The Seven Deadly Spins--Physicalism

 Christianity has an interesting history with the study of the physical world. The Scientific Revolution took place in Western Civilization in part because of significant Christian presuppositions, such as: 1) the physical world is real and not merely an illusion, so it’s worth our time to study it; 2) it was created by God, the supreme intelligence, so it must have an orderliness to it that can be discovered; 3) the physical world was created by God but is not itself divine, thus it would not be improper to run experiments on it; and 4) God entrusted the physical world to the care of humans, so we have a mandate to gain a better understanding of it.

 But with the rise of evolutionary theory, a number of people have come to view Christianity as an impediment to our understanding of the physical world. Christianity insists that non-physical things play an important role in the world—beings like God, angels, and demons and entities like human souls. Yet the sciences have seemingly enriched our lives with or without reference to any of these things. We seem to be able to heal the human body through physical remedies like medicine and surgery with or without the use of prayer; we seem to be ever-increasing our material comforts with or without considering the will of God. To some people, then, Christianity looks like an idea that might have given people the illusion of understanding in the past but is now no longer necessary for understanding all there is to the world.

 The viewpoint I’m describing has been called physicalism. It’s the idea that the physical world is really all that exists; thus, all we would need to understand it would be the physical sciences. But physicalism leaves us with a very impoverished understanding of our own lives and the world in which we live. In fact, physicalism can’t even explain everything you’re experiencing right now as you read this newspaper! Just consider the question, “Why are these markings on the page the way they are?” Physical details certainly provide part of the explanation—the properties of the ink and paper make the markings appear a certain way and not some other way. But why are these markings arranged the way they are? Why are they arranged into patterns you recognize as letters, words, sentences, and paragraphs? And why are they arranged into these particular paragraphs and not different paragraphs? It’s because they are conveying a particular idea from my mind to yours. But an idea is not a physical thing. It has no weight (does your head get heavier when you think of a bowling ball rather than a cotton ball?). It has no taste (what does the idea behind this sentence taste like?). You can’t see an idea with your eyeballs or hear it with your eardrums, yet ideas are clearly real.

 If we believe that the physical world is really all that exists, we thus lose the ability to explain huge swaths of life. We lose the ability to explain human behavior because we have to leave human souls out of it; thus, we can’t discuss the influence of beliefs, goals, or intentions on behavior (not to mention the influence of moral realities like sin and righteousness). Nor can we fully explain the physical world on this viewpoint. Many of our questions about physical things would have to end with the answer, “There is no reason for it—it just is the way it is.”

 Christianity gives us the resources to have a much richer and more complete understanding of the world and ourselves. It reminds us that there are physical and non-physical components to our lives and the world around us, so we should seek to understand both and how they interact. Doing so will help us understand our lives, the problems we encounter, and how they can potentially be resolved.

The Seven Deadly Spins--Scientism

 “That’s just your opinion!” This phrase has become the rhetorical trump card in our society today. If someone makes a claim you don’t like, rather than go to all the trouble of proving that their claim is false, you can instead label their claim as an opinion and thereby escape from any pressure to believe it. After all, opinions really are just beliefs that flow out of personal perspective or preference. I’m not obligated to hold your opinions and you’re not obligated to hold mine. If someone claims to know something, however, that’s a different ballgame. Knowledge is based on facts that anyone can sort through for themselves, so if you can show me that the facts of a matter are such and such, then I can’t dismiss your claim as mere opinion. I either have to agree with your claim or show that you’ve misunderstood the facts (I can also withhold judgment until I’ve had a chance to think it through, but I can’t reasonably say you’re wrong without showing why).

 Why do I mention all of this? To highlight that it makes a big difference where you draw the line between matters that can be known and matters that can only be opinion. In our society today, there’s a tendency to believe that the only matters that can be known are the matters studied by the physical sciences—geology, biology, astronomy, chemistry, physics, etc. This mindset essentially argues that if you can’t weigh it, dissect it, dissolve it, etc., then you can’t really know anything about it—you can only form opinions about it. This view has been called “scientism” because it claims the realm of knowledge entirely for the physical sciences and relegates everything else to the realm of opinion.

 Notice how scientism relegates a huge swath of human experience and inquiry to being nothing more than opinion. Claims about history? They can only be opinions according to scientism (unless perhaps some detail of the claim can be weighed or measured). Thoughts about what is morally good for humans? Mere opinions. Religious or political views? Nothing more than personal preferences (again, unless some detail of them can be quantified in some way). Thus, scientism leaves us knowing—well, not much of anything about life in general.

 Why should we reject scientism? The first and best reason is that it is self-defeating; it doesn’t pass the very test that it offers for truth. Consider its core claim: only the physical sciences can give us knowledge. That very claim is not the product of any science; it is a philosophical claim. To put it another way, no one has ever dissected a frog and found that claim lying in the pan when he was done! No one has ever mixed solutions in a test tube only to have that claim come spilling out as the product of a chemical reaction. The claim cannot be proven true by science, yet science is the only proving ground allowed by scientism. Thus, the claim that only science can give us knowledge cannot possibly be true.

 A second reason is that it leaves us ignorant of vitally important aspects of life. Consider the nature of love. We all have a good idea of what it looks like to treat someone with love rather than hatred. In other words, we all know something of the essence of love. But if scientism is true, we couldn’t truly know anything about the essence of love since love is not a thing that can be weighed on a scale, examined under a microscope, etc. If the cost of embracing scientism is giving up our knowledge of love, then the price is far too steep to pay.

 The physical sciences have provided an incredible boon to our knowledge of the world in general. We enjoy benefits every day from discoveries that have been made in these fields. Yet to say that they and they alone can give us knowledge of the world is not an advancement—it is a regression, one that, if embraced, leaves us quite ignorant of the world, of ourselves, and of our Creator and Savior.

The Seven Deadly Spins--Skepticism about Morality

 It’s often said in our culture today, “You shouldn’t push your morality on others.” If this statement was simply used to argue that we should use persuasion rather than threats of force when we discuss morality, no one should object to that. But more often, there’s an unspoken claim that lies behind this statement; a claim that sounds something like this: “You shouldn’t push your morality on others—because what’s right and what’s wrong is just a matter of personal opinion.” Increasingly, our culture asserts that morality is a realm in which there are no objective standards that apply to everyone. We are told that each person must decide for themselves what is right and what is wrong and to tell another person that he’s done wrong would just be, well, wrong! It seems that the only sin in our society today is to tell another person that he’s sinned.

 It's not hard to see that this claim is self-contradictory. If you believe morality is relative to each person’s opinions and you say, “You shouldn’t push your morality on others,” you are really saying, “It’s wrong to tell someone else that he’s wrong!” Yet that’s exactly what you are doing by making this claim. Since this claim contradicts itself, it should be no surprise that we quickly abandon it when someone does us wrong. If you were (God forbid!) mugged in a parking lot somewhere, you wouldn’t think to yourself, “How unlucky that I ran into someone who has a different opinion about mugging!” No—you would think that this person has done wrong and that your assessment is not simply a personal opinion. You would think that this person had violated a true standard that applies to both of you and that he should have known about this standard and followed it. What’s more, you would be convinced that this man had done you wrong even if mugging was legal—so your conviction isn’t based on whatever the law happens to say but on something else, something more fundamental in reality than even the laws of a society.

 You would be right, of course, yet the idea that morality is relative still persists in our culture like a stubborn stain that won’t come out in the wash. On a spiritual level, it’s not hard to see why this persistence exists: we are sinners and we don’t want anyone telling us we’re wrong—not even God! On an intellectual level, I think there are two main reasons why moral relativism persists. First, we seem to assume that if there are objective standards for morality, then moral decisions ought to be easy. It might seem that our moral choices should be crystal clear if certain actions are always right and other actions are always wrong—yet our moral choices are not always easy to figure out, so we may question whether objective moral standards exist. But we need to understand that there’s a difference between recognizing moral standards and applying them. It’s one thing to acknowledge that the standard “do not murder” applies to all people at all times; it’s another thing to sort out whether a certain instance of killing is murder or if it is something else—like justifiable self-defense. But we must recognize that a difficulty in applying a standard doesn’t prove that the standard is non-existent.

 A second reason why moral relativism persists is the connection between morality and politics. Many moral issues have become hot-button political topics today. As free citizens of a republic, we correctly object to the idea that the government would have the power to tell us what is right and wrong. Yet it’s easy to take this line of thinking too far and say that if the government doesn’t have the power to tell me what is right and wrong, no one else should either—it should be entirely up to me. Here we must simply recognize the vast difference between human authority and divine authority. A human government cannot define what is right and wrong because it is also supposed to be subject to the true standards of right and wrong. But divine authority is different. God has the authority to tell us what is right and wrong because He is our Creator. He knows how and why He made us, so He can tell us what is good for human nature and what is evil for it, and He can declare what would move us toward our true purpose and what would move us away from it. This connection is why many people have seen the moral order to offer a powerful argument for God’s existence—for if objective moral standards exist for humans, God is the only one who could be their source. So ultimately, if you want to deny that objective moral standards exist, you must deny that God exists. I hope you’ll agree with me that that price is far too steep to pay.

The Seven Deadly Spins--Skepticism about Truth

 It’s true—our society is pretty confused these days about truth and whether we can know it. Some speak of “your truth” and “my truth,” as though truth is no different than one’s personal opinion. Others are even more skeptical, declaring that there simply is no truth to be known—expect perhaps in a discipline like science.

 The roots of modern skepticism go back to Rene Descartes, a French mathematician and philosopher who lived from 1596 to 1650. Descartes wanted to have the same kind of certainty for all of his knowledge that he had for his knowledge about math (think of how certain you are that 2+2=4). As a thought experiment, he decided to temporarily doubt everything about which he could entertain a doubt. So he doubted the existence of God; he doubted what his senses told him about the world; he even doubted whether a world existed outside his mind at all! As he kept up this process of doubting, he realized that the one thing he could not doubt was that he was doubting! And if he was doubting, he was thinking; so he announced his famous but little-understood statement, “I think, therefore I am.” He believed that he could then carefully analyze his own thoughts to prove that God exists and that the world his senses told him about exists. Later philosophers would disagree with details of Descartes’ project, but many would adopt the idea that doubt should be the starting point of all investigation. In other words, it would be said that any claim to know truth should be doubted until it can be proven beyond any doubt.

 This mental posture of doubt about truth has wreaked havoc on our society today. For one thing, it has contributed to the nastiness and cynicism in our current political climate—for if politics is not the practice of discovering true principles for human well-being and using them to govern, then what is it? It would seem to be nothing more than the pursuit and use of power—one group seeking to impose its arbitrary will on everyone else. And indeed, that is exactly how many people view politics today! Gone are any reasonable and friendly discussions about policy in the pursuit of truth, because according to skepticism, there is simply no truth to be discovered in such discussions.

 And as a pastor, I certainly have to point out the terrible effects on Christian faith when skepticism reigns supreme. What would it mean to say “It is true that Jesus rose from the grave” if we cannot know anything about truth? It could mean nothing more than “It is meaningful (or inspiring or comforting) to me to believe that Jesus rose from the grave.” But as the Apostle Paul told us in 1 Corinthians 15:12-19, if Christ’s Resurrection is not a fact of history, then our faith is empty and pointless and we are still lost in our sins. “If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied.”

 We would do far better to reject skepticism and affirm what virtually all people in all times and places have known—that there is such a thing as truth, and we can know what is true. Indeed, it’s undeniable that we know truth, for if you say “We cannot know truth,” what you’re actually claiming is: “Here’s one thing we know about truth—that we cannot know truth.” Skepticism is therefore self-defeating and cannot possibly be…true. Ironic, isn’t it? So if we really can know truth, then we have a foundation upon which to build truth claims. We can begin to show that it is true that God exists, that Jesus is the Son of God, that He died for our sins and rose from the grave, and that the Bible is the Word of God. Rest assured that we really can know truth—no doubt about it!

The Seven Deadly Spins--Nominalism

Trying to understand our culture today is a lot like showing up late to a movie—important things happened before you arrived, but since you’re not aware of them, you’re struggling to understand what’s unfolding before you right now. So it is in our present time. Many people are looking at the ideas being embraced in our culture and are asking, “How can my neighbor (or friend or family member) believe THAT!?”

Spiritually, we know that the root of all problems and false ideas in our society is sin. The human race is in rebellion against God; we don’t want to accept things the way He created them. Sin is the problem causing trouble in all societies and yet, societies manifest this struggle with sin in different ways. Differences in the intellectual soil of societies produce different false ideas and thus different problems.

In my next few articles, I’d like to dig down into the intellectual soil of our society to uncover the factors producing false ideas around us today. I hope this project won’t seem out of place—my colleagues who also write in this column do a good job of taking us to the Scriptures, so I’m confident that contribution will continue. Perhaps my short project will simply provide some helpful context for understanding our society today and how to navigate through it in a faithfully Christian manner. I’m calling my little project “The Seven Deadly Spins” in order to refer to spins—or distortions—of what is true.

The idea I’ll mention today is called nominalism. It is the claim that an idea like “human nature” or “humanity” does not come into our minds from the world around us; rather, that idea is just a title or category that we assign to a group of similar but ultimately separate things. For example, when you go downtown to the café, you don’t shake hands with “human nature”—you shake hands with Bob, Steve, Debbie, and Sue. Yet from ancient times, philosophers argued that there was something real that connected Bob, Steve, Debbie, and Sue—something they all shared in common that we could call human nature. These philosophers argued further that this shared thing was not just an invention of our minds, it was something our minds discovered about the real world, and this shared thing was just as real as anything we can see, touch, taste, smell, or hear. Beginning in the Middle Ages however, it started to become more fashionable among philosophers to deny that something like “human nature” existed as anything more than just an idea that our minds created to categorize things around us.

That far-too-brief description is surely still a bit confusing to you, but the significance of nominalism is this—if an idea like human nature is just the product of human minds, then human minds control it. We would get to decide what the boundaries of human nature are and who fits inside those boundaries. Perhaps you can see where this could lead. Combined with another idea or two, nominalism becomes the root of racism—the claim that we can declare other people to be “sub-human” simply because of where we choose to draw the boundaries of humanity. In a similar way, nominalism becomes the root of denying personhood to a baby in the womb—because again, if nominalism is true, human minds become the arbiter of who does and who does not count as a person.

In contrast to nominalism, Christians ought to affirm that a thing like human nature is a real, true, objective feature of the universe. It’s not something we made up and thus it’s not something we control. My shared humanity with another person is a fact imposed upon both of us—I don’t get to decide if humanity applies to him any more than I get to decide if the laws of physics apply to him! And what could make reality be this way? Only our Creator God who conceived of humanity in His mind in the first place.

It's True--Jesus Rose from the Grave

 As you read this column today, we find ourselves in the middle of Holy Week, the week leading up to Easter Sunday when we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Most of you reading this article have grown up in Christianity, so the claim that Jesus came back to life on the third day after he died is second-nature to you; it is old hat; it is so common that it has likely become mundane and ordinary—which is sad, ironic, and spiritually dangerous all at the same time.

 It is hard for us to understand that for many people in this world, the claim that Jesus rose from the grave is utterly ridiculous and silly. To them, the claim is as outrageous and unbelievable as a claim that Elvis Presley stepped out of a UFO in my backyard last night to give me a private concert—with Bigfoot on the bass guitar! To most of these people, the claim that Jesus was resurrected is simply a useful fiction rather than the truth. What’s the difference between a useful fiction and the truth? Consider Santa Claus—telling your children that Santa will reward them for being good might cause them to refrain from hitting their siblings once or twice a year. In that sense, the story could be useful, but of course, it’s not true—and when we all inevitably learn that it’s not true, the story ceases to have any motivating power in our lives.

 It is vital that we understand that our claim that Jesus rose from the grave is not simply a useful fiction. It is the truth, plain and simple. To say that Jesus rose from the grave is simply to state what actually happened one brisk Sunday morning in Jerusalem in the early 30s AD. Why should we think this is so? Because believing this claim is not only agreeable to faith in the God who created us and who spoke to us through the Bible—it is also agreeable to reason because it is the best explanation of the facts of the matter. Consider just four facts, facts that are affirmed by even the most vocal critics of Christianity:

 1. Jesus died by crucifixion at Jerusalem during the governorship of Pontius Pilate

2. Jesus’ disciples sincerely believed that Jesus came back to life and visited them

3. James, the biological half-brother of Jesus, suddenly converted to faith in Jesus after Jesus had died

4. Saul of Tarsus suddenly converted to faith in Jesus after Jesus had died

 What is the best explanation of just these four facts—the explanation that can account for all of them in the most convincing way? The most common explanation from critics has been that the disciples made up the whole story of the resurrection to gain a following for themselves—and perhaps fame and fortune with it. But this explanation struggles to explain why James converted to faith. Why would he have wanted to go along with such a scheme? Why would the disciples have invited him into their scheme and taken the risk that he would expose them? Furthermore, this explanation utterly fails in explaining why Saul of Tarsus was converted. He was doing quite well in his life as a Pharisee by persecuting Christians. Why would he have become one if the Christian faith was just a story made up by the disciples? He had nothing to gain by converting and everything to lose. Moreover, we must remember that the disciples all went to their graves proclaiming that the Resurrection was true—and nearly all of them were ushered to their graves by violent hands that made martyrs out of them. It’s outlandish to think that not one of them would have come clean about a hoax in the face of such a fate.

 Other explanations have been suggested which we cannot consider here for lack of space, but the most reasonable explanation is simply that Jesus died and then came back to life. It explains the facts of the matter perfectly. And when we remember that these facts came to be in a world created by the God who had already revealed himself through all of His dealings with the people of Israel as recorded in the Old Testament, it is no surprise at all that God raised Jesus from the dead. It is simply the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth!

Reading Recommendations--2022 Edition

 For Children

My recommendation here is quite simple—the Book of Proverbs. I plan to read through it this summer with my kids and I think that would be a good program for all families. Did you know that Proverbs was compiled with young people in mind? Youth is a great time to soak up the wisdom in that book. There are a couple of spicy passages about sexuality in the first nine chapters, so you may want to skip over those sections depending on the age of your children.

 

Fiction

My list shows me that I apparently need to get some more fiction titles on my reading list, but here are two that I can recommend to you:

 

The Genius Plague, by David Walton. This page-turner tells the tale of a viral fungus that gives people increased brain power. I know—it sounds weird, but it makes for a great story!

 

The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. I recently heard a “classic” described as a book that’s bound to be boring, but this classic is anything but. Be prepared—this is not a short book. I actually read this one 20 years ago and it took me an entire summer. But the payoff is worth it as this story leads you to consider the battle of good versus evil and how that battle plays out in every human heart.

 

Non-Fiction

I tend to be drawn toward war stories since they naturally make for high drama. Wars also tend to be significant turning points in history, so reading about them often helps us understand the present day. Most war stories tend to have bad language that I cannot condone, but I do tolerate it in a book for the sake of learning more about history. Two good war stories I’ve read recently are The Last Stand of Fox Company, by Bob Drury and Tom Clavin about a conflict in the Korean War, and Last Men Out, by Bob Drury and Tom Clavin about the last Americans in Saigon at the end of the Vietnam War. Another good book in this category would be Sea Stories, by William H. McRaven, the recently-retired commander of the Navy’s SEAL teams.

 

One period of history I’d never learned much about was the fight for independence in Texas, so I filled in some of that gap in my knowledge by reading Sam Houston and the Alamo Avengers, by Brian Kilmeade.

 

If you ever feel like the Bible gets misquoted and misused in present-day debates, you should know that this is not a new phenomenon. For some helpful historical context, read A Holy Baptism of Fire and Blood, by James P. Byrd to see how the Bible was used by both abolitionists and slaveowners during the Civil War.

 

Christian Living

I’m a late-comer to this book since it’s been out for many years, but if you want to be encouraged by God’s kind faithfulness in the midst of dark times, you’ve got to read The Hiding Place, by Corrie Ten Boom. A book with a similar focus on God’s help in times of need is The Sacred Acre, by Mark Tabb, the true story of a high school football coach in Iowa and the impact of his faith on his whole community.

 

We all have opportunities to help people who are dealing with grief, and we’d all be better at doing that if we’d read What Grieving People Wish You Knew about What Really Helps (and What Really Hurts), by Nancy Guthrie.

 

The Apostles’ Creed, by R. Albert Mohler, Jr. is a good book for learning some basic theology through an ancient summary of Christian faith while also seeing how some of those ideas have come under attack in the present time.

 

Heavy Lifting

In this category for this year I will recommend Simply Trinity, by Matthew Barrett. This book takes a close look at the doctrine of the Trinity, focusing on how this doctrine was understood in ancient times versus how it is often presented today. Any time you discuss the Trinity, things get deep quickly and that’s true of this book as well, yet it remains fairly readable for a general audience.

Learn the Hymn: A Mighty Fortress is Our God

 Singing has always been a rich and meaningful part of Christian worship. However, it’s value and usefulness diminishes somewhat if we don’t understand the words we are singing. With that concern in mind, I’d like to occasionally teach you the words of a hymn in this column and explain what the song’s message is all about. In honor of Reformation Day on October 31, we’ll begin these studies today with Martin Luther’s hymn “A Mighty Fortress is Our God.”

 

Written in German by Martin Luther sometime around 1529, the most commonly-known English translation of this hymn was produced by Frederick Hedge in 1853. This translation consists of four carefully-sequenced verses that develop one storyline from beginning to end, so when this hymn is used for public worship, it is important that all four verses be sung in order to get the full development of the thought. Let us now consider the words and their meaning.

 

A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing; Our helper He amid the flood of mortal ills prevailing.

 A “bulwark” is a wall built for defense against danger, so God is pictured as a strong defense for us against an ever-increasing flood of dangers. Luther knew more than his share of mortal ills, being a man who often dealt with stomach problems and threats from his religious and political enemies. Yet he found God faithful through it all!

 

For still our ancient foe doth seek to work us woe—His craft and power are great, And armed with cruel hate, On earth is not his equal.

 Lest we underestimate the danger posed to us by Satan, Luther in his own words reminds us that the devil “prowls around like a roaring lion, seeking someone to devour (1 Peter 5:8).” It is very unique in hymnody for a verse to end with such lofty words about Satan’s power, so we must quickly move to verse two to find words of hope!

 

Did we in our own strength confide, Our striving would be losing; Were not the right man on our side, The man of God’s own choosing.

 By telling us that Satan’s equal cannot be found upon the Earth, Luther has reminded us that we must look away from ourselves to find strength to counter Satan’s craft and power. In this phrase, we find the announcement of a Savior—a man of God’s own choosing who has the strength to overcome Satan.

 

Dost ask who that may be? Christ Jesus, it is He! Lord Sabaoth His name, from age to age the same, And He must win the battle.

 “Lord Sabaoth” is a reference to a Hebrew title for God in the Old Testament that is usually translated “Lord of Hosts.” The title pictures God as the commander-in-chief of the vast angelic armies of Heaven; thus, He is a terrifying figure to His enemies since He has overwhelming might at His command.

 

And though this world with devils filled Should threaten to undo us; We will not fear for God hath willed His truth to triumph through us.

 In our time, we have become all-too-forgetful of the influence that demonic beings can yield over our world. But Luther was under no such illusions—he was keenly aware of what we have come to call “spiritual warfare.” Nevertheless, such an awareness was not reason for despair in Luther’s mind because of the staggering truth that God has willed to display His triumph over Satan through the Church!

 

The prince of darkness grim, We tremble not for him; His rage we can endure, For, lo, his doom is sure: One little word shall fell him.

 Though Satan remains active and threatening today, his defeat was accomplished at the Cross. As Colossians 2:15 says regarding Christ’s crucifixion, “God disarmed the rulers and authorities and put them to open shame, by triumphing over them in Christ.” Satan is therefore teetering on the brink of doom today, ready to be toppled over.

 

That word above all earthly powers, No thanks to them, abideth; The Spirit and the gifts are ours Through Him who with us sideth.

 Luther now clarifies for us which “word” it is that has the power to topple Satan—it is the word of God, the Scriptures. Many “earthly powers” in Luther’s time had hidden the Scriptures by forbidding their translation into languages that common people could understand. But nevertheless, the Bible retained its power, as Luther’s own life testifies. God has also equipped the Church with His own Spirit and the gifts that the Spirit supplies us for the purpose of ministry.

 

Let goods and kindred go, This mortal life also; The body they may kill; God’s truth abideth still—His kingdom is forever!

 Now we come to the sobering challenge of this song—to be willing to suffer the loss of all things with hope and good cheer, because nothing can defeat the truth of God! Luther himself lost goods and kindred during his life; many of his associates lost their lives. Nevertheless, as we can attest today, God’s truth remains, and we celebrate the foretaste that it gives us of His Kingdom!

Why I'm Tapping the Brakes on Molinism--and Potentially Changing Lanes

 Regular readers of my blog (I think there are two of you, so I’ll use the plural) will remember that in the past, I have voiced support for the theological system of Molinism (if you missed that post, you can read it here). I’ve even encouraged you to check it out further, and perhaps you have. Recently, I have been reassessing Molinism in my continuing studies, particularly in light of a philosophical framework known as Thomism, named for the 13^th-century theologian Thomas Aquinas. Allow me to relate a bit of personal history regarding my studies to introduce you to my current concerns about Molinism.

 Why I’ve appreciated Molinism

From my generally Calvinistic upbringing, I’ve always had a non-negotiable commitment to the sovereignty of God. God is in charge, and He is unfailingly causing His plan for this world to come to pass. Yet like all but the most rabid of Calvinists, I’ve struggled to reconcile this belief with man’s responsibility to accept the Gospel to be saved.

 Enter Molinism with its proposal of a solution to this quandary. I became a student of Molinism through my studies in apologetics at Biola University, an institution where evangelical Molinist philosopher William Lane Craig casts a considerably long shadow. My deepest appreciation for Molinism actually came through the application that Kenneth Keathley made of its concepts to the questions debated by Calvinists and Arminians. His book Salvation and Sovereignty remains a favorite of mine among studies of the doctrine of salvation.

Why I’m reassessing Molinism

In my continuing studies, I’ve felt that a stronger grasp of philosophy has been the missing piece in my overall education. To fill this gap and to continue to push myself to learn, I enrolled in the Doctor of Ministry program at Southern Evangelical Seminary in 2020. I was very intrigued by the seminary’s integration of Dispensational theology, Classical philosophy, and Classical apologetics—all inspired by the work of the seminary’s founder, Norman Geisler.

 In his voluminous works, Geisler championed an evangelical version of the philosophy of Thomas Aquinas, particularly with respect to Aquinas’ teachings on the three Classical branches of philosophy—metaphysics (the study of being), epistemology (the study of how we know), and ethics (the study of how we ought to live in light of what we know of being). Being an evangelical, Geisler obviously disagreed with Aquinas’ broader theology but nevertheless felt that his views on Theology Proper and questions of being and knowing have much to offer evangelicals, since Aquinas’ views were arguably just a summation of Christian teaching on those matters up until his time.

I am very intrigued by the philosophical tools and ideas of Thomism because of what they claim to provide. Thomists claim that their system can provide at least the following three benefits, all of which are very desirable in my opinion:

             1. A philosophical framework to undergird the traditional view of God’s attributes

            In various ways, attributes such as God’s omniscience, timelessness, immutability, and others have been modified or outright denied by theologians in recent decades. The result is a portrayal of God that is quite different from the historic Christian tradition. Thomism provides an understanding of metaphysics that serves as a solid foundation on which to build a theological and biblical case for the traditional understanding of God’s being—provided that Thomism’s central claims are true, and I increasingly think that they are.

            2. A philosophy to support the claim that we really do have direct access to reality

            Philosophy since the time of Rene Descartes has spawned no end of nonsense. With what has been called “the epistemic turn,” philosophy has been chasing its tail, seeking to answer the question, “How can we know that we know?” The basic answer has been that we really can’t know anything for sure except our own thoughts; thus we really have no guarantee that those thoughts correspond to the way the world really is. But Thomism boldly asserts that we really do have direct access to reality. Its approach—known as moderate realism—begins with the assertion that we possess knowledge because it’s simply undeniable that we do! Thomism keeps philosophical study in the proper order—examine reality first (metaphysics), then assess how we have come to know it in order to discover how we might know other things (epistemology).

             3. It defends the claim that we can have an objective interpretation of the Bible

            Vast swaths of Christianity today are plagued by subjectivity. The subjective question “What do these verses mean to you?” has supplanted the objective question “What do these verses mean?” Though very few would know it, this situation is a direct consequence of the epistemic turn in philosophy. Thomism, through its claim about reality mentioned above, truly does seem to deliver the philosophical goods that are necessary to make people confident once again that objectivity in biblical interpretation really is possible.

Molinism in light of Thomism

But here’s the rub for my theology—Molinism and Thomism really do seem to have a conflict at a few points. Though these points are admittedly among the finest of the finer points of theology, if a person is going to speak on such points, then he must strive for truth in any statement that he speaks and for consistency with all other statements that he may speak. In that light, I want my theology to be accurate and consistent, so I’m reassessing Molinism right now on the following points:

             1. The doctrine of divine simplicity

            The doctrine of divine simplicity is central to Thomism. In fact, in Aquinas’ magnum opus, the Summa Theologiae, divine simplicity is the first attribute that Thomas seeks to prove after proving the existence of God. Contemporary Reformed Baptist theologian James Dolezal has described this doctrine about as succinctly (and clearly!) as anyone can:

The principal claim of divine simplicity is that God is not composed of parts. Whatever is composed of parts depends upon its parts in order to be as it is. A part is anything in a subject that is less than the whole and without which the subject would be really different than it is. In short, composite beings need their parts in order to exist as they do. Moreover, the parts in an integrated whole require a composer distinct from themselves to unify them, an extrinsic source of unity. If God should be composed of parts—of components that were prior to Him in being—He would be doubly dependent: first, on the parts, and second, on the composer of the parts. But God is absolute in being, alone the sufficient reason for Himself and all other things, and so cannot in any respect derive His being from another. Because God cannot depend on what is not God in order to be God, theologians traditionally insist that all that is in God is God (James E. Dolezal, All That Is in God, 40-41).

            To understand this a bit more clearly, think of what we mean when we ascribe goodness to a person. When you say “George is good,” if you really think about it, you can see that you’re really talking about two different things: George, on the one hand, and goodness on the other. You know this because you know that George could possibly be evil rather than good. Since George and goodness can exist separately like this, you know that you’re talking about two different things.

            But we encounter something different when we say “God is good.” In this case, we’re really not talking about two different things, as if God could possibly be evil rather than good. In the case of God, what we’re really saying is that God just is goodness. Goodness isn’t a quality that is in addition to what God is; goodness just is what He is. And when you ponder it further, we would say the same thing about God’s other attributes—they just are what God is, leading us to conclude that these attributes are not separate “parts” within God’s being. That is the meaning of Dolezal’s last statement that “all that is in God is God.”

            The more I understand it, the more I wish to affirm God’s simplicity, yet Molinism seems to run afoul of this doctrine. In positing three logical moments or stages within God’s knowledge—one stage of which does not result until after an act of God’s will—Molinism seems to create too sharp of a division between God’s knowledge and His will. It seems to treat these attributes as though one can be active without the other. In the light of divine simplicity, it seems better to say, as Geisler does in his book Chosen But Free, that God’s knowing and willing are simultaneous, eternal, and coordinate acts of God (see pp. 52-53 of the second edition).

             2. The notion of passive potency in God

            Thomism relies on the metaphysical insights of the Greek philosopher Aristotle. In fact, Thomas was the first theologian of any consequence who was able to “compare notes” with Aristotle after the latter’s works were rediscovered in the Middle Ages. Thomas, like Aristotle before him, argued that all of existence can be summed up in two categories—act and potency, or in other words, that which actually is existing and that which potentially could exist. God, says Thomas, is pure act—every facet of His being has always actually existed; no facet of God was ever made to exist, or in other words, caused to move from being merely potential to be actual. Something that is made actual by another is said to have “passive potency.”

            With its postulate of three logical moments in God’s knowledge, Molinism seems to say that God has passive potency. This observation seems especially true of God’s middle knowledge, which is said to be caused by the future free choices of God’s creatures. Should this be equated with passive potency? Craig apparently wants to avoid such a notion by arguing for a conceptualist model of divine knowledge, which he explains as follows:

On a conceptualist model of divine knowledge, God does not acquire his knowledge of the world by anything like perception. His knowledge of the future is not based on his “looking” ahead and “seeing” what lies in the future (a terribly anthropomorphic notion in any case). Rather, God’s knowledge is self-contained; it is more like a mind’s knowledge of innate ideas. As an omniscient being, God has essentially the property of knowing all truths; there are truths about future events; thus, God knows all truths concerning future events (Craig, “The Middle-Knowledge View,” in Divine Foreknowledge: Four Views, eds. Bielby and Eddy, p. 133).

            That explanation seems like it could avoid the charge of ascribing passive potency to God, yet in other works such as his podcasts, Craig is very comfortable saying that for any choice I make, God’s knowledge would have been different if I had in fact made a different choice. That admission sure smells like passive potency, making it problematic from a Thomistic point of view.

             3. The grounding objection

            I should say just a brief word about the grounding objection, since many of Molinism’s opponents consider it to be the fatal flaw in the system. Simply put, the grounding objection deals with the question, “What makes statements about the future true or false?” I had heard about the grounding objection before and had more or less rested in the reassurances of Molinists that it wasn’t really a problem. Having examined it a bit more at this point, I must say that it appears to be more of a problem than I acknowledged before. In particular, Molinism would perhaps put pressure on us to abandon the correspondence theory of truth (meaning that statements are true if they correspond to the way things really are), which would simply be a bridge too far for me.

            It is also worth noting that Thomas argued by means of God’s eternality that He does know the truth about statements concerning what is still future to us because they are not future to Him (see Summa Contra Gentiles, Book One, Chapter 67). So Thomism certainly does have a way of explaining how God can know the truth about the future.

Contemplating a Change

Well, if you’ve made it with me this far, I don’t know whether to congratulate you or encourage you to find a hobby to better fill your time! Really though, if you’ve made it this far, I suspect you’re like me and you find value in thinking deeply about theology. Now that we’ve thought deeply about it, I’ll reiterate that I’m considering an embrace of Thomism. To be candid, some of these ideas from Thomism have only become clear to me in the last 15 weeks, so I still need some time to ponder it all. But having read this, I suspect that you won’t be caught off guard if you see me changing lanes.

Summer Reading Recommendations--2021 Edition

 Ah, summer! The perfect time for grilling, swimming—and reading! Though maybe not all at the same time—books do not play well with either fire or water. In what may prove to be an annual tradition, I’d like to present the 2021 edition of my summer reading recommendations. With little concern for my personal health or sanity, I have continued reading at a reckless pace since I presented you with the 2020 edition of these recommendations. Okay—I actually enjoyed almost every minute of my reading time, so it wasn’t much of a sacrifice. And now, with hopefully a little something for everyone, here are my recommendations:

 

For Children

In this category, I’d like to first mention a whole series of books that are well worth your time. The series is Tales that Tell the Truth from The Good Book Company. My family owns numerous books from this series and my children have wanted to read them over and over again—and the truths from Scripture that these books express are worthy of being pondered over and over again.

 

Recently, my children and I have enjoyed Go and Do Likewise by John Hendrix, a book that re-tells some of the parables of Christ. John was an acquaintance of mine in a campus ministry during my year at the University of Kansas, and his illustrating skills are put to great use in relating truths from Scripture. His drawings are incredibly imaginative—fascinating for both young and old alike. I am interested in checking out his historical graphic novels on Dietrich Bonhoeffer and the abolitionist John Brown.

 

Fiction

Though much of my reading time ends up being devoted to non-fiction works, I enjoy the slivers of time that I get to return to good works of fiction. I think it helps me become a better communicator.

 

One work of fiction I greatly enjoyed recently was Murder on the Orient Express by Agatha Christie. It is not hard to see why this book is a classic in the detective genre. Do yourself a favor and get the audiobook version read by actor Kenneth Branagh. All of the dialogue in this book makes it a perfect fit for the audiobook genre, and Branagh seems to have a great time producing the dialects of the various characters in this book, many of whom hail from different nationalities.

 

The Space Trilogy by C. S. Lewis will be of interest to anyone who enjoys science fiction as well as anyone interested in theology. The way that Lewis uses space travel to speculate about the role of angels in creation is particularly fascinating. The third book, That Hideous Strength, is Lewis’s warning about the potential dangers of an unchecked scientific community coming to dominate society.

 

Every American ought to read two books by George Orwell that skewer and lampoon the realities of life under a totalitarian state. First, pick up Animal Farm, a highly-readable novel that ought to be required reading in every high school in the United States. Follow up that book with his longer work, Nineteen Eighty-Four.

 

Non-Fiction

History buffs will love the works by Erik Larson. I particularly enjoyed Dead Wake and The Splendid and The Vile. The subject matter of The Devil in the White City made that book a little less enjoyable for me, and consequently I didn’t get through the whole thing. Isaac’s Storm was a fascinating account of a long-forgotten natural disaster in American history—the destruction of Galveston, TX in 1900 by a hurricane.

 

Born Again by Charles Colson is a good reminder that God is at work within the halls of power. This autobiography from Colson has a little something for everyone—history, political intrigue, true crime, and a conversion story to boot!

 

The nation of Israel has been in the headlines lately and the resulting discussions on social media have revealed that many people are utterly uninformed about how the modern nation of Israel came to be and how it has lived among its neighbors. Do yourself a favor and read Return to Zion by Eric Gartman. This work of history is highly readable and will leave you with a broader context for understanding current events.

 

Religious liberty has been a hot topic in the United States since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic and the subsequent restrictions on gatherings. Anyone interested in this subject ought to read Sacred Liberty by Steven Waldman. This book traces the history of religious liberty in the United States and shows how this “first freedom” has been understood differently at different times.

 

Christian Living

All of us will be affected at some time by a terminal illness, either in our own body or in that of someone we love. For Thou Art With Me by Bruce Baker is an excellent resource for both thinking through and living through the realities of a terminal illness. Baker is a long-time pastor and theology professor, and he knows that of which he speaks—he has been slowly progressing through his own battle with ALS for several years now.

 

Most Christians could stand to have a better grasp of church history. The 100 Most Important Events in Christian History by A. Kenneth Curtis will help you achieve just that. The layout of this book will allow you to bounce around a bit in history if you’d like and then fill in the rest of the narrative in your mind by reading the remaining events on the list.

 

Heavy-Lifting

For those brave souls looking for a challenge!

 

Many Christians face absolute bewilderment as they try to make sense of contemporary society. Two books—one older, one newer—will help you get a better grasp on society as it is today in the Western world. How Should We Then Live? by Francis Schaeffer is a classic book on this subject from one of the keenest observers of society from a Christian perspective. A newer book along these lines that deserves a wide readership is The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self by Carl Trueman. Being hot-off-the-press, this book has extremely helpful discussions of ongoing debates about issues like sex and gender.

 

Happy reading!

Are we commanded to listen for God in prayer?

 I opened a can of worms on Facebook the other day with a post about the practice of listening to or for God in prayer. I should have anticipated that a brief post on the subject might offer more confusion than clarity, but that possibility didn’t dawn on me at the moment. Several friends of mine commented on the post respectfully and thoughtfully, and I’m glad they did. Their effort to start a conversation has given me a chance to reflect on the subject, and I’ll offer the first fruits of those reflections in this post.

 

For anyone who did not see my Facebook post, here is what I said: “Where have we gotten the idea that we're supposed to listen to/for God in prayer? Can you think of a single passage of Scripture that commands us to do this, explains how to do it, or clarifies what to expect from God when we do it? Instead, passages on prayer tell us to make our requests known to God, to offer thanksgiving and praise, to confess our sins, etc. In other words, prayer is when we express our thoughts to God. God's communication to mankind is found in the Bible.”

 

As I reflected on my friends’ comments, I had to ask myself, “Why am I having such a strong reaction against the idea of listening to God in prayer?” Two possible reasons stood out to me as I thought about it. First, I feel there has been a growing trend to make this practice part of the essence of prayer—in other words, to say that a person really is not praying unless they take time to see if God will speak to them in that moment. Now of course everyone agrees that each instance of prayer doesn’t have to include all the elements that might make up your prayer life as a whole, but I think more and more people are saying that you must not merely seek to speak to God in prayer, but you must also seek to hear from Him—otherwise, you’re really not praying. I have reacted strongly to this idea because in passages that explicitly teach us about how to pray, I find a conspicuous absence of teaching on the idea of listening for God. More on that in a moment.

 

Here’s a second possibility that I must humbly consider at greater length. I am currently taking a class that critiques occult beliefs and practices from a biblical perspective, and this class includes discussion of all the various ways that occult practitioners seek to communicate with spiritual beings or “the higher power.” I am trying not to see an occult bogeyman behind every tree, but I must consider whether I am overly sensitive to such concerns right now. As every student knows, when you focus intensely on one subject for several months, your opinions can become out of balance. As time passes, you often re-gain a more balanced perspective. Am I out-of-balance at the moment? I think humility would demand that I consider this, and so I will try to consider it, though I am aware that my reaction against listening for God in prayer goes back before I ever started this class.

 

A few clarifications

Perhaps it will be helpful if I clarify a few things before I ramble on further. First, in my original post, I meant to comment narrowly on the idea of listening to God in prayer. I didn’t intend to comment on the various ways in which God might guide us to make certain decisions. One commenter mentioned the avenues of wise council and circumstances. I would certainly affirm that God does lead us through such means. Another commenter asked if I meant that God can only teach me, comfort me, and convict me by reading the Bible. No, I would say that those things can happen even when I’m not reading the Bible. Sometimes they happen through other people teaching me, comforting me, or convicting me. Sometimes the Spirit simply brings things to my mind in a more direct way, though I would say that the Spirit makes use of the knowledge of Scripture that I’ve gained prior to that moment.

 

One commenter brought up the testimonies of Muslims who say they’ve had a vision of Jesus that leads them to hear the Gospel. Though that’s a bit of a different issue than a born-again person praying, I’d like to mention that I don’t discount those testimonies. I don’t see a Scriptural reason to deny that Christ would do that, so I rejoice that He seems to work with people whom Christians have been somewhat slow to reach with the Gospel.

 

I’d also like to clarify that I won’t pretend like I can explain the various experiences that people have that they attribute to the Holy Spirit. I will simply say that we must not assume that we cannot err when we interpret our circumstances. I think we are far too quick to assume that we know exactly what gave rise to our experiences and that we know exactly what our experiences signify. Can’t we all attest that we’ve misunderstood our experiences before? I think we need to submit them to a more objective standard like the Bible.

 

A conspicuous absence

My greatest concern with the notion of listening for God in prayer comes from the fact that I don’t believe I, as a church-age believer, can find any explicit or implicit command to do it or any teaching on how to do it if I should try. I certainly don’t find enough teaching on the idea to elevate it to the status of being an essential element of prayer. As I say this, I’m thinking of passages like Matthew 6:5-13 (which includes the Lord’s Prayer), Philippians 4:6, Ephesians 6:18, 1 Timothy 2:1, Colossians 4:2, and 1 Peter 5:7. In passages like this that are meant to tell me what to do in prayer, I find no mention of the idea of listening.

 

A few comments on my FB post mentioned some specific verses as possibilities, so let me comment on just a couple of them.

 

My sheep hear my voice—and other voices, too?

John 10 was mentioned in the comments as one passage that may speak on the question of listening for God in prayer. I think everyone reading this would agree that Jesus isn’t explicitly teaching about prayer in this passage, meaning that He didn’t make these comments with the express intention of teaching us how to pray. The remaining question, then, is if Jesus’ words imply anything about prayer. I do not believe they do.

 

Jesus is speaking to the Pharisees in this passage, who have just denied their spiritual blindness (9:40). The Lord goes on to contrast their leadership over the children of Israel (which is self-seeking) with His own leadership over His sheep (which is self-sacrificing). In this context, He states that His sheep hear his voice. By this statement, is Jesus encouraging us to listen for His voice when we pray? To me, that seems like a big stretch given that this conversation did not arise from an intention to teach about prayer.

 

If we take that statement to apply to listening for God in prayer, I think that move also raises a troubling scenario. Jesus also mentioned that the sheep hear the voices of strangers (10:5). If we move this conversation into the context of prayer, are we to conclude that as we try to listen for the voice of God in prayer there will be other voices trying to talk to us at the same time—like demonic voices, perhaps? This possibility is all the more troubling given that everyone I’ve heard who teaches on listening to God in prayer says we cannot recognize His voice right away—that we have to work to hear it and learn to refine that skill.

 

But here, Jesus asserts that His sheep know his voice and will follow him. There is no suggestion that hearing His voice is a skill that must be refined or developed. I think it is far more accurate to interpret this passage as an explanation of conversion—in other words, the sheep who hear Christ’s voice are unbelievers who are effectually called by God to salvation. They hear the Gospel, become convicted of its truth, and thus follow Christ. I am not convinced that there is an application to be made here for prayer. If you believe there is, I would like to hear what you make of the “voice of strangers” in this passage. Is it a demonic voice that tries to talk to you as you pray?

 

Romans 8:16 and the internal witness of the Spirit

One commenter mentioned Romans 8:16 and the activity of the Spirit that is mentioned there. I mention this verse because of an interpretive possibility that we have to consider—that this activity of the Spirit is not actually directed toward us, but is instead directed toward God the Father. It depends on how we understand the word “with” in the phrase “the Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God.” It is entirely possible that what Paul means is not that the Spirit speaks to us, but that the Spirit speaks to the Father with us or alongside us; that as we cry “Abba! Father!” (v. 15) the Spirit speaks to the Father to support and confirm our claim of being a child of God. If this understanding is correct, it would be the Spirit’s complement to Christ’s intercessory work that is mentioned in Romans 8:34.

 

Though the tenor of my whole discussion might suggest otherwise, I’m not denying the possibility of the internal witness of the Spirit—that in some way He provides internal re-assurance to us of the reality of our salvation. We may have to find that notion in another passage, however. But even if we take Romans 8:16 as teaching the internal witness, it should be noted that we are not told that we have to listen for it in prayer. Perhaps you think I’m just being far too narrow in my definition of prayer at this point. A fair objection! I’ll have to give more consideration to that thought.

 

Some other passages were mentioned that are certainly worthy of consideration as well, such as 1 Thessalonians 5:16-21 and passages that speak of waiting on the Lord. As I want to give careful thought to all the suggestions made, I must continue to ponder and consider some of those passages, and I am grateful that they were suggested. Perhaps I will try to write on them further at a later date.

 

Perhaps as you read this you feel some degree of pity for me, believing that I am missing out on a significant and meaningful part of a relationship with God. I’m not convinced that that’s the case, but if you are, you may feel free to pray for me. If you’d like to comment further on what I’ve shared here, please do so on my Facebook page as I do not have comments enabled here on my blog. Thank you to those who have challenged my thinking already.

My Testimony

Not long ago, I preached on one of my favorite psalms—Psalm 73. I was struck by the final verse—verse 28—which says, “But for me it is good to be near God; I have made the Lord God my refuge, that I may tell of all your works.” I certainly have a desire to be near God and make Him my refuge at all times, but this verse reminded me that such an effort isn’t just about me. Taking refuge in God should be about others as well; I should seek to do it in order to tell others about His works.

 

In light of this verse, I encouraged my congregation to share their testimonies with others—to tell people about the works that God has accomplished in their lives. I would like to do that very thing in this column today—to share with you my testimony of coming to faith in Christ and to tell of the gracious things that God has done in my years so far.

 

I was born to devout Christian parents whose faith defined every aspect of their lives. They truly “walked the walk.” I remember my brother saying that he came to understand that the Bible is important because he knew our dad woke up earlier than he had to in order to give himself time to read it. My mom and dad taught me the Gospel from the day I was born, and the totality of their lives made that message look so attractive that their witness served as a powerful testimony for me.

 

When I was six years old, then, I came to understand that the Gospel message isn’t just true in some general way—it was telling the very truth about my life. The story about mankind’s rebellion against God and His gracious gift of His own Son to pay for our sins wasn’t just some story about our race—I needed to see my own sinfulness and my own need of a Savior to deliver me from the penalty of my sins. And so, I trusted in Christ as my Savior, believing that His death paid for my sins and that His resurrection assures me of eternal life with God.

 

After trusting in Christ, my experience from then through my teenage years was like that of many young people. I grew in my faith in fits and spurts—sometimes more, sometimes less. This inconsistency came largely because I didn’t develop good habits in spiritual disciplines like reading Scripture and praying. I knew such habits were important, but I didn’t yet understand how desperately I needed them for my spiritual health and well-being. That lesson would not come in full force until my first year of college.

 

After finishing high school, I packed my bags and headed off to the University of Kansas. There, for the first time, I found myself in a setting where my Christian faith was down-right unpopular! Most students wanted nothing to do with the Holy Spirit’s fruit of self-control (Galatians 5:23), preferring instead to feast on—other fruits, shall we say. My philosophy professor saw Christians as his favorite punching bag, consistently using Christians as examples of illogical thinking. My psychology professor confidently announced there was no such thing as sin, that different behaviors simply reflected different brain-states and had absolutely no significance beyond that physical realm.

 

In addition, there was also a confusing dissonance coming from Christian voices around me. The Religion Department touted the Bible, but in a way that was very different from my evangelical upbringing. Then there was Fred Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church, who came on campus to protest drag queen fashion shows at the Student Union. Did either of these groups represent Christianity well—and if so, did I want anything to do with this faith?

 

All of these details came together to put me squarely at a fork in the road—was I going to be serious about my devotion to Christ or not? There was no third option—my faith was either going to grow or die. Well, to God’s praise and glory, He had surrounded me with family and new friends who continued to water the seeds of my faith that had been planted first by my parents, then by the Spirit Himself. As a result, that first year of college became a wonderful time of spiritual growth for me. The challenges to my faith were exactly what I needed to come to understand Christ’s statement that “apart from me you can do nothing (John 15:5).”

 

So God began to undertake a full renovation of my heart, and at the same time He threw-in a renovation of my occupational plans. I went to college as a computer science major with very high aspirations—I wanted to develop the first baseball video game that would allow you to have a bench-clearing brawl! Shooting for the stars, I know! But as my devotion to Christ began to deepen, it became obvious that that goal wasn’t going to leave me very satisfied in life. Perhaps a bit richer, but not very satisfied.

 

As I began to consider something else to pursue, God began to make it clear that He had given me strong skills in language—from understanding how it works to interpreting it to using it as a means of presenting ideas to others. He had also given me an insatiable thirst for studying the Bible and anything else that would shed light on the Bible. With these realities and the affirmation of others, it became clear that pastoral ministry would be an excellent pursuit—one for which there was a great need, and one for which I appeared to be greatly suited.

 

As pastoral ministry has now been my life’s work for 15 years, I want to express my gratitude to God for giving me the honor to serve. I am so thankful for all that He has done through me for His glory from the first day of my life until now. While the world is still waiting for that baseball game with the brawls (I think!), I am so thankful that those in my sphere of influence have not had to wait to hear the Word of God. It is a great honor for me to have shared it with them and to continue doing so.