear, I'm not suggesting that the church should publicly take a stand for gay marriage, nor am I trying to influence how evangelicals vote. Some may feel it best for society to outlaw gay marriages--others to allow it. In a democracy you're asked to give your opinion on such matters, so give it according to your conscience. I'm simply maintaining that, in our role as public representatives of the Kingdom of God, Christians should stick to replicating Calvary toward gay people (as toward all people), and trust that their loving service will do more to transform people than laws ever could. [paragraph break] If your particular burden is to free people from their homosexuality, then go aobut it in a Calvary-like fashion. Commit to suspending judgment, start befriending gays, and then serve them in love--for years. Perhaps your loving kindness will lead some of them to faith and open doors for dialogue as God gently works in their lives--just as he works in yours. You may eventually develop a trusting, committed relationship in which you are invited to address issues in a gay person's life as you invite them to address issues in your life, for God uses relationships like this to lead us all into greater conformity to Jesus Christ." (Boyd, 138-9)

Talking Points: Mercy and Pacifism

No one single topic for this post. I want to throw a couple of ideas out there for the minds on my list to comment on.

First, I'm still finishing up Pinnock's A Wideness in God's Mercy, but I'm moving it into Theo's Picks because I think it is simply a must-read. His concept of an optimistic soteriology is refreshing. This is a thoughtful available light theology with a contemporary pragmatic value. It's not always comfortable, but it is a real shift in thinking. It is a hopeful theism.

Second, I want to throw out a couple of ideas I've had in recent discussions about pacifism. I've just started Myth of a Christian Nation so I haven't run across any of Boyd's ideas about pacifism, but I've heard a few of them. Also, several of my closest friends hold to some form of Christian pacifism, and I want to throw out a few questions for discussion.

Generally, the argument is something like this: The thrust of the teaching of Christ on violence is decidedly non-violent. Therefore, though governments do bear the sword for a defensive and punitive purpose, the position of the Christian should be a non-violent one.

For now, I want to avoid the topic of war. I think it is far too broad to cover in a forum like this. There are too many different types of wars and different motives to treat it fairly. Also, since our country is at war, and there are so many different feelings and thoughts on this war, I fear it is difficult for us to be objective.

However, on the topic of personal protection, I think there is some room for discussion. Our friends Scott and Anna stopped by tonight and we touched on the subject (before a hungry baby interrupted our discussion). The question I think we were approaching was, "Is it ever justified to attack an intruder (or even to kill) in defense of my family?" Or are we to "turn the other cheek?"

A few discussion points:

1. It is interesting to me that Jesus, while telling us to love our enemies in Mt 5:43-48 and to not resist an evildoer and to turn the other cheek in verses 39 and 40 is the same Lord who told his disciples to buy a sword just before he died (Lk 22:35-38). Presumably, he knew about Peter's sword well before Peter struck the soldier's ear in Gethsemane! Why does he allow swords to be carried by his disciples? Perhaps the injunctions to pacifism in Matthew 5 should be understood in the context of revenge for wrongdoing, not protection from it. That is certainly the thrust of verses 37 ff. I can only turn the other cheek after the first one has been struck. Perhaps this is another exaggeration to make a point--just as the command to hate our mother and father is really a command to love Jesus more, perhaps "turning the other cheek" is merely an injunction to avoid exacting revenge.
2. It seems to me that Jesus tells me to turn my cheek when someone wants to hurt me--but does he command me to turn my daughter's cheek when someone wants to hurt her? If an intruder hurts me and takes my belongings, that is one thing. But should I stand buy and allow my wife, daughter, or son to undergo rape because of this command? Whose cheek do I have the right to turn anyhow? Does the injunction apply to someone who desires to harm my family because of some sick, perverted fetish? Does Jesus command to give someone who takes my cloak my tunic also mean that if someone takes my wife I should also give him my daughter? I cannot imagine it.
3. In the case of rape, if the injunction to turn the other cheek applies, what of the command to sexual purity? Isn't a person facing rape justified in fighting back from the perspective of attempting to obey the command to sexual purity?

These are just a few thoughts. Ecclesiastes 3:3 states that there is a time to kill and a time to heal. Perhaps Jesus' teachings on pacifism need to be understood in the context of the rest of scripture. Perhaps there is a time when it is appropriate to "turn the other cheek" and a time when it is appropriate to stand up to an attacker. Does my love for my family--and for my community--not warrant my desire to protect the innocent from the criminal?

Was Pelagius Right and, If So, Is Christ's Death Unnecessary?

I'm reading Clark Pinnock, A Wideness in God's Mercy, and it is as fascinating as it is encouraging. Pinnock is trying to find a balance between a pessimistic soteriological stance, in which very few are saved, and Universalism--in which all people are saved. Both extremes are unacceptable, in his view. The discussion attempts to find an optimistic theology of salvation centered around the concept of the "pious pagans" of scripture like Job, Melchizedek, Cornelius, etc. ("pious pagans" is my paraphrase).

In the early chapters of the book, he finds fault with Augustine (rightly) for founding a narrow, pessimistic view of salvation. "There were features in Augustine's thinking which led him inexorably to a pessimism of salvation. In the bitter Pelagian controversy, for example, he was driven to emphasize the sheer gratuity of divine grace at the expense of any human contribution....Augustine took it in the direction of a pessimism of salvation. People are hopelessly lost in sin, can do nothing to save themselves, and deserve nothing from God as judge."(p.38)

Basically, Augustine, in response to Pelagius, went to the extreme of claiming that man cannot do any good on his own and is completely in need of God to offer Grace--even to give him the ability to accept it. But what was Pelagius saying? What is the Pelagian controversy?

I don't want to oversimplify it, but Pelagius was a theologian who claimed that it had to be possible, logically, for the average person to live a sinless life. And throughout history, the name "Pelagius" has been synonymous with controversy--if not heresy. At the heart of people's problems with this idea is the notion that, if it is possible to live a sinless life, Jesus' death is irrelevant. Most likely, the reader feels the same way. But, in the spirit of the Abyss, let me challenge the prevailing wisdom against Pelagius with my own thoughts!

It seems to me that taking a side in the Pelagian controversy is a natural thing to do, and unavoidable. And I understand why most people are offended by Pelagius. There are difficult ramifications to his idea. However, I think there are difficult ramifications of the opposite idea, as well. Let me explain.

Romans 3:23 states, "All sin and fall short of the glory of God," as I remember it. In other words, there is no person who does not sin--for this reason, the point of the epistle is that all people (Jew and Gentile) need a savior! I agree, otherwise I would be a heretic. But does this mean that it is impossible for me not to sin, or does it mean that I am tainted by the human condition to desire sin so much that the odds are infinitesimally small that I should live my entire life without ever giving in once?

Here is the crux of the argument. Most of us, except those of us who have accepted hardcore Calvinism, accept that we are free agents with the ability to choose what we will do from moment to moment. I think biblical Christian theology rests heavily on our own responsibility in sin. For that reason, I have to accept that in any case in which I am tempted to sin, I am faced with a choice. I can give in to the part of me that desires to sin, or I can choose not to. And, if I'm going to be transparent with you--sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. If, in every case I am tempted to sin I have a choice, then it has to be logically possible (not probable, but possible) that I should make the right choice in every instance.

Now, most people accept that in each individual case I have free choice. But they tend to stop short when it comes to the overall picture. We have a tendency to say, "No, we can't live a sinless life--it's impossible." But I ask this question then, "At what point in my life do I enter a situation in which I have no choice but to sin?" Which time is it impossible not to sin? And if there is a point at which it is impossible not to sin, how can I be held accountable for something I have no choice in doing? Freedom necessitates the possibility of a sinless life.

Mind you, I'm not advocating that this is likely, or that any of us will achieve this. But I think it has to be possible--if not pragmatically, at least logically.

Usually someone will say something to the effect of, "Well, on a cognitive level, perhaps. But the fact that we can sin without knowing it makes it impossible to go through life without sinning." In response, I offer two answers:

1. Personally, I don't believe it is possible to sin without knowing it--the essence of sin is willing disobedience and rebellion. Romans also states that sin is not imputed when there is no law--and Paul states that when he learned the law sin sprang to life and he died. I think if a person does not understand an action to be sinful, it is not accounted to him as sin because he is not willfully disobeying. I think this is what Jesus means when he tells his disciples that they will not enter heaven unless they become like children--innocent. Anyone who has children understands the profoundness of this verse--children lie and do things wrong all the time, but they are considered innocent because they are not able to comprehend that their actions are rebellion against a transcendent law.

2. Even if it is possible to sin without knowing it, it's still non sequitur that a sinless life is absolutely impossible. Even if is possible to sin without willful disobedience, it is still conceivable that a person should do the right thing in every situation. It isn't likely, but it is possible.

But doesn't this eliminate our need for Christ? If we could live sinlessly, doesn't that mean he didn't need to die? This is the question that I always run into in this discussion. But the truth is, I don't understand why people jump to that conclusion. Let me illustrate with an analogy.

Let's say that I can't swim, but I am invited to a party which will be held on big yacht floating in the middle of a very deep lake. Now, let's say that at one point, someone asks me if I would like to swim in the lake. I know what I should do--I should stay on the boat and put on an extra life vest. But let's say that I choose to jump in the water and immediately begin drowning. Now, I had several choices to avoid my immanent death. I could have decided not to attend the party. I could have made sure to wear a life vest. I could have chosen not to jump in the water. In all choices, I was free--and I made the wrong choice each time. Now, does the fact that I chose the wrong thing mean that I don't need a lifeguard to save me? Quite the opposite--the fact that I freely chose to do something so deadly is exactly why I need a savior!

I think the problem with the argument is that we're assuming that our need for Christ's sacrifice precedes our actual sin. But did Adam and Eve need a savior before they chose to disobey? They lived a sinless life, until they decided to rebel against what God had told them. After this, they needed a savior. Unless they were predetermined to sin, which some people do believe, they could have chosen to do the right thing--in which case, Jesus' death would not have been necessary for them.

In my opinion, the fact that it is possible for me not to sin does not eliminate my need for Christ. Quite the opposite--it emphasizes it. The fact that I could have chosen not to sin makes Christ's sacrifice all the more loving and, well, unfair! We believe that he willingly died for people who are guilty of willing disobedience--they could have chosen to live sinlessly, but they didn't. At the heart of the profoundness of Christ's sacrifice is the fact that we don't deserve it! It is our freedom in the choice to sin that makes Christ's sacrifice so much more profound.

On the other hand, if I can't help but sin then it really isn't my fault that I do, and it is questionable that we need someone to take a punishment that we don't really deserve.

One last note... We are unable to save ourselves--but only after we sin! Before we sin, we don't need a savior. This is why children are innocent.

I am very happy to take comments about this post. What I'm trying to do right now is find a way to come to grips with my own inadequacies and faults as a man and a Christian. I'm getting counseling right now and my counselor and I tend to bump heads about this a lot--he's trying to convince me to not be so hard on myself and others, but I'm stuck on the fact that I must be able to choose to do the right thing from one moment to the next. This is the theology I believe, but in practice it's a hard one. I'm trying to come to grips with self-forgiveness. Any help?

A Benefit of Non-Certainty

In my recent posts, I have dealt with epistemological certainty when doing theology. My view gets a bad rap sometimes, but it is honest. However, last night I think I discovered a real benefit to acknowledging doubt.

My family and I went out to do some clothes shopping (a truly rare occurence). Of course, after two hours of shopping, I was delirious and groggy. We decided to eat at Applebees (another rare occurrence), and were seated at a table just outside the bar area.

The restaurant was not crowded and it was easy to listen in on the conversations of other people in the room. One man was very easy to hear--he was seated at the bar and talking to a woman there. He sounded like he was a university student, but he was a little older than what is typical. He had had anywhere from two to nine beers, apparently, and was feeling pretty confident. Ironically, he looked and sounded pretty ridiculous. He was one of those lucky guys whose reaction to alcohol was largely philosophical. He began to explain to the woman next to him--in several different wordings and volume levels--this basic idea: "God" is just a human construct developed to provide people with comfort in the face of their struggles.

Now, I was immediately interested and were it not for the fact that I was there with my family and this guy was nearly incoherent, I would have attempted to engage him in conversation. But here is the crux--his statement really had me thinking, and had me a little worried. I began to wonder how I would respond to him if he had presented that idea to me. How do you answer such a claim? The worst of it was, I've heard the question before and even talked about it in classes. This was exactly Ludwig Feuerbach's idea when he inverted the Hegelian Dialectic and claimed that God is a projection of man.

Of course, if God is a projection, he is a poor projection. If we were creating him for our comfort, you'd think we'd create a more comfortable God. That's the first and easiest problem with his statement. But it is not a proof that the man was incorrect. How can I show him that he cannot possibly be right? I came to the conclusion that I couldn't prove it one way or the other. I flirted with despair!

It finally occurred to me that the reason I was having a hard time trying to argue in my mind against his statement was that his statement really wasn't an argument. He wasn't giving a reason not to believe in God, he was giving an explanation for the question, "If God doesn't exist, why is there so much talk about God?" He was shouting (literally) that God is a figment, but was really beginning from the paradigm that God does not exist. But there is a central flaw here related to certainty.

I really think the strength of Christianity lies in something other than knowledge. What do I mean . . . ? The man at the bar last night was resting on the assumption that God definitely does not exist. And his anger was reflective of the feeling of assurance he had about God's ontological status. This is the weakness of atheism: it claims to have all of the ins and outs well in hand--it claims that it knows with certainty that God definitely does not exist. From there, it attempts to explain why we have all of this talk about God. But that kind of knowledge is exactly what is not possible from an enlightenment definition of knowledge--even though that is what modernity claims about God. It really is impossible to prove God's ontological status one way or the other with a modern understanding of knowledge. At last, non-certainty has a bright side!

That is also the strength of Christianity. We don't claim to have complete knowledge--far from it. We are limited humans with limited ability to know anything with certainty. The atheist claims he knows that God does not exist--if he doesn't claim that, then he is really just an agnostic. But the Christian is free from this prison of knowledge to refer to himself as a believer. I finally breathed a great sigh of relief last night when I realized, I don't have to prove it, only believe it. Christians are not knowers in the Kantian sense, but believers.

Really, it takes a great deal of hubris to claim to have knowledge of God's existence or non-existence. As my friend said to me today, what a person is actually saying when he claims to know is that he himself owns that knowledge, he has complete grasp of it. Saying "I know" is really a statement about my ability to know something. But I don't think I am capable of knowing or having a complete understanding.

The Bible means something else completely when it refers to knowledge. It is an experiential knowledge, not an acquiring knowledge. It is this concept of knowledge that I hope to understand someday. I am just about ready to start reading Polanyi's Personal Knowledge and have also picked up Wittgenstein's On Certainty. When I finally come to my conclusion, I'll let you know!

Relative Certainty, Within Assumed Paradigms

Whereas the last few posts have dealt chiefly with our ability to know whether God has acted in a certain situation, it became clear in a continuing series of comments (see the article entitled, "Another Case for Coincidence" and the following comments) between me and one of my close friends that at the heart of this discussion is the nature of knowledge and certainty. I have explained that I, due to the influence of modernism, have ascribed to the enlightenment concept of knowledge as justified, true belief. In Kantian form, I have accepted that it is not really possible to have certainty about anything metaphysical. As my friend Terry has pointed out, it would seem that anything can be doubtable from this viewpoint. And I have to admit, I wrestle with skepticism in my own life.

This post will deal with one question he asked which resonated with me and forced me to wrestle with it. I want the reader to know that I hold my friend in high esteem and respect his viewpoint entirely, though he and I are approaching these issues from radically different mindsets. So that you will know the context of the question he asked, here are the preceding words:

"And how do you think this view will affect witnessing for Christ? The best you can say is, 'I think God is real. I think he sent his Son. You should think this too.' But the person says to you, 'But what if you are wrong?' To which the best you can say is, 'Yeah, I may be.'"

The question Terry is asking is relevant. He is saying, "If you say you cannot know with certainty that God exists, etc., how do you effectively evangelize? Aren't you really shooting your effort in the foot to admit that you could be wrong?" I think I have an adequate response to this. I think that the seriousness of this discussion merits my humility and people should expect that I do not claim to have certainty. Besides this, the person being evangelized who does not believe already thinks I might be wrong. So, displaying a little humility is a positive thing. From his eyes, the scientific naturalists and other atheists are also claiming certainty. But I think it is a much better answer to say, "It is possible that I could be wrong. I'm not perfect and I may not see everything. But from what I can see, I think I have very good reason to believe as I do. Let me share those reasons with you." From and apologetic standpoint, in postmodern culture, I think that's about as far as you're going to get. In reality, I've concluded that most people do not approach Christianity rationally anyhow. Most people do not come to Christ because they've reasoned Christianity to be true or because they heard a well-informed argument about the modern trustworthiness of scripture, but they move to it existentially. It is felt need that drives people to faith in Christ.

But Terry made one more statement that I had no answer for until today. It was this:

"What does this do with knowing the truth, and the truth setting you free? We have to know, Jason."

Now, on the second part of the statement, I think my friend's thought is insightful, though this specific wording doesn't communicate the point I think he is making. Whether he feels we have to know or I feel we do not is irrelevant. Either we know or we don't know. "Have to," doesn't fit the discussion. But what is relevant, and what I think he is really trying to say here is that we do have to speak with some certainty when dealing with the truth claims of the Bible and of Jesus Christ. And here he has a valid point. How do we speak of the truth of the Bible, or the assurance of salvation, or Jesus Christ as the "way, truth, and life" while affirming that it is not possible to have certainty in metaphysical pronouncements?

Truthfully, Terry has really had me thinking this week about this. And a sermon by Mark Driscoll I heard today also emphasized my problem. He said (in a rough paraphrase), "We must preach the gospel with certainty." But how, with a mind moved by the modern notion of knowledge, do I accomplish this?

For me it is too late to retreat to premodernism. I will never experience, this side of judgment, the type of certainty I once had as a child. In many ways, I envy that of some of my friends and I don't want to steal it from them. But I have accepted this concept of knowledge which claims that something must be true to be known, and to know that you know it you must be able to show with certainty the truthfulness of the thing claimed to be known. Since I cannot "prove" the gospel, what hope is there?

In my defense, in one post I mentioned that there is a blindness to our faith. It is the evidence of things hoped for. Faith is, in many important ways, unprovable belief. When Thomas, who sought epistemological certainty, claimed that he would not believe Jesus was alive until he had seen with his own eyes and felt with his fingers, Jesus responded afterwards by saying, "Blessed are you because you have seen and believed. But more blessed are those who will not see and still will believe." I think Jesus was saying that there will be those who recognize that they don't have the type of Kantian certainty that Thomas demanded, but will still choose to believe. Because of this, in a sense, I think the person who claims he does not know with certainty but still believes really demonstrates greater faith than the person who says, "I know this is true and cannot possibly be wrong." One acknowledges doubt and believes anyway (I believe, help my unbelief!), the other claims to have no doubt. Well, I really don't know who has the more faith! There is a good argument for either.

But how do I approach the truth of scripture? I think the answer is actually pretty simple. I think I can believe that Jesus is the "truth" while still acknowledging that I do not have the certainty my friend believes he has this way.

The other day I was talking with someone about my dreams for the future, and what I thought might happen. I was lamenting that a certain opportunity I had desired had not opened up for me and stated, "This opportunity will not happen for me. It is closed to me." Someone I love dearly replied, "With all your claims about certainty, how can you know this is true?" I was immediately frustrated because this person is adept at using my own words to reveal my duplicity. But the truth is, there is relative certainty within specific paradigms. She was right that I don't know everything that is going to happen. In fact, anything can happen. But what I meant when I said, "this opportunity will not happen," was really, "based on what I know about the opportunity offered to me currently, and based on recent events, I feel certain that my chances are virtually nill." My certainty was not epistemologically sound, but within the paradigm of my current career path, my judgment is accurate.

It is the same of the truth of Christ. The bottom line is, I do not think that we can know metaphysical realities with certainty. But I can say this, "within the paradigm of Christianity, we can have confidence that Jesus is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. We can have confidence that he will keep his promises and that he does not lie. We can believe that he is true." In other words, "I can't prove it is true. But I can say that, if it is true--Jesus is your answer. And he is a better answer than anything else you're going to try. So, it is reasonable and good to believe it and trust it, even though you may not ever feel you know it to be true."

Oh, when I write it down it feels so weak. But it is the best I can do for now. What else is there for someone who is acknowledging that his life goal of proving Christianity is true is unattainable? If it could be done, why wouldn't it have been done before now? Why wouldn't God have revealed it in ways that were undeniable? I can prove that it is better . . . that it is reasonable . . . that it is practical . . . that it is meaningful . . . and hopeful. But I cannot prove that it is true. That I must take on faith. And I am willing to do so.

Assuming the paradigm, Jesus is undeniable. But I only assume the paradigm on the basis of a reasoned faith.

Another Case for Coincidence

In my last post (directly below), I mentioned that I had made a decision which qualified as irrational because I based it on a feeling. I had two ministry opportunities to choose from, and I chose the one which paid less and had less potential for growth. In fact, the other church I was looking at was offering quite a bit more money (more money than I have ever made in a job) and was in a growing community. The reason I chose the smaller community was that I just felt better about it on a personal level, so I closed the door on the other ministry and pursued it.

In the end, though, I was completely derailed. In the independent Christian Churches, we vote on hiring ministers. As it turned out, when it came time for the church to vote on me a faction in the church stirred up support against me. This faction was angry at the leadership of the church and wanted to work against them and us. I don't know why they did this to us, they didn't tell us.

Anyhow, there were several people I know who believed that the reason I chose this church was in response to God's leading. In fact, one of the elders had told us over and over again that too many things had fallen into place for us to not interpret our coming to the church to be by God's hand. Yet, after the vote he said, "I always say God is never surprised," indicating that God knew this was going to happen the whole time. If God is leading it, why didn't it work? Three quick options:

1. God led us there but knew we would be voted down. Likelihood rating: Dumb.

2. God did not lead us there, and either knew or did not know we would not be accepted. Likelihood: Possible.

3. God may have led us there and may not have. Either way, he couldn't know for certain the outcome because there were so many factors. Likelihood rating: Good. Only the position of open theism is logically consistent with God's freedom to interact and the church's and our ability to decide the outcome. Also, it is not possible to know whether he was leading or not.

In any case, the whole affair ended with heartbreak and my family and I are hurt and back at square one. I think the case is clear that speaking with certainty of God's leading is foolish. Make the wisest decisions you can and trust God, but don't attempt to know what you cannot know.

Is it a "God Thing" or Just a Coincidence?

I think it was Arsenio Hall who, years ago, coined the phrase, "It's a black thing, you wouldn't understand." For some time I saw (and occasionally still see) t-shirts flaunting these words at me in my nerdy whiteness. Thankfully, for the most part, in popular discourse that silliness went the way of the Arsenio Hall show and the Dodo bird.

But in recent years the phrase has been baptized and spiritualized into a new phrase, "It's a God thing." I hear, on a fairly regular basis, people attribute all kinds of things to God's activity--all the while speaking with such certainty that you'd guess that their lives had been filled with fiery bushes and doves floating from parted clouds. I'll never forget a new student who came to the college I worked for claiming that God had shown her that this was the school he wanted her to go to. How did she know? She had done a Google search and our school came up. I didn't have the heart to explain to her that our school came up on the search because I paid a dollar per click for that search term. It wasn't God, it was clever advertising--and she realized it later when she decided she didn't really like our school and that God was leading her somewhere else!

Events of the past week have inspired three very interesting conversations with people whom I have a great deal of respect for. Two of these conversations centered around a major life-decision I have made this week which might very well have been one of the least rational and yet vitally important decisions I had ever made. Ironically, I based a lot of my decision on a feeling, a sense that I needed to or should make this particular decision. The third resulted from a really neat moment my wife and I experienced when a young man who works at a Subway restaurant we frequent offered to pay for our lunch. Interestingly, though we were willing to pay, my wife and I are currently broke and really needed the meal.

On the first event, I was choosing between two options and went an option (A) I had initially thought I would not choose. For some very rational reasons, the option I did not choose (B) was a lot better option. But I chose the one I did (A) simply because I felt better about it. I like to think that that in itself may actually have some rational aspects.

The conversations surrounding this were with a man who used to be my minister (and in many ways still is) and a friend of mine who is a minister. Both of these insisted, at least at first, that I should interpret my feelings (or that it was fair to interpret them) as God's leading. Now, I don't have a problem with the notion that God may lead us--even through feeling. What I do have trouble with is making the statement that I know with certainty that he has led me--and that is what our friendly disagreement was about. The truth is, I think my feelings are just too arbitrary and fleeting to be trustworthy enough to interpret with certainty. And that's ok--I'm not demanding certainty; I'm just stating that I have a lack of certainty.

The second event spawned a conversation between me, my wife, and three good friends of ours. After the young man bought our lunch, my wife turned and asked, "Do you think that this was a 'God event'?" In other words, did God cause this to happen in order to bless us? My initial answer was, "I don't know, it could be--it might not be." And I was thankful either way! One of my friends, though, initially insisted that it must have been God--but later admitted that it really isn't possible to know. (I hope I have accurately represented him here, I'll know if he reads this.)

My question is about whether it is possible to have certainty when discerning whether God has acted in everyday life. Before I begin to address it, I want to clarify that I am not a deist. I do not believe that God is out of touch with life in our universe. I believe he interacts and that the Bible records much of his interaction. I believe he still works in and through his people on this earth. But where I differ with many of my friends is in our ability to have certainty when interpreting events.

Even when we assume (rightly) a supernatural being (God) who routinely interacts with the universe, it does not seem possible that we should live on a planet with 6 billion conscious free agents and a universe of nature instinctively and naturally following its programming without the possibility of random coincidence. There is enough randomness in weather patterns, animal life, the feelings and actions of others, and my feelings to merit my assumption that any event (good or bad) which happens may have meaning (in that God or another free agent had a distinct purpose in it) or not (in that the event was caused by coincidence). Allow me to argue from analogy.

Deer instinctively run from danger. A friend I have enjoys hunting for deer and engages in this activity because he freely chooses to. I go to work every morning because I need the money and because I choose to pursue legal methods to acquire it. Now, let's say my friend is hunting and shoots at a deer and misses. We will understand that this frightens the deer. We expect him to follow his instincts and run away from the sound. Now, let's also say my friend was hunting about the same time I was going to work and close enough to the road that the deer ended up running directly in front of me and I hit it, totalling my 96 Oldsmobile Achieva (finally). What are the key factors leading up to this event?

First, there is nature, represented by the deer. Nature is without reason--I mean, the deer was not reasoning about his actions, he was following instinct. Granted, in a theistic paradigm that instinct is planted by God, but it is indistinct. What I mean is that if the deer were put in the exact same situation twice, his instinct would cause him to run both times--but the odds are he would run in two different directions. In fact, any number of random events may affect him. A gentle breeze may waft a scent by him which triggers his instinct to graze somewhere else in the first place, causing the event to never take place. In other words, instinct is general, i.e. deer run when startled. But the specifics of actions in nature are random. Acts of nature are really affected by three things: instinct (in the case of animals--physics and natural law in the case of inanimate objects and the weather), the actions of free agents, other acts of nature, and chance. When dealing with nature (the deer in my analogy) we must make room for random chance. With God in the paradigm we can say that he has built randomness into the system.

Second, there are the choices of free agents--in this case, me and my friend. Now, there may be all kinds of factors--from arbitrary ones to ultimately purposeful ones--but the simple truth is this: I was in my car and my friend was in the woods because we both chose to be. Nothing made us be, we simply chose it. When it comes to free agents, our decisions are basically affected by these things: nature, needs, desires (conscious and subconscious), and the actions of other free agents (which may often enough include God). We take all these into account when making decisions, but we make them consciously just the same, and we could choose not to. In this sense, we are almost like necessary beings. We are necessary to bring about the contingent actions we do. (Of course, we are not exactly like necessary beings because we are definitely caused.)

The thing is, when it comes to events in our lives, we must assume there is some randomness. If I am making free choices and my friend is making free choices, it is only a matter of odds that our paths may eventually cross without our knowledge or planning. Throw into this the fact that there are 6 billion people on this planet making free choices and the randomness of our lives emerges. It always seems silly to me to insist that when two people meet we must assume that God has brought them together. What would have happened if one had chosen something else? The answer is, they would have met someone else. Now, God may act and interact here and there outside of our knowledge, but if he is guiding everyone to meet the way they do--well that's just determinism. And I'm not into that! The odds of meeting one person out of 6 billion are nearly one in 6 billion--yet I meet new people every day! Randomness in life is truly an every day occurrence.

I am not a deist. I am not saying that God is not involved in creation. What I am doing is making a case for randomness and the impossibility of epistemological certainty when approaching "brushes with the metaphysical." It may be that God influenced or led one of us to be in a certain situation. But the problem is, we can't know it with certainty. We can guess it, and we might have good reason to. But we cannot know it. And the truth is, we cannot prove it wasn't coincidence when coincidence must be understood as an element in the system God created.

Why did our friend at Subway buy us lunch? Perhaps God saw our need and gently influenced him to do so by planting the idea in his mind. Perhaps God inhabited his body outside of our friend's free will and caused him to buy us lunch. Perhaps our friend simply responded to us out of love. Perhaps he felt sorry for us. Perhaps someone tipped him off that we were broke and needed help. Maybe he was moved by something we said or did which revealed the work of God in our lives and he freely responded to that. But my answer to the question, "Did God do this for us?" must be, "I don't really know." I like to think he did, and I believe he is taking care of us. Truthfully, I really believe God blessed us with lunch through our friend. But we're talking knowledge here, not belief. Belief requires intellectual agreement, knowledge requires proof (see my appendix at the end of this article). Though I believe it, I cannot rule out the fact that our friend acted freely and could have chosen not to. I cannot rule out the randomness of our encounter--he could very easily have chosen not to come in to work that day. His boss could have scheduled him for a different time. I could have been hit by a meteor on the way in the door but I wasn't, therefore, nature was favorable to the event (I had to work nature in somehow). Many things had to happen in just the right way for this event to occur--which may be evidence for God's activity and it may not. The truth is, if the event hadn't occurred, whatever event did occur would also have needed many events to happen in just the right way in order to occur. And something is going to happen one way or another.

So what, then? Do we give up? I think we can make a few assumptions. First, God does not have every event planned for our lives (see appendix 2). He has listed general instructions (what type of person I should marry, what types of activities are wrong) and has given us a basic purpose (what kind of life I should lead) in his revealed word, the Bible. The specifics (i.e. who I'll marry, where I'll work) he leaves up to us. Second, God does act in the universe. Third, humans are free agents who freely choose to do whatever they want to do, even if those choices are influenced by needs, desires, etc. Fourth, events in nature are determined by instinct, physics, chance, and sometimes the actions of free agents (i.e. global warming and the Genesis flood).

Mix these ingredients together and what do we have? An Open System! (Isn't it predictable that this is my conclusion?) I think God has created a system in which anything can happen, anything is possible. I think God is working within that system to accomplish his purposes. But we are really blind to him. We cannot see clearly what he is doing and why. We cannot always tell the difference between chance, our feelings, and the actions and will of God. Sometimes we are confused. For this reason, we must do the best we can do to follow him and trust that God will take care of the things we cannot see. And we mustn't assume too much that we cannot know. I think there is a danger in assuming that God must have provided my free lunch. It begs the question, why doesn't he do the same for my brothers in Christ who are starving somewhere else? I think the only right answer to questions like, "Is this a God thing?" and "Did God lead me here?" is, "I don't know for certain--it's possible. But I'm going to follow him whether he did or didn't--though he slays me yet will I serve him!"

Is it a God thing? Only God knows.

Appendix: My definition of knowledge is the enlightenment definition. Knowledge is justifed true belief. Of course, by this definition, knowledge of something is only possible if that something can be proven--until it is proven it is only belief. Hence, my wrestling with the question, "Do you know God exists?" I think the answer is, "I have faith that he does, but not knowledge." Yet I acknowledge that there is a biblical definition of knowledge which is quite different. But I have difficulty wrapping my brain around it. I have Michael Polanyi's book, Personal Knowledge, but I have not started it yet. It is my hope that this book will help me make my epistemological shift.

Appendix 2: Does God ever have a specific in mind? Even though I stated that I do not think God has all the details of our lives mapped out, I think it is entirely possible that he knows of occasional specific situations in which he may want one of us to act or live or which he feels are best for us. It is my belief that he may act through "open and closed doors" or through the gentle nudge of a "feeling of leading." But we must be very careful with this. We can't always see all the doors well enough to say we know all the doors were open or closed and we can't always adequately interpret our feelings. For this reason, I think we are almost better off to assume he is not leading us--to just do the best we can and trust he'll fill in our gaps.

Jonah: Fact or Fiction? (And Does it Really Matter?)

Is the Bible true? I am convinced that every word of it is (excuse the idiom) “gospel truth.” But what does that mean? Is the truthfulness of the Bible dependent on the factuality of all of its stories?

My history and training screams, “YES!” All of the stories of the Bible must be factual, they must have happened just as the Bible relates them. Yet, in recent years, I have been thinking rather differently on some items. In fact, those closest to me know that I’ve abandoned a literal understanding of the Genesis creation account—at least as far as the “6 day” timeline is concerned. Now the struggle is how far to take my newfound “deconstruction.”

Recently I heard a very interesting sermon by Dave White at Pantano Christian Church in Tuscon, AZ. In a series called “Honest Questions: Engaging Faith,” he recently addressed the “factuality” of three stories of the Old Testament in a sermon called “Is the Bible True?”

I think White has some valid points to make, even if I’m not sure how much I agree with them. In case you haven’t yet followed the link and listened to the sermon, let me give you a short rundown: When he was younger, White was interested in defending the Bible from modern attacks and had come to believe that proving the authenticity and historicity of all Biblical stories was of vital importance. Apologetics had become a priority for him. But as he continued to study, he began to struggle with some Biblical stories, specifically the Genesis creation account, Jonah, and Job. In the message he deconstructs a modern understanding of these stories as historical accounts and assumes that these might have been fictional stories used to make a valid, and truthful point. He still believes in Jesus as the Son of God who died on a cross and literally rose from the dead. He still believes in miracles and in the truth of the Bible. But, he says, Jesus had no problem using fictional stories to make a point—we call these stories “parables.” Remembering this and understanding the mindset of the Hebrew people (who didn’t intend to record moment-by-moment scientific accounts of these events—such as the creation account), what is wrong with questioning whether some stories are meant to be understood as fictional accounts which relate fundamental truths? Don’t we tell stories like this all the time?

In the message, White doesn’t answer the question I was begging him to address: “Where do you draw the line?” However, I don’t think it is difficult to draw the line. It is pretty clear that the Gospels are intended to be thought of historically. They match up with extra-biblically documented historical events and are related in a narrative sense. The epistles are personal letters which assume the historicity of the gospel events (admittedly, they also seem to assume the historicity of many Old Testament events). In the Old Testament, the books of history have the ring of historicity to them and are well documented. But Jonah, Job, and (I believe) the creation account contain elements which are, at the very least, historically questionable—even if they relate profound truths. They don't seem to have the same contextual support.

I resonate with White’s sermon because I have some questions about the “factual nature” of some Old Testament stories. I’m not really sure any more whether every story in the Old Testament was meant to be understood as fact. I’m not saying I’ve entirely accepted that these three stories are fictional. The truth is, I’m just not sure. In fact, I’m not sure I’ll ever be sure. For that reason, I’m content to wait until I can talk to the writers in person to find out. But I do think it is impossible to prove them to be factual in a modern sense. That having been said, I think there is a valid question which is raised by this discussion.

For many years I, like White, was sure that my studies would enable me to prove with certainty that the Bible is true, it’s stories are all factual, and that its historicity lends it modern credibility. I really believed that if I could just show people that, they’d just have to come around to belief in Jesus Christ! But is it so? What could I do that Josh McDowell hasn’t already done? The New Evidence that Demands a Verdict alone is 760 pages long! The "proof" is there. Why isn’t everyone scrambling for the nearest baptistery? Is there a point to proving the historicity and factuality of the Bible?

And it amazes me how much of my undergrad education was spent proving that the Bible is factual and trustworthy because it holds up under scrutiny and modern definitions of historical accuracy. My education always attempted to explain away apparent difficulties and preserve the Bible’s integrity. But is this what we should be doing?

What if, instead of wasting so many years trying to prove that the bible is factual, what I really needed to do is simply rely on its truthfulness and convey its message to people? It’s really the message of scripture that resonates with people, not the idea that the Bible is a mass of interesting documented historical facts. The Bible isn't primarily a history book, even though it contains history. Will our attempts to prove that it is historically accurate really draw people to the message?

My good friend Paul Axton once said, “We don’t read the Bible to learn a bunch of interesting facts, we read it to find life-transforming truths.” And he often adds that when we try to prove the authority of the Bible, we often end up undermining it. Our attempts to prove scripture according to modern standards are always well-intended, but usually end up elevating our modern standards. Making scripture meet my standards of truthfulness means that “my standards of truthfulness” are the real measure. Perhaps we do not need the Bible’s historicity proven. Perhaps we should merely assume its authority and not attempt to lend it our credibility. Does God really need my authority?

To my mind, there is no more life-transforming message than that of Jesus Christ. And it no longer seems to me that my goal is to prove that it happened, but to show that it is happening. Jesus Christ does change lives and he does give hope. And try as we might, we cannot erase the element of blindness from our faith!