Examining Sola Scriptura

Yes, you read the title right. An analysis of sola scriptura, one of the five "sola" pillars of Protestantism, and more generally the conservative/evangelical/Reformed perspective on scripture in American Christianity as I have known it, will be the subject of this post.

Where did it come from?

First, some background: the doctrine of sola scriptura ("by scripture alone") was firmly established by Martin Luther and the Protestant reformers who followed him, in response to what they saw as an overreaching of ecclesial authority by the Catholic church, placing interpretative tradition and the word of the Pope on equal or higher footing than the Bible. The Catholics had a doctrine of "prima scriptura" and saw scripture as merely the most important source of authoritative divine revelation along with, among others, church tradition; the church had, after all, selected the Biblical canon, so why should its authority be limited to this one act? This had led to abuses like the sale of indulgences that prompted Luther to act.

Luther asserted that "a simple layman armed with Scripture is greater than the mightiest pope without it". In other words, that the Bible should be the highest (not necessarily only) authority over a believer's doctrine and life to which all others are subordinate. This means that scripture contains everything necessary for salvation and Christian practice, and extrabiblical sources like church tradition or claims of supernatural experiences can never "trump" its authority.  Later reformers like John Calvin took this a little further, saying that scripture was self-authenticating (it proved itself to be God's word to the reader), perspicuous (self-interpreting or clear to the rational reader without any recourse to external aids), and totally sufficient for matters of faith and practice. Calvin explains his high view of scripture thus:

For it is wonderful how much we are confirmed in our belief when we attentively consider  how admirably the divine wisdom contained in [Scripture] is arranged--how perfectly free the doctrine is from every thing that savors of earth--how beautifully it harmonizes in all its parts--and how rich it is in all the other qualities which give an air of majesty to composition...For the truth is vindicated in opposition to every doubt, when, unsupported by foreign aid, it has its sole sufficiency in itself. - Institutes 1.8.1

Today, this stronger form of sola scriptura is the dominant one in American evangelical and reformed Christianity, particularly in more conservative or fundamentalist churches, and my argument below applies most strongly to it. It is at the very heart of Protestant doctrine and theology; the idea of preaching or teaching a doctrine derived from some source other than the Bible and declaring it to be "God's word" is (I would hope!) unthinkable to most Protestants. Wayne Grudem, one of the most prominent conservative evangelical theologians, bases his view of the authority and sufficiency of scripture on its being God's very words: "all the words in Scripture are God's words in such a way that to disbelieve of disobey any word of Scripture is to disbelieve or disobey God."

Sola scriptura has had other implications for how scripture is viewed. One example is the concept of Biblical infallibility/inerrancy. I'm still somewhat fuzzy on the distinction, but infallibility says that the Bible is completely trustworthy and unable to lie as a guide to faith and salvation, while inerrancy makes the stronger claim that the Bible is unable to be wrong (err) on any point of anything it speaks about. Grudem explains that "Scripture in the original manuscripts  does not affirm anything that is contrary to fact." Based on 2 Timothy 3:16, scripture is considered to be "inspired" by God; some churches explain this as meaning it is "God's voice in human words", others hold the stronger theory of "divine dictation", that the specific words in the Bible are also inspired. To quote Calvin again:

But since no daily responses are given from heaven, and the Scriptures are the only records  in which God has been pleased to consign his truth to perpetual remembrance, the full authority which they ought to possess with the faithful is not recognized, unless they are believed to come from heaven, as directly as if God has been heard giving utterance to them. -  Institutes 1.7.1

At any rate, the Bible is given a central place in Protestant theology; every claim must confirm to the teaching of scripture, and Christians are similarly called to live "by the book".

I wouldn't argue for a second that the Reformation or sola scriptura was a bad idea. The abuses of spiritual authority Luther was protesting were real, and making spiritual authority reliant on the (relatively) unchanging Bible has indeed helped prevent some of the more flagrant departures from the gospel as seen in the very early church (the Gnostics, Judaizers and other false teachers that many of the epistles warn against) or the pre-Reformation Catholic church. God can and does speak to people through the Bible, and putting it front and center maximizes this.

Nonetheless, I think sola scriptura has been seriously misused by much of the Protestant church. My criticism is not really on sola scriptura as originally laid out by Luther, but on the (I think) uniquely Protestant way of approaching the Bible it represents and what has become of it today.

Solo scriptura, literalism, and inerrancy

True, Luther didn't think Christians should disregard all other sources of spiritual authority, merely subordinate them to the Bible. But when your idea is called "by scripture alone" it's easy to see how this qualification could be dropped and people would start viewing the Bible alone as totally sufficient for the Christian--not just for guidance to salvation, but for all doctrine, preaching, and teaching. Again, Grudem: "[Scripture] now contains all the words of God we need for salvation, for trusting him perfectly, and for obeying him perfectly." This idea of scripture being all you need is implicit in the modern practice of "inductive Bible study". This is the distortion known as solo scriptura.

Once you believe that the Bible is God's all-sufficient word, spoken to the "priesthood of all believers" (i.e. laymen) for all to understand and live by, and that it is the only book needed (see Calvin above, "unsupported by foreign aid"), the logical consequence is that the Bible should be read the way an uneducated layman with no sources of information outside the Bible would read it: that is, literally. As I've argued, a strictly literal reading of scripture is self-contradicting to the point of impossibility and absurdity.

De/recontextualization

I had a related argument for why external sources like commentary and church tradition were unnecessary for understanding the Bible: the early, first-century church of course had none of these things, and of course they understood it (the NT authors certainly did, at least), so we need none of these aids either. What I forgot in this statement is that I am not a first-century Jewish/Palestinian/Greek Christian. I think possibly the biggest mistake people today (Christians, atheists, and everyone in between) make in understanding the Bible is "cultural imperialism"; reading it from a modern, western perspective and not realizing that though it was, in a sense, written for them, it was not written to them but to readers in the ancient or classical Near East with a radically different culture and worldview from our own. By imposing our modern, scientific expectations and frameworks of thought on such an ancient document, we can unknowingly twist its meaning, sometimes beyond recognition. (I am working on another post that goes much more into this) But if the Bible is all Christians need for faith and practice, who needs cultural-historical context? If it's the word of an eternal God spoken to us, shouldn't it be just as familiar and relevant to modern, western readers as it was to early middle-eastern Christians?

No. By emphasizing the Bible as "God's timeless word" and minimizing the role of  the human authors (or explaining inerrancy and divine dictation by saying that the books were inspired by the Spirit), we abandon the need to read the Bible as the ancient document that it is. We pull the Bible out of its ancient context and plant it in our modern one where all narrative-like texts are implicitly literal and historical, truth must fit into a clear, concise, logical system, and where attributes of God that don't fit with present-day mores are explained away or discreetly swept under the rug. This ancient-to-modern recontextualization is made easier by the attractive, modern packaging of the Bible in a single volume with a uniform style and language, which masks the fact that it began as dozens of ancient books from different authors, cultures, and languages written over thousands of years. Again, I'll get to this more in an upcoming post addressing evolution, but for now I'll say that the Bible was not written with the modern, scientific description of the cosmos in mind but an ancient, deity-infused one with a disc-like earth and celestial waters above the solid dome of the sky that is incompatible with ours at almost every turn. This is a bitter pill for believers in Biblical inerrancy to swallow.

Hermeneutical arrogance

Another danger with representing scripture as the clear, perfect, "word of God" spoken directly from His mouth is that it becomes very easy to believe that you pretty much have it "figured out". After all, if the Bible is God's communication to humans in words we can understand and the only book we need for Christian faith and practice, why should any part of it be confusing or hidden to a reader who goes into it earnestly seeking the truth of God? So comes the idea of Christian "doctrine", the set of spiritual truths that theologians through the centuries have agreed on from scripture, which are undeniably supported by the scripture. Anything that disagrees with doctrine is "heresy", treated as a threat, whether by vigorous debate or underlying suspicion and dismissive words. The essentials of faith are known and the non-essentials are, well non-essential; the frontier for theological truth is then vanishingly small and focused largely on refining and clarifying already-known truths. This idea of having set doctrine to which all expression within the church must conform is little different, in practice, from the church tradition that prompted Luther to speak against the church 500 years ago.

I see this manifested all the time in evangelical subculture, where very little focus is put into exploring and expanding knowledge of the Bible relative to learning for yourself what is already "known" (similar to getting students up to speed on basic mathematics), defending these truths from doubters and naysayers (apologetics), and especially on applying and proclaiming them to the world. The message to be proclaimed is already set in stone, and the job of Christians, then, is to act on it. Though in the teaching I've been a part of questioning of doctrine isn't actively discouraged, it's implicit that if something in Christian teaching doesn't make sense or is hard to believe, the problem is on your end and you should look for help understanding and humbly ask God to open your mind to what He has to say, or perhaps not be so presumptuous as to question God. On the most fundamental level of doctrine, there is little if any questioning or self-reflection going on.

Contradictions go under the rug

If scripture is the inerrant, directly-spoken word of God, then of course it should all fit together without any contradiction--as Calvin says, "beautifully harmonize in all its parts". No evidence, objection, or argument should be able to stand on any point against the truth of scripture, and any apparent contradiction contained therein should only be a product of our fallen perspective, or perhaps the translation. As a last resort, the motives of the questioner are questioned (Romans 9:20) or the unutterable mystery of God is invoked (Isaiah 40:28, 55:8). These apparent inconsistencies and quandaries are viewed as the unexplored frontier of our knowledge of the Bible, instead of indications that a wrong assumption has been made somewhere along the way.

After years of forcing myself to believe the "plain and obvious" truths I was taught and months of tying myself in theological knots for the sake of my belief in Biblical harmony (if the Bible does harmonize so perfectly, why did I have to spend months getting it to do so?), I have concluded that the Bible does have contradictions (or, more charitably, tensions) and does not "harmonize" like we expect it to.

For example, the evolution debate (again, building up to my next post). Christians with this high view of scripture who don't simply dismiss the scientific evidence to believe Genesis 1 literally have a lot of explaining to do. What does it mean that God created the world in six "days"? How long is a "day" (yom in Hebrew)? How could there be light (and days) before the sun and moon were created? What are the waters above the sky on day two? How were there trees before there were any sea animals? How is this text still meaningful in any way to the modern view of the cosmos? In their efforts to explain this text in a way that can be considered "true" to modern sensibilities, driven by the belief that scripture must be true to us on any point no matter how small, well-meaning interpreters twist the words of scripture in a way that seems almost violent. My unease over this "twisting" has been the driving force behind my journey to a new, better way of approaching scripture.

I played the game of trying to find answers or explanations for these kinds of Biblical quandaries for years, intensifying in the last six or so months. I was unwilling to admit that God could contradict Himself or affirm anything contrary to reality in His word. As more difficulties kept popping up, reading the Bible while trying to defend it from itself became a chore, then an unenjoyable burden that was crushing my faith. Then, finally, came the one that put me over the edge. After all I'd learned and studied in my church about how clear Paul is that no one could be justified by following the law, that "it" has always been about grace through faith, I read Deuteronomy 30:11-14 as if for the first time:

“For this commandment that I command you today is not too hard for you, neither is it far off. It is not in heaven, that you should say, ‘Who will ascend to heaven for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ Neither is it beyond the sea, that you should say, ‘Who will go over the sea for us and bring it to us, that we may hear it and do it?’ But the word is very near you. It is in your mouth and in your heart, so that you can do it.

And I already knew and had tried to "explain away" Leviticus 18:5 ("You shall therefore keep my statutes and my rules; if a person does them, he shall live by them: I am the LORD.") and Deuteronomy 6:25 ("And it will be righteousness for us, if we are careful to do all this commandment before the LORD our God, as he has commanded us.") The contradiction here, not just in details but in a central pillar of the gospel, the role of the law, was inescapable. Paul wrote that no one could be saved by the law, that from time of Abraham righteousness has come only by faith, while Moses told the Israelites to seek an attainable righteousness and justification from the law. These passages could not coexist in the harmonious system of doctrine that was supposed to lie within the Bible's pages. My old view on Biblical contradictions, which was really little different from the standard tactic of harmonization, had proved to be insufficient. I finally admitted to a God I could barely believe in: "Your word has a contradiction in it. What do I do now?" I'm increasingly seeing this admission not as the end of my faith, but as a rebirth, but still letting Him work out the answer to that question. I see it as the next step of my continuing exploration of "healthy" doubt by which God is paring away everything I hold in competition with Him--including, apparently, my view and expectations of His word.

It was in this context that I decided to buy some books by the liberal evangelical theologian Peter Enns, who seemed to have some interesting and challenging things to say about how we handle the Bible. I read The Evolution of Adam and Incarnation and Inspiration in about a day each, though I think I'll need to read them both a few more times. Here, finally, was a theologian who gave every evidence of having been through the doubts I was having, who didn't ignore, minimalize, or unconvincingly explain away the increasingly dire questions I was having about the Bible but addressed them head-on, not in the way I was hoping for but in the way I needed. Enns takes the Bible more seriously than any other modern (possibly any) theologian I've read, without believing in inerrancy, divine dictation, or other such Biblical frameworks. Unlike other explanations I'd read, the books were challenging not because I felt obligated to believe wholeheartedly in something I wasn't convinced was true, but because it seemed to be true in a way that threatened to stretch and expand my very view of truth. I'm still working out the implications of this, but for now, let me say to anyone who struggles to believe in God and the Bible as presented by mainline evangelical theology, it is possible to have a "lower" view of scripture without lowering (and even enhancing) your view of God.

Continuing tradition

Also, I mentioned earlier that the idea of having a set foundation of "doctrine" which effectively can't be questioned within the evangelical/reformed community is little different, effectively, from the Catholic idea of church tradition and "dogma", even if it is based entirely on interpreted scripture. But besides this, there are quite a few interpretive traditions in the protestant church with little or no Biblical support that people continue to believe, though not as strongly or centrally as doctrine. These are cases where a common interpretation becomes, mentally, almost indistinguishable from the text. A few examples:

• Jesus' birth in a stable. The Luke account does not actually mention a stable; only that Jesus was laid in a manger "because there was no place for them in the inn". I've read an interesting theory revolving around the Greek word for "inn", which in its other two NT uses is translated as "guest room", which then theorizes that the manger was not in a stable but in the "mud room" of a house where the animals would come in to eat in the winter, because the guest room of the house was full. Certainly not a central doctrine issue, but worth noting with how big a deal Jesus being born in a stable becomes around Christmas. I'm guessing that most Christians, if told that the stable birth is not actually in the Bible, would be surprised.
• The Mosaic authorship of the Pentateuch. It's commonly assumed, but surprisingly easy to disprove. I'm also covering this more in the evolution post, but for now note that Deuteronomy 34, besides documenting Moses' death (which is commonly explained by Joshua writing the ending and Moses writing the rest), also says that "to this day no one knows where his grave is" (v. 6). Could Joshua and the Israelites have forgotten so quickly where they buried Moses?
• The usage of the third commandment. Lots of Christians think it means not to use expressions like "Oh my God" or "Good Lord", when really it means not to misrepresent God or do something contrary to His will "in the name of God" (basically a prohibition of divine identity theft).
• The creation of different languages at the Tower of Babel. Genesis 11 is often used to explain the diversity of languages in the world today, but all the text says is that God "confused their language" and then scattered them over the world.

This is somewhat akin to interpretive traditions we see influencing the New Testament that are found nowhere in the Old, such as Melchizedek never dying (Hebrews 7:3) or Michael disputing with the devil over the body of Moses (Jude 9).

So, after that polemic, back to sola scriptura. I would be the first to say that the abuses of spiritual authority Luther spoke against were real, and his point of not elevating human wisdom and tradition above the Bible remains valid for the church. But his assertion of the supreme authority of scripture has led to many misconceptions when approaching it, some of which I have outlined above. Biblical scholars emphasize that context is everything when interpreting scripture, but consider the context of sola scriptura. Luther established it because he (rightly) felt that a truth central to the gospel, salvation in Christ, by faith, through grace alone (all three of them) was under threat.

Conclusion

But where sola scriptura was then used to defend this "fundamental" of the Christian faith, today descendant ideas like inerrancy, perspicuity, and "divine dictation" are often (mainly, even) used to defend the periphery of the faith from disagreement, deny doubt and shut down arguments. (Evolution, homosexuality, predestination, anyone?) Most concerningly, it has led to the creation of an unassailable body of doctrine that functions, effectively, like extrabiblical church tradition and ecclesial authority did for the Catholic church in Luther's time. Anyone who dared to question this body of doctrine as Luther did in 1517 by positing an alternative interpretation of the Bible that conflicted with one of the "essentials" of the faith would face the same kind of condemnation he did, though more in the form of damning book reviews/blog comments, the dreaded "heretic" label, and ostracization from "mainstream Evangelicalism" than excommunication and the Diet of Worms. (c.f. Rob Bell, who is now getting pre-emptive criticism of his new book--not that I agree with everything he says, but he's currently the poster boy for this kind of shunning)

So, one more time, my issue is not with the idea of sola scriptura as Luther introduced and used it, but in how his line of thinking has since influenced our view and expectations of the Bible. People say all the time that the Bible is no ordinary book, but this means more than just its being the record of God's written revelation to humanity. Relatively speaking, we barely have any documents from the ancient and classical ages, let alone any others that have been so well-preserved and often copied as the Bible. The result is that the Bible is by far the oldest book to be so widely read and discussed in America, let alone worldwide. (Possibly followed by the works of Shakespeare, but that's mostly because of high school English classes) This uniqueness may help explain why people forget to treat it as an ancient document. If sola scriptura means that God's authority through scripture trumps human authority in opposition to the basic message of the gospel, I agree. But I stand against using it to defend reading scripture "alone", apart from knowledge of basic hermeneutical truths like:

• The active (and fallible) role of the interpreter. The existence of "pervasive interpretive pluralism", as Christian Smith puts it, demonstrates that the Bible is not "crystal clear" or self-interpreting. Conservatives who argue against interpretations using the "authority of scripture" forget that every reading of scripture, including the "plain-faced" literal one, is an interpretation.
• The culture in which it was written. For instance, a literal reading of Genesis 1 by a modern Christian is completely different than how a 5th century B.C. Jew would read it literally (which I think they did), not only because of the difference in languages but also because of the difference in cultures, view of deity, view of the cosmos, etc. What was clear to an ancient reader may be obscure to or easily missed by a modern one.

One of my favorite parts of Enns' theology is his "incarnational" view of scripture that considered both its human and divine side, like with Christ. In our overzealous desire for a "high" view of the Bible, we often tend to neglect the human side, instead putting on it nonhuman expectations like freedom from earthly context, inerrancy, and communication of the exact words of God that the Bible steadfastly refuses to meet. By forcing scripture to stand alone, we rip it out of its ancient context and reject things that would help us understand and apply it better. Like Christ, the Bible is fully God's word, but also fully composed of human words, rooted in a particular human context--revelation passed through human lenses. I don't think God communicates to us in any other way.

The top 10 Biblical arguments against Biblical literalism

I've been thinking a lot lately about the Bible: its nature as God's word, how to read it, and the view of truth that is presented in it. I am still very much on on the way to arriving at conclusions, a journey that might take my whole life, and right now, though trusting in Christ like I may never have before, I feel sure of very little else. Below is one quick "bread crumb" from the journey I've been on. My old philosophy for Biblical hermeneutics (interpreting a text) was to "interpret the Bible as literally as possible." The biggest problem with this (qualified) statement of Biblical literalism is, as Matt Chandler would put it, the Bible. Below are the ten best arguments I could find from the Bible alone (not bringing in historical, scientific, etc. evidence) against the categorical belief that the most faithful reading of God's word is the most literal.

10.

...and Jacob the father of Joseph, the husband of Mary, of whom was born Jesus, who is called Christ. - Matthew 1:16

Now Jesus himself was about thirty years old when he began his ministry. He was the son, so it was thought, of Joseph, the son of Heli... - Luke 3:23

So whose son is Joseph, anyway? Unless there is some way that the father-son relationship is not symmetric. And this ties in with the next one...

9.

And do not call anyone on earth 'father', for you have one father and he is in heaven. - Matthew 23:9

Keep in mind that this was written in Greek, so it likely isn't exclusive to the single English word "father". If you've ever called your...well, the man who conceived you "father", "dad", "papa", or any equivalent, you have broken this command of Jesus, as interpreted literally. This is especially interesting considering that Matthew wrote this and earlier called Jacob the father of Joseph (and many other people "father" as well), indicating that he was not taking Jesus' command literally, while inspired by the Holy Spirit to write his gospel.

8.

Vindicate me, O Lord, for I have led a blameless life; I have trusted in the Lord without wavering. - Psalm 26:1

For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God. - Romans 3:23

Now, you could argue that David simply hadn't sinned yet and Bathshebagate hadn't happened, but seeing as he was probably at least twenty when he wrote this, that is very difficult to believe.

7.

Because on [the Day of Atonement] atonement will be made for you. Then, before the Lord, you will be clean from all your sins. - Leviticus 16:30

Because it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins. - Hebrews 10:4

Did the Israelite's God-given rituals for atonement of sin work or not? Is there a difference between being made clean from all your sins and having them taken away?

6.

Leave [Shimei] alone; let him curse [David], for the Lord has told him to. - 2 Samuel 16:11b

For I [Shimei] your servant know that I have sinned. - 2 Samuel 19:20a

When tempted, no one should say, 'God is tempting me.' For God cannot be tempted by evil, nor does he tempt anyone. - James 1:13

Is telling someone to sin different from tempting them to sin? I am of the view that God telling someone to sin is the same as Him causing someone to sin since He gives them the impossible choice of obeying Him by sinning, or sinning by disobeying Him.

5.

He [Solomon] made the Sea of cast metal, circular in shape, measuring ten cubits from rim to rim and five cubits high. It took a line of thirty cubits to measure around it. - 1 Kings 7:23

This one is an old favorite of skeptics. But seriously: did Solomon, one of the wisest men ever to live, believe that π is exactly 3, and that God has created our mental faculties in such as way as to be unable to do math or basic observation correctly to confirm this fact?

4.

Do not wear clothing woven of two kinds of material. - Leviticus 19:19b

Make the ephod of gold, and of blue, purple, and scarlet yarn, and of finely twisted linen--the work of a skilled craftsman. - Exodus 28:6

So that's gold, linen, and yarn (which may have been made of linen). It is true that God tells the Israelites to disobey this commandment before it was technically given, but this is hardly an explanation since God is eternal and does not change (Malachi 3:6); as well, this commandment was given (relatively) shortly after the Mt. Sinai episode, when the priests were still going strong in their ministry, and for God to condemn the priests' attire which He had previously prescribed is...difficult to accept.

3.

Do not answer a fool according to his folly, or you will be like him yourself. Answer a fool according to his folly, or he will be wise in his own eyes. - Proverbs 26:4,5

No further comment.

2.

I will make your descendants as numerous as the stars in the sky and will give them all these lands, and through your offspring all nations on earth will be blessed, because Abraham obeyed me and kept my requirements, my commandments, my decrees, and my laws. - Genesis 26:4-5

It was not through law that Abraham and his offspring received the promise that he would be heir of the world, but through the righteousness that comes by faith. - Romans 4:13

Were Abraham and Isaac blessed because of their obedience to law, or not?

1.

Now what I am commanding you today is not too difficult for you or beyond your reach. It is not up in heaven, so that you have to ask, “Who will ascend into heaven to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?” Nor is it beyond the sea, so that you have to ask, “Who will cross the sea to get it and proclaim it to us so we may obey it?” No, the word is very near you; it is in your mouth and in your heart so you may obey it. - Deuteronomy 30:11-14

And if we are careful to obey all this law before the Lord our God, as he has commanded us, that will be our righteousness. - Deuteronomy 6:25

Therefore no one will be declared righteous in his sight by observing the law; rather, through the law we become conscious of sin. - Romans 3:20

This is the question that shattered the last figments of my own belief in Biblical literalism. Moses tells the Israelites that the law is already in their hearts so they can obey it and be righteous; Paul writes that no one can be made righteous by the law and no one can even love God or obey Him until God writes His law in their hearts. (Which apparently has not happened yet). There is simply no way to affirm both of these passages if they are interpreted literally.


I am not presenting these difficulties with the intent to show that the Bible is false or contradictory. My point is that in a strictly literalist system for interpreting the Bible that doesn't have its head planted firmly in the sand, these questions and many others become impossible to ignore. From the plain-faced, "objective" reading of the text that the literal view espouses, these really are contradictions, and Christians do themselves and their witness no favors by ignoring this fact.

Of course, there are many ways to resolve these conflicts, but they all involve moving away from a purely literal interpretation. For the conflicts between the genealogies, for instance, many commentators argue that Matthew presents Jesus' legal lineage through Joseph, and Luke His actual lineage through Mary, which is certainly possible, but the fact is that the text really says that Joseph is the son of both Jacob and Heli, and this harmonization disagrees. Or for #4, you could argue that the priestly garments were exempt from the law against wearing heterogeneous clothing, but, again, the text itself contains no hint at such an exemption.

This is understandably disconcerting for someone from an evangelical background such as myself. It feels wrong or disrespectful to God to treat what He seems to be saying nonliterally as if dismissing it--and yet, the text demands it. We misuse God's word if we expect it to be other than it is, namely written so as to conform to modern/postmodern conceptions of truth and objectivity, hermeneutical and interpretive methods, and scientific knowledge that did not exist when it was written. This is a form of eisegesis--reading meaning we want to see into the text, instead of allowing it to read into us. I'm still working through the implications of this and will likely be doing so for a while, but I think it's a step on the journey toward a God who is (thankfully) too huge for me to comprehend.

The Blessing of "Predestination"

Mark Driscoll has long (deliberately, I think) been a rather divisive figure in American evangelicalism. While worthy of respect for bringing the gospel to tens of thousands of unchurched people in the American northeast and founding the church planting organization Acts 29, he has come under fire for, among others, some of the practices of Mars Hill church, sexism, and, most recently, a certain tweet he made about President Obama. Fortunately, I'm not going to focus on any of these things but want to comment on his doctrine. Specifically, a section from his most recent sermon which was interesting in light of my post series on providence (which I swear I'm working on finishing).

First of all, he does mention Arminianism dismissively and in passing, which is sadly about par for the course for most of the Calvinists I've read. He boils Arminian theology down to the single statement that "We choose God", while Calvinism is implied to stand for the much more theologically sound belief that "God chooses us". To Driscoll's credit, he does admit this is a simplification--but getting the facts wrong is not the same thing as simplifying them. I'm not exactly Arminian, but I'm close enough to feel somewhat protective of it, and I think a better summary would be that "God invites us to salvation and we freely respond with faith, to which God responds by bestowing salvation in Christ". Not was pithy, but then the truth rarely is. It's a common misconception of Arminianism (at least as I understand it) that it believes we are the initiators in relationship with God; this is absolutely not true.

But that's just a minor correction; I'm getting used to being surrounded by people I disagree with and I hold no ill will toward Driscoll for this mistake. What's more interesting is his series of illustrations that follows. He argues for "predestination" with a series of stories of personal redemption: first Paul, then himself, then a variety of other people with prison shivs, demonic encounters, and tattoos of the virgin Mary with devil horns who all had salvific encounters with God. What his argument boils down to is that if you want nothing to do with God and seem irredeemable but God finds and saves you anyway, you were predestined. You know what? I agree.

I'm not trying to create more controversy here but to shut it down. After his earlier comments, these examples don't say anything objectionable to Arminianism. In fact, I don't think they speak directly to the predestination debate at all. That God can powerfully change the hearts of people opposed to Him and redeem them is not a controversial truth, at least for Christians. Driscoll doesn't here care whether this total transformation happens by irresistible grace or the sinner's willing acquiescence, and I gladly accept his point that God lovingly chooses to bless and save sinners who care nothing for Him.

Of course, given Driscoll's repeated use of the loaded term "predestined" (which I'm sure means something different for him than for me), I'm not sure that his own aim was to defuse controversy. But if we listen and seek to understand and interact with truth claims rather than simply agreeing with or denying them, a lot of controversy in the church starts to seem unnecessary.

Recategorization

If you bother to look at the list of tags on this blog, you may notice some changes. After realizing I've been using "Faith" and "Theology" as catchall bins for every tangentially related post, I've gone through my archive of posts and retagged them with some more descriptive ones. My old posts may not be much to read, but they're easier to access now!

The Necessity of Doubt: Evolution

Direct your attention, if you will, to Colossians 2:8, an intricate and often-misused verse by Paul:

See to it that no one takes you captive by philosophy and empty deceit, according to human tradition, according to the elemental spirits of the world, and not according to Christ. (ESV quoted)

Paul has just finished talking about the supremacy of Christ (1:15-20) and Paul's sharing in His sufferings (1:24-2:1), for the encouragement of the Colossians (2:1-7) so that they would not be deluded with "plausible arguments" (2:4), but would "reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God's mystery, which is Christ" (2:2). After 2:8, which acts as a sort of fulcrum to Paul's discourse, he begins expounding on the work of Christ in the flesh and the believers' identification with His death and resurrection. Even though this verse mostly consists of a list of warnings, it's worth putting some thought into what exactly Paul is talking about. He warns about four things, which I think are expanding on the "plausible arguments" he mentions earlier:

• Philosophy. 
• Empty deception.
• Human tradition.
• Elemental spirits (or elementary principles) of the world.

Bad philosophy/theology (I don't think there was much of a distinction at the time). Empty, false words. Manmade traditions that disguise moralism as true religion. Most puzzlingly, "elementary principles". Basically, Paul is warning the Colossians to watch their theology and keep it centered on Christ. Paul argues against numerous false theologies in his letters, but we get some clues as to what he is referring to here a few verses later (16-23):

Therefore let no one pass judgment on you in questions of food and drink, or with regard to a festival or a new moon or a Sabbath. These are a shadow of the things to come, but the substance belongs to Christ. Let no one disqualify you, insisting on asceticism and worship of angels, going on in detail about visions,puffed up without reason by his sensuous mind, and not holding fast to the Head, from whom the whole body, nourished and knit together through its joints and ligaments, grows with a growth that is from God.
If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the world, why, as if you were still alive in the world, do you submit to regulations—“Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch” (referring to things that all perish as they are used)—according to human precepts and teachings? These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-made religion and asceticism and severity to the body, but they are of no value in stopping the indulgence of the flesh.

Here we see some examples of the kind of "human" wisdom Paul is warning the Colossians against. By "philosophy" Paul seems to be referring to things like legalism, asceticism, and mysticism--in short, doomed, manmade ways of trying to gain access to God when He has made the only way through Christ. These philosophies continue to hold sway today both inside and outside the church. The meaning of "elemental spirits" (or elementary principles) is still somewhat mysterious. David Guzik in his commentary offers the theory that Paul might simply mean the so-called "retribution principle" or "karma"; you get what you deserve, good things for good people and bad things for bad people, so be good in order to gain favor with your god. It's the basis of much of life, but is flatly contradictory to the gospel.

So Paul is, on the one hand, warning the Colossians against replacing the grace of Christ with the hopeless treadmill of legalism and trying to earn their way to God's favor and, on the other, replacing the concrete realities of Christianity with subjective, feel-good, new-age mysticism. Both of these philosophies are empty, human in origin, and antithetical to Paul's message.

With that relatively firm foundation of understanding established, I'll turn next to the reason I'm expounding on Colossians 2:8: an online discussion I read yesterday in which it was used as a rebuke to the "Satanic philosophy" of evolution. (No link because I'm not trying to humiliate the poster) Aside from the way he was demonizing people who supported the theory of evolution as much as the theory itself, there are several things that trouble me about linking it with the hollow philosophy Paul was warning against, which speak to the popular conception today that Christians are in some kind of a "war" against science.

First is the conservative Christian tendency to conflate the descriptive scientific theory of evolution and the normative philosophy of social Darwinism. A moral system that gives the strong free rein to triumph over the weak can be evaluated in light of God's desire for human relations and its ultimate effects. An attempt to explain how life on earth came to be the way that it is, is no more good or evil than an attempt to establish that the earth orbits the sun. You would think Christians (Protestants especially) would have learned from Galileo not to use religion to quash scientific inquiry, but apparently not. Christians, especially conservative Christians, often have trouble distinguishing the science of evolution from an anti-God, humanistic worldview when the two are not so inextricably bound together.

Besides this association between science and morality, many Christians deny evolution because "it says God didn't create the world in seven days, six thousand years ago, and that's a damned lie!" It is in this spirit that evolution is written off as the "empty philosophy" Paul warns against. Of course the usual, most-publicized conflict pitting one particular interpretation of Genesis 1 against scientific consensus is unlikely to give anytime soon, even though numerous other nonliteral interpretations of the creation story, ranging from the day-age theory to the literary-framework theory, affirm (in some sense) the truth of scripture while avoiding blatant incompatibilities with evolution. Combined with the fact that the means by which ancient cultures defined a "day" (the sun and moon) weren't created until "day" four, the strictly literal interpretation becomes untenable. Only when the young-earth view is portrayed as equivalent to the truth of scripture is there any inevitable conflict between science and religion.

But there is a more fundamental problem that I'm honestly surprised isn't the one dominating the church debate over evolution. An "elementary principle" of evolution is the idea of natural selection or "survival of the fittest": fitter, better-adapted species are better able to survive and reproduce, while less-fit species can't make it and die out. Die out. Die. The Bible teaches that death is an alien force, the consequence of sin (Romans 6:23), an enemy to God to be destroyed (1 Corinthians 15:26), alien to God's creation and originating in Adam's act of sin (Romans 5:12). The image God gives John of the perfect, restored Earth is one with no more death (Revelation 21:4); since God originally made the earth "good" and perfect, without mistakes, it follows that death was also originally absent from creation. In light of this, it is inconceivable that natural selection, and death with it, could have held sway over the world before the time of man, because this would mean that God created death, thus casting His Son's coming to defeat death in a much different light. Death is not "a natural part of life" or "the way it's supposed to be".

Now we arrive at a much deeper incompatibility between Christianity (as we know it) and evolution. Young-earth creationism is dispensable to Christianity; the "bad-ness" of death is not, as far as I can see. Unlike the YEC/evolution debate, which involves a necessary contradiction about the age of the earth among other things, there are possible ways to resolve this problem (such as an earlier, undocumented "fall" of Satan and his angels which corrupted creation), but none have enough scriptural support to be believed with conviction. In light of this, I'm currently agnostic about exactly how the biblical and scientific data on the origins of life fit together--and that's okay with me.

The agnostic response, however, is very uncommon from Christians who find their faith somehow in conflict the the external world. A more common response goes something like this: faith, the Bible says, is believing without seeing. It means trusting the "better word" of Christ above every "empty claim" upon the earth. So when our faith comes in conflict with the observable facts of this world, faith, if it is real and salvific, has to win. Therefore you should cling to your understanding on faith of the issue (usually a plain-faced, literal interpretation) and deny whatever it is in the world that is trying to contradict it, be it evolution, gay-rights advocates, or those doctors who don't think God will heal your cancer.

The problem with this response is that we aren't exactly pitting the "better word" of what God has said against the "empty claims" of the world, but our understanding of what God has said against the world. Just as scientific data needs to be interpreted before any meaningful claims can be made from it, so too the biblical data needs to be interpreted. When we confuse our faith in an infallible object with the object of faith itself, we lose the ability to admit we might be mistaken in (parts of) our faith. Faith, which is meant to draw us up out of ourselves and begin real conversation, is instead used to suppress conversation and affirm our previously held conceptions. The equation by well-meaning Christians of any compromise in their interpretation with a compromise in their faith is the root of hordes of unnecessary arguments and obstacles to faith. In the name of "holding on to what we believe", Christians become unwilling or unable to admit when we are wrong.

The process I just described is, I think, one of the biggest hindrances to the Christian church's witness, particularly in the last hundred or so years. It's a tragedy. Scientific inquiry, meant to heighten God's glory by appreciation of His handiwork, is instead treated as an enemy. Truth-seekers who might otherwise come to saving faith fail the litmus test of positions on science, culture, or doctrine, things only tangentially related to the gospel, and experience needless rejection from the church. Christians tragically become better-known for their intolerance and "backwardness" than for any of the things Jesus taught us to be. Situations like this call for a bit of doubt--not the refusal to come to any conclusions, but to be humble, loving, and open to conversation and relationship as we do so.

Analogies on God's Fairness

This is a pretty good blog post about the difficulties people have with accepting how God can choose to save some but not everyone, or spectacularly execute His justice on some nations in the Old Testament but not others. Doug Wilson has this to say:

If you start with the assumption that humans "don't deserve it" then of course you will come to the conclusion that we don't deserve it. And if the Bible insists we catch it anyway, then the assumption collides with our conceited faith in ourselves -- and we will think that the Bible is advocating a fundamental injustice. 

But what if we are flattering ourselves? What if the doctrine of a final judgment is not a doctrine of raging injustice, but rather raging justice? We may come to realize that our problem was not really with the justice/injustice part, but rather with the raging part. If everlasting Hell were unjust, then it would be possible for some to console themselves there. But the everlasting Hell is just, and that means there is no consolation.

And later:

If there are ten innocent citizens rounded up, and five of them are shot by a despot, there is a gross injustice. But if there are ten inmates on death row, and the governor pardons three of them, there is no injustice done at all to the remaining seven. The only question of possible injustice arises with regard to the three who were pardoned. In other words, the question of justice does not arise when we are talking about Hell. It does arise when we are talking about Heaven. 

The question is not "how can a just God send people to Hell?" The question concerns how a just God can allow sinners into Heaven. A God-centered concern about justice would worry far more about Heaven than Hell. A self-flattering, man-centered approach would worry aloud, and does worry aloud, about the purported justice of Hell. But we needn't worry. The Scriptures teach plainly that at the point of judgment, every mouth will be stopped. The Bible tells us that when it comes down to it, there will be nothing to say. The debates will be over.

This is the usual evangelical answer to the question of how God can be just to some, but not others: we all deserve His wrath. God is being just to those He condemns, so they can't complain about any unfairness as He elects to save some. The picture of the judge acquitting prisoners is also common. But let me offer another analogy and another perspective on this line of thought:

Suppose that one day an elementary school student's mother bakes a batch of cookies for him do what he wishes with. Despite knowing that there are 24 students in his class and that his mom baked enough cookies for them all, the boy brings 9 cookies with him and, in class, distributes them seemingly at random to 9 of his classmates. For the rest of the day, the 14 hurt students who didn't get a cookie steal dirty looks at him and conspire to get revenge on him. When they trip him in the lunch line the next day, he protests, "I was giving the other kids a gift! I don't owe any of you any cookies! It would be totally fair for me to not give anyone a cookie!"

What is the thing that parents and teachers always say about bringing treats or presents to a class? "I hope you brought enough for everyone!" By the common evangelical logic, the boy's argument is sound; none of the students have any right to protest that they didn't get a cookie. But by putting it this way, we begin to see the reasons this line of reasoning is hard for us to accept.

It's very true that the boy wasn't obligated to give anyone a cookie. If he had simply showed up with no cookies for anyone and said nothing, no one would have minded. The 14 hungry students were not unhappy merely because they didn't get a cookie, but because others did and he chose not to give them one as well. Is this envy? Was the boy correct in saying that he was totally just and fair in only giving cookies to some of the kids (we assume not merely out of favoritism), or were the 14 students right to be hurt? Maybe if I don't answer for myself, I'll start a comment conversation!

The Impersonal Gospel

In the midst of a stressful day at work, I had a sobering revelation about the way the gospel is presented in so much of evangelical Christianity. Let's look at the Knowing God Personally (KGP) booklet, a common evangelism tool used by Cru. (I'm not singling out Cru, I just happen to still have a bunch of KGPs in my Bible from being a part of it) The KGP breaks the gospel down into four main points (paraphrased):

1. God, who created you, loves you and has a wonderful plan for your life, for you to know Him personally.
2. Sin separates us from God, keeping us from knowing Him and His love personally.
3. God made a way for us to know Him personally through Jesus Christ alone.
4. We must individually accept Christ as our Lord and Savior to know God personally.

The phrase "know God personally" appears in some form in the title of the booklet and in each of the points. As it (and much of evangelical Christianity) portrays the gospel, the point of the gospel, of Jesus coming and dying, was so that you could be reconciled to God, know Him personally, and enter into a wonderful, life-changing relationship with him. As the viral video goes, Jesus was thinking of you when He was on the cross.

Is it any wonder we have such a problem with self-centered, individualistic faith?

For starters, this classically American, individualistic take on the gospel almost makes it sound like this offer is "specially for you" instead of for absolutely everyone. This fact is largely used in evangelicalism as a reason to share your faith, but have we really stopped to think about what it means that everyone who is in Christ is going to be remade in His image? As C.S. Lewis puts it in The Weight of Glory, "the dullest and most uninteresting person you can talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it today, you would be strongly tempted to worship." In the same way that He transforms us individually, He will transform the church corporately. God isn't just going to make us holy in our private, spiritual lives; the gospel is a blueprint for the total overturning of art, science, business, government--society itself.

And that's not even the half of it. An article I read recently made an interesting point: that although Christians tend to think of the universe in the three categories of God, humanity, and creation. But God sees things a bit differently: there is God, and not-God, i.e. creation. Yes, the Bible is God's testament to humanity, but then we are the only ones on Earth who could understand or receive it, and we shouldn't take it to be encompassing of the scope of the gospel. God created "all things" by Him and for Him (Colosisans 1:16) and will reconcile to Himself all things in heaven and earth (1:20) The gospel is not even exclusive to humanity. Several Old Testament prophecies refer to God changing the natural order--herbivores and carnivores will somehow live in peace, and the earth will be "full of the knowledge of the Lord". (Isaiah 11:6-9) He even says He will create a "new heavens and a new earth" (65:17), which is seen more clearly in Revelation. The implications of this fact are considerable.

The gospel is shorthand for God's ongoing transformation and redemption of all creation, restoring it to be even better than it was before we went and screwed it up. It certainly isn't confined to us, and it may not even exclusively begin in us. It matters to every part of our lives and the world around us. The gospel, when fully understood, will make us feel precious and beloved, but at the same time very small and insignificant--it is a personal offer, but also a sweeping, unimaginably vast, impersonal (not uncaring, transcending us as individuals) hope. The verse that best expresses this hope might not be in John, Romans, or Ephesians, but Revelation 21:1-5 (which happens to be one of my all-time favorite verses):

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.”

This is the hope we as Christians carry and want to spread as the gospel--that God is not just making transformed, joyful, more fulfilled people who will live forever, but a whole new creation.