I don’t know what kind of person pays to read a blog that is available free of charge, but since some do, I’ve made this blog available on Kindle. To my surprise, a few subscriptions have actually been purchased. I can’t say how many. Most likely, the five reviews posted on Amazon represent the entire list of subscribers. The other day, I was for the first time made aware of those reviews, and I got a kick out of reading them. Three are positive and two negative. Both of the negative reviews said I was too political. This post is for them.

Suppose I say the moon is made of cheese. You say it’s not. I then ask, what, if not cheese, is it made of? You say you don’t know, but you know it’s not cheese. I say, “Well, unless you can propose another theory, you’ll have to accept mine.”

Or, suppose I look out my window and see the neighbor’s dog knock over my garbage cans and scatter trash all over my yard and across the street. I respond by grabbing my shotgun, stuffing my pockets full of 00 buck, and heading for the door. Then, suppose my wife gets nervous and asks me what in tarnation I’m up too. I explain that I intend to storm the neighbor’s house and blast everything that moves, including the neighbors.

“You can’t do that!” she says.

“Oh, yeah?” say I, “Well that’s exactly what I’m going to do, unless you’ve got a better idea.”

I’m not schooled in rhetoric well enough to know what to call that line of reasoning, but there must be a name for it. I’m going to call it argumentum stupidum for now. It states that if you don’t have an answer, my answer must be right. I encountered the example in my first paragraph in a recent discussion of John 2:4. My second example is a close approximation of one of the health-care fascists’ answers to objections to government regulation of the medical industry.

Take that for what it’s worth, which is, according to one of the positive Amazon reviews declaring this blog to be “Definitely worth the price!”, 99¢.

Last week, I criticized Sarah Palin’s reaction to the derogatory use by White House Chief of Staff Emanuel of the word “retarded” and to President Obama’s facetious, self-deprecatory reference to the Special Olympics. I then, anticipating the impression that my reaction to her reaction was as silly as her reaction to the offending statements, offered only the contention, without further explanation, that it matters because Palin claims to be a Christian.

To explain further, or rather, to point you toward further explanation, read the following passages: Luke 6:29 (cf. Matthew 5); 1 Corinthians 2:2; 9; 10; 2 timothy 2. What is the primary concern (especially obvious in the 1 Corinthians selections) of these passages, and how does reacting defensively to offenses affect that concern?

I leave you to your thoughts. The passages above are just a few hurriedly collected off the top of my head. Feel free to suggest other relevant texts.

An argument for expository vs. topical preaching:

ă ā
ĕ ē
ĭ ī
ŏ ō
ŭ ū

The Bible is not a book about you and your problems. It is not a “how to” book. It will not tell you directly “How to Have a Successful ___.” Nor is it a collection of moral lessons. It is not Æsop’s Fables or VeggieTales. The Bible is God’s revelation of himself to man. To reduce it to some kind of life manual is to miss the point entirely. The Bible does contain instructions and morals. But if we focus on practical lessons, we will miss the big picture — God himself — and, failing to know God, we will likely misinterpret those lessons, as well. Topical studies are not without value, but their value is mostly limited to that topic alone. No teacher can cover every Biblical topic, nor can any student. So, even (wrongly) assuming the primacy of practical instruction over textual saturation, topical study cannot prepare anyone for every situation they will face. To illustrate:

sh ch
wh th
ph qu

Once upon a time in a far away land, I was taught to read. But before I and my young classmates got to actually read anything, we were taught letters and their sounds, and the sounds of various combinations of consonants and vowels, i.e. phonics. When we finally received our readers, we were expected to use our phonics skills to decipher the stories therein. Pleas for help were countered with “Sound it out!” and so we learned to do just that. While we were “sounding out” words for Mrs Schmidt, students in the same building, but a decade older, were stumbling as best they could through their literature. They had not been taught phonics. They had been taught to recognize words. Consequently, every new word they encountered was strange to them. I, on the other hand, recognized new words simply as new combinations of the same old sounds, so at a very early age, could read words like “juxtaposition,” “pharmaceutical,” and (an early favorite) “ăn-tī-dĭs-ĕs-tăb-lĭsh-mĕn-tā-rï-ăn-ĭs-m.”

oi oy
au aw
ou ow

Pastors and teachers, consider this when you prepare your sermons and lessons. Yes, you can teach “what the Bible says about ___,” but that is the equivalent of word recognition. Expository preaching and teaching, fundamentals of theology, hermeneutics — these are the phonics of the faith. Rank and file Christians, church members, if you have a pastor who preaches expositionally, don’t complain about the lack of practical instruction. Learn to study the Bible systematically. Instead of looking for what the Bible says about ___, seek to learn what the text says, period. Learn your letters, and the words — big and small — will fall into place.

We’ve just begun our Christmas break here, and I’ve decided to do very little blogging between now and the New Year. I’ll continue posting (so as not to break my all-important streak, don’t you know), but it will mostly be filler. And if you’d rather spend time with your family than check in here for the next couple of weeks, I won’t be offended.

It has been three years since I’ve given much ink to the jolly fat man. At that time, I said about all I have to say on the subject, and have felt no need to revisit the matter. For those of you who missed it, and remain deceived, I’ve got some news for you: there is no Santa Claus; and even if there was, We Don’t Even Have a Chimney.

I made a conscious decision some time ago to avoid the comments sections of most of the blogs I read. Reason number one is that James White was so right when he called blog comments “theological ignorance aggregators.” Everyone is an expert, and the more ignorant the participant, the more time and energy he has to invest, and the less likely he is to ever give up. Reason number two is the time they can suck out of your life. Suppose someone actually responds to your comment? You can get drawn into a lengthy discussion that courtesy, at the least, requires you to follow through to the end. That might be a good thing, but you have to actually have that time to spare. Reason number three is that so many bloggers who would say “iron sharpens iron” really mean “my iron trumps your tin.”

• Dismissing is not the same as refuting.
• Mockery is not a fruit of the Spirit.
• Smug is not a spiritual gift.

A few weeks ago, I made the following provocative statement:

God is not going to judge America for her rampant immorality (e.g., abortion, homosexuality, etc.).

Some of the responses I received came very close to what I was leaving unsaid.

First, I should clarify what kind of judgment I am talking about here. God has said he will judge according to deeds (Matthew 16:27, Romans 2:6). But I’m not thinking of an eschatological judgment, I’m thinking of judgment here and now (or yet to come, but in this world), which is what is meant when people say that God will judge America for immorality.

Second — and this may be disputable — I’m not so sure God will ever judge America for any reason. I think that idea comes from the inflated sense of importance with which American evangelicals view their nation. They reason that since America is so important on earth, she must be important in heaven, too. And there is no denying that a certain segment of evangelicalism considers America to be God’s nation, like a new Israel. Therefore, surely God will deal with an ungodly America the same as he did with Israel. I don’t think so. In God’s eyes, America is no more important than, say, Liechtenstein. God is interested in people, not in political structures. Of course, when enough of a population is under judgment, the social and civil structures will crumble. But that, as I see it, is a consequence of judgment, not the judgment itself.

That is one reason I could say that God will not judge America; but that is not the main point I was getting at. The point is this: God is not going to judge, his is judging.; and he is not judging for immorality, he is judging with immorality. Abortion, homosexuality, etc. are not the cause of judgment; the are the judgment. Which leaves the question yet unanswered: What is provoking God’s judgment?

Romans 1:18 For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men who suppress the truth in unrighteousness, 19 because that which is known about God is evident within them; for God made it evident to them. 20 For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes, His eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly seen, being understood through what has been made, so that they are without excuse. 21 For even though they knew God, they did not honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened. 22 Professing to be wise, they became fools, 23 and exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for an image in the form of corruptible man and of birds and four-footed animals and crawling creatures. 24 Therefore God gave them over in the lusts of their hearts to impurity, so that their bodies would be dishonored among them. 25 For they exchanged the truth of God for a lie, and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator, who is blessed forever. Amen. 26 For this reason God gave them over to degrading passions; for their women exchanged the natural function for that which is unnatural, 27 and in the same way also the men abandoned the natural function of the woman and burned in their desire toward one another, men with men committing indecent acts and receiving in their own persons the due penalty of their error. 28 And just as they did not see fit to acknowledge God any longer, God gave them over to a depraved mind, to do those things which are not proper, 29 being filled with all unrighteousness, wickedness, greed, evil; full of envy, murder, strife, deceit, malice; they are gossips, 30 slanderers, haters of God, insolent, arrogant, boastful, inventors of evil, disobedient to parents, 31 without understanding, untrustworthy, unloving, unmerciful; 32 and although they know the ordinance of God, that those who practice such things are worthy of death, they not only do the same, but also give hearty approval to those who practice them.

“The wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of men . . .” Which men? Those who knew the truth as plainly revealed by God and suppressed it. They knew God but — here’s their crime — “they did not honor Him as God or give thanks, but they became futile in their speculations, and their foolish heart was darkened. Professing to be wise, they became fools, and exchanged the glory of the incorruptible God for an image in the form of corruptible man and of birds and four-footed animals and crawling creatures.” Their sin was nothing but a failure to worship God. They were idolaters, so God said, If you will not worship me, I will remove the restraints I have placed upon your depraved flesh and let you sink as low as you will go. That is my judgment upon you (Remember Nebuchadnezzar, Daniel 4:30–33).

God is not going to judge for sodomy or abortion. He is judging for idolatry. He is causing idolaters to commit perverse acts upon one another, and he is causing them to murder their children, or simply to choose preemptive measures against them. The next generation is being killed in the womb while the present generation is dying of “the due penalty of their error.” That is God’s judgment.

I expect that’s the most absurd title you’ll read today. As you may know, I’ve been reading The Existence and Attributes of God by Stephen Charnock, which is not a brief summary. Charnock uses a lot of words to describe God, and none are wasted. There is just no way to put God in a nutshell!

Nevertheless, I am going to try. Call this my attempt to wrap up some enormous concepts in a package more manageable to little bitty minds like mine. As I read Charnock, the following two attributes of God strike me as possibly the most important to understand, before considering his other attributes. That might change as I continue reading, but that’s how I see it presently.

God is eternal.
If God is not eternal, then that which we recognize as God is not God, for if it has a beginning, something must have caused that beginning. So if we look for the cause of that which we have called God, and investigate far enough, we must eventually find the first cause, which is necessarily uncaused, i.e., God.

God is immutable.
Immutability is a necessary characteristic of perfection. God is neither complete nor good if he is mutable. To be mutable is to be in need of improvement, or subject to corruption. If something perfect changes, it loses its perfection; if it becomes perfect, then it formerly lacked perfection. Therefore, God must be what he has always and ever will be, and, contra open theism, know all there is or ever will be to know.

So that’s the eternality and immutability of God in under 150 words. How did I do?

enig·ma
1 : an obscure speech or writing
2 : something hard to understand or explain
3 : an inscrutable or mysterious person

In the past few months, I’ve read two books on the Second World War, D-Day by Stephen Ambrose, and Second World War by Martin Gilbert. It’s been a lot of years since I’ve read much on that period of history, and there is a lot I don’t know about it. Much of what was previously unknown to me has to do with the Enigma machine, the device used by the Germans to encrypt military communications. The breaking of its code is key to the Allied victory. I’ve just begun a book on that subject, Enigma: The Battle for the Code by Hugh Sebag-Montefiore. However, when I was a student, I heard nothing about the Enigma, because it was still classified. As I understand it, the Enigma itself was declassified in the 1970s, and information about the code breakers and their work was classified until the 1990s.

The enigma machine used a complex system of mechanical and electronic functions to encrypt messages. The setting on the machine were changed periodically, so the encryption changed, as well. The recipient of the message had to have an Enigma at his end, and a key to tell him the current Enigma settings, in order to decrypt the message. In a pre-computer age, it was really an ingenious system, and one that kept a team of hundreds of code-breakers from several Allied nations scrambling throughout the war.

Well, I’m no expert on military history, and I’m only just beginning to get into this particular chapter. So what could be the point of bringing this up on this blog? Simply this: it’s got me thinking about how important communication is in battle, and how important it is to be able to decipher messages between command headquarters and the field.

We are in battle (Ephesians 6:11–13). Fortunately, we have not received an encrypted message. Other world religions keep their members dependent on a class of professional code-breakers to ensure that they get the “right” message. Even some ostensibly Bible-believing religions do this. For Roman Catholics, the “Church” is their Enigma key. But we have no need of an Enigma machine and key to decipher messages from God, nor do we need to know any secret code to communicate with him. We can speak plainly to him, and we can read his word to us in plain language. Certainly, we have difficulty with some passages of Scripture, and we are thankful for pastors and teachers who devote their lives to its study. But we can sit in our own homes and read our own Bibles, trusting the Holy Spirit to “guide [us] into all the truth” (John 16:12–15).

This is a great privilege, and one that is only enjoyed by those who are in Christ. I hope you will take advantage of it today.

Ignoratio elenchi is the logical fallacy of presenting an argument that may in itself be valid, but does not address the issue in question. A “red herring” is a deliberate attempt to change the subject. It is a sneaky way of diverting attention away from a subject one might rather not face, or an argument he cannot logically refute. It is often used in the face of criticism: criticism is expressed, the object of said criticism, or a defender, shoots back, “Oh, yeah? What about you?” The first party may then reply, “We’re not talking about me, we’re talking about you (or whatever the topic),” which will seem evasive, but is actually the correct response.

On internet forums, fertile breeding grounds for logical fallacies (and every other variety of ignorance), schools of red herring abound. Which brings me to today’s topic, which will likely be a rant of sorts. Tim Challies recently brought us a tragic-comic example of evangelism gone horribly wrong (click here). He posted without much comment, but did say that “obviously I appreciate the man’s desire to share the good news of the gospel and to train others to do the same.” I echo that sentiment, and got a good laugh out of the examples he posted, as well as a twinge of pain over the absolute atrocity they represent.

As could be expected, mocking comments were made, though nothing cruel or inappropriate. They were really pretty good-natured. And before you could say “kippers,” the red herring came swimming. These fish were quite grieved that anyone would criticize a brother whose intentions were obviously so good. They acknowledged that the material in question was indeed atrocious, but — here we go — “What are you doing to reach the lost? Sure, you Calvinists can mock, but most (or many, at least) Calvinists don’t care about evangelism at all.” Or, “I’m a Calvinist, but I was saved in a church like that. God used it, so you shouldn’t criticize. That makes me sad.” Well, if personal experience means anything, I’ve got a story, too, which I’ll get to in a bit.

But before I do that, I’ve got other fish to fry.

First, the ignaratio elencti, implying that the critic doesn’t evangelize. As the old saw goes, what’s that got to do with the price of tea in China? Nothing whatsoever. It’s just a weak retort to unpleasant facts (if they are not facts, why not refute them logically?). Furthermore, it is also an argumentum ad hominem, attempting to discredit an argument by insulting the arguer. These tactics deserve no respect, and get none here. If you must object/disagree, the least that is required of you is a relevant, valid argument.

Second, and speaking of valid arguments, your feelings do not represent any kind of argument at all. Many things I see and hear make me sad. The basis upon which I must judge them is not how they make me feel, but whether or not they are true. Maybe I need to be made sad. Now, it might be argued that we needn’t always tell the truth. After all, you wouldn’t go out of your way to tell someone they’re ugly, would you? No, I wouldn’t; but if someone pokes me in the chest and attempts to exert “terrific psychological pressure” (see Tim’s post) on me for any purpose whatsoever, I’ll call that ugly. If that makes you feel bad, well, good; you need to feel bad.

Now, the story I promised.

I cannot write words adequately venomous to describe my hatred for the psychological manipulation of salesmanship evangelism. I spent my entire youth in evangelical churches in which the biblical gospel was taught, yet not knowing how I could be saved because of tactics far less egregious than those described in Soul-Winning Made Easy. I raised my hand, I walked aisles, I made decisions for Christ, I asked Jesus to come into my heart, I prayed the sinners prayer, but the fruit of salvation never materialized. I believed that Jesus was knocking on my heart’s door (he wasn’t) and, by reciting the right formula, I could let him in; and so I did, several times. But he never stayed! What was wrong with me? What was I doing wrong? I asked that question of the evangelists who “led me to Christ” for the umpteenth time. The answer always involved something I wasn’t doing to maintain my salvation. Salvation, of course, was free, but I had to go get it, and then keep it. They would deny having taught that, but that is the unavoidable implication of the evangelism they practiced. That confusion lasted into my twenties. In hindsight, I believe I was saved sometime during my twenty-first year, because that is when I saw signs of a genuine change of heart.

So I have no kind words for salesmanship evangelism, beyond a nod to good intentions (which are notably difficult to cash). It is not only unbiblical, it is anti-biblical. And it is certainly not benign. It is not a harmless error, but gospel-denying cancer.

Let me conclude with a word to the good folks of my youth who so confused me, and those who are wondering how, then, shall we evangelize?

Preach the Word, in season and out. Preach sin and death. Preach Christ and the cross. Preach atonement, propitiation, imputation. Preach repentance and faith. By all means, be available to personally counsel the convicted.

But please — do away with the emotionalism, the manipulation, the salesmanship. You can’t sell salvation. You can preach Christ, but you can’t cause regeneration by any method. So do away with “with every head bowed, raise your hand if . . . ,” “Softly and Tenderly Jesus Is Calling,” walking the aisle, the “sinner’s prayer,” your entire bag of tricks. You might be able to sell vacuum cleaners door-to-door that way, but regeneration is not a product. Lazarus was not convinced to “come forth.” He was dead. He was miraculously brought to life by the power of God, and so did what live men do: at the command of Christ, he came forth. So it is and will always be for all who are saved.

Creating a Culture of Evangelism

Item number one:

CNN reports that Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi's wife wants to end marriage due to his incorrigible philandering. Seems reasonable, I suppose, except that . . .

She, Veronica Lario, is his second wife. Berlusconi first met her after seeing her perform topless in 1980. He was still married to his first wife at the time. Their first child was born in 1984. He was divorced from his first wife in 1985. They then had two more children before getting married in 1980. So now, after twenty-nine years, nineteen of them married, she wants to divorce the cheating dirtbag.

Says Mrs Skunk to Mr Skunk, “I want a divorce.”

“But why, my love?” he inquires.

“You stink,” she replies.

Item number two:

In 2007, Doug Wilson and Christopher Hitchens corresponded over the question, “Is Christianity Good For The World?” That correspondence was published in Christianity Astray Today, a book was written, and in 2008 Wilson and Hitchens took the debate on the road. Now, a forthcoming documentary, Collision, will chronicle that debate. Watching this trailer for that documentary, the following snippet from Hitchens caught my attention.

[Wilson] imposes on himself and on others an unbelievably strenuous burden of worry and guilt. If you insist on believing that you are depraved, as he would put it, rather than evolved, as I would put it, that you labor under a burden of condemnation from your birth rather than bear the stamp of your lowly origins, as Darwin puts it . . .

So . . .

Wilson’s view (and mine), i.e., that man is depraved and under condemnation, but can be instantaneously, supernaturally transformed into a new creature (2 Corinthians 5:17), possessing the mind of Christ (1 Corinthians 2:14–16) and manifesting the fruit of the Spirit (Galatians 5:22–25), constitutes “an unbelievably strenuous burden of worry and guilt.”

It is so much better to believe that yes, we’re bad, but there is nothing we can do about it. It is just the way we have evolved, “the stamp of our lowly origins.” The best we can hope for is that the next generation will be a little more evolved.

Well, thank you Mr Hitchens. I feel so much better now, having been relieved of that odious burden.

Item number three:

You can honor your mother this Mother’s Day with a donation in her name to Planned Parenthood. Imagine sending Mom a heart-warming card like this:

I love a good irony, but my mom would kill me.

On the other side of this issue, these people do not impress me — not one bit.

I did something last week that rarely do any more. I took my wife to a movie in a theatre. It’s not that I don’t like movies; I actually see quite a few, probably more than I should. I just usually wait for them to come out on DVD. I find that very few movies, even of those I like, are worth the trip to theatre, and are certainly not worth giving up my own controlled environment to see. So if I sit in a theatre for one and a half to two hours and the movie isn’t stellar, I’m likely to think much less of it than I would if I had been watching at home. All that is to say that Taken is probably a better movie than I think.

Like the title says, this is not a review, but it will contain some spoilery, though none you wouldn’t predict anyway. You’ve been warned. Here is the beginning of the plot synopsis from Rotten Tomatoes (no spoilers beyond what you would see in the previews):

Liam Neeson is an unstoppable force in this adrenaline-fueled thriller from director Pierre Morel. Bryan (Neeson) has taken early retirement from the CIA in order to live closer to his teenage daughter, Kim (Maggie Grace). Bryan's government work kept him away from Kim for much of her childhood, and he's now trying to make up for lost time. When Kim announces that she's taking a trip to Paris with her friend Amanda (Katie Cassidy), Bryan is apprehensive about her traveling on her own. His worst fear is soon realized, as Kim and Amanda are abducted upon their arrival in France. Bryan immediately springs into action, using his well-honed CIA skills to piece together clues from a single, frantic phone call he received from Kim. (continue at Rotten Tomatoes)

What no reviewer that I’ve noticed (not that I’ve been paying attention) has commented on, and the writers, judging by the ending, didn’t think was important, is the one thing that ruined the movie for me. And let me point out that it wasn’t just me who noticed. My wife jumped right on it when we were barely out of the theatre, and before I had said anything about it. I suppose it was nice that this deficiency wasn’t manifest until the very end, so we were able to mostly enjoy the show.

What is left out of the synopsis above is this: Mills’ ex-wife is married to a very wealthy businessman and has custody of their daughter Kim, but as Kim is a minor, she needs his consent to leave the country. He doesn’t like it, but finally relents. Here’s the big thing: Kim, her mother, and step-father conspire to deceive Dad about the purpose of the trip. She is not simply going on a fun trip with a friend to stay in a safe, adult-supervised home. She and her friend are going to spend the Summer following U-2 all over Europe. There are no adults involved at all, which is what makes their abduction so easy. Had Dad known, he would never have allowed that. Had he known, he never would have had to risk his life to rescue her, and some very bad things that I will spare you would not have happened.

But young people do foolish, sinful things; I understand that. Adults make foolish, sinful decisions; I understand that, too. So while I am irritated and disgusted with what Kim and accomplices have done, I hope it will come out alright in the end — and, after a fairly decent show (gripping action, compelling plot, blah, blah, blah, insert movie critic mumbo-jumbo here) it does, mostly. We knew it would.

Here’s the burr under my saddle: Dad gets his daughter (who, by the way, seems remarkably unscarred by an experience that was traumatic in the extreme — but that’s another gripe) home and is met by a grateful mother and stepfather, who have, of course, a newfound admiration for the man they could previously barely acknowledge. They’re all one big happy family now.

Not one word remotely resembling the vaguest apology is heard. No “I’m sorry I deceived you. I’m sorry I was so foolish. I’m sorry I put your daughter’s life and yours in grave risk. I’m sorry I caused the deaths of several people, some of them innocent.” No remorse over wrong done, just relief and an air of “All’s well that ends well.” No humble contrition, just a rich sugar-daddy’s handshake and some vague, desultory statement on the order of, “Thanks, if there’s ever anything I can do for you . . .”

I left the theatre wanting to give them all a piece of my mind, including the hero for letting it go at that. If she had been my daughter, there would have been repercussions.

I guess that’s the world we live in. There are no sins, only good and bad outcomes. As long as no harm is meant, no wrong is done.

And he began to teach them in parables . . .

Dave went out one day to shop for new books. He had heard of a new bookstore in town that, it was said, carried classic works of enduring truth, as well as up-to-date publications that were especially relevant to the issues of the current times. That, he thought, was certainly a good thing, and so many people had recommended the new store to him in such superlative terms that he anticipated his first visit there with great excitement.

When he arrived at the store, he found the parking lot packed. Upon entering the store, he quickly saw the reason for the crowd. A popular author was seated at a table off to one side, signing books. A long line of eager autograph-seekers stretched through the store. Finding a gap in the line, he excused himself and passed through to browse the aisles.

What he found caught him by surprise. On one side was a magazine rack filled with glossy publications, their content ranging from merely trivial to grotesquely crass. Magazines covers flashed feature articles with such titles as “Hot Wives of the Bible” and “He Likes It Dirty.” On the other side, a large display of NEW RELEASES! carried titles like Sugar and Spice and Naughty Is Nice, and Holy Harlotry. Appalled, he nearly turned and left the store. But, wanting to give it a fair chance, he pressed on past the first racks.

Towards the back of the store, he was encouraged to find some truly good material. Works of Augustine, Luther, Calvin, Owen, Edwards, Spurgeon, and many other heroes of church history; Bible commentaries and systematic theologies; stacks of MacArthur Study Bibles. Surrounded by such riches, he began to feel better. Maybe the place isn’t so bad, he thought.

After a browsing a while longer, he selected a couple of good books and headed up to the checkout. On the way, he remembered the book signing. He made his way to that side of the store, where he found the prominent display of the author’s new book: Ecclesiastes 9:10 — 101 Dirty Jokes You Can Tell in Church. Crestfallen, he put his books back on the shelf and left the store. Outside, he was approached by another shopper.

“Quite a store, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you can say that again,” Dave replied, a trace of disgust in his voice.

“You don’t like it?” the other asked.

“Well, no, I guess not. In fact, I was quite appalled at some of the stuff they sell. Disgusted, to tell the truth. They should be ashamed! I won’t be coming back.”

“Oh, I see; not quite up with the times, are you? This is a different generation. We’ve got to meet them where they are, you know. If we’re going to reach today’s culture, we’ve got to speak their language and address the issues that concern them.”

Disgusted, and in no mood to argue with a fool, Dave just shook his head and turned to leave. About that time, another gentleman strolled up, an older fellow this time.

“I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. Let me tell you, I share your concerns. I don’t approve of some of the stuff they sell. But look at all the good books they carry. They’re doing some good.”

“Good or not,” replied Dave, “I hope they’ll either take out the trash, or close their doors.”

The older man replied, “Well, that’s a rather harsh reaction, isn’t it? You don’t want to throw the baby out with the bathwater!”

With some considerable effort, Dave bridled his tongue, and with as much patience as he could muster, said, “Would you come with me? I want to show you something.” The man consented, and they drove away.

Their destination was another bookstore. Browsing the aisles they found works of Augustine, Luther, Calvin, Owen, Edwards, Spurgeon, and many other heroes of church history; Bible commentaries and systematic theologies; stacks of MacArthur Study Bibles. They drove to another store, where they found works of Augustine, Luther, Calvin, Owen, Edwards, Spurgeon, and many other heroes of church history; Bible commentaries and systematic theologies; stacks of MacArthur Study Bibles. And on they went, visiting two more stores in the city, where they found . . . works of Augustine, Luther, Calvin, Owen, Edwards, Spurgeon, and many other heroes of church history; Bible commentaries and systematic theologies; stacks of MacArthur Study Bibles.

Arriving back in the new bookstore’s parking lot, Dave turned to his companion. “Now, about that baby . . .”

I’m a bit short of time today, have been for the past week, so I’m not prepared for the scheduled Theology Proper post today. This post by Tim Challies got me thinking about the fact that many Christians seem to do an awful lot of hand-wringing over the state of the world and the behavior of pagans. Thinking of that brought Psalm 2 to mind. Read Tim’s post, read Psalm 2, and consider how our knowledge of God and his sovereign rule should affect our thinking on these things.

Psalm 2
The Reign of the Lord’s Annointed.

1 Why are the nations in an uproar
And the peoples devising a vain thing?
2 The kings of the earth take their stand
And the rulers take counsel together
Against the Lord and against His Anointed, saying,
3 “Let us tear their fetters apart
And cast away their cords from us!”

4 He who sits in the heavens laughs,
The Lord scoffs at them.
5 Then He will speak to them in His anger
And terrify them in His fury, saying,
6 “But as for Me, I have installed My King
Upon Zion, My holy mountain.”

7 “I will surely tell of the decree of the Lord:
He said to Me, ‘You are My Son,
Today I have begotten You.
8 ‘Ask of Me, and I will surely give the nations as Your inheritance,
And the very ends of the earth as Your possession.
9 ‘You shall break them with a rod of iron,
You shall shatter them like earthenware.’”

10 Now therefore, O kings, show discernment;
Take warning, O judges of the earth.
11 Worship the Lord with reverence
And rejoice with trembling.
12 Do homage to the Son, that He not become angry, and you perish in the way,
For His wrath may soon be kindled
How blessed are all who take refuge in Him!

Last week I began writing on what I require of authors I read. I gave correct bibliology and hermeneutics as the starting point for judging the worthiness of an author’s work. How helpful is that, though, if it is true that “you can’t judge a book by its cover”? What if there is no statement concerning those things on the inside flap of the book? Well, of course there never is, unless the subject of the book happens to be bibliology or hermeneutics.

Even if an author does claim orthodox bibliology and sound hermeneutics, you’re going to have to judge whether or not it is so by examining the fruit of his labor. Good bibliology and hermeneutics will produce good theology. So now you’re going to have to look into his product. You can do this in a couple of ways. You can sample some of his work, giving it the Berean test; and you can read what others who have already earned your trust say about him. I recommend doing both. The latter is especially wise, considering that life is short and you don’t want to waste it on unprofitable reading. A visit to discerningreader.com is time well spent.

Get all the good advice you can, but you’re still going to have to learn to judge for yourself. You cannot remain entirely dependent on the judgment of others. After all, you had to judge their trustworthiness, didn’t you? So there is no bypassing your own responsibility to be discerning. You’re going to have to develop some criteria for choosing who you will read (or to whom you will listen). I’ll present you with mine.

First, I should confess that some books just don’t get a chance, even though I may know nothing of their authors or content. Sometimes you can judge a book by its cover. If a book is called 90 Minutes in Heaven or 23 Minutes in Hell, or How to Hear from God: Learn to Know His Voice and Make the Right Decisions (all actual titles of really bad books by really bad authors), well, that’s just silly. Other books may have innocuous titles, but the silliness begins within the first few pages: “I want to teach you how to pray a daring prayer that God always answers. It is brief—only one sentence with four parts—and tucked away in the Bible, but I believe it contains the key to a life of extraordinary favor with God.” Okay, well, thanks for putting that right up front in the preface!

I have three categories of theology that I consider absolutely foundational (not including bibliology, already discussed). They are theology proper (the doctrine of God), anthropology (the doctrine of man), and soteriology (the doctrine of salvation).

It should be obvious that if an author doesn’t know who God is, he’s going to be off-track in general. Does he deny the Trinity? Is he an open theist? Does he demonstrate an understanding of the attributes of God, or is he ignorant or even antagonistic toward them? If he doesn’t know God, there isn’t much I can learn from him. He ought to be learning from me, and if that isn’t a rebuke, I don’t know what is!

Closely following (in importance) the knowledge of God is the knowledge of man. We must know who we are to know what we need. We must understand that we are, in our natural state, dead in sin. We are not mostly dead, or spiritually sick. We are dead. We are as Lazarus, laying dead in the tomb, stinking, with no hope unless we here the call of God, “Come forth!” Does an author believe we just need some help, even a lot of help? Does he — or she — claim not to be a sinner? If an author doesn’t understand my condition, he really has nothing for me.

An author must first know who God is, second, what is wrong with me, and third, what to do about it, or rather, what God has done about it. He needs to understand the atonement. He needs to understand God’s eternal plan for the redemption of his people. He must be a thoroughgoing monergist.

Those are my basic criteria for narrowing the field of those who would be my teachers. There are other doctrines that will knock an author off my reading list — theistic evolution and egalitarianism, for example — but they are seldom encountered among those who get these fundamentals right. Am I too narrow? I don’t think so. I frequently encounter ideas in my reading that I disagree with — strongly, even — but do not consider fundamental. There is much I can learn from teachers who disagree on such things as eschatology, ecclesiology, holy ordinances, etc.; but some things are foundational to the Christian faith, and if you don’t get them right, you can’t be my teacher, and I won’t buy your book.

Some people tell me should read more broadly. They think I should read authors of all persuasions, because if I don’t, I can’t possibly come to an informed opinion on anything. Now, I wouldn’t want to restrict myself to too narrow a field, but I don’t think I do (I even read Presbyterians, for pete’s sake!). However, I don’t want to be so open minded that my brains fall out, either.

So how widely should I read? Should I read Mormon literature? The Watchtower? Papal Encyclicals?* I think not. Why not? Because some questions are settled. You might say my mind is closed, and you would be right. The object of study is not to be “always learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth” (2 Timothy 3:6–8). Joseph Smith was not a prophet, Jesus is not “a god,” and the Pope is not the Vicar of Christ on earth. I don’t need the perspective of those religions.

Of course, I’m being absurd in suggesting that anyone (Christian, that is) thinks I should read from those sources; but I’m making a point, and that is that there are limits to how open we should be. The question is, where do you draw the lines, and more importantly, how do you discern where those lines should be?

In this post, I’m going to lay out the guidelines that I use to choose the authors that I allow to teach me. There are some fundamental issues on which I have come to solid conclusions and no longer open for debate. The first two, which I will address in this article, are bibliology and hermeneutics. I won’t waste my time with authors who fail in these.

Bibliology
A teacher must believe in the verbal/plenary inspiration of Scripture, that every word — every jot and tittle — of Scripture is the precise Word of God, written down exactly as he would have himself, had he chosen to bypass the prophets and apostles burn it in stone as he did on Sinai. Of course, God did not do that. That he directed the biblical authors through their individual personalities is evident; but if we believe that God’s Word as it was originally transmitted was in any way altered or bungled by the writers, then we believe we do not have, nor ever have had, the Word of God — not really.

If we get inspiration right, inerrancy, infallibility, and authority ought be foregone conclusions, and usually, they are. Sufficiency, however, has fallen on very hard times, even among conservatives who affirm inspiration, inerrancy, etc. Psychologists are the new physicians of the soul. Get yourself a Ph.D. and a radio program, and you render pastors obsolete.

Still others are listening for God to say what he left out of the Bible. “Prophets” and “apostles” abound on the lunatic fringes of what passes for the “church” in these undiscerning days. But you don’t have to attend a charismatic circus to find folks who expect to be led by subjective impressions or the occasional audible (at least inside their heads) message from God. Chances are, there’s one sitting near you on Sunday.

This is a deplorable state for the church to be in. Sola Scriptura is the church’s anchor, the formal principle of the Reformation. Note this: without the sufficiency of Scripture, there is no Reformation. And that is where this is taking us. Few Christians anymore have the courage, or the knowledge, to deny that Roman Catholicism (or any number of other heretical sects) is Christian. If you don’t get sufficiency right, your bibliology is not right — not even close. And you open a Pandora’s Box that is incalculably destructive.

Hermeneutics
Have you ever been in a Bible study where you were asked, “What does that mean to you?” or some variation of that question? That’s a terrible question. If you think any passage of Scripture can mean one thing to you, and something different to someone else, your hermeneutics are fatally flawed. Every passage has one meaning only, and the question to ask is, what did it mean to its original audience? How did they understand it? Whatever it meant to them is what it means to you. You’ve got no new insights. You’ve got no “word from the Lord” but the one on the page in front of you. But that’s getting back to Bibliology.

Every passage must be understood in its context within the larger body of literature. It’s easy to take a verse, ignore the chapter and book, and come up with a teaching that makes perfect sense isolated from its context, but is completely wrong. Scripture interprets Scripture. The meaning of verse is tied to the paragraph, chapter, book, indeed, the entire body of Scripture.

Then there is the literary context. The Bible is a literary work, written in a variety of literary genres. Historical narrative and poetry require different interpretations. The main reason, I think, that we have different eschatological views among brilliant, conscientious scholars is that literary genre is sometimes difficult to determine.

So the task of interpretation is not easy, and it is not to be taken lightly. It requires diligent scholarship. No one teacher is going to have a flawless hermeneutic; but I at least want to know that they understand the issues and are endeavoring to “be diligent to present [themselves] approved to God as [workmen] who [do] not need to be ashamed, accurately handling the word of truth” (2 Timothy 2:15).

*I’m talking now about reading for the purpose of forming a correct theology, not for the purpose of informing myself of other views, which has varying degrees of value for different people. If you want to engage in apologetics involving other religions, you should read the pertinent literature of those religions; but that’s an entirely different ball game.

Mark Driscoll was interviewed on ABC’s Nightline last week. I didn’t see it. I have only read the write-up on it (click here). As usual, Driscoll said some things I could really go off on a rant about, things no Christian should say, but that’s not what I want to do today. What I want to write about is something that Driscoll did not say, or at least was not directly quoted as saying in the piece I read. It seems he probably has said it, but I can’t quote him directly. In any case, the ABC writer said it as though quoting. All clear? Good; let’s move on, then.

The phrase that caught my attention was, “Jesus was a rebel.” Whether or not Driscoll said it is not relevant; it’s not a new idea. It’s been said by those on the hippie-fringe of the church for as long as I can remember. It sounds good, it sounds cool, radical, like, you know, something hip young dudes think is, like, totally, whatever. The trouble is, it just isn’t true. Jesus was no rebel. Jesus was the most humble, submissive man ever to walk this earth. He never committed a single rebellious act or had a single rebellious thought. That would have been sin; and as you know, Jesus never sinned. If he did, the gospel is dead.

Rebellion is opposition, resistance, defiance to authority. With that in mind, was it even possible for Jesus to rebel?

When they came to Capernaum, those who collected the two-drachma tax came to Peter and said, “Does your teacher not pay the two-drachma tax?” He said, “Yes.” And when he came into the house, Jesus spoke to him first, saying, “What do you think, Simon? From whom do the kings of the earth collect customs or poll-tax, from their sons or from strangers?” When Peter said, “From strangers,” Jesus said to him, “Then the sons are exempt. However, so that we do not offend them, go to the sea and throw in a hook, and take the first fish that comes up; and when you open its mouth, you will find a shekel. Take that and give it to them for you and Me.” (Matthew 17:24–27)

We should not need to be told that God Incarnate is under no man’s authority, but from this passage, we can see from Jesus’ own words that he had no one on earth to rebel against. Yet, so that he would not cause offense, he submitted to authority that had no legitimate expectation of his obedience. Not quite the picture of a rebel, is it?

Of course, in his Trinitarian relationship with the Father, Jesus was under authority. This is an authority to which he willingly, humbly, submitted. Philippians 2:8 tells us, “Being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.” In his agony in Gethsemane, he prayed, “Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done.” (Luke 22:42).

The submissive spirit of Jesus is also seen in the Apostle’s teaching. Children are to be obedient to their parents (Ephesians 6:1–3; Colossians 3:20), wives to their husbands (Ephesians 5:22; Colossians 3:18; Titus 2:3–5; 1 Peter 3:1), slaves to their masters (Ephesians 6:5–8; Colossians 3:22; Titus 2:9–10), and all to their shepherds (1 Corinthians 16:15–16; Hebrews 13:17) and the civil authorities (Titus 3:1; 1 Peter 2:13–16). Only one circumstance is given in which we are to disobey any authority: when it conflicts with higher authority. When forbidden to preach, Peter and the apostles answered, “We must obey God rather than men” (Acts 5:27–29).

Our Lord was not a rebel, and we are not called to be rebels. We are called to “pursue peace with all men” (Romans 12:18). That may not appeal to the postmodern crowd that values the radical and edgy, but it is what the Lord demands of us. Let us not try to be cooler than God.

A+B=C. I reject C. Therefore, B is false.

If I stated the preceding syllogism in an argument in those plain terms, you’d immediately see and point out at least one obvious fallacy (there are actually two). You would never think of making such an absurd statement yourself. Yet I have encountered it on several occasions in discussions with relatively intelligent people who are really quite serious.

The two fallacies (both probably having technical names unknown to my rhetorical ignorance) are these:

1. I reject C, therefore B is False. This is the most obvious fallacy, ascribing authority to yourself. You reject C. So what? Irrelevant. Now, if you can explain why C must be rejected, maybe you’ll be on to something.

2. A+B=C. Are you sure? Or is this possibly a non sequitur? Does it necessarily follow that A, combined with B, leads to C?

I’ll give you a couple of examples.

In a recent conversation about genealogies, I disclosed that my maternal grandmother’s family has been in this country since before the American Revolution. I stated that a pair of brothers from that family had, in fact, been given land in Canada by George III for “acts of loyalty to the Crown.” Apparently, this is something that should embarrass me (it does not).

Well, the conversation turned to the legitimacy of the Colonial rebellion. I have no settled opinion on that, but I do not believe the rightness of the insurrection is at all obvious. This provoked the A+B=C argument.

“If the colonists hadn’t rebelled,” it was said, “we’d all still be speaking English!” No, not really. Said he, “We’d still be English subjects.” A=subjection to England. B=no revolution. C=continued subjection. A+B=C. Subjection to England is unacceptable, therefore, the Revolution must have been right and necessary.

We apply the two questions above. First, was subjection to the King really — from a biblical perspective — intolerable? Maybe, but you will have to establish that based on facts, not your own feelings. Second, does it necessarily follow that the colonies could not have gained their independence by other means? The answer to that is an obvious no. Those arguments are invalid. That doesn’t mean that the American Revolution was an illegitimate rebellion; it only disposes of that argument.

For another example, many people respond to the doctrine of Perseverance of the Saints, or “eternal security,” with something like this: “If you can never lose your salvation, you could get saved and then do whatever you want!” The implication is that without the threat of damnation hanging over our heads, we would most likely live licentiously. A=salvation. B=no threat of hell. C=an unsanctified life. A+B=C. An unholy life is unacceptable, therefore, the threat of damnation must continually hang over us all.

Fallacy checking, we ask, is that really unacceptable? At first, it would seem so. The idea of a redeemed person living in sin is certainly not to be found in Scripture. But what of a regenerate person doing “whatever he wants”? If we throw out the so-called “Free Grace” view — which we most certainly will — and see how the Bible describes genuine believers, we see that the believer is a new creature, filled with the Holy Spirit, whose desire is to be pleasing God; so a regenerate person doing whatever he wants will be living in obedience to God’s Word. Therefore, while in this case A+B does in fact =C, C should not be rejected. The doctrine of Perseverance does not encourage licentiousness. In fact, it guarantees increasing holiness.

Think about it: do you ever argue for or against a truth statement based on its possible consequences rather than its intrinsic truth or falsehood? Don’t do that.

A while ago, after watching a movie on DVD, probably due to some masochistic impulse, I watched the “special features” on the disc. You know, the usually incredibly boring “making of” segments and interviews with the director, cast, and sundry crew. As I watched, it struck me how important some of these entertainers thought their work was. Words like “innovative” and “ground-breaking,” describing various aspects of their latest product, abounded. It was evident that they were really quite impressed with themselves. I found myself scoffing at them: Come, on, people, it’s just a movie! Maybe a good movie, or even a great one, but still, just a movie. How important can it be?

To put it into perspective, let’s consider some numbers. Just last weekend, The Dark Knight opened, breaking the previous record for opening weekend ticket sales (Spiderman 3, 2007) and grossing $155.34 million. Well, that’s pretty impressive, I suppose. But how impressive, in the big picture, is it really? According to the National Association of Theatre Owners, the average 2007 ticket price was $6.88. Using that number, I estimate that 2.5 million people watched The Dark Knight opening weekend. That’s a lot of people, nearly four times the population of North Dakota — but only 7.5% of the entire U.S. population. That’s not so big, after all.

Now, I don’t know how many more will see the movie in coming weeks. Seriously, who cares? Twenty years from now, will it matter? Ten years? Five? Who will remember? The next blockbuster will come and go, and Christian Bale, Heath Ledger, et al, will eventually be forgotten; and the stars of the latest big show will think that they, too, have made a profound contribution to . . . whatever it is they think they’re doing.

So, what’s my point? I’m not sure; there are probably several that could be made. In any case, I have growing impression that I ought to go read Ecclesiastes.

Pardon the provocative title. Today I’m just scribbling out a few thoughts on a word that has become increasingly annoying to me: “values.”

“Values” has been a very fashionable word to describe what people believe for several years now. It has probably been most commonly used in conjunction with the word “family,” as in “family values.” A politician’s stated commitment to family values is almost sure to buy him votes, even if he himself is a divorced adulterer. Some churches have replaced statements of faith with lists of “core values.” I’m not sure what motivates that thinking — probably just a desire for softer, less confrontational and demanding language — but I’m not impressed.

I’m not interested in your values. Values are the things that are important — valuable — to you. Values are subjective. Values are not moral imperatives. Your values may be different from my values. My values include things like wool sweaters, real butter, and Smyth sewn bindings. These are good things, and I’m willing to explain to anyone who will listen why they are superior to their alternatives. However, as good as my arguments might be, they would carry no moral authority, not because they wouldn’t be right, but because I would be explaining why those things are important to me, and why I think they should be important to you.

I’m not interested in values; I’m interested in doctrines, and the morals that are the product of doctrines.

Morals are in an entirely different category than values. Morals are derived from authoritative commands. They are objective, and binding whether I value them or not. I might value life, and you might not; but God commands both of us to not commit murder. You might value sexual purity, and I might not; but God commands both of us to refrain from adultery. To live according to values makes me my own authority. Submitting to God’s moral commands acknowledges God as the supreme authority.

More important than morals are the doctrines behind them. To have values rather than morals is weak enough; to speak of values as a substitute for doctrines is to entirely emasculate your faith. Genuine faith and true religion is based not upon values, but upon doctrine — and not just any doctrine, but sound doctrine.

Please — if you value God, if you value objective truth — do away with “values.”

. . . and a couple I don’t mind.

• Wycliffe New Testament (1385)

  This was the first English translation (Middle English, to be precise) of the New Testament Bible. My interest in the Wycliffe is historical. I want to maintain ties to the important people and events of the past that helped lay the foundation for the church today. John Wycliffe, the “Morning Star of the Reformation,” and his Bible are certainly among the high points of church history. I don’t actually have a Wycliffe New Testament in any form, but I hope to have one eventually. Since I probably won’t be affording the two million or so that an actual, hand-scribed copy is worth, I’ll have to settle for a facsimile edition. I might even get an updated-spelling edition, like this one.

• Geneva Bible (1560)

  Anyone who has read this site for long knows of my interest in the Geneva Bible. Like the Wycliffe New Testament, the Geneva marks an important point in church history, and connects us to some of the greatest theologians the church has known. During the oppressive reign of Queen “Bloody” Mary, many Reformed believers took refuge in Geneva, Switzerland. There, led by Myles Coverdale and John Foxe, and under the protection of John Calvin, fugitive theologians produced the Geneva Bible. The Geneva Bible was a first in several ways:

  • First chapter and verse divisions.
  • First Roman style typeface (the King James, produced fifty-one years later, retained a Gothic Blackletter style).
  • First marginal study notes.
  
  

  William Shakespeare quotes hundreds of times in his plays from the Geneva translation of the Bible. The Geneva Bible became the Bible of choice for over 100 years of English speaking Christians. Between 1560 and 1644 at least 144 editions of this Bible were published. Examination of the 1611 King James Bible shows clearly that its translators were influenced much more by the Geneva Bible, than by any other source. The Geneva Bible itself retains over 90% of William Tyndale's original English translation. The Geneva in fact, remained more popular than the King James Version until decades after its original release in 1611! The Geneva holds the honor of being the first Bible taken to America, and the Bible of the Puritans and Pilgrims. It is truly the “Bible of the Protestant Reformation.” (source)

  Unfortunately, the Geneva was never updated (until just recently) as the King James was, and went out of print. Now, a new version of the 1599 Geneva, published by Tolle Lege Press with updated spelling, is available.

Those are translations I like for their historical value. The following are those that I would actually carry to a Bible study (the Tolle Lege updated 1599 Geneva almost makes it into this group, but not quite).

• Authorized Version (King James, 1611, final revision 1769)

  The King James Bible is not one for which Protestants should feel any great historical affection. It was produced as an Anglican antidote to the Geneva Bible. However, it is, I believe, a superior translation, and certainly a superior literary work. When the King James finally overtook the Geneva in popularity, it made a place for itself in church history that cannot be ignored. It was my preferred Bible for years, until I discovered Reformed theology, church history, and the Geneva Bible. And contrary to popular opinion, I don’t find it difficult to understand. It is not written in Old English, as some believe, or even Middle English*. It is written in modern English, the same language we speak. Yes, some of the language is antiquated (and some of the spelling in the 1611 edition can make reading it a bit awkward at first), but any difficulty with it is easily overcome with a little effort by any reasonably literate person. That, by the way, goes for the Geneva Bible as well.

• New King James Version

  This is one of the “couple I don’t mind.” It’s a good translation, but it completely fails in its attempt to “retain the beauty of the King James” while updating the language. I suspect it was produced, at least in part, as a bone to the King James Only crowd, and it hasn’t pleased them at all. This is not to discourage you from using it. It’s a fine translation in modern, up-to-date English. I’ve used it, and if you’re using it and like it, that’s just fine.

• New American Standard Bible

  This is the Bible you should use for serious study if you’re going to rely solely on an English text. It is the most literal translation available and, especially since its 1995 updating, is perfectly readable.

• English Standard Version

  While my Reformed brethren have been convulsing in paroxysms of rapturous delight over the ESV, I’ve never gotten fashionably excited about it. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a good translation; I encourage anyone who likes it to use it, give it away, and promote it. I just don’t see the necessity of another translation. The NASB has everything the ESV claims to have. I like it better than the NKJV, because it isn’t claiming to retain the language of a great literary work while, um, . . . not. But it reads just a little like the NIV, which you will not find listed here. Anyway, I have one, a Reformation Study Bible, and I like it and use it when I want the notes it contains. Incidentally, I also have a New Geneva Study Bible, which is the original publication of the same book, but in NKJV.

These are all essentially literal, or formal equivalent, translations — the only kind I will use.

Imagine nothing. What do you see? A lot of empty space as far as the eye can see in all directions? No planets, no stars, no meteors, no solids, liquids, or gasses, and no heat or light — just a lot of cold, black, empty space, right? Wrong. Space is something. Space can be measured, even if it’s infinite space. Now try again. Imagine nothing. Can you do it? I can’t. The harder I try, the more my head hurts.

That’s what it — or rather, the absence of “it” — looked like before “God created the heaven and the earth.” There was only God, who had always been there, with no beginning, and “there” was nowhere, because there was nowhere to be yet. Forget angels dancing on the head of a pin. No pin. No place to put the pin. Can you fit that into your mind? I certainly cannot. My headache increases its intensity.

Of course, not everyone believes in God, or even a god.

Last week, as my wife and I were driving home after a fun-filled day of shopping, we listened to a radio interview with Bernard Haisch, author of The God Theory. The interviewer was George Noory, successor to Art Bell, so . . . well, I guess it was an appropriate forum for the nonsense that ensued. Haisch was raised a Roman Catholic, but is now very happy to be free of the evils of religion. He believes in intelligent design, but prefers not to call the designer “God” because of the religious overtones of the word. He believes in the Big Bang and Darwinian Evolution.

Haisch and his host held forth for some time, speculating on what might have been and what the purpose of it all might be. When all was said and done, and the interview ended, there were no real answers. The only claim that was made with any solid conviction was that the Biblical account was certainly not the answer, as any fool should plainly see. And the ultimate question was not only unanswered; it remained unasked. It is the question that, as far as I know, is never asked by atheists or proponents of “intelligent design”.

Suppose I accept evolution and the big bang. Suppose I say, “Alright, that’s plausible. The universe burst into being one day, and life was somehow generated on one or more of the resulting fragments floating in space. Umpteen millennia later, here we are. I can buy that.” Sure. But what was there before that? And once you answer that, where did it come from? This question can be asked and answered as many times as you want, but eventually, we must find ourselves in eternity, where there not only is nothing, but no place to put it; because if you start with something — anything — you have to explain where it came from and what caused it. No one is going back that far and answering that question. No one, that is, but God and those of us who accept his Word on the matter.

How can science explain eternity — time without beginning? How can science explain nothing? When some brilliant scientist can answer that ultimate question, I’ll consider it. Until then, I have my answer. And it’s not only an answer that appeals to faith, it’s the only answer that makes any sense.

Dr. Haisch and his host, near the end of the interview, finally said something I could emphatically agree with. “If everything in the Bible is true,” chuckled Haisch, “we’re all in a lot of trouble.” “So true,” agreed Noory.

That, my friends, is the truth. Of course, there is a remedy for our “trouble”; but you’d have to believe the Bible to find it.

This is one of those reactionary posts that I try to avoid. But I’m not avoiding this one. While I will refer to a particular blog post and blogger, I have refrained from identifying any individual because this is really addressed to a number of people who like to pit the pursuit of doctrinal precision against “what Christians are really supposed to care about”—the poor, etc.

You could say I got up on the wrong side of the bed today. The irritation actually began some time ago, and came to a head a couple of weeks ago when a blogger I used to enjoy reading wrapped up the claims and insinuations of several others in one succinct, sanctimonious post. As much as I have tried to put it out of my head—after all, his screed was nothing new, just more abrasive than previous similar attacks—I woke up thinking about that post today. The point? That those who debate theology and are committed to doctrinal fidelity are really only interested in theoretical Christianity, that our religion goes no farther than the head, never reaching our hands.

The following assertions—entirely unsupported—were made: We don’t pray for those who disagree with us. We don’t care for the sick, lonely, or widowed. We don’t evangelize. We don’t give to material needs. We are not hospitable. We don’t, in fact, make any difference for Christ in anyone’s life. We just sit around arguing.

In the interest of honesty, the author claimed to be intentionally provocative in order to make a point. However, those assertions were the sum total of his post. They were not subtle insinuations. While I have condensed and slightly paraphrased them, he wrote exactly what you see here.

And so I admit, I am angry. I’m not angry because I’ve taken this personally. I could, but that’s none of your business. I have enough trouble keeping from my right hand what my left hand is doing (Matthew 6:3) without putting it down in writing. Being accused of not doing those things doesn’t help in keeping me from thinking about it, either, thank you very much.

I’m angry because these charges are patently false; because they distort the Gospel and the purpose of the church; they belittle the Biblical charges to “give attendance to reading, to exhortation, to doctrine” (1Timothy 4:13), to “Take heed unto thyself, and unto the doctrine; continue in them: for in doing this thou shalt both save thyself, and them that hear thee” (4:16), to “keep that which is committed to thy trust” (6:20), etc.; they slander a multitude of brothers and sisters who have demonstrated otherwise on countless occasions throughout my life.

I’ve experienced some hard times the likes of which few of you will ever know. Through those times, God has been faithful to provide for me and my family, and he has done it through people, some of them being willing also to contend for sound doctrine. They visited me in the hospital. One of them even argued with me in the hospital, God bless him. They cared for my family in my absence. Some people, I know, made significant sacrifices for us. I couldn’t possibly remember all the kindnesses we’ve received, let alone list them here.

I received the Gospel from teachers for whom doctrinal fidelity was paramount. I will never forget the day when a man who is now the head of a seminary took the time to come out to the backyard where I was playing, kneel in the dirt with my trucks and tractors, and talk to me about Jesus.

I know that not everyone does what they ought. In fact, I know that no one does all that they ought. But I’m very tired of the kind of people who seem to think it is their calling to go about as self-appointed prophets, denouncing left and right, nagging others as though they know exactly what God wants them to do and when.

There are Christians all over the world—yes, even among us evil American capitalists—who contend for sound doctrine, pray for those who disagree with them, evangelize, and care for the needs of those around them. They aren’t rare. They just aren’t writing blog posts bragging about it. So take your sanctimonious diatribes and—just for kicks—apply them to yourselves.*

*In a clever twist of irony, I have inserted an unwarranted insinuation of my own.

Ligon Duncan and Justin Taylor, interviewed by Derek Thomas, bring out some important truths about forgiveness. In short, they agree with me (smart guys!) on a couple of points that I think most Christians are dead wrong about:

1. Forgiveness is not unconditional.

2. Forgiving and forgetting, as we commonly understand forgetting, is not Biblical.

Read it here:
A Roundtable Discussion on Forgiveness
(HT: Biblical Christianity)

We will return with our regularly scheduled edification after this brief rant:

I recently had a conversation that went something like this:

Local insipid, soulless, Christian radio station: “Give your praise to the Lord / Come on everybody / stand up and sing one more / hallelujah / Give your praise to the Lord / I could never tell ya [sic] / just how much good that it’s / gonna [sic] do ya [sic] . . .”

Me: “Man, that is one annoying, stupid song.”

Annoying person singing along: “What’s wrong with this song?”

Me: “Where shall I start? OK, first, the melody, if you can call it that. It sounds like it was written by an asthmatic who can only sing two measures before stopping to gasp for air. But that’s not the worst of it. The words are horrible.”

APSA: “What’s wrong with singing praise to the Lord?”

Me: “Nothing, but if you’re praising the Lord because of how much good it’s going to do you, you’re not really praising the Lord. You’re practicing self-help therapy.”

APSA: “You’re so picky.”

Me: [Sigh . . .]

I can’t stand it. Discernment is out. Ignorant enthusiasm is in. According to a scientific study I am about to make up, 92.7% of American Evangelicals don’t know Paul of Tarsus from Paul McCartney. They don’t know Simon Barjonah from Paul Simon.

They think John Bunyan needed a podiatrist, and that Polycarp & Spurgeon are fish.

If Christian radio is a fair representation of Evangelicalism at large—and, according to the study cited above, it is—then Evangelicalism is a dead movement, utterly bankrupt theologically and intellectually brain-dead. If there was a convention for truly artistically gifted CCM performers, all the participants could ride in one car. If all the Christian broadcasters who are able to distinguish R. C. Sproul from Joyce Meyer had a party, they couldn’t get up a Bridge game. If all the Christian publishers who know the difference between John Owen and John Eldredge went to the gym, they couldn’t field a basketball team*. If . . .

[Sigh . . .]

Well, it’s Thursday already, and I find myself apologizing again for having nothing to say this week. I have actually written or begun to write several exceedingly astute and vitally important articles, but on closer examination, found them to be far less astute and important that they claimed to be. Some of them were reactionary diatribes, and I hate those. Anyone can troll the web and react to or comment on someone else’s work. Sometimes that is good and necessary, but more often it is lazy, contentious, or both. There are several things I would like to comment on, but very often I find that my comments do not really add anything positive to the mess. So, I have shelved several topics until my attitude improves. However, I don’t want to entirely waste my present cantankerous mood, so here are a few language offenses that really have to stop. Yes, these things really do irritate me. Irritability is my spiritual gift. So, for your edification, the list:

“24/7.” This one was clever for about five minutes, but like all clichés, became tiresome after being repeated 24/7.*

“…on so many levels.” This does not mean “in many different ways,” no matter how badly you want it to.

Periods after every word in a sentence, like this: Dumbest. Fad. Ever.

“From the get-go.” Where is the get-go? What is a get-go? It’s not the beginning. Beginning is spelled b-e-g-i-n-n-i-n-g.

“From day one.” Same as above, this just means “I’m too cool to say what I mean in plain English.”

“Been there, done that, [uber-cool option: ‘got the t-shirt’].” Whoa, Dude, I am sooo totally cool! Not only do I understand what you’re talking about, I can tell you so without being reduced to using actual sentences with nouns and stuff!

“I’m like…” “He’s like…” “She’s like…” does not mean “I/He/She said (or thought)…” It means “I’m stupid.”

This is by no means a comprehensive list. Please feel free to add others in the comments. Maybe if we can round up a large enough collection of ignorant, over-used slang phrases, we can get together and have a cliché burning party some night.

Reading my Bloglines this morning, I came across this post by my e-friend Rey called What Should I Buy: A Mac or A PC? It looks like he’s got some good advice, although, to be honest, I really haven’t any idea. I only pretend I have a right to an opinion when Jonathan posts one of his Get a Mac ads and I feel the need to taunt him.

But that’s not what I want to write about. What is really on my mind is my initial reaction to Rey’s post title. I read, “What Should I Buy: A Mac or A PC?” and thought, “Neither!” Computers are wonderful tools, and some time I might write about how my computer has changed my life for the better, but right now I’m thinking about overweight children and chair-shaped derrières and pale skin and a whole generation of people whose hands can do little more than operate a mouse and a keyboard.

So, the following are a few things I think you should buy.

Next to your wife, your shotgun should be your best friend. If the one in the picture is to rich for you, one of these will do just fine for starters. You will also need one of these and a lot of clay pigeons (that little orange Frisbee-like thing pictured above). If this is all new to you, you will need to know this.

This is another great idea. Add some fishing rods and tackle, and a pair of water skis (you don’t need an expensive power boat to ski—I know), and make some memories that your children will carry with them long after you’re gone.

Baseball gloves, bicycles, ice skates, the possibilities are endless. Get sunburned, get out of breath, sweat, get sore muscles, do something! And when you come home, don’t run to check your email. Grab a book and read it outside in a lawn chair.

The best of God’s creation requires no electricity, and you can’t enjoy it looking at a screen. Mac, or PC? Forget that. Here are some better questions: Hunt, or fish? Bike, or walk? Ski, or skate? Baseball, or football? Hunt, or fish? (Yes, that one deserves repetition.) I’m sure you can come up with ideas of your own. Get a life!

Some people really hate labels. I like them. Labels are very useful. They give us a name for whatever it is we are talking about. Without them, our language would be very clumsy. “I’m going to the place that sells meat, vegetables, dairy, and other consumable commodities. Be back in an hour.” Suppose grocers resisted the label “grocery store”—after all, they sell toothpaste, band-aids, and soap, among other non-grocery items. “I just don’t like being pigeon-holed like that,” says the grocer, or whatever he is.

In theology, labels like “Calvinist,” “Arminian,” “Reformed,” and “Dispensational” serve as shorthand for systems that would take hours to describe, or at least several minutes to summarize. I would hate to be without those labels. However, there is such a thing as a useless label. Many labels that at one time were clearly understood have become meaningless. When a label more often than not causes people to think of something entirely different than it originally represented, it has become useless.

I was born with a useless label: Lutheran. I was happily ignorant of the obsolete nature of my label until I left home and moved to Minneapolis. I had always known that there were those liberal Lutherans who denied inerrancy and ordained women and [gasp!] used real wine for communion. I just hadn’t realized there were so many of them. I very quickly discovered that Bible-believing Lutherans were a scant minority, and every time a non-Lutheran Christian asked what kind of church I belonged to, I had to give a couple of paragraphs of explanation to avoid the “heretic” label. “Lutheran” is no longer descriptive of the theology of Martin Luther, and so it is a useless label.

I am no longer a Lutheran (except in as much as I agree with the Reformed doctrines that Luther helped to recover); however, there are a few other labels that I really would love to use, but can’t because they don’t mean what they ought to mean.

First, Catholic. “Catholic” has been worthless to Christians for centuries, so why care? I managed just fine without it for years until my family visited the church of some relatives one summer. It was one of the large liberal denominations, and as we recited the Apostle’s Creed, I was shocked to hear the words “holy catholic church” from everyone but me and my siblings. We had been taught “holy Christian church.” If I didn’t already know my cousins were on a greased sled straight to Hell, I knew it then. It was still a few years later when I learned that “catholic” was a perfectly good word, in fact the correct word in the Creed, meaning universal, but it had been hi-jacked by the Papacy and could not be recovered.

The second label that is sadly lost is a beautiful word: “Pentecostal.” Just as the true church is catholic, it is Pentecostal. The New Testament Church was born on the day of Pentecost. For the first time, believers received the baptism and filling of the Holy Spirit. Every Christian was baptized with the Holy Spirit, and every Christian since, without exception, has been as well. I am a Pentecostal Christian. Sadly, I can’t use the term. “Pentecostal” now signifies doctrines and practices that I want no part of.

Now I’ll get to some more familiar labels, beginning with “evangelical.” Evangelical originally meant belief in the Biblical evangel, or Gospel. Evangelicals believed in Biblical inerrancy and literal interpretation of Scripture. They believed that the Bible was the Word of God, and salvation was by grace alone through faith alone in Christ alone. Now anyone can be an evangelical. Growing up Lutheran, I watched the two most liberal (apostate) Lutheran denominations merge into the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America. Rick Warren is an evangelical. Billy Graham, who has stated unequivocally that he believes in salvation outside of faith in Christ, is an evangelical. Tony Campolo is an evangelical, for pete’s sake! At this rate, how long can it be before the Pope and Dali Lama are called evangelical? Maybe Richard Dawkins is an evangelical, too!

Now I’m going to get personal. Some of my readers will cringe when I declare the utter worthlessness of the “fundamentalist” label. I know—it originally meant adherence to a set of five doctrines called The Fundamentals of the Faith. The five doctrines are indeed fundamental, although sola fide is conspicuously missing. Unfortunately, no one thinks of those things now when they hear the word “fundamentalist.” “Fundamentalist” means my hair doesn’t touch my ears, my wife doesn’t wear jeans, and I think this is good old Gospel music. Fundamentalism is a list of negatives. “Fundamentalist” means I don’t _____, and I don’t fellowship with those who do. At one time, fundamentalist seemed to me a good thing to be. Now, you can have it.

I have never technically been a Baptist, but I have wished I could be. I have just never lived anywhere where there was a good Baptist church. Lately, though, especially as I have watched the Caner-White fiasco, I have begun to wonder just what it means to be “Baptist.” James White is a Baptist, but so is Ergun Caner; so “Baptist” means nothing soteriologically. Albert Mohler and Mark Dever are Baptists; but so are Gail Riplinger and the late Jack Hyles. As far as I can tell, “Baptist” only means “not paedobaptist.” I almost wrote Baptist means credobaptist, but from what I’ve observed, no credible profession of faith is usually required. If you can recite a “sinner’s prayer,” they’ll dunk you—as many times as necessary until it “takes.” Is “Baptist” on the way to obsolescence too?

(There are Southern Baptists in Canada, so now I’m also wondering what “southern” means.)

So, I’m not sure what I am. “Reformed” seems good, and I think it will always mean the same thing, so I usually use that. But I’m not paedobaptistic or thoroughly covenantal. I just don’t fit in. I’m beginning to feel lonely. I need a hug. Unfortunately, I’ve just alienated all my friends with this article.

On Saturday, I linked to a WorldNetDaily.com article that began,

In a move that has outraged parents, the UK yesterday unveiled a plan to place nurses in every school in England with the authority to help students arrange for pregnancy tests, morning-after pills and abortions – without alerting their parents – in order to improve "sexual health."

Yes, I suppose those parents are outraged. They ought to be. However, don’t they have an elected government? Doesn’t the depravity of their government simply represent their own depravity? Of course it does. But then we Americans have long been aware that Europe and Great Britain are on a greased slide into Hell while we look on in horror.

Yet, there is something that troubles me far more than that. It is the fact that I need to point at their folly in order to feel slightly better about my own country.