Debate: God & Morality: Craig vs Wielenberg (How to Go Deeper)

A Debate on God and Morality

By Craig, William Lane, Wielenberg, Erik J.

In 2018, William Lane Craig debated Erik Wielenberg. Both Craig and Wielenberg are influential in the current literature on the moral argument. Craig is well known for his defense of the deductive moral argument and the need for God in order to have an objectively meaningful life. Wielenberg is an atheist and a Platonic moral realist, who also specializes in the thought of C. S. Lewis.

You may have seen the debate (if not, you can find it below). But you may not know that Adam Johnson edited a volume on the debate with excellent essays from David Baggett, J.P. Moreland and others. If you liked the debate and want to explore the ideas further, be sure to check out this resource.

Review of Christopher B. Kulp, The Metaphysics of Morality, Part 2

Table of Contents

As I turn now to critically assess Kulp’s thinking, I note that he writes clearly, develops his position in good logical order, and also treats opposing positions briefly but fairly throughout his work. I should point out that my critical assessment comes from a distinctively theistic viewpoint, and that his work is one of several expositions of the ascending viewpoint of moral non-naturalism in the last 20 years or so.[1] Although this book has a lot of the same content as his earlier work, Knowing Moral Truth: A Theory of Metaethics and Moral Knowledge,[2] it develops the metaphysics more thoroughly than the earlier work.

Clearly, the key to understanding Kulp’s metaethical approach is in understanding his starting point for inquiry, namely, tutored, everyday, common sense moral beliefs and commitments. This is where Kulp thinks we must begin because these are foundational to our moral lives.[3] This starting point not only shapes how he proceeds in developing his metaethical account, but also shapes the wider character of that account and how he develops certain key broader themes within his account.

Metaphysics of Morality

By Kulp, Christopher B.

Kulp formulates the bedrock of such everyday common sense moral belief in terms of first-order moral propositions. He does not, for example, appeal to our experience of everyday common sense morality in terms of moral phenomenology, as is common among ethical theorists. His approach is to move from bedrock first-order moral propositions to the nature of morality and its second-order metaphysics.[4] This then is a bottom-up approach that works from bedrock first-order moral propositions to the wider and more encompassing second-order moral metaphysics.

I think that this is a worthwhile and interesting move. I agree with most of his thinking here and also agree with his critique of the various non-realist positions that he engages in a critical way. This thoroughgoing bottom-up approach, however, is not matched by an equally rigorous and logically structured top-down approach in developing the metaphysics of morality. Consequently, key questions over a range of top-down fundamental matters are given no thorough consideration in his analysis.

The most significant of these is a matter that we briefly noted in our previous review which we will now consider in a bit more detail. Recall that in Kulp’s metaphysics the moral domain is ontically distinct; it exists in a mind-independent manner. Recall also that moral properties exist as abstract entities, that they supervene on a base set of physical properties and that they are emergent properties.[5] As Kulp asserts, if there is no physical universe then no morality is possible.[6] What then of the status of the moral domain before the Big Bang?[7] Kulp answers that there was no morality before the Big Bang, nor could there have been since no physical universe existed.

Does this then mean that somehow, at the Big Bang, a mind-independent domain of abstract entities comes into existence, for example, necessary and eternal mathematical truths or mind-independent moral properties, to name just a few of the horde of uninstantiated abstract entities that must exist on Kulp’s Platonic account?

He is also firm on rejecting the idea that our moral beliefs are the result of naturalistic evolutionary forces and rejects evolutionary ethics as strongly physicalistic.[8] This way of formulating the ultimate etiology of the moral is not unusual in the case of the various versions of secular nonnaturalist metaethics.[9] However, these non-naturalist formulations raise a host of vexed questions that need to be answered given that they introduce a number of deep metaphysical challenges.

The fact that Kulp never takes theistic metaethics seriously is telling. The fact that he never works out in a rigorous manner a fully integrated top-down account to balance out his bottom-up account of metaethics is likewise telling. But even his bottom-up approach misses key elements that theism handles quite well. How does a universe such as ours, an intelligible universe, given the kind of moral rational beings that we are, come into being in the first place? Not only does Kulp not attempt to come to terms with such fundamental questions, but his mostly bottom-up oriented approach never forces him to fully confront such fundamental matters.

Moral propositions seem to be the kind of entities that require minded, knowing beings to be the meaningful and distinctive propositions that they are. They are necessarily person related.[10] Does a non-minded, impersonal, morally indifferent universe bring into being non-physical, non-natural, moral properties as abstract entities that are obviously fitted for minded, moral, personal moral beings like us? If this is the case, then how and why is this so? We can see here that the first major top-down challenge for any fully secular, non-theistic account is the existence of the universe itself; this has to be explained.

Then the second fundamental challenge for any impersonalist Platonic non-naturalism is the personal moral beings that we are, coming into being and situated in a vast impersonalist universe that includes an infinite array of uninstantiated, ontically specific, diverse, abstract entities to which we are somehow connected in multiple ways. How does an impersonal universe, truth indifferent, morally indifferent, bring into being the minded, moral persons that morality requires, and how then is abstract, propositional moral truth non-accidentally integrated and matched to moral persons like us? Obviously, some causal story must be true that accounts for the universe in which we live and the moral rational beings that we are.

Kulp offers no such causal account, but only vaguely gestures in this general direction. In this respect his bottom up approach is wholly inadequate. Also, nothing in the causal story can come from the side of abstract entities themselves since, as Kulp acknowledges, and most thinkers concur,[11] abstract entities are to be understood as atemporal, non-spatial, non-causal, non-empirical entities.[12]

We then have here another significant problem for all versions of impersonalist Platonism—the problem of exemplification of properties, and of moral properties in particular. How is it that the universe is made in such a way that abstract properties are exemplified in physical properties in precisely the ways that they are? Mere fluke or grand cosmic coincidence will not suffice here; this amounts to no explanation at all and renders the entire matter deeply problematic and mysterious. Surely this undermines Kulp’s theory.

Additionally, in the case of moral properties, merely invoking something like “emergence” will not suffice.[13] Emergence itself is problematic.[14] Also, the relations of supervenience have been questioned in a similar sort of way as emergence? It is generally understood that supervenience merely states a relation but does not actually explain the stated relations.[15] How did the relations of supervenience come to be the way that they are in the first place and how is it that they continue in just the recurrent ways that they do? How is this relation to be explained?

This matter is particularly acute in the case of Kulp’s moral metaphysic since he rightly rejects all versions of physicalism as well as moral constructivism. Kulp nowhere attempts to come to terms with the vast infinite assortment of ontically diverse abstract entities that must exist on any account like his and how these have come to exist and be integrated and exemplified in the actual world in which we live.[16] Mathematical Platonism is typically seen as the paradigm case of certainty and logical necessity and moral Platonism too easily slides into an unstated assumption that moral propositions are to be conferred a similar sort of certainty and necessity. Clearly, mathematical and moral necessities are different in some important respects.[17] The one is true by logical necessity, the denial of which generates a logical contradiction, while the other is made true as a grounded necessity, the denial of which does not generate a logical contradiction. Grounded necessity is made true given a truth condition relation that makes it true. This involves an asymmetric relation of metaphysical dependence.

In the case of Kulp’s non-naturalist metaethics, moral truth is grounded in complex abstract moral properties and facts. However, the existence of these abstract moral facts themselves, as truth makers, is ultimately left unexplained on Kulp’s account. This is therefore a fundamental metaphysical, ontological gap regarding the nature and origin of these abstracta in his account. Given the above criticisms, once again, the fact that Kulp never takes theistic metaethics seriously is telling.

Theism better explains the universe in which we live, the moral domain and the moral nature of humanity. It better accounts for the moral truth that Kulp wants to argue for. It should be pointed out that Kulp nowhere directly denies theism or argues explicitly against theism, but he clearly proceeds in such a way that God is completely irrelevant to his metaphysics of the moral.

If we take something like Kulp’s bottom up approach and work from the moral nature of humanity, there is much that the theist will agree with in Kulp’s metaethics. Theists will naturally embrace some form of moral realism, some form of moral cognitivism, some form of moral objectivism, some form of moral non-naturalism, perhaps even embracing some form of revised Platonism.[18] In this respect there is wide agreement between theists and secular non-naturalists.

Perhaps the most significant area of agreement between theists and secular non-naturalists is the shared rejection of all forms of naturalism; of physicalism as an adequate account of metaethics. In this regard there is shared consensus between theists and secular non-naturalists that naturalism cannot adequately ground and explain the moral domain and the moral nature of humanity. The theist rightly points out that for humanity to exist the life-friendly universe and all subsequent creative acts for our world to be the kind of world it is must also be accounted for.

To account for the kind of beings that we are, moral-rational beings, theism takes within its creative purview not just humanity and the moral domain, but all the following:

1.      The personal creative God that freely creates the contingent universe in which we live; a fine tuned, life permitting universe and world.

2.      The personal, minded God that creates complex, specified information.

3.      The personal God that creates not only biological information, but information rich biological entities.

4.      The personal God that creates sentient biological life and beings.

5.      The personal God that creates self-knowing, moral rational beings like us fitted to an intelligible universe.[19]

Moral facts are intrinsically person relatable, that is, person-related facts. This fundamental property of moral facts must be accounted for. It must naturally and fittingly lay into the overall wider metaphysical account of the moral. Impersonalist moral Platonism cannot account for this essential property of moral facts. In a theistic account of Reality personhood is ontologically fundamental to Reality. It does not somehow mysteriously emerge from a finite, contingent, impersonal materialist universe, as must be the case on Kulp’s account. Moral facts thus flow naturally and fittingly, out of a personalist theistic account of Reality.

Since the actual physical universe both has a beginning and is fully contingent, the theist takes issue with Kulp’s affirmation that the physical is both necessary and sufficient for the moral to exist.[20] It is neither. On a theistic account, the living God, a personal, infinite, necessary moral being grounds and manifests the moral domain in and from himself, has freely created humanity to be like himself as regards moral rational being. This God therefore adequately explains the kind of universe in which we live, the moral domain, and the personal dimensions of our existence and the fact that these are integrated and matched from the top down in a necessary sort of way. If the physical universe did not exist the moral domain would still exist–in the living, personal, necessary God. There is thus no need to posit the infinite horde of abstract entities that Kulp’s non-naturalism must posit for his non-physicalist account to succeed.[21]

Theism works equally as a fully integrating top-down explanation of things as well as a comprehensive bottom-up approach that explains the varied particulars of our moral lives; from the Grand Story to the particular story of our everyday, common sense, tutored moral beliefs and commitments.

            On the whole, Kulp’s work is commendable and should be read by all who are interested in an accessible exposition of moral non-naturalism. For the theist there is much to agree with in his work. It is clear, well written, and generally well argued. His reviews of the various non-realist metaethical positions are also very useful even though generally brief. But at times Kulp too easily glosses over big issues that he either merely stipulates on, too briefly comments on, or fails to follow through on the logical implications of his own metaphysics. All this taken into consideration, theistic metaethical thinkers should fully engage his work.   

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[1] For example, see David Enoch, Taking Morality Seriously: A Defense of Robust Realism (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2013); Russ Shafer-Landau, Moral Realism: A Defence (New York: Clarendon Press; Oxford University Press, 2005); Erik J. Wielenberg, Robust Ethics: The Metaphysics and Epistemology of Godless Normative Realism (Oxford, UK: Oxford University Press, 2014); Michael Huemer, Ethical Intuitionism (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2008).

[2] Lexington Books, New York, 2017.

[3] Kulp, Metaphysics of Morality, 6.

[4] Ibid., 8–9.

[5] Ibid., 126.

[6] Ibid., 124.

[7] I fully recognize the problem of using the temporal term “before” in reference to the beginning of the universe. In Perfect Being Theism God is eternal and therefore there is no problem here since God is creator even of our temporal dimensions of time that begin with our physical universe.

[8] Kulp, Metaphysics of Morality, 61.

[9] Each non-naturalist thinker earlier cited formulates his position of the ultimate historical development of the moral in a similar way to Kulp. Each of these thinkers however has attempted a response to the problematic issues raised by evolutionary debunking arguments and other various critiques, whereas Kulp has not. For an overview of debunking arguments, see Guy Kahane, “Evolutionary Debunking Arguments,” Noûs 45, no. 1 (March 2011): 103–125. For an overview of Plantinga’s arguments, see Andrew Moon, “Debunking Morality: Lessons from the EAAN Literature: Debunking Morality,” Pacific Philosophical Quarterly 98 (December 2017): 208–226; Daniel Crow, “A Plantingian Pickle for a Darwinian Dilemma: Evolutionary Arguments Against Atheism and Normative Realism,” Ratio 29, no. 2 (June 2016): 130–148.

[10] Stephen E. Parrish, Atheism?: A Critical Analysis, 2019, 168–171.

[11] Gideon Rosen, “Abstract Objects,” ed. Edward N. Zalta, Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy (Stanford, CA: The Metaphysics Research Lab, Spring 2020); Sam Cowling, Abstract Entities (New Problems of Philosophy) (New York: Routledge, 2017); Bohn, God and Abstract Objects (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2019).

[12] Kulp, Metaphysics of Morality, 157.

[13] Ibid., 126. See for example Olivier Sartenaer, “Sixteen Years Later: Making Sense of Emergence (Again),” Journal for General Philosophy of Science 47, no. 1 (April 2016): 79–103. J.P. Moreland effectively brings out the problems with emergence in his critique of Eric Wielenberg’s “godless normative realism.” See chapter 11 in William Lane Craig, Erik J. Wielenberg, and Adam Lloyd Johnson, A Debate on God and Morality: What Is the Best Account of Objective Moral Values and Duties? (New York: Routledge, 2020).

[14] Pat Lewtas, “The Impossibility of Emergent Conscious Causal Powers,” Australasian Journal of Philosophy 95, no. 3 (July 3, 2017): 475–487. As Lewtas points out, part of the challenge to any view of emergence comes from what is known as “causal closure of the physical.” If a truly emergent property has causal powers emergent from, over and above, the physical properties of the entity in question this is not easily reconciled with causal closure of the physical, i.e. that all causal powers are strictly physical powers that come from within the physical system.

[15] Jaegwon Kim, “Supervenience As a Philosophical Concept.” Metaphilosophy 21, no. 1 & 2 (April 1990): 1–27.

[16] William Lane Craig, God Over All: Divine Aseity and the Challenge of Platonism, First edition. (Oxford, United Kingdom: Oxford University Press, 2016), 18, 41.

[17] For a useful analysis of this see Michael B. Gill, “Morality Is Not Like Mathematics: The Weakness of the Math‐Moral Analogy,” The Southern Journal of Philosophy 57, no. 2 (June 2019): 194–216.

[18] John M. Rist, Real Ethics: Reconsidering the Foundations of Morality (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002); John M. Rist, Plato’s Moral Realism: The Discovery of the Presuppositions of Ethics (Washington, D.C.: Catholic University of America Press, 2012). Robert Merrihew Adams, Finite and Infinite Goods: A Framework for Ethics (New York: Oxford University Press, 1999). For a good overview of theistic ethics, see David Baggett and Jerry L. Walls, God and Cosmos: Moral Truth and Human Meaning (New York: Oxford University Press, 2016); David Baggett and Jerry L. Walls, Good God: The Theistic Foundations of Morality (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011); David Baggett, The Moral Argument: A History (New York: Oxford University Press, 2019). For another exposition, see John E. Hare, God and Morality: A Philosophical History (Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing, 2007); John E. Hare, God’s Command (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015). Note that I include within theistic ethics the natural law tradition as well, see for example Mark C. Murphy, God and Moral Law: On the Theistic Explanation of Morality (New York: Oxford University Press, 2011); Craig A. Boyd, A Shared Morality: A Narrative Defense of Natural Law Ethics (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos Press, 2007).

[19] A naturalist account of the universe and life has difficulty with all of these necessary precursors to the existence of humanity. See Stephen C. Meyer, The Return of the God Hypothesis: Compelling Scientific Evidence for the Existence of God (New York: HarperOne, 2020).

[20] Kulp, Metaphysics of Morality, 126.

[21] It should be pointed out that Kulp nowhere addresses the view that abstract moral properties might possibly be classed as “naturalistic” yet non-physicalistic. This issue is raised by William J. FitzPatrick, “Ethical Non-Naturalism and Normative Properties,” in New Waves in Metaethics, ed. Michael Brady (London: Palgrave Macmillan UK, 2011), 7–35. Theists have proposed various ways to understand the nature and relation of abstract objects relative to God. See Paul M. Gould, ed., Beyond the Control of God? Six Views on the Problem of God and Abstract Objects, Bloomsbury Studies in Philosophy of Religion (New York: Bloomsbury Publishing, 2014). I espouse a divine conceptualist position wherein these are not autonomous abstract objects but eternal ideal objects in the mind of God. See Stephen E. Parrish, The Knower and the Known: Physicalism, Dualism, and the Nature of Intelligibility (South Bend, Indiana: St. Augustine’s Press, 2013).

Reflections on Why I Left, Why I Stayed, by Tony and Bart Campolo, Part 5

Our previous installment ended with mention of the example of homosexuality as a theological topic about which Bart Campolo changed his mind. After defending for a while what Bart thought was (and thinks is) the biblical proscription of homosexual behavior, his relationship with some gay friends led to a change of mind.

In order to understand the trajectory of his thought, we need to examine with some care exactly what transpired here. He admits that for a while he struggled “to reconcile the Bible’s clear injunctions against homosexual behavior with my dawning realization that my gay friends’ sexual orientations were no more chosen than my own.” But eventually none of his interpretive solutions were satisfactory both to his friends and his own evangelical sensibilities, and, he writes, “I knew I had to choose between them.”

Bart’s story is similar to and different from Tony’s change of mind on this issue. Although Bart refers later in the book to his dad’s famous decision to support gay marriage, Tony himself doesn’t refer to it in the book. But on June 8, 2015, Tony released this statement, which I will cite in its entirety:

As a young man I surrendered my life to Jesus and trusted in Him for my salvation, and I have been a staunch evangelical ever since. I rely on the doctrines of the Apostles Creed. I believe the Bible to have been written by men inspired and guided by the Holy Spirit. I place my highest priority on the words of Jesus, emphasizing the 25th chapter of Matthew, where Jesus makes clear that on Judgment Day the defining question will be how each of us responded to those he calls “the least of these.”

From this foundation I have done my best to preach the Gospel, care for the poor and oppressed, and earnestly motivate others to do the same. Because of my open concern for social justice, in recent years I have been asked the same question over and over again: Are you ready to fully accept into the Church those gay Christian couples who have made a lifetime commitment to one another?

While I have always tried to communicate grace and understanding to people on both sides of the issue, my answer to that question has always been somewhat ambiguous. One reason for that ambiguity was that I felt I could do more good for my gay and lesbian brothers and sisters by serving as a bridge person, encouraging the rest of the Church to reach out in love and truly get to know them. The other reason was that, like so many other Christians, I was deeply uncertain about what was right.

It has taken countless hours of prayer, study, conversation and emotional turmoil to bring me to the place where I am finally ready to call for the full acceptance of Christian gay couples into the Church.

For me, the most important part of that process was answering a more fundamental question: What is the point of marriage in the first place? For some Christians, in a tradition that traces back to St. Augustine, the sole purpose of marriage is procreation, which obviously negates the legitimacy of same-sex unions. Others of us, however, recognize a more spiritual dimension of marriage, which is of supreme importance. We believe that God intends married partners to help actualize in each other the “fruits of the spirit,” which are love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control, often citing the Apostle Paul’s comparison of marriage to Christ’s sanctifying relationship with the Church. This doesn’t mean that unmarried people cannot achieve the highest levels of spiritual actualization – our Savior himself was single, after all – but only that the institution of marriage should always be primarily about spiritual growth.

In my own life, my wife Peggy has been easily the greatest encourager of my relationship with Jesus. She has been my prayer partner and, more than anyone else, she has discerned my shortcomings and helped me try to overcome them. Her loving example, constant support, and wise counsel have enabled me to accomplish Kingdom work that I would have not even attempted without her, and I trust she would say the same about my role in her life. Each of us has been God’s gift to the other and our marriage has been a mutually edifying relationship.

One reason I am changing my position on this issue is that, through Peggy, I have come to know so many gay Christian couples whose relationships work in much the same way as our own. Our friendships with these couples have helped me understand how important it is for the exclusion and disapproval of their unions by the Christian community to end. We in the Church should actively support such families. Furthermore, we should be doing all we can to reach, comfort and include all those precious children of God who have been wrongly led to believe that they are mistakes or just not good enough for God, simply because they are not straight.

As a social scientist, I have concluded that sexual orientation is almost never a choice and I have seen how damaging it can be to try to “cure” someone from being gay. As a Christian, my responsibility is not to condemn or reject gay people, but rather to love and embrace them, and to endeavor to draw them into the fellowship of the Church. When we sing the old invitation hymn, “Just As I Am”, I want us to mean it, and I want my gay and lesbian brothers and sisters to know it is true for them too.

Rest assured that I have already heard – and in some cases made – every kind of biblical argument against gay marriage, including those of Dr. Ronald Sider, my esteemed friend and colleague at Eastern University. Obviously, people of good will can and do read the scriptures very differently when it comes to controversial issues, and I am painfully aware that there are ways I could be wrong about this one.

However, I am old enough to remember when we in the Church made strong biblical cases for keeping women out of teaching roles in the Church, and when divorced and remarried people often were excluded from fellowship altogether on the basis of scripture. Not long before that, some Christians even made biblical cases supporting slavery. Many of those people were sincere believers, but most of us now agree that they were wrong. I am afraid we are making the same kind of mistake again, which is why I am speaking out.

I hope what I have written here will help my fellow Christians to lovingly welcome all of our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters into the Church.

Obviously, there is a great deal to unpack here, but for now I will point out one significant similarity between Tony and Bart, and one significant dissimilarity. The similarity is that, for both of them, their decision was importantly spurred by personal friendships they had formed with practicing gay people. The difference I wish to highlight, however, is important. Bart came to think of the effort to square such acceptance with biblical teaching as futile, ad hoc, and unprincipled. Tony instead argues that a solid biblical interpretation can be rendered according to which gay practice is morally permissible. This is no small difference. Although they both end up condoning gay practice, their respective rationales for doing so, despite a surface resemblance, remain starkly different.

Bart remained dissatisfied with an interpretation of scripture that allowed for gay behavior; he thought scriptural teachings were pretty clear that gay sex was unholy and immoral. With this pronouncement he disagreed, so for him the decision to accept gay practice as normative required a rejection of biblical authority—“inerrancy,” as he puts it. Tony’s decision is different. He claims he came to think that the Bible is not rightly interpreted as proscribing gay practice. So in principle Tony can continue to affirm biblical inspiration, but simply deny that the Bible teaches that homosexual behavior is wrong.

Recall Tony’s words: “Rest assured that I have already heard – and in some cases made – every kind of biblical argument against gay marriage….” Tony thinks the Bible, “rightly divided,” simply does not teach that gay practice is wrong. Bart thinks it does. They both wish to accept gay behavior as normative—though they often couch it in terms of people being born with gay proclivities, with the apparently hidden premise smuggled in that proclivities to do X make X morally permissible, which is obviously rather problematic. But, importantly, they differ on what the Bible teaches here. Since Bart thinks the Bible teaches against gay practice, he rejects biblical authority; since Tony thinks the Bible is consistent with gay practice, he can be gay-affirming while continuing to embrace biblical authority.

So two distinct questions need to be identified here. One is what the Bible actually teaches about homosexuality. This interpretive matter is the “hermeneutical question.” The other is whether that teaching is reliable. This is the “inspiration question.” Bart and Tony disagree on both questions. The vast majority of Christians in the history of the church would have agreed with Bart on the hermeneutical question, and with Tony on the inspiration question. Of course this means they would also have disagreed with Tony on the hermeneutical question, and disagreed with Bart on the inspiration question. Truth isn’t simply settled by a vote, of course, so the next installment will continue this discussion by elaborating on the hermeneutical question.   

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David Baggett is professor of philosophy and director of The Center for the Foundations of Ethics at Houston Baptist University. Author or editor of about fifteen books, he’s a two-time winner of Christianity Today book awards. He’s currently under contract for his fourth and fifth books with Oxford University Press: a book on moral realism with Jerry Walls, and a collection on the moral argument with Yale’s John Hare.

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Reflections on Why I Left, Why I Stayed, by Tony and Bart Campolo, Part 4

“Those who have deconstructed their faith or significantly revised their sexual ethic seem to have one thing in common: They’re angry.” This was sent to me by a friend who knew I am reading the book by Tony and Bart Campolo, but I have to admit that Bart does not seem to match this description. He does not appear to be angry at all, but rather cheerful and downright chipper, despite that he has pretty much deconstructed his faith and significantly revised his views on sexual ethics. Perhaps he is concealing his anger, perhaps my friend is wrong, or perhaps Bart is, if not unique, at least anomalous. I am unsure, but he at least does not obviously fit into the category my friend describes.

I thought about this as I reread Bart’s opening salvo in the book, a chapter entitled “How I Left: A Son’s Journey through Christianity.” The chapter is characterized by none of the animus and stridency so often associated with those who vocally reject their faith. It is rather an eloquent, lucid, and engaging exposition of his trajectory first into faith, and then out of it. Growing up as Tony’s son, Bart makes clear, posed no obstacle to becoming a Christian. He always admired his dad, and thought that Tony made the Christian life seem like a huge adventure. The problem, though, at least until high school, Bart just didn’t believe in God. Since his mother and sister, during that time, had no faith to speak of, either, “In our family, the real religion was kindness. As long as I was nice—and especially nice to people on the margins—I was fine.”

Things changed in high school, though, as Bart became part of a dynamic Christian youth group. He enjoyed the fun and relished the fellowship, and before long, though he still didn’t believe in God, he really wanted to “because I wanted to become a full member of the most heavenly community I’d ever seen.” So when he was asked to receive Christ as Savior, he didn’t hesitate, and soon became active in evangelism and social outreach himself. From the start he saw following Jesus mainly about systematically transforming the world for the better. The new community helped forge his sense of identity and focused his energies. From the beginning, though, he struggled with the Christian narrative—from the creation story in Genesis to the resurrection of Jesus to the apocalyptic prophesies of Revelation. The supernatural aspects of the faith seemed to him the price of admission, not the attraction.

Tony Flew once said Christianity dies the death of a thousand qualifications. Bart describes his gradual loss of faith over the next three decades as dying a death of a thousand cuts—and ten thousand unanswered prayers. Seeing the hardships and sufferings of kids in a day camp in Camden, New Jersey was one of the first of those cuts. One encounter in particular stands out. Shonda, the mother of one of those kids, had grown up in church but was raped when she was nine years old. When she later asked why God had not protected her, her Sunday school teacher explained that God was all-knowing and all-powerful, so since he did not stop the attack he must have allowed it for a good reason. The real question, the teacher went on, was what Shonda could learn from the experience that would enable her to better love and glorify God, and it was at that point Shonda lost her faith.

Bart admits that, when he heard this, his own theology was much like that of the teacher’s. His view of divine sovereignty made God seem like a cruel tyrant, at least where Shonda was concerned. For his theology included both that God didn’t intervene to save Shonda from the rape and would relegate her to hell for her resulting unbelief. This led him to alter his theology, and this is, to my thinking, one of the most interesting and informative features of his story. For Bart’s alteration of his theology was perhaps justified; there are indeed, say, construals of divine sovereignty that stand in great tension with an essentially loving God. Tweaking one’s theology along the way can be an altogether appropriate and necessary thing to do, but Bart seems to interpret it as choosing to believe what we want to believe, rendering theology altogether malleable. In this case, he saw what he was doing as “dialing down God’s sovereignty” and “dialing up His mercy.” “For the first time in my Christian life, without consulting either my youth leaders or my Bible, I instinctively and quietly adjusted my theology to accommodate my reality.” I might suggest, though, that Bart’s interpretation of what he did is a bit misleading. What he did instinctively may well have been justified, and deeply consonant with the biblical depiction of God as wholly good and loving.

Instead Bart describes that event as the “beginning of the end” for his faith, which I cannot help but think unfortunate and needless. Because he thought that what he had been willing to do involved a compromise of biblical commitment, and unprincipled theological accommodation, it led to a slippery slope culminating three decades later, as he puts it, with “literally nothing left of my evangelical orthodoxy.” What I suspect happened is that some of the later accommodations he was willing to make were, indeed, from the vantage point of orthodox Christianity, unprincipled capitulations. But because Bart saw himself doing that from the get go made the subsequent steps easier to take, without realizing that along the way he crossed a line. His initial concession when it came to jettisoning a particular view of sovereignty did not qualify, as far as I’m concerned. As Christians we’re committed to the teachings of scripture as sacrosanct, not every last particular interpretation of such teachings with which we were raised or happened to acquire along the way.

Indeed, right after telling Shonda’s story, he talked about his friendship with two homosexual roommates at Haverford College, and how for a while he struggled to reconcile the Bible’s clear injunctions against homosexual behavior with his dawning realization that his gay friends’ “sexual orientation were no more chosen than my own.” In the end, he found that none of his interpretative solutions satisfied both his friends and his own evangelical sensibilities, and he concluded that he had to choose between them. The next entry will take up this issue in more detail.

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David Baggett is professor of philosophy and director of The Center for the Foundations of Ethics at Houston Baptist University. Author or editor of about fifteen books, he’s a two-time winner of Christianity Today book awards. He’s currently under contract for his fourth and fifth books with Oxford University Press: a book on moral realism with Jerry Walls, and a collection on the moral argument with Yale’s John Hare.

Reflections on Why I Left, Why I Stayed, by Tony and Bart Campolo, Part 3

The previous blog ended on the note of discussing what can be realistically expected of arguments for the Christian faith. Recall that Campolo, at the end of the first chapter of the book he co-wrote with his son Bart, had written, “The world doesn’t need any more theological polemics or debates about the truth of Christianity, and this book certainly isn’t trying to be either of those,” despite that he immediately added that he always does try to make his best case for following Christ.

On the surface there seems to be a potential tension between Campolo’s claims: that we have no need for theological polemics or debates about the truth of Christianity, on the one hand, and that he nevertheless feels compelled to make the best case he can for following Christ, on the other. Perhaps what explains the apparent tension between these claims is that Campolo is intentionally casting polemics and debates with a negative connotation, but this is worth pointing out because not everyone construes polemics or debates in a negative way, nor should they.

Debates held with mutual respect and a commitment to rigor can be a highly effective way to foster substantive dialogue; in some ways, Campolo’s protestations to the contrary notwithstanding, there is an undeniable element of debate contained within this book. Each Campolo is making his case, after all, explaining his convictions, pointing to evidential considerations to make them plausible, underscoring perceived weaknesses of opposing views, and the like. This is essentially what a debate involves. That it can be done civilly and, in this case, even lovingly, with as much commitment to listen as to talk, only shows that debates need not be an unfriendly and inherently negative activity, nor need be construed in that way. If speaking the truth is love has primacy, each participant in a debate of this nature, in a real sense, should be rooting for his opponent. We wrestle not against flesh and blood.

For many readers of the Campolo book, after all, while deeply appreciating the irenic tone of the volume and the model the discussion provides of how to disagree agreeably, may well also be genuinely interested in weighing the relative merits of both sides in their own efforts to discover the truth and achieve greater clarity. Debates may be more pointed and adversarial than plenty of other dialogical exchanges, but they can surely serve useful purposes. Some might suggest we don’t need less of them (much less no more of them!), but a great many more, at least done well and right. I suspect the resistance to debates among many is because they often tend to be more about projecting appearances of victory and orchestrating mic drop moments than a genuine, mutual, and humble quest for the truth.

Likewise with polemics. In fairness it is likely Campolo was intentionally exploiting the common depiction of polemics as largely adversarial and predominantly confrontational. But colloquial employment of the locution doesn’t determine the essence of the referent. Lexical definitions themselves often don’t provide as penetrating insight into a word’s meaning as does careful conceptual analysis. Polemics in the realm of theology might pertain to arrogating or appropriating, say, a secular thought pattern, category, or story to a Christian application; or in the realm of dialectics, polemics often pertains to fine-grained discussions about which specific theology might be most in evidence—in an effort, for example, to adjudicate between Christian or Islamic theology. Since Bart by his own admission considers secular humanism his new religion, a polemical component to the discussion is practically unavoidable. This is a perfectly legitimate and valuable exercise with little to no hint of any intrinsically negative implications. The aversion plenty of kind-hearted persons to interpersonal conflict is laudable, but it shouldn’t mean we don’t see the value of iron sharpening iron. Not all ideas are equally good or defensible, penetrating or veridical. Of course in practice, as Tony and Bart admit, conversations of substance about significant differences calls for an abundance grace to keep the wheels turning.

Context can usually make clear whether one means by polemics its denotation or connotation, and it’s fairly obvious that Campolo was gesturing toward the latter. Fair enough. I’m not trying to strain for gnats here or be unduly nitpicky. Still, my point is this: contending for the truth ineliminably involves, by turns, both apologetics and polemics, rightly understood and properly practiced. To say we need more of neither in a book preoccupied with the propriety or lack thereof of believing the truth claims of Christianity strains credulity at least a little.

By Campolo, Tony, Campolo, Bart

I considered perhaps trimming the present point a bit for fear of belaboring, but then thought the better of it, because I think there is an important point to emphasize here. Even etymologically “polemics” is connected to war, so this might be thought to confirm the fraught connotations of the term, but we can go to war with people or with ideas. Clearly Tony is not at war with his son, but there is a clash and conflict of worldviews here, and that’s okay. It shows we don’t have to make it a battle between persons; we can keep the conflict at the level of ideas, which is practically a lost art in our cultural moment. Seeking to root out bad ideas is a noble and needed venture, and thoroughly biblical. 2 Cor. 10:4-5 says this: “The weapons of our warfare are not the weapons of the world. Instead, they have divine power to demolish strongholds. We tear down arguments and every presumption set up against the knowledge of God; and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” And in fact Tony, to my thinking, marvelously models this approach throughout the volume.

Allow me now to back off from the specifics here in order to deal with the more pressing and general question all of this broaches: the relative importance of reasons and rationality in Christian conviction. Again, Campolo himself tries to make the best case for following Christ, as he does impeccably throughout this book. Still, perhaps what he’s getting at in distancing himself from any overly strident model of discourse here are what he recognizes to be some limitations to reason, limitations that reason itself might help us grasp. Perhaps these words by Campolo a few sentences later confirm this reading: “While I understand that Bart’s faith probably won’t be restored by my arguments, I hope they at least help him stay open to what ultimately must be the work of the Holy Spirit.” And of course he also hopes his arguments will model for other Christians a way to keep the communication lines open with nonbelieving loved ones, a way that is both wholly loving and respectful without compromising the gospel.

For help in understanding both the purpose and limits of reason and rationality when it comes to matters divine, let’s briefly consider a few points from John Wesley’s sermon entitled “The Case of Reason Impartially Considered.” Having taught Greek, logic, and philosophy at Lincoln College at Oxford, Wesley was clearly a man who took argument seriously, and he lamented when anyone under-appreciated reason. Here is what he wrote near the end of this sermon to such people:

Suffer me now to add a few plain words, first to you who under-value reason. Never more declaim in that wild, loose, ranting manner, against this precious gift of God. Acknowledge “the candle of the Lord,” which he hath fixed in our souls for excellent purposes. You see how many admirable ends it answers, were it only in the things of this life: Of what unspeakable use is even a moderate share of reason in all our worldly employments…. When therefore you despise or depreciate reason, you must not imagine you are doing God service: least of all, are you promoting the cause of God when you are endeavouring (sic) to exclude reason out of religion. 

Wesley says more in that vein, and it is most inspiring, but in fact at least half of the sermon is directed at those who over-value reason, assuming it is replete with powers of which in fact it’s quite bereft. Specifically, Wesley points out three central realities that reason alone cannot generate or guarantee, contra those in his day (and ours) who so lionized the power of reason as to form expectations that go beyond its capacities. First, reason cannot produce faith. “Although it is always consistent with reason, yet reason cannot produce faith, in the scriptural sense of the word. Faith, according to Scripture, is ‘an evidence,’ or conviction, ‘of things not seen.’ It is a divine evidence, bringing a full conviction of an invisible eternal world.”

Interestingly, while discussing this first point, Wesley spoke of a personal confirmation of this limitation of reason. He tells of having heaped up the strongest arguments that he could find, in ancient or modern authors, for the existence of God, and then finding there was still room for doubts that reason is powerless to quench. He challenges readers to do the same, setting all our arguments for God in an array, silencing all objections, and putting all their doubts to rest. The result is that they may repress their doubts for a season, but “how quickly will they rally again, and attack you with redoubled violence.” This does not show that faith is irrational or unprincipled, but rather that reason alone is not its ultimate source or locus. Can reason alone, for example, illumine what happens after the grave, satisfying our curiosities and banishing our fears? Hardly. The best unaided reason can do is suggest that death is, as Hobbes put it on the precipice of shuffling his mortal coil, “a leap in the dark,” whatever bravado we might wish to project to conceal our intractable existential angst.

Second, reason alone cannot produce hope in any child of man—scriptural holiness, that is, by which we “rejoice in hope of the glory of God.” Where there is not faith, there is not such hope; and since reason is impotent to produce the former, likewise the latter. At most but a lively imagination or pleasing dream resides within rationality’s lonely grasp.

Third, reason, however cultivated and improved, cannot produce the love of God, for it can produce neither faith nor hope, from which alone such love can flow. It is only when we “rejoice in hope of the glory of God” that “we love Him because He first loved us.” Cold reason can produce merely fair ideas, drawing a fine picture of love, but “only a painted fire.” Beyond that reason alone cannot go.

Some other resultant limitations of reason include virtue and happiness. Those without the theological virtues of faith, hope, and love can experience pleasures of various kinds, but not the sort of happiness for which we were made—merely shadowy dreams of ephemeral pleasures fleeting as the wind, unsubstantial as the rainbow, lacking satisfaction.

“Let reason do all that reason can,” concludes Wesley. “Employ it as far as it will go. But, at the same time, acknowledge it is utterly incapable of giving either faith, or hope, or love: and consequently, of producing either real virtue, or substantial happiness. Expect these from a higher source, even from the Father of the spirits of all flesh. Seek and receive them, not as your own acquisition, but as the gift of God…. So shall you be living witnesses, that wisdom, holiness, and happiness are one; are inseparably united; and are, indeed, the beginning of that eternal life which God hath given us in his Son.”

Campolo and Wesley, both of them, recognized the importance of reason and its limitations, and depicted faith as a gift of God. In subsequent posts we will have occasion to speak in more detail about what each of them means by this, and whether or not their views converge. But for our next post, we will move on to Chapter 2: Bart’s story of his deconversion, how he left.

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A Surprising Hope: Review of When Narcissism Comes to Church by Chuck DeGroat

To my mind, Chuck DeGroat’s When Narcissism Comes to Church (IVP, 2020) was published at precisely the right time. I say that because it’s a book I would have snatched up a decade ago had it been available, given the situation I found myself in at the time, but I would not have been emotionally prepared to fully appreciate. The intervening years, I realized as I read the book recently, have softened me up to many of the conclusions DeGroat draws and positions he contends for, most notably in calling us all to identify and empathize with the narcissistic personality.

DeGroat, to his credit, sees the narcissist as so much more than a label, and in fact highlights small and large ways that such analysis can dehumanize and—ironically enough—perpetuate the troubling thought and heart patterns at the root of the narcissism we think we despise. Most impressive about DeGroat’s work is that he carefully balances penetrating insight into the nature of narcissism and the damage it does (to individuals and communities) with a generous compassion for all involved. Ultimately, he demonstrates that these two postures are not at odds but are intimately intertwined, given the locus of narcissism in shame and trauma all its own.

When Narcissism Comes to Church: Healing Your Community From Emotional and Spiritual Abuse

By DeGroat, Chuck

Ultimately, the promise of DeGroat’s book is the promise of Christianity applied to what often seems an irremediable condition. If the gospel is true, then no human being is outside the reach of grace, DeGroat compellingly insists and beautifully depicts. If the gospel is true, then redemption is not a zero-sum game, available for only one segment of humanity at the expense of another. And if the gospel is true, we must not deny the reality and destructive power of sin but instead face it squarely and surrender to Jesus as “the living antidote to narcissism” (167), a sentiment that in DeGroat’s hands transcends what might otherwise be dismissed as cliche.

My interest in the book’s topic stems, among other things, from an abusive friendship that ended long ago. I’m no therapist and have no background in psychology or counseling, but “toxic narcissist” is the label I eventually landed on as a way to understand my traumatic experience with this person. All the literature I have read on the subject fits the patterns I endured: the mercurial spirit, the entitlement, the belittling and callous control. It was soul-crushing. The insights offered in the work of experts like Leslie Vernick and Lundy Bancroft provided a means of escape, self-protection, and hope for recovery.

It has been a decade since I broke free from that dysfunctional relationship, and I have experienced much healing during that time. I think, though, the success of that process required a measure of callousing my heart to my abuser. For far too long, I had (unwisely) made myself vulnerable to this (unsafe) person and my empathy for the traumatic childhood she had endured was manipulated to keep me under her thumb. Escaping the clutch of her machinations was possible only by building up strong boundaries, perhaps even overcompensating for my prior lack of them.

So when I picked up DeGroat’s primer on narcissism, especially as it is manifested in the church, I expected more of the same—a rundown of narcissistic personality traits, a guide to recognizing narcissistic abuse, and tips for recovery from such trauma. When Narcissism Comes to Church has all that, and it is particularly helpful for identifying ways in which Christian organizations and churches have specific susceptibilities to narcissistic personalities and dynamics. The spiritual mission can be quite the cudgel, and theological truths like sin and forgiveness are often flattened out to fit an abuser’s agenda. When Narcissism Comes to Church fills in helpful context for better understanding the many ways narcissism sadly finds an easy fit in Christian circles. Born from DeGroat’s twenty-plus years as therapist and church-planting assessor, it offers hard-won and practical wisdom, complemented by myriad examples drawn from his study and practice. This is not merely abstract theoretical knowledge about abstruse psychological categories but guidance for real life.

As DeGroat explains in his introduction, there has been an uptick in narcissistic tendencies on a cultural level, and so his concern in what follows is not simply to nail narcissists to the proverbial wall with a restrictive diagnosis or to separate out the abusers and the victims, the bad guys and the good. No, his goal instead is to “invite each of us to ask how we participate in narcissistic systems while providing clear resources for those traumatized by narcissistic relationships, particularly in the church” (4).[1] He does so through appeal to psychiatric diagnostic tools, to the Enneagram (an approach unique to him), to a wealth of counseling resources, to the Church Fathers, and to scripture.

The book traverses much ground: from defining narcissism (while also complexifying the definition), to showing the tremendous range of the narcissistic spectrum and the myriad ways narcissism can present itself, to unpacking characteristics of the narcissistic leader and system, to diagnosing the wounds and shame at the heart of the narcissistic personality and sketching the contours of abuse, and to offering pathways to healing for the narcissist and those wounded by him or her. DeGroat does all of this in less than 200 pages. It is an accessible book, and the author’s background enables him to wrangle otherwise dense and difficult material into a clearly organized presentation, hitting the most important highlights and illustrating key ideas with memorable and poignant examples.

This is a must-read for anyone interested in learning more about narcissism and emotional and spiritual abuse, and even more so for those in Christian communities. As DeGroat explains, we are charged in scripture to be diligent, to “keep watch” and do what he calls “shadow work” to root out unhealthy strongholds and to inculcate habits of flourishing. The material he provides in this book, though not exhaustive, will certainly be a starting point for anyone wanting to undertake this journey and, in fact, will encourage them to do so.

When Narcissism Comes to Church is not primarily a reference manual, though in some ways it is that; rather, it paints a beautiful picture of hope. Bookended by references to Philippians 2, DeGroat’s volume undermines the theological manipulations often employed by the narcissist in Christian circles. Paul’s call to humility, in imitation of Christ’s kenotic move to dwell among us, could easily be twisted by an abusive personality or system—burdening the disempowered to become even more powerless in service of the authoritarian leader or toxic organization. “Don’t expect to get what you deserve,” such voices might say. “Be obedient and surrender to the leader’s authority, no matter how capricious or unjust.” Those who have been beholden to such figures recognize well how easily truths of scripture can be wielded as weapons.

But by holding the passage from Philippians as a standard for all Christians and especially by emphasizing the promise of the Incarnation depicted there, DeGroat defangs the narcissist’s bite. The humility and condescension of Christ of course stands in stark contrast to the narcissist’s grandiosity and self-centeredness, but it also vividly displays the beauty and love of Christ’s participation in our sufferings and the paradoxical power enacted by his sacrifice. Christ beckons us to love like that. Even more importantly, his love enables us to love the otherwise unlovely and—gloriously enough—to transform the unlovely into someone beautiful and fully alive.

This review cannot do justice to the richness of DeGroat’s conclusions, especially his final chapter and epilogue. As a survivor of narcissistic abuse, to my surprise, I was deeply moved by his generous call to love, to identify with our fellow image bearers no matter where they fall on the narcissistic spectrum, and to seek healing holistically and communally. As DeGroat himself notes, this may be too challenging a charge for the moment for those still dealing with the aftermath of narcissistic trauma.

But for those who can, for those who have done the inner work and can enter in from a position of strength, DeGroat invites us on a journey from slavery to freedom, of death to life, of despair to hope. We would be wise to join him.

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[1] This is the kind of thing I would have bristled at a decade ago, especially since I would have had a hard time seeing past the invitation to examine my complicity in my narcissistic relationship. It may even have set back my healing. But this side of that healing process, I can now more than see the wisdom of DeGroat’s call.

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Marybeth Davis Baggett teaches English at Houston Baptist University. Having earned her Ph.D. in English from Indiana University of Pennsylvania, Marybeth’s professional interests include literary theory, contemporary American literature, science fiction, and dystopian literature. She also writes and edits for Christ and Pop Culture. Her most recent publication was a chapter called “What Means Utopia to Us? Reconsidering More’s Message,” in Hope and the Longing for Utopia: Futures and Illusions in Theology and the Arts. Marybeth's most recent book is The Morals of the Story: Good News about a Good God, coauthored with her husband, David.

Book Review of Wade Mullen’s Something’s Not Right: Decoding the Hidden Tactics of Abuse and Freeing Yourself from Its Power

In a dark time in my life, I found myself angered, hurt, and heartbroken by the type of experiences that I had encountered in a previous institution. Like many people, I had been hurt in church before. But I never experienced as much difficulty in finding healing. Drs. David and Marybeth Baggett were God-sent to help me find a pathway to healing. They ministered to me and expressed their concern for the hurt that I was feeling. Marybeth mentioned a couple of books that I might find interesting. One was a work by Wade Mullen entitled Something’s Not Right: Decoding the Hidden Tactics of Abuse and Freeing Yourself from Its Power. The book proved extremely beneficial to me as it explained the hurt that I had experienced. I realized that I was not alone. For the remainder of this article, I would like to provide a review of Mullen’s work. First, I will offer a summary of Something’s Not Right, then I will identify the strengths of the book, before concluding with some personal reflections.

Summary

Wade Mullen writes for those who have suffered from institutional abuse and for those who think they may be currently experiencing it. Mullen writes from his own dealings with it, having suffered from his own encounters with institutional abuse. Mullen reflects that he knew that something was not right (hence, the title of the book), but neither he nor his family had suffered from sexual or physical abuse.[1] Yet it was clear to him that he and his family had suffered some form of abuse. He later realized that he had suffered from institutional abuse—that is, suffering from the oppressive and bullying nature of organizations that permit narcissistic dictators to emotionally harm those under their care.

By Mullen, Wade

Mullen draws his argument from the field of impression management and the research of Erving Goffman. Goffman defines impression management as the process of “creating, influencing, or manipulating an image held by an audience.”[2] Making a comparison to a stage play, the author contends that impression management tactics take on an abusive and unethical nature when “the front-stage persona is used to hide truths that ought not to be hidden.”[3] The actor(s) adjust the performance when problems arise to keep the audience engaged but never attempt to resolve the inner problems, or actors, causing the abuse. Everything becomes much more about image than character.

Mullen further inquires, why do institutions and individuals, though they may have begun with good intentions, operate in such a manner? The answer is simple: power. Mullen contends, “The chief desire of abusive individuals and organizations is to attain or retain power—most often the kind of power gained and held firm through deception.” Through the remainder of the book, Mullen describes the tactics by which abusers use impression management to attain or retain their power. He identifies the use of charm, dismantling the victim’s internal and external world, intimidation used to silence victims, walls of defense,[4] disingenuous apologies to save the image of the abuser or institution,[5] and demonstrations.[6]

Strengths

Mullen’s book is a much-needed resource due to the rising number of institutional cases of abuse. His book features numerous strengths. But for the sake of space, we will consider three. First, Mullen provides compelling examples of institutional abuse. Some may wonder whether institutional abuse even, exists, but, in a clear and winsome fashion, Something’s Not Right exposes the problem of institutional abuse and offers examples to show its malevolent practice. In the pages of Mullen’s book, the reader may find oneself reflecting on personal examples of the very practices that Mullen describes. The book is relevant for those who have suffered from abuse in the church, universities, businesses, and other institutions. Earnest readers will be left with a clear depiction of the reality of institutional abuse.

Second, Mullen exposes the methodology of institutional abuse. The illustration of a stage play is quite telling as it covers the array of organizations that may be guilty of abuse. Quite to the point, institutions that permit abuse do not desire to expose the interior problems. Some may conclude that the institution does not want to expose skeletons in the closet. Yet when those skeletons are permitted to continue to harm, they need to be exposed if institutional healing is to take place, the abuse is to be eliminated, and the victims healed. Abusive institutions are more concerned with image than character.

Finally, the book diagnoses the root moral problem behind institutional abuse. Simply put, the assignment of primacy to self-serving power drives people within institutions to abuse individuals. Such power also drives institutions to permit such behavior as the institution desires to perpetuate its influence in the community. Unrestrained power is not concerned with a utilitarian ethic, neither is it concerned with the wellbeing of others. Rather, Mullen shows that those whose primary or only ethical standard is acquisition and consolidation of power will only be concerned with what others can do to help retain their status or position. Readers should be driven to promote transparency within the establishments with which they are associated. Institutions that have nothing to hide will not mind sharing their internal workings.

Reflections

Two critiques can be offered at this point. First, it is possible that genuine repentance could come while trying to salvage the institution in question. While I fully agree with Mullen’s concerns about institutions trying to sweep former events under the rug, I also believe there comes a point that the institution and person must move on from events that occurred. While the abusive situation should never be forgotten, rehashing scandals of the past can prove harmful to the person who was victimized. Particularly for those suffering from PTSD, continual discussions of past harms and abuses can prove detrimental to the victims, just as much as not discussing them enough. Delicacy and discernment are the needed antidote.

For instance, with the greatest of intentions, I continued talking to a couple who suffered from mental impediments about safeguarding themselves from people who tried to take advantage of them financially. They had previously been persuaded to buy a computer that was well out of their price range and, quite honestly, was not worth the price. While my intentions were noble, my continued discussions brought back the pain of their victimization. Thus, an institution needs to do everything possible to make amends for abusive behaviors and resolve systemic problems permitting abuse to occur. But there might come a point at which further dwelling on past wrongdoings reaches a point of diminishing return.

Second, Mullen’s work raises the matter of forgiveness. It is not his main focus here, although he does end the book with a section on it. It obviously is a highly important matter, as Mullen would be the first to agree. One issue concerning forgiveness is what happens if the guilty party never asks for forgiveness? An abuse victim’s exit from the situation of abuse is important, but what about this matter of forgiveness when there isn’t repentance? Such a scenario is, sadly, not uncommon. Abusers more often make excuses for their abusive behaviors than come clean, repent, and ask for forgiveness.

What can an abused person do spiritually if reconciliation with the abuser doesn’t happen? The biblical answer is that a forgiving stance is still required. Jesus pleaded for the forgiveness of those who were crucifying him (Luke 23:34). This kind of forgiveness does not mean that the abuser and abusive systems are never held accountable for his or her actions. Abusive institutional and systemic systems must be corrected and reformed, as evidenced by Jesus’s overturning of the tables in the temple. Again, forgiveness most certainly does not indicate that a person remains in an ongoing abusive situation. Remember, Jesus told the disciples to wipe the dust off their feet while leaving a town that rejects them (Luke 10:10-11).

Still, forgiveness is vitally important, and it is just as much about one’s walk with God and peaceful mindset as it is for the guilty party. As someone once said, “Holding a grudge is like trying to poison another by drinking the poison yourself.”

In the context of chronic and acidic abuse, however, it is also important to remember that abusers, especially within religious contexts, are often adept at exploiting the rhetoric of forgiveness and “moving on” to conceal their culpability, avoid accountability, and sometimes even perpetuate abuse. So while we must endeavor to retain a forgiving stance, forgiving others as we have been forgiven, we must also resist disingenuous efforts by abusers to wrap the cloak of religious legitimacy around efforts to evade responsibility and continue mistreatment under a new, and perniciously religious, guise.

Conclusion

Wade Mullen’s book Something’s Not Right is a must-read. I give the book five stars out of five. The book effectively illustrates the abusive tactics found in unhealthy organizations while also recognizing the importance of spiritual healing. More cases of institutional abuse are being revealed in churches, universities, and denominations. To counter the abuse, one needs to first recognize unhealthy patterns found within institutions as well as practices by abusive individuals. Mullen’s work will prove to be an essential tool in doing just that. Regardless of whether you have suffered abuse, suspect abuse, or desire to know more about institutional abuse, Mullen’s book is a tour de force on the topic. I would suggest supplementing Something’s Not Right with Diane Langberg’s work Redeeming Power. Additionally, I would also recommend Os Guinness's book God in the Dark along with In Search of a Confident Faith, co-written by J. P. Moreland and Klaus Issler, to learn more about overcoming barriers to faith after being victimized by abusive power structures.

About the Author

Brian G. Chilton is the founder of BellatorChristi.com, the host of The Bellator Christi Podcast, the author of the Layman’s Manual on Christian Apologetics, and a Ph.D. Candidate of the Theology and Apologetics program at Liberty University. He received his Master of Divinity in Theology from Liberty University (with high distinction); his Bachelor of Science in Religious Studies and Philosophy from Gardner-Webb University (with honors); and received certification in Christian Apologetics from Biola University. Brian is a member of the Evangelical Theological Society and the Evangelical Philosophical Society. Brian has served in pastoral ministry for nearly 20 years and currently serves as a clinical chaplain, an editor for the Eleutheria Journal, and an Associate Editor for MoralApologetics.com.

https://www.amazon.com/Laymans-Manual-Christian-Apologetics-Essentials/dp/1532697104

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[1] Wade Mullen, Something’s Not Right: Decoding the Hidden Tactics of Abuse and Freeing Yourself from Its Power (Carol Stream, IL: Tyndale Momentum, 2020), 1.

[2] Ibid., 9; Erving Goffman, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (New York, NY: Anchor, 2008).

[3] Mullen, Something’s Not Right, 12.

[4] The four walls of defense include denials, excuses, justifications, and comparisons. Ibid., 102.

[5] This includes the unwillingness to condemn the abuser’s actions, appeasing the situation, excusing behavior, justifying one’s own actions by claiming that the victim in some ways bears the burden of guilt, self-promotion, and sympathy. Ibid., 149.

[6] Demonstrations include actions that does only what is necessary to survive that scandal rather than making amends for the abuse that occurred. Ibid., 162.

A Critical Review of Is Goodness without God Good Enough?

Chapter Three: Louise Antony, “Atheism as Perfect Piety”

 Louise Antony, professor of philosophy at the University of Massachusetts (Amherst), begins her essay with the admirably lucid statement that William Lane Craig is wrong to say that God’s existence is sufficient to ground morality and that there would be no morality without God.  To explain why she thinks this is the case, she enters into a discussion of the reasons that compelled her to abandon her religious beliefs during college. 

In addition to citing the problem of suffering as a reason that motivated her to give up theistic belief, she recounts how she developed (while in college) another argument that helped to separate (in her mind) morality from religion and God.  Given this separation, the truths of morality are derived neither from theism nor from religious belief (p. 68).  The argument turns on a distinction between two kinds of piety: imperfect contrition (which is contrition due to fear of punishment) and perfect contrition (which is contrition motivated by a desire for what is morally right).  The argument, formally stated, runs as follows:

(1)  Perfect contrition (even without belief in God) is more pleasing to God than imperfect contrition (even with belief in God). 

(2)  The only psychologically possible way for human beings to achieve perfect contrition is to cease believing in God. 

(3)  Human beings ought to do that which is most pleasing to God.

Therefore: 

(4)  Human beings ought to cease believing in God.  (From 1-3)

The assumption behind premise (2) is that humans are contrite (at least in part) due to fear of punishment by God or for the desire for reward from God.  However, this assumption is questionable.  On what grounds does Antony claim that perfect contrition is psychologically impossible for a theist?  It is not at all clear that theistic conviction makes perfect contrition psychologically impossible.  However, we can set that problem aside for there is a much more serious issue facing this argument.  Antony herself recognized that the argument contains a contradiction insofar as it implies both that God does not exist and that God will refrain from punishing someone for believing that God does not exist.  Obviously, a non-existent God cannot do (or refrain from doing) anything.  While Antony eventually abandoned this admittedly incoherent argument, she explains that it was this argument that first helped her to see the independence of morality and theism.  Specifically, the argument caused her to ask this question: Why would God prefer perfect contrition to imperfect contrition?  On one hand, if there were no reason, then God’s preference would be arbitrary.  This result seems unacceptable.  On the other hand, if there is a reason that God should prefer one to the other, then that reason is something independent of God – and, so, the moral rightness of preferring perfect contrition to imperfect contrition is a moral standard independent of God.  Of course, the line of reasoning that Antony stumbled into here is similar to that found in Plato’s classic argument known as the Euthyphro Dilemma. 

Antony explains that the relevant question posed by Socrates in his dilemma is this: Do the gods love pious actions because they are pious – or are actions pious simply as the result of being loved by the gods?  She says that translating the question into modern terms yields the following question:  Are some actions moral simply in virtue of God’s choice to favor them – or does God favor those actions because they are morally good independently of what God favors?  Either answer to this question is supposed to constitute a problem for theists who want to say that ethics depends on God.  According to the first option (which she calls Divine Command Theory), if God commands us to torture children, then it would be right and morally obligatory for us to do so.  However, this cuts strongly against the moral intuitions of most people (p. 71).  According to the second option (which she calls Divine Independence Theory), that which is morally right or wrong does not depend on God.  In fact, she says that if Craig claims it is impossible or inconceivable for God to command something like torturing children, then even Craig should be considered a Divine Independence Theorist.  She adds that only “the theorist who believes that right and wrong are independent of God’s commands could have any basis for thinking that she or he knows in advance what God would or would not command” (pp. 72-73).  She then points out that if Divine Command Theory were correct, then it would reduce morality to a set of rules that is no less arbitrary than the rules of etiquette (pp. 72-73).  She illustrates the arbitrary nature of morality on Divine Command Theory with an extended discussion of the Biblical account of Abraham being commanded by God to sacrifice Isaac – and she suggests that the attempts of theists to resolve the problem presented in this text actually suggest the truth of Divine Independence Theory (pp. 77-79).  She then suggests that Divine Independence Theory appears to be at odds with saying that God (at least as described in the Old Testament) is a moral agent. 

Now all of this is very interesting, but it turns out that she has missed Craig’s fundamental point – namely, that God’s nature is the Good itself.  Further, according to Craig, given that God and the Good are identical, God cannot simply give any arbitrary command (but can only issue commands consistent with the divine nature).  Craig explicitly states in the debate that, “on the theistic view, objective moral values are rooted in God” (p. 30).  Craig adds, “He is the locus and source of moral value. … He is by nature loving, generous, just, faithful, kind, and so forth” (p. 30).  On this approach, Craig is free to say that God cannot command anything in an arbitrary fashion (despite Antony’s insistence otherwise).  Moreover, on Craig’s approach, he can still maintain that morality is dependent on God insofar as the paradigm of moral goodness is located in God’s nature (so that, had there been no God, there would be no moral truths).  If Craig’s view is right, then morality is nothing like arbitrary rules of etiquette.  Further, on this approach, there is no reason for Antony to maintain that we could not predict what God would command (at least in some cases) – especially if God makes some of those commands known to us by way of conscience or various other mechanisms.  This is a much more plausible reading of Craig’s position than what Antony provides.  Beyond this failure to engage Craig’s position, there are three particular claims made by Antony towards the end of her essay that need to be addressed.

First, Antony claims that a glaring problem with Craig’s view is that “he offers no argument for the particular claims that there is no morality without God.  What he does instead is cite authorities” (p. 81).  Somehow, she crucially misses the point that the ideas supporting Craig’s claim are found in the cited materials – even if they are not spelled out as formal arguments.  So, one may ask why Craig thinks that naturalistic forms of atheism entail that there is no morality.  Craig specifically answers this question.  He says, “After all, on the atheistic view, there’s nothing special about human beings.  They’re just accidental by-products of nature that have evolved relatively recently on an infinitesimal speck of dust called the planet Earth” (p. 31).  Craig adds, “On an atheistic view, moral values are just by-products of sociobiological evolution” and that such values might be “advantageous in the struggle for survival,” but that “on the atheistic view” there is nothing that would lead one to think that such values are “objectively true” (pp. 31-32).  To state Craig’s argument with greater precision, we get the following:

(5)  If atheistic naturalism is true, then human values are only subjective judgments brought about as by-products of our sociobiological evolution.  

(6)  If human values are only subjective judgements brought about as the by-products of our sociobiological evolution, then there is no objective morality. 

Therefore:

(7)  If atheistic naturalism is true, then there is no objective morality.  (From 5 & 6 by Hypothetical Syllogism)

 Now, this argument might be unconvincing to Antony.  This argument might even be entirely dubious.  However, whether or not it is a good or bad argument, it is mystifying why Antony would say that Craig offers no supporting reasons for his claim that there is no morality without God – and this was not the only supporting reason he offered for his position.  The fact that Craig drew the content of these premises from the citation of other authors is manifestly irrelevant.  

Second, toward the end of the essay, Antony says that Craig does not “acknowledge, much less endeavor to answer, the main objection to his own position, the objection found in the Euthyphro” (p. 81).  Given that Craig has formulated a position that avoids the typical problems associated with the Euthyphro Dilemma, it seems odd that Antony would make this claim.  It appears as if she is committing the straw man fallacy against Craig’s position.  In other words, Antony is criticizing a view similar to Craig’s but which is not, in fact, Craig’s position.  To see why this is the case, we need to review Antony’s presentation of the Euthyphro Dilemma.   Specifically, we need to focus on that horn of the dilemma that says that morality being dependent on God would make it arbitrary.  Antony suggests that if Divine Command Theory is true, then God could command heinous acts (like torturing animals and killing children for pleasure) and then those acts would be morally required – or God could just as easily command the opposite (so that heinous acts would be morally prohibited).  However, she thinks that such actions are so obviously wrong that not even God commanding those actions could make them morally right or obligatory.  In other words, she appears to hold that the truth of Divine Command Theory would make the truths of morality contingent rather than necessarily true.  She thinks that this result counts as evidence against the truth of Divine Command Theory.  However, there are some significant problems with this line of thought.  

To begin, there is not just one version of Divine Command Theory.  There are versions of Divine Command Theory that are vulnerable to this line of thought – namely, those versions of Divine Command Theory that explicitly stipulate that if God were to command heinous acts, then we would be morally obligated to do those actions.  We can refer to that sort of Divine Command Theory as Radically Voluntarist Divine Command Theory.  So, applying Antony’s objection, we get the following argument: 

(8)  If Radically Voluntarist Divine Command Theory is true, then heinous actions could be morally obligatory. 

(9)  Morally heinous actions could never be morally obligatory.  

Therefore: 

(10)  Radically Voluntarist Divine Command Theory is not true.  (From 8 & 9 by Modus Tollens)

In this argument, the conclusion follows from the premises, but are its premises true?  Some defenders of Radically Voluntarist Divine Command Theory think that this argument can be overcome.  In particular, one may consult Paul Rooney’s book, Divine Command Morality (Avebury, 1996; especially Chapter 6).  However, as we have already mentioned, this is not the only version of Divine Command Theory, and in fact it is quite rare.  Since it is Craig’s view of Divine Command Theory that is being discussed here, the only relevant question is whether Craig endorses Radically Voluntarist Divine Command Theory.  The answer to that is “no.”  One could hardly fault Craig if he were to look at the conclusions expressed in (10) and ask, “What does that have to do with me?”  Further, Craig could point out that the divine nature is loving and merciful and add that the divine nature just is the standard of the Good from which God issues divine commands.  In short, Antony seems to be misrepresenting Craig’s view.  Louise Antony needs to demonstrate that Craig’s version of Divine Command Theory is (despite appearances) radically voluntarist.  It clearly is not; in answer to the Euthyphro Dilemma, Craig splits the horns and distinguishes between the good and the right, embracing a divine nature theory of goodness and a Divine Command Theory of the right.  Until Antony can show why Craig’s view is vulnerable to her arbitrariness objection, Craig would be justified in dismissing this criticism as an irrelevant misrepresentation (because it is aimed at a different version of Divine Command Theory).

However, Antony could try to change the argument above to include Craig’s position.  She might be thinking that all versions of Divine Command Theory entail the moral permissibility of heinous acts.  If so, then her argument amounts to the claim that any version of Divine Command Theory somehow dissolves or cancels out the necessary status of moral truths.  If this is her argument, then she is committing a different fallacy – namely, the fallacy of begging the question (that is, assuming what needs to be proved).  David Baggett and Jerry Walls explain the problem Antony faces in their book, Good God: The Theistic Foundations of Morality (Oxford, 2011): 

What seems to be going on in the argument is that Antony and Sinnott-Armstrong are attempting to drive a subtle wedge between God and necessary [moral] truth.  …  One suspects, then, that she’s implicitly assuming without argument that the necessary truth of morality, if such there be, is independent of God.  But this is question begging and, though not an uncommon assumption, is open to dispute.  (p. 211; Appendix A)

In other words, Antony needs to provide some sort of compelling reason to dispute the idea that the necessity of moral truth resides in (or depends on, or is identical to) the divine nature.  Until she (or someone else) does so, Craig is justified in dismissing her assumption against his view as ineffectual.  In concert with such contemporary thinkers as Thomas Morris, Chris Menzel, Robert Adams, and many others (not to mention several luminaries from the history of philosophy), Craig affirms that necessary moral truths can plausibly be thought to depend essentially on God.

Third, at the end of the essay, Antony begins to engage in character assassination (or the ad hominem fallacy).  She writes, “I have the dark suspicion that Dr. Craig is not really interested in engaging with atheists in rational discussion, but rather is speaking exclusively to his theistic contingency, with the aim of reinforcing for them the vile stereotype of atheists so prevalent in American society” (p. 81).  So, rather than engaging Craig on the substance of his arguments, Antony (without the slightest evidence) chooses to waste time by raising dubious and unfounded questions about Craig’s alleged motives.  Further, she says nothing that would reconcile her dark suspicions that Craig wants to reinforce vile stereotypes about atheists with Craig’s clear and explicit assertion, “Let me just say at the outset, as clearly as I can, that I agree that a person can be moral without having belief in God” (p. 29).  Craig states this as the very first sentence of his opening statement in the debate.  This fact does not boost one’s confidence that Antony read carefully (or even understood) the case that Craig makes.  So, how does Craig’s claim (that atheists can be moral without believing in God) reinforce stereotypes about the immorality of atheists?  Antony does not say.  If Craig is trying to reinforce vile stereotypes about how evil atheists are, then he is rather bad at it.  Antony’s choice to end her essay by focusing on Craig’s alleged motives (rather than his arguments) is more than a little disappointing, and likely predicated on her uncharitable failure to distinguish between what Craig said of atheists themselves (on one hand) and of the position of atheism itself (on the other hand).

Book Review: "Can We Still Believe in God" by Craig Blomberg

In Can We Still Believe in God?, Craig Blomberg answers oft-revisited questions about Christian theism (the likes of which are addressed in similar titles elsewhere)[1] from a uniquely New Testament perspective. In fact, one might argue that a more fitting title (or subtitle) for this resource would read A New Testament Defense for God or Answering Skeptics from the New Testament as this perspective preoccupies his work on a host of issues. Blomberg is honest about this penchant for the New Testament and his relatively narrow address of issues when he confesses his academic training and his awareness of what other resources have already offered by way of answers to popular skeptical questions.[2] Therefore, Blomberg’s contribution to current apologetic scholarship is providing more well-rounded answers to age-old challenges by mining material from a fairly-neglected dataset (at least in connection with certain issues)—new covenant writings.  

The questions Blomberg chooses to address from this distinctly New Testament perspective are narrowed down and prioritized according to what appear to be either the most popular challenges raised against belief in the Christian God or the most difficult questions in need of answering (or some combination of the two). It is for this reason that he deals with the problem of evil and belief in a good God first. After perusing what philosophers, ethicists, theologians, and Old Testament authors have offered to this discussion (a practice he revisits in subsequent chapters), Blomberg argues that the New Testament highlights what God is doing in the midst of an evil and broken world.[3] The New Testament paints a picture of a God who is powerful and loving even in suffering and able to redeem the worst circumstances for greater purposes.[4] 

What of the unevangelized and the prospect of hell? Blomberg reveals (perhaps to the surprise of some in more fundamentalist/”restrictivist” communities) that the New Testament does not teach that no one is saved unless they have heard of Jesus. He also reveals that consciously trusting in Christ is not the same as finding forgiveness through Jesus’ atoning sacrifice on the cross.[5] Old Testament saints are the clearest example of this and Blomberg is shrewd to acknowledge that much of what is taught about salvation in the New Testament is constructed upon a foundation of Old Testament passages involving characters who never interfaced with Christ or knew is name. With this in mind, people ought not haughtily assume the conditions of someone’s heart and/or limit the means by which God can and has led people to salvation through his Son. Also, the author is quick to remind that hell is never said to be forced on someone against his/her will (nor is salvation forced on saints either for that matter). This conclusion pairs well with a discussion later on prayer and predestination in which Blomberg makes a compelling New Testament case for single predestination in which he concludes “we can never take ultimate credit for being saved, but we have only ourselves to blame for being lost.”[6] Such realizations are helpful as they successfully resect these theological challenges against Christian theism of some of their teeth.

            More current and emotional issues of slavery and gender roles are addressed next. Concerning slavery, Blomberg rightly points out that the New Testament is not a manual for political liberation as much as it is spiritual liberation.[7] That said, 1 Corinthians 7:21 and Philemon do teach that slaves should gain freedom when they can. Concerning gender roles, Blomberg carefully exposits certain “battleground” texts[8] and ultimately concludes that both what he calls a “soft complementarian” and a “soft egalitarian” perspective are defensible in Scripture.[9] Also, while the New Testament is univocal on is prohibition of homosexual behaviors, Blomberg argues that this should be kept separate from anything that would discriminate against a person simply for their sexual orientation. Most skeptics will welcome these thoughtful comments and analyses on such charged issues. What Blomberg offers in this discussion is especially thoughtful and refreshing among the existing literature and many would do well to thoroughly consider Blomberg’s presentation here.

            Next, the author expertly addresses several criticisms lodged against the Christian God based on the contents of Scripture. Concerning miracle accounts, the New Testament is shown to set itself apart from the existing ancient literature both in the frequency of the miracles described, the type of miracles performed, and the purpose these miracles serve as demonstrating the arrival of the kingdom of God (helping to prove that the Bible is not one of many old superstitious miracle books). Similar conclusions are shared in Blomberg’s discussion on how the narratives compare with extra-biblical legends. The author skillfully demonstrates that the New Testament story is birthed out of established Old Testament Judaism; it is not a result of plagiarizing pagan myths. Concerning the violence and warfare in the Scriptures, Blomberg suggests that this poses no real threat to the New Testament in particular. Such practices are elevated to a “spiritual plane”[10] and vindication is clearly defined as God’s prerogative to be ultimately satisfied in the final judgment.

            In his address of apparent contradictions in the Bible, Blomberg decides to deal with a few of the supposed examples of discrepancies found in the book of Acts.[11] What is learned from his analysis is that instead of contradictions, variations in accounts of the same story betray the kind of diversity that was acceptable when biographers/historians pieced together their narratives in the New Testament world. As Blomberg’s discussion broadens to include consideration of all textual variants, a good case for the accurate preservation of the New Testament (even in modern-day English translations) is also built.

            Blomberg’s final address is to those who resist believing in God on the grounds that they would rather be in control of their own lives. These believe that Christianity is a drag and that obedience to God is pleasure-robbing. However, as Blomberg correctly points out, freedom from God is slavery to sin[12] and it is only Christ who offers liberation from crippling anxiety and woeful purposelessness. While certainly the Christian life might (and probably should) include suffering, these are nothing compared to the eternal glory awaiting those who trust in the God of the Bible.[13]

            While all of Blomberg’s discussions are deserving of attention and helpful in making a well-rounded case for the God of the Bible from the New Testament, what proves most refreshing for this reviewer are those insights he offers on those issues that are not as nearly tethered to typical New Testament discussions (e.g. the problem of evil, slavery, gender roles, and same-sex relations, violence in the Bible). It is in these chapters where Blomberg’s contributions are greatest as he works to provide a more well-rounded and truly canonical address of these inquiries. His expertise displayed in these areas provides those who are seeking robust answers to difficult questions with the responsibly nuanced solutions necessary for engaging skeptics in our contemporary culture. For this, Blomberg’s work ought to be highly commended.

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Jeffrey Dickson, PhD studied Theology and Apologetics at Liberty University where he now serves as an adjunct professor of Bible and theology. Dr. Dickson is also the senior pastor of Crystal Spring Baptist Church in Roanoke VA where he lives with his wife Brianna and their children.

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[1] See Tim Keller’s The Reason for God: Belief in an Age of Skepticism (New York: Riverhead Books, 2008), Ravi Zacharias, Can Man Live Without God? (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 1994), Andreas Kostenberger, Darrell Bock, and Josh Chatraw’s Truth in a Culture of Doubt: Engaging Skeptical Challenges to the Bible (Nashville, TN: B&H, 2014), or even Craig Blomberg’s Can We Still Believe in the Bible?: An Evangelical Engagement with Contemporary Questions (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos, 2014).

[2] Craig Blomberg, Can We Still Believe in God?: Answering Ten Contemporary Challenges to Christianity (Grand Rapids, MI: Brazos, 2020), XIV, “What makes it (this volume) a bit distinctive is that it is written by someone whose academic training is primarily in New Testament studies. Most of the literature that addresses the kinds of questions tackled here is penned by theologians, philosophers, ethicists, and even Old Testament scholars.”

[3] Blomberg, Can We Still, 1-3.

[4] Blomberg, Can We Still, 10-11. Far from being aloof or inactive in the process of dealing with evil “the New Testament affirms that (God) did the most important thing of all in the past through Christ’s crucifixion, making it possible for believer in Christ in the future to live forever without any suffering or evil…Meanwhile, even now, in the present, he uses pain and suffering to help bring believers to maturity and to wake up the spiritually asleep so that they might turn to him.”

[5] See John 14:6; Acts 4:12.

[6] Blomberg, Can We Still, 157. See also his discussion in 109ff.

[7] Blomberg, Can We Still, 35.

[8] See 1 Cor 11:2–16; 1 Tim 2:11–15; Eph 5:22– 33.

[9] Blomberg, Can We Still, 38ff, 156.

[10] See Blomberg’s discussion on Eph 6:10–20 in Can We Still, 93ff.   

[11] These include the three accounts of Paul’s conversion, the three accounts of Peter with Cornelius, an the “three rehearsals of the apostolic decree.”

[12] Blomberg, Can We Still, 150.

[13] Rom 8:18.

PSYCHONIX: Mind Over Matter (Book Review)

Editor’s note: This review originally appeared at the site of Free Thinking Ministries

Review by Suzanne Stratton

PSYCHONIX: Mind Over Matter, by Mike Burnette, is a blend of interesting, well-developed characters, and exciting, intriguing action. It is a many layered novel, with unexpected twists and turns. If you like science fiction, espionage, psychology, war stories, philosophy, and many other topics, you will find plenty to attract and keep your attention. Readers with philosophical leanings will be drawn into the musings of the characters who wonder about the nature of reality. Anyone growing up with Star Trek, The Six Million Dollar Man, or the Twilight Zone will recognize familiar territory, along with hints of C.S. Lewis, and many other icons of our cultural heritage.

PSYCHONIX: Mind Over Matter

By Burnette, Mike

The hero is a complex man, who is ready to try a new way to explore reality. Having been wounded in battle, he is a veteran with PTSD, willing to trust scientists who have devised an unusual experimental technique. Along with the preparation for his dangerous role in the exploration of reality, other remarkable people play a part in the action that develops as the story comes to a surprising climax. 

The descriptive details make a vivid picture of the settings and people whose lives become involved with each other throughout the narrative. I found it difficult to put it down and get some rest whenever I became immersed in the tale, because I needed to find out what would happen next!

I kept returning to the book to read parts of it again, since within the context of the action, Burnette adds some thought-provoking philosophical musings of different characters interspersed throughout the telling of everything that happened. If you have ever questioned the nature of reality, but enjoy action and intrigue, this is the book for you. J.P. Moreland agrees:

“Believe me when I say the novel is very interesting reading.  I was engaged. Mike Burnette has done an outstanding job of capturing the mind-body problem arguments accurately and in an interesting, readable way.” 

You can buy the book at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Apple and many other sites by typing in PSYCHONIX. You can get the paperback only at Amazon (Click here: Amazon Kindle/Paperback).

For the eBook, click here: Barnes & Noble.

Book Review: Why I Still Believe by Mary Jo Sharp

Why I Still Believe: A Former Atheist’s Reckoning with the Bad Reputation Christians Give a Good God. By Mary Jo Sharp. Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 2019. 239 pages. ISBN: 978-0-310-35386-7. Price: $17.99 (paperback).

Media (online and print) is full of books telling stories of those who abandon a Christian worldview due to disappointment or an experience of hypocrisy in the church. Mary Jo Sharp looks to counter these stories by relating her own experience of moving from basic atheism to a hopeful faith full of high expectations for church life. She does not neglect the negative, but she runs head first into it as she tries to find ways to live out her new faith in Jesus. In Why I Still Believe, Sharp explains why reason and beauty cause her to remain hopeful that the church can live up to the standards of Jesus. She also provides reasons why Christianity is the best explanation for both beauty and pain in our world.

This book is broken into basically two sections: 1) personal stories from Sharp’s spiritual journey from atheist to Christian apologist, and 2) attempts to answer some difficult questions regarding the Christian faith. Sharp covers her personal experiences before and after becoming a Christian, and then she takes the reader into her own world of Christian apologetics to try to find some answers to the issues she encounters. The book deals with issues regarding hypocrisy in the church, arguments about the resurrection, the problem of evil, and even a chapter on how beauty figures into a Christian worldview. The author concludes with chapters entitled “No Tidy Endings” and “Crash Landing’ where she explains that there are no easy answers to the problems facing Christians and their relationships to each other in the church. In other words, Sharp does not try to fix the problems or tie them up neatly for the reader. Rather, she explains them in plain language and offers both anecdotal and academic responses to many of the issues while acknowledging that some issues do not have easy answers.

Simply stated, this book represents a narrative of Sharp’s quest to understand beauty and the metaphysical reality that she found herself bumping into as a young person and later as a frustrated Christian. Sharp chronicles her youth living on the West Coast and her passion for and obsession with beauty in nature and how it could be explained. She deftly brings the reader along as she explains her experiences in high school (where a favorite teacher gave her a Bible) to her conversion to Christianity (and the subsequent frustration of dealing with church culture as her husband served in a variety of ministry positions). The story may seem a bit different to many who were raised in an Evangelical community, but the author expertly draws readers into her story so that they may live these events with her. While the narrative is well written and offers insight into the author’s life and thinking, the journey may not be an easy one for all readers.

Some may expect this book to be a restatement of some basic apologetics approaches or some general arguments to certain problems that opponents of Christianity raise. This book is completely different. Sharp offers some arguments, to be sure, and she deals with some common reactions to Christianity. Nonetheless, this book is much more personal than that. In fact, the issues discussed by Sharp may cause a visceral reaction in some readers as they relive some suppressed memories of their own experiences in the church. This book is VERY personal, and as a result it calls for deep thought and creates an emotional response. To be honest, readers will often agree with Sharp’s strong criticism and may also periodically experience a gut punch emotionally as they walk with her through these experiences. At the very least, readers may find themselves identifying with Sharp in a number of instances, and the realization that they are not alone in their experiences and expectations may be a bit cathartic.

To readers who feel stuck between the beauty of God’s great story and the ugliness of hypocrisy in the church, this book offers many rays of hope. Sharp offers both a personal and logical response to the problems she mentions, even when she admits that often answers may not be neatly found or explained. In the process she draws her readers into a Christian worldview where the beauty of God’s grace paints a masterpiece sometimes stained by the bad responses of human beings. In the end, Sharp reminds readers that there is hope and that from reason and experience the only logical answer to understanding this world seems to be the Christian faith. While the ending is hopeful, readers are reminded that the story is not over yet and many painful and evil events may happen before God wraps up his story. Nonetheless, this book is a narrative of hope. Hope that God has provided a means of navigating an evil world with beauty and grace as well as hope that pain and evil are not the end of the story. People who have dealt with the ugly underbelly of hypocrisy in the church will find no clean resolutions here, but they will find a metanarrative that reminds them of God’s beautiful plan and goal as well as an encouragement to strive to live in a way that reflects that same beauty and hope.

This book is not a typical “apologetics” book. While it certainly covers topics related to Christian apologetics, the book really is a metanarrative on how to live a life of beauty, reason, and hope when even those who should be family act as your enemies. Sharp reminds us that the Christian story is one of hope, and hope works in the heart of the wounded. This book is recommended for anyone who may be skeptical of the Christian faith or for those who by means of a negative church experience have considered leaving the church. Sharp offers hope to the wounded and a reason to believe for the skeptic. She covers a variety of topics with a beautiful (and sometimes painful) story of redemption and hope even in the middle of suffering. This book will make the reader think and feel deeply while also giving a solid basis for hope for the Christian faith and the church as proper expressions of God’s beautiful story.

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Dr. Percer grew up near the Mississippi River in Millington, Tennessee, where he received a call to the ministry of teaching while attending First Baptist Church. Pursuing that call sent him on an educational journey that includes two Masters degrees and a PhD. This journey provided opportunities to minister in a variety of capacities, including youth ministry, children’s ministry, small groups, and homeless ministry. Upon completion of his PhD, Dr. Percer taught as an adjunct at both Baylor University and McLennan Community College in Waco, Texas. He came to Liberty University Baptist Theological Seminary in 2004 and teaches a variety of New Testament classes including: Hermeneutics, Greek, New Testament Orientation 1 & 2, the Gospel of John, Hebrews, 1 & 2 Peter, Life of Christ, and New Testament World. He also directs the Ph.D. Program for the seminary and teaches a variety of biblical studies classes. Dr. Percer lives in Lynchburg, VA with his wife Lisa and their two children.

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Book Review: What is Marriage? Man and Woman: A Defense

Introduction

In this review I summarize and engage What is Marriage? Man and Woman: A Defense (hereafter, WIM) by Sherif Girgis, Ryan T. Anderson, and Robert P. George.[1] Here are a few general comments before I present a more focused discussion below. First, I found the book immensely helpful as a logical argument in service of an apologetic for the traditional view of marriage (hereafter, TVM), even though it was tough reading at times simply because of the design of the work as a legal brief. The challenge was not that the book is unnavigable due to a lack of clarity or poor writing quality, but that I had to stretch my mind to think in the closely argued and sometimes tedious manner of legal parlance, though I did find the stretch quite enjoyable once I adjusted my expectations. Further, I had to remind myself (and a classmate!) that this book was not intended to provide a biblical or theological argument in favor of TVM, at least not explicitly, though the authors certainly provide implicit arguments for the value of general revelation and natural theology, which are both part of the Christian message. So, the apologetic benefit was primarily the role it serves in bolstering the traditional view of marriage through philosophical argumentation without appeals to special revelation. The book is nothing short of impressive simply as an example of the giftedness of the authors, especially Girgis, whose work on the book and in other contexts related to the TVM discussion reminds me that apologists come from varied backgrounds and sometimes appear in cultural and intellectual contexts that some in the church are tempted to conclude are territories long ago lost to the enemy. I have in mind here Girgis’ academic circumstances at Yale and Princeton, neither one a bastion of Christian orthodoxy or cultural conservatism, and yet, there he is defending the TVM.

Summary and Engagement

The authors begin by stating that, “What we have come to call the gay marriage debate is not directly about homosexuality, but about marriage. It is not about whom to let marry, but about what marriage is.”[2] Given the timing of the book’s release (pre-2015 and the legalization of same-sex marriage in the United States), I find something poignant about these words, especially since most of my experience as a pastor regarding the TVM debate has centered more on homosexuality and less on marriage. Only now have I and other Christian leaders realized we may have had our guns trained on the wrong target, missing the opportunity to focus on marriage and make a positive apologetic argument about it because it was too easy to pick-off the low-hanging fruit of homosexuality through a negative apologetic engagement with the more extreme advocates of same-sex relationships. It appears the enemy’s diversion was somewhat successful, especially as the Christian army now scrambles to reorient itself to the new realities it faces amid its waning influence on Western culture. Not that I have lost hope, but the task before us is daunting and fraught with difficulty, which makes WIM’s insight about the need to focus on the nature of marriage all the more pertinent.

            Thus, to help focus the discussion on marriage, the authors distinguish between two views of marriage: the conjugal view and the revisionist view. The conjugal view “is a vision of marriage as a bodily as well as an emotional and spiritual bond, distinguished thus by its comprehensiveness, which is, like all love, effusive: flowing out into the wide sharing of family life and ahead to lifelong fidelity.”[3] The revisionist view offers “a vision of marriage as, in essence, a loving emotional bond, one distinguished by its intensity—a bond that needn’t point beyond the partners, in which fidelity is ultimately subject to one’s own desires. In marriage, so understood, partners seek emotional fulfillment, and remain as long as they find it.”[4]

            There are at least two striking differences between these views. First, the revisionist approach to marriage—though sharing with the conjugal view an emphasis on the place of a loving bond within marriage—reduces to something that is ultimately subjective and impermanent, based on an emotional fulfillment that is sometimes ephemeral and at least given to wax and wane according to the challenges faced by the couple. Second, whereas the conjugal view implicitly entails a heterosexual understanding of marriage based on its emphasis on bodily union and family sharing, the revisionist view does not require any specific expression of human sexuality since the focus of the marriage becomes emotional fulfillment and nothing specifically procreative.

            These differences in understanding what marriage is provide the opening that advocates of same-sex relationships took advantage of in making their case for gay marriage by reducing the discussion to something that is both real and helpful for a relationship, i.e., the emotional bond, and around which a rallying cry was easy to develop: Who are you to tell me who I can and cannot love? The approach worked and an entire cultural norm has been changed, making sexuality and gender fluid constructs of little consequence in the rush to defend the value of emotional bonds as the locus of the marriage definition. As the authors of WIM labor to make clear, the problem is that the revisionist view introduces an intractable instability into its new definition of marriage. When emotional fulfillment becomes the determiner of permanence there is nothing permanent about marriage—feelings change, and relationships begin and end accordingly.

            The outcome, and one that becomes more obvious as the societal implications of the revisionist view work their way into everyday life, is that “any remaining restrictions on marriage [become] arbitrary” and “genuine marital union” is lost along with the culture dependent upon it.[5] At this intersection of culture and the revisionist view of marriage there are a number of pernicious implications, and this is where I find what I think is one of the most compelling aspects of WIM’s argument. The authors identify several outcomes from the revisionist view of marriage: spousal well-being declines; child well-being declines; the possibility diminishes for substantive friendships between those of the same gender; religious liberty is infringed for those holding the conjugal view of marriage; and the state’s role expands to intrusive levels.[6]

            There is a sense of clarity and foreboding that build as the authors make their case across the seven chapters of WIM: clarity regarding exactly what marriage is and what the revisionist view entails, and foreboding regarding the seeds of destruction sown by the revisionist redefinition of marriage adopted by the Supreme Court in the years following the publication of WIM. The authors make a penetrating and prescient statement in their concluding chapter, explaining that “there is no neutral marriage policy.”[7] Nor is there anything neutral about the conjugal and revisionist views of marriage, and this is the point of WIM—marriage is not some inconsequential ad hoc societal construct that one may take or leave based on preferences. “Almost every culture in every time and place has had some institution that resembles what we know as marriage…. Marriage understood as the conjugal union of husband and wife really serves the good of children, the good of spouses, and the common good of society.”[8]

Relevance for Apologetics

At this point I would like to highlight that the Christian apologist can learn a few valuable lessons about apologetics from WIM’s approach. First, regarding apologetic methodology, what WIM’s authors provide is a cumulative case approach to the discussion of same-sex marriage. Notice how their case builds based on clear definitions, well-thought out implications, and appeals derived from the positive and negative conclusions warranted by the discussion. Rather than a merely deductive approach, there is a certain appeal in the abductive build-out of the argument for the conjugal view of marriage; a certain let-this-sink-in-for-a-moment momentum that has a potentially powerful epistemic effect on all sides of the discussion. Christians concerned about this topic would do well to follow this pattern, especially in our increasingly affect-driven, truth-claim-suspicious culture.

            Second, by delineating the negative effects resulting from the revisionist view, the authors of WIM heed the biblical command to “answer a fool according to his folly” (Prov. 26:5) as they expose the unavoidable outcome of redefining marriage according to emotional fulfillment.[9] This aspect of the argument pairs nicely with WIM’s positive articulation of the conjugal view and its definition of marriage as “a comprehensive union of persons.”[10] In this regard the authors of WIM also obey the Bible’s command “do not answer a fool according to his folly” (Prov. 26:4), as they make their strong case for the conjugal view. Thus, there is a certain apologetic flow to the presentation in WIM, moving from challenging the revisionist view by articulating the conjugal view, and then teasing out the implication of the revisionist view for individuals and culture.

             Third, and this is more of an ecclesial and less apologetic observation, as Girgis explains in a presentation to church leaders about the topic of same-sex marriage, the church has the answer that the revisionist definition seeks to address.[11] The church is the community in which meaningful emotional bonds can and should be formed, and the church has a special calling to those who think they can only find this type of relationship in same-sex marriage. It is the church that gives special significance to the ultimate and mystical meaning of marriage as an eternal bond between Christ and his bride, and it is within the context of the church that all other relationships have a place that is also ultimate and mystical, though marriage need not be redefined for these relationships to be enjoyed.

Conclusion

Sadly, since the publication of WIM, the revisionist view of marriage has won the day in the United States and the implications are staggering. Ironically, the very ones most concerned to see their welfare affirmed and their relationship freedoms enshrined will only continue to find that they are attempting to fetch water from a dried-up well. Thus, the views of the authors of WIM are as important now as ever, and the conjugal view of marriage can and should be explained, defended, and sought to be restored to the culture so dependent upon it. God, help us.

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T. J. shares a passion for the moral argument(s) and brings much to his new post. He is, in his own words, a “mere Christian with genuine fascination and awe for the breadth and depth of God’s gracious kingdom.” He became a Christian in 1978, and began pastoral ministry in 1984. He has worked as a youth pastor, senior pastor, church planter, church-based seminary professor, a chaplain assistant in the Army, and a chaplain in the Army National Guard. A southern Illinois native, T. J. is a graduate of Southern Illinois University-Carbondale with a BA in Political Science; Liberty University with an MAR in Church Ministries, an MDiv in Chaplaincy, and a ThM in Theology; Luther Rice College and Seminary with an MA in Apologetics; and Piedmont International University with a DMin in Pastoral Counseling. He is currently writing his dissertation on crisis leadership in the epistle of Jude for the PhD in Leadership at Piedmont, as well as pursuing a PhD in Theology and Apologetics at Liberty, hoping to write his dissertation on some aspect of the intersection of moral apologetics and the pastorate. He is the author of several books, including God Help Us: Encouragement for Evangelism, and Thinking of Worship: A Liturgical Miscellany, as well as journal articles on liturgics, pastoral counseling, homiletics, and apologetics. He and his wife have five children. T. J.’s preaching may be heard at www.sermonaudio.com/fellowshipinchrist.

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Notes

[1] Sherif Girgis, Ryan T. Anderson, and Robert P. George, What is Marriage? Man and Woman: A Defense (New York, NY: Encounter Books, 2012), Kindle.

[2] Girgis, Anderson, and George, Kindle location 70.

[3] Ibid.

[4] Girgis, Anderson, and George, Kindle location 78.

[5] Girgis, Anderson, and George, Kindle location 162-169.

[6] Ibid., Kindle location 162-193.

[7] Ibid., Kindle location 1369.

[8] Girgis, Anderson, and George, Kindle location 1411-1419.

[9] Unless otherwise noted, all biblical quotations are taken from The Holy Bible: New King James Version (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 1982).

[10] Girgis, Anderson, and George, Kindle location 371.

[11] Sherif Girgis, “Better together: Marriage and the Common Good,” Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission, podcast audio, August 23, 2016, https://erlc.com/resource-library/erlc-podcast-episodes/better-together-marriage-and-the-common-good.