Lord’s Supper Meditation – Suffering with Christ

a Twilight Musing

Partaking of the Lord’s Supper may not always be a pleasant experience.  The events which it recalls, far from being pleasant, were intensely painful and emphasized the capacity for suffering in human life.   There has never been a more anguished cry uttered than that of Christ on the cross: “My God! My God! Why have you forsaken me?”  The physical torture that Jesus endured when He was crucified is often graphically described, but it was the torment within His soul which racked His whole being.  He endured a depth of despair which no other human being can ever fathom.  Even the material world around was torn and disrupted by the death of Christ.  Although we believe that in the midst of all this suffering a tremendous redemption was being wrought, the price that was paid is awful to contemplate.

But the Lord’s Supper is not merely contemplation; it is participation as well.  Paul says that we must “suffer with Him in order that we may also be glorified with him” (Rom. 8:17).  It is not without significance that Jesus spoke in Gethsemene of His coming ordeal as “this cup.”   Earlier, when James and John requested special favors, Jesus asked if they were able to drink the cup that He was going to drink, and even in the face of their imperfect knowledge of what it was, He assured them that they would indeed share it with Him (Mark 10:32-40). 

Here is the pattern that is reaffirmed every time we drink the cup at the Communion table.  If the Son of God could not accomplish the purposes of the Father without imbibing the bitter cup of suffering, we must not expect our confession of Him to be without the pain of sacrifice.  Only when we have voluntarily acknowledged that His suffering is our suffering can the inescapable pains of life serve to make us mature rather than bitter.


Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife in Jackson, MI. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. Recently, Dr. Higgs has self-published a collection of his poetry called Probing Eyes: Poems of a Lifetime, 1959-2019, as well as a book inspired by The Screwtape Letters, called The Ichabod Letters, available as an e-book from Moral Apologetics. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable.


Elton Higgs

Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife and adult daughter in Jackson, MI.. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. His self-published Collected Poems is online at Lulu.com. He also published a couple dozen short articles in religious journals. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable; it's thrilling to welcome this dear friend onboard.)

Simply Natural: Three Reasons We Need Natural Theology

An old acquaintance of mine recently published a book-length attack on natural theology. The book’s cover includes a painting of Thomas Aquinas, the target of the book’s attempted critique, except the author defaced the painting by blacking out Aquinas’s eyes. What is the point of the cheeky vandalism on the picture? The author concludes that Aquinas and the generations of faithful Christians before and since him who hold to a classical view of natural theology’s legitimacy as a vox Dei, voice of God, in nature are blind. There may be two books of God’s self-revelation, the Bible and nature, but the latter is not what Christians have long thought it was. According to the author, Aquinas, and by extension all classical theists are not seeing things as they really are. Instead, Aquinas and those who hold views like his are misreading and misleading others concerning natural theology. So, what is the author’s solution to the problems he has with Aquinas? What he and others of the same “extreme Calvinist camp”[i] he represents argue for is a variation of the presuppositionalism that Cornelius Van Til and like-minded representatives from within a narrow slice of the Reformed camp include in their constellation of beliefs about God, man, and salvation. I know this firsthand, as one who for two decades affirmed and taught those same views. While it is beyond the scope of what I write here to develop fully those views and why I left them (see my forthcoming book with Moral Apologetics Press entitled Leaving Calvinism, Finding Grace for more on that score), what I do hope to offer in short compass is why natural theology in its classical theist form is nothing close to an instance of the blind leading the blind. Rather, the approach to natural theology historically appreciated and taught within orthodox Christianity is illuminating and helpful, even essential to a full-orbed and robust doctrine of divine revelation. In the end, it is those who think Aquinas and those like him are blind that cannot see. Here, then, are three fundamental reasons we need natural theology as classically understood to help us better see God’s gracious revelation. I will use the acrostic SEE to frame my remaining presentation.

S - Scripture teaches that God speaks through nature and that all can and do hear the message as it resounds in natural theology. My point here is two-fold, and both are essential to a classical theist view of our topic. First, God speaks through nature vis-à-vis creation (cf. Ps. 19), the conscience (what John Henry Newman describes as the “aboriginal vicar of Christ”;[ii] cf. Rom. 1), and judicial sentiment (which is our sense of when others have done wrong to us; cf. Rom. 2). This should not be a point of real dispute, as all who read the Bible find its teaching clearly put forth on these matters. However, the second aspect of my point is that all can and do hear the message of nature, conscience, and judicial sentiment. It on this point that the divergence of opinion arises between the classical theists and those of the Van Tillian persuasion. While both groups know the message is broadcast by God, the latter conclude that the effect of sin on the mind of man reaches so far to make him deaf to it but accountable for it. God speaks, man can’t hear it, but God still holds man accountable for not receiving the message. The view of classical theism is not that the effects of the fall are without pernicious effect but that the prevenient grace of a loving God has efficaciously enabled all persons to hear and understand what natural theology communicates. This is because the fall of man into sin is not greater than the love of God for man. Yes, the fall has marred the image of God, but it has not erased it. Further, through His work of prevenient grace in natural theology (among other means), God has taken the first move in bringing man back into His family. Since God “making the first move” is so fundamental to “extreme Calvinists,” this should be a point of celebrated unity. At least it should be.

E – Evangelism and its counterpart, apologetics, issue forth from natural theology. One need only look at Paul’s message in Acts 17 as he presented the gospel on Mars Hill in Athens to find the interweaving of evangelism, apologetics, and natural theology. Undeniably, Paul’s appeal to natural theology as a segue to the proclamation of Christ’s resurrection and future judgment of the world occupies most of his message. Amazingly, out of the ten verses in Paul’s message totaling 269 words, eight deal with themes from general revelation, accounting for a whopping total of 218 of the 269 words. Here is a breakdown of how Paul uses natural theology and pagan culture in his message.

1. There is an innate human sense of the divine. (vv. 22-23)

2. God is Creator. (v. 24)

3. God is sovereign. (v. 24)

4. God is not an idol. (vv. 24-25; v. 29)

5. God is the source of all life. (v. 25)

6. God is the origin of all peoples and nations. (v. 26)

7. God is personal and directs history. (v. 26)

8. God is immanent. (v. 27)

9. Known poetry from pagan culture provides a reference to God. (v. 28)

10. God is the source and sustainer of all life. (v. 28)[iii]

We see here how Paul begins with a universal human sense of the divine, appeals to creation and conscience, and concludes with the gospel. Without natural theology where would Paul’s message have started and how would it have progressed? Thankfully for classic theists, the Bible does contain this example, and its not the exception but a frequent pattern in Pauline apologetics. I can see it. Why can’t those who think Aquinas and others are blind?

E – Ethical considerations which lay at the heart of human experience are inextricably tied to natural theology.[iv] To summarize and focus on a particular aspect of what I said above, two of the three means by which natural theology communicates God’s message have to do with ethical concerns, with morality. The human conscience and judicial sentiment are not obliterated by the fall nor are they unable to hear. Rather, in keeping with the biblical account and the philosophically rich history of human morality and its divine intimations, natural theology in its axiological (i.e., having to do with ethics) dimension is an open causeway from darkness to light, a starting place to speak to those outside the family of faith as we invite them into the living room of the Father’s home. When we recognize that a shared moral sense, even when it is darkly colored and warped in its expression, remains a part of every person as the common thread of our co-existence we begin to see the importance of the classical theist’s claim of the light available to all in natural theology. Far from leading to blindness, the conscience cannot escape the irradiant light of God’s brightness and the revelation of His goodness. While I don’t think that Aquinas should have his eyes blacked out, it does seem to me that someone else is not seeing the true picture of God that emerges from morality as expressed in natural theology.


[i] A paraphrase drawn from Norman Geisler’s book, Chosen but Free: A Balanced View of God’s Sovereignty and Free Will (Bethany House, 2010).

[ii] Letter to the Duke of Norfolk

[iii] Adapted from my previously published article, “Proclaiming Faith from the Pulpit: The Essential Relationship between Preaching and Apologetics” in Aletheias 4.1 (Spring 2019), p. 71.

[iv] Such ethical consideration are prime motivators for the work of MoralApologetics.com and like-minded ministries such as BellatorChristi.com,


Dr. Thomas J. Gentry (aka., TJ Gentry) serves as the pastor of First Christian Church of West Frankfort, Illinois, the Executive Editor of MoralApologetics.com, and Executive VP of Bellator Christi Ministries. Dr. Gentry is a world-class scholar holding 5 doctorate degrees and 6 masters degrees. Additionally, he is a prolific writer as he has published 7 books including Pulpit Apologist, Absent from the Body, Present with the Lord, and You Shall Be My Witnesses: Reflections on Sharing the Gospel. Be on the lookout for two additional books that he will soon publish. In addition to his impressive resume, Dr. Gentry proudly served his country as an officer in the United States Army and serves as a martial arts instructor.


Reflections on Why I Left, Why I Stayed, by Tony and Bart Campolo, Part 12

Now we arrive at a chapter by Tony named “You Reap What You Sow: How I See Bart’s Deconversion.” In this chapter Tony talks about the way a series of decisions by Bart contributed to his deconversion. This is of some comfort to Tony, who periodically feels guilty for Bart’s decision, but then Tony remembers that Bart’s decisions are his own. Tony’s reflections also serve as a partial response to Bart’s own depiction of his deconversion we just got done discussing.

Bart chalks up his deconversion to God’s failure to show up and make himself known. Tony disagrees, invoking the notion of Peter Berger’s “plausibility structures” to remind us that what we do and don’t believe are often highly dependent on what is affirmed to be reasonable by those most important to us. When the dominant culture goes contrary to a set of beliefs, maintaining a countercultural support group is vitally important to sustain those convictions.

Tony gives church camp as an example of how plausibility structures work, which is a good example for me. I grew up attending camp meetings, and to this day I testify to their power in shaping my convictions in deep ways. My wife and I, partially to pay homage to my deep debt to church camps, wrote a book about the history of a camp meeting in Michigan.

As a sociologist, Tony is not averse to adducing such examples as an example of “social construction.” As a philosopher rather critical of, say, a constructivist meta-ethic, I’d be less inclined than he to use such language. But he’s surely right about certain sociological dimensions that are relevant to sustaining beliefs. Even Tony admits that plausibility structures provide only the conditions wherein a particular belief system becomes and remains viable. And as Charles Taylor explains, ours is now a secular age in which particular traditional religious convictions can no longer be assumed the default.

Tony points to an array of Christian convictions and how exotic, foolish, and unintuitive they may seem to the modern mind. Here I think he may overreach a bit by talking about how Christians from the start have “celebrated” the fact that their views don’t align with modern science. Having been rereading Plantinga’s Where the Conflict Really Lies, I find Tony’s language here more than a little unfortunate. Plantinga argues quite convincingly that the conflict between Christianity and science is superficial, but the concord deep (and just the opposite for naturalism). The conflict comes up between faith and the naturalistically inspired theological or metaphysical add-ons to science that are not a proper part of science.

Admittedly Christian revelation goes beyond reason, but it never goes contrary to it. These distinctions matter quite a bit.

Regarding Bart’s decisions that served to undermine his faith, Tony adduces several examples. When Bart stopped participating in a local congregation on a regular basis, Tony grew concerned. When Bart eventually began asserting that some people are unable to be saved or transformed in any meaningful way, Tony became even more alarmed. Here Tony poignantly quotes a Russian existentialist philosopher who said that when someone stops believing in the capacity to grow and change and engage in noble and worthwhile pursuits, that individual eventually loses faith in God as well. To lose sight of the divine presence in even the lowliest person is the beginning of atheism. And the reverse is true as well: to lose faith in God is to lose faith in people. This is why, Tony notes, the Great Commandment is so closely tied to loving our neighbor.

Bart’s inner city ministry had to mightily wear on him, but I think Tony’s all the righter that without a strong inner spiritual bulwark fortressed by community Bart’s loss of faith eventually was no big surprise. And the point is just as spiritual as sociological. Christian fellowship and community are a means of grace, and without them spiritual starvation is inevitable.

When Bart’s preaching changed to no longer include the power of God to forgive and change, that was another huge warning sign. Tony knows firsthand how his own preaching can help sustain his own convictions. This dialectic relationship between our words and actions is “praxis,” and a powerful force in our life of faith.

Near the end, Tony’s chapter becomes especially interesting. He sums up his analysis by saying that who and what we become is ultimately the result of a long series of decisions that we make for ourselves. “I think I am a Christian not only because God has chosen to love and save me but also because I have freely chosen to trust His Word and do His will…. I affirm our dignity as those who freely make the most important decisions that determine our nature and destiny.”

I wholly agree, though I’ve noted some hyper-Reformed proclivities in Tony’s words before. So what does he mean by “freely” here? Compatibilist freedom? Such that we make the “choice” but we couldn’t have done otherwise, but, owing to God’s grace, we are doing what we want to do? If so, I think the latter may well be something of a necessary condition for freedom, but not a sufficient one. Or maybe Tony means libertarian freedom—still requiring God’s grace, but with the ability to turn down God’s gift?

Tony seems convinced that whatever his operative conception of freedom is, it’s enough to hold Bart responsible for taking the steps he did that led to his move away from God. He says to do otherwise is to disrespect Bart’s independence as an adult or deny his dignity as a human being.

Tony keeps praying for Bart, of course, but then adds something simply fascinating in the last paragraph.

Secular as he is these days, his exegesis of Ephesians 2 is still right on the money. However we take care of it, our ability to believe—and therefore our ability to believe again—is always a gift from God. Therefore, rather than praying for Bart to soften his heart or change his mind or reopen his Bible or go back to church, I pray instead that the Holy Spirit will somehow dramatically overwhelm him the way Saul was overwhelmed on the road to Damascus, restoring his ability to look beyond the wisdom of the wise and see that the foolishness of God is ever so much wiser.

Although I agree we should certainly pray that God would do such things with unbelieving loved ones, Tony’s claim that Bart has a right understanding of Ephesians 2 is stunning to me. We discussed at length in our last installment why Bart was quite wrong on Ephesians 2. Does Bart have the ability to say no to God’s overtures of love or not? Tony just got done affirming he did, and then, like Bart, laid it at God’s feet! What was the point of the chapter, then?

Tony’s lack of nuance and careful distinctions here is deeply disappointing. Either he should have said more to avoid patent inconsistency, or he really did just make clear that his theology is problematically Reformed and the only conception of freedom he believes in after all is compatibilist. To say there is a tension, though, between that last paragraph and what came before is an understatement. There appears to be simply plain contradiction.


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.


Should We Believe What Jesus Said?

If you want to be perfect (Christ and the rich young man). 2010. Canvas, oil. 85 x 120. Artist A.N. Mironov

As anyone who has followed apologetics knows, the resurrection was transformative for the earliest Christians. Those who witnessed the resurrection were willing to give their lives for what they knew to be true. But was it only the resurrection that transformed them? Most assuredly, the resurrection verified the claims of Jesus and solidified his teachings. If it were not for the resurrection, it is highly doubtful that the early church would have worshiped Jesus as they did. While the resurrection solidified and verified the ministry of Jesus, the teachings of Jesus impacted the way the disciples viewed the ministry of Jesus and what God was doing through him. Jesus had thoroughly taught the disciples what would happen to him. He taught what they would eventually abandon him. He taught what the Old Testament said about his ministry. And he also extensively trained them about an already-not-yet kingdom.[1] The Christology of Jesus impacted the disciples so much that they preserved his teachings, even before the resurrection, and passed them along after the ministry of Jesus was vindicated by the resurrection. As Paul Barnett points out, “It was [C]hristology that gave birth to Christianity, not the reverse. Furthermore, Christ gave birth to [C]hristology. The chronology drives this conclusion.”[2] If the Christological teachings of Jesus gave rise to Christian doctrine—because as Richard Bauckham notes, the “earliest Christology was already in nuce the highest Christology”[3]—then should it not behoove modern believers to pay close attention to what Jesus said? The teachings of Jesus not only impacted the early believers’ Christology, but they paid close attention to other aspects of the didactic of Jesus, as well. Thus, the modern believer should take the ethical, historical, and theological/philosophical teachings of Jesus into consideration as they live out, research, and build a biblical worldview.

 

The Ethical Teachings of Jesus

The Sermon on the Mount is just as controversial today as it was when Jesus first uttered it. Jesus taught such things as showing mercy unto others (Matt. 5:7), having a purity of the heart (Matt. 5:8), and maintaining one’s role as a peacemaker (Matt. 5:9). He taught that believers were to stand for the truth by remaining the salt of the earth (Matt. 5:13) while also maintaining a compassionate heart by being the light of the world (Matt. 5:14). He also taught that angry bitterness and lust made one as guilty as committing murder or adultery (Matt. 5:21–30). One of the most forgotten teachings of Jesus in modern times is his call to love one’s enemies and pray for those who may mistreat a person (Matt. 5:43–48). If Jesus rose from the dead, and he did, then the believer must take seriously the ethical commitments to which he calls his disciples to live. If one chooses to reject his moral standards, then one must ask, “Whose standards am I following—Jesus’s or my own?”

 

The Historical Teachings of Jesus

Here again, it is common for one to dismiss the teachings of Jesus when it comes to uncomfortable historical matters. Granted, the issue with Jesus mentioning Abiathar being the high priest when Ahimelech held the position in Mark 2:26 poses some issues. But one finds good reasons to think that something in the transmission from Aramaic to Greek could have been left off as the teaching/text was being translated. James Brooks avers that the best explanation to describe the hiccup is that the Aramaic word abba (meaning father) was originally added to Abiathar (abba-Abiathar) in the original teaching. Thus, the teaching would say “he entered the house of God in the time of abba-Abiathar” (Mark 2:26), which would be correct as Ahimelech was the father of Abiathar.[4]

Nonetheless, if Jesus is truly the divine Son of God—and the resurrection confirmed that he was—then, it stands to reason that Jesus would know perfectly whether such people existed when he referred to a historical Adam and Eve (implied in Matt. 19:4–6), Abraham and the early patriarchs (Matt. 22:32), and even Noah (Matt. 24:37). In our age of skepticism, it is easy to cast doubt on these figures of the past. But at the end of it all, we must ask ourselves whether we can take Jesus at his word.

 

The Theological/Philosophical Teachings of Jesus

Finally, one will ask whether a person can trust what Jesus says about the world, the kingdom of God, heaven and hell, and the direction of history. While there are a plethora of viewpoints concerning eschatology, the arrow of history is undebatable when it comes to the teachings of Jesus. In his Olivet Discourse (Matt. 24–25), Jesus warned that such things as wars, false prophets, famines,[5] earthquakes, and various disasters would come. Yet he noted that such things only serve as labor pains, indicating that the coming of the Son of Man was nigh (Matt. 24:8). Much more could be added to this eschatologically rich message. However, the most important aspect of his message is that despite the troubles that would come, God would move the arrow of history toward a time when he delivers the people of God and recreates the heavens and the earth. The kingdom of God would reach its ultimate and complete actualization when the “Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on his glorious throne” (Matt. 25:31).[6] Some may call this fanciful thinking. But this came from one who actually defeated death itself.

 

Conclusion

Many things are difficult to believe. It is difficult for me to wrap my mind around the fact that light travels at 186,000 miles a second. Likewise, some of the things mentioned in this article may be like the speed of light—very difficult to fathom. However, at the end of the day, we must all ask ourselves who we trust. Who is trustworthy? Who is a reliable witness? For me, the thing that led me back to Christianity after a time of doubt was the amazing amount of evidence supporting the literal resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth. If Jesus truly raised from the dead and defeated death, then that is One whose opinion is worth trusting. Some may call it naïve. Well and good. When you are able to conquer death, then let’s talk.


About the Author

Brian G. Chilton is the founder of BellatorChristi.com, the host of The Bellator Christi Podcast, and the author of the Layman’s Manual on Christian Apologetics. Brian is 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.

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


© 2022. MoralApologetics.com.

[1] This is especially true in the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus taught that the kingdom was being ushered in through his ministry (thus, it was already here) and would fully be actualized in the eschaton (not yet).

[2] Paul Barnett, The Birth of Christianity: The First Twenty Years (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, UK: Eerdmans, 2005), 26.

[3] Richard Bauckham, Jesus and the God of Israel (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 2009), 235.

[4] James Brooks, Matthew, New American Commentary, David S. Dockery, ed (Nashville, TN: B&H, 1992), 66.

[5] Some translations add “epidemics.”

[6] Unless otherwise noted, all quoted Scripture comes from the Christian Standard Bible (Nashville, TN: Holman, 2020).

Meditation on the Lord's Supper - The Towel of Humility

Christ Washing the Feet of the Apostles by Meister des Hausbuches, 1475

A Twilight Musing

By so simple an act as eating and drinking the plainest bread and wine, Christ seeks to draw His disciples together.  It is a time when His servants should be poignantly aware of His lack of pretentiousness and should determine to gird themselves with the towel of humility and (in attitude) wash one another's feet.  And yet how often do we partake of the Lord's Supper in an atmosphere of stuffy self-importance, congratulating ourselves that we have proven our superiority to the rest of the world merely by being in the assembly. 

It is difficult in congregations of a few hundred or more to preserve the intimate fellowship of breaking bread as it was experienced by early Christians meeting from house to house; but the problem is not entirely one of numbers.  In a larger sense, we always gather around a large table, for we share each Communion service with all the saints, past and present, and to fail to recognize this wider fellowship is to be spiritually provincial.  The solution to our isolation from one another is not to make the table smaller, but to make our awareness of the presence of our Lord, the Suffering Servant, large enough and inclusive enough to fill the hearts of all who partake of His feast.  Only thus may we capture the grandeur of His humility which links us together across time.  We can be neither neutral nor antagonistic toward those with whom we sup; the Lord's Supper calls all of us to love and serve each other as He has loved and served us.


Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife in Jackson, MI. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. Recently, Dr. Higgs has self-published a collection of his poetry called Probing Eyes: Poems of a Lifetime, 1959-2019, as well as a book inspired by The Screwtape Letters, called The Ichabod Letters, available as an e-book from Moral Apologetics. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable.


Elton Higgs

Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife and adult daughter in Jackson, MI.. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. His self-published Collected Poems is online at Lulu.com. He also published a couple dozen short articles in religious journals. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable; it's thrilling to welcome this dear friend onboard.)

Are You a Pure Apologist?

Purity is a fascinating thing. Perhaps you’ve never thought about it in terms of a definition, but according to one dictionary something that is pure is “without any extraneous or unnecessary elements.” Think of how important purity is in everyday life. What would we do without pure water, or, to think of it in a negative way, would we want to drink impure water? What about pure air? Impurities in the air cause serious problems, don’t they? On and on I could go with examples of the importance of purity in everyday life, but I want to think with you for a moment about purity as it relates to apologists. Right away, you might ask how the two relate. You likely think of purity in the moral realm, at least I hope you do, but what about purity in other areas? What about the intellect, the method, the vision of an apologist? Is there anything important to consider in these areas? I think there is, and with this in mind, I want to consider what it means to be a “pure” apologist by focusing on four areas: 1) intellectual purity; 2) methodological purity; 3) visional purity; and 4) moral purity.

Before we go further, a quick qualifier is in order concerning how I will use purity in these instances. I realize, as I am sure you do, that we all carry the vestigial remains of our fallenness in each of these areas and that absolute purity is not something we can achieve in this life. Also, I am not trying to impinge on the individuality of each apologist, deny freedom of expression and the uniqueness each of us possesses in conducting our work, or mandate an inflexible and wooden black-and-white/either-or approach. I do, however, want to challenge every apologist to consider how they might avoid, to hearken back to the definition of purity given above, bringing “extraneous or unnecessary elements” into their practice of defending the faith.

Intellectual Purity

Intellectual purity for apologists means two things, as I see it. First, making sure that we know the facts of a particular argument or position and guarding those facts by not allowing unrelated matters or secondary concerns to come into our considerations. For example, when arguing for the veracity of the New Testament, make sure to stay with the germane and reliable evidence in our favor. Don’t chase rabbit trails, fun as that may sometimes be. Staying intellectually pure in this way helps focus the argument and such focus gives it greater power. Second, intellectual purity for an apologist can relate to the discipline of regularly feeding the mind with good apologetic material. I make it a regular habit to read and reread the books by Dave Baggett, keeping my mind fresh on the details of his immensely helpful approach to making a moral argument. Remember, apologist, our commitment to ongoing intellectual development and purity is one of the ways the Lord continually renews our minds.

Methodological Purity

Methodological purity for apologists is, first, to learn and apply the basic skills of argumentation without becoming argumentative and divisive. My preference is to argue abductively (most of the time), and to do so in a very gentle and giving manner. Nothing turns a questioner away from us and our Lord more quickly than a heavy-handed, dogmatic approach when making our case. Further, if you are an evidentialist, then be an evidentialist. If a classical apologist, then be a classical apologist. Rarely is an apologist able to move in and out of different apologetic methodologies without diluting their presentations and confusing their hearers. Pick a camp and, if possible, stay in it. This helps your skill as a defender, and we all should want to be skilled. Please don’t fall into the trap of thinking your method is the only or best method. Choose your approach and hold it lightly. Do hold it, but remember the method is the vehicle, and there are numerous ways to get there.

Visional Purity

Visional purity speaks to the need to stay focused on the goal, which is the person and the glory of God. We are not given the high calling as apologists to win arguments. We are called to win people. Don’t confuse the two, or you will find yourself, as one of the elders in a church I served years ago said, “right but alone.” Also, keep your vision as an apologist rigidly fixed on the glory of God and showing Him love by loving others in the process. It’s easy to miss this last point, especially if we reduce those we engage to the status of opponents. You’ve never met an opponent; not really. You have, however, met those for whom Jesus died and for whom He longs to have a relationship. Keep that at the forefront of your minds and hearts, friends.

Moral Purity

If the enemy of our souls cannot corrupt our intellect he will go after our morals. This is axiomatic in the apologetic realm, and there is no more direct route to ineffectiveness and disqualification as an apologist than to compromise yourself morally. Seek holiness above all else and you will be far less likely to disparage the message and dishonor the Savior. Because apologists spend so much time in the rational and objective realms of evidence and logical discourse, it can be easy to neglect the development of the heart. Don’t fall prey to the sin that wants to dominate you and silence your witness. In the end, it doesn’t matter how smart you are if you are morally impure.

In closing, I hope you will consider a bit from C. S. Lewis’s third letter from Screwtape to his nephew, Wormwood. In giving counsel on how to best manage the unfortunate effects of Wormwood’s charge having recently converted to Christianity, Screwtape reminds him to “aggravate that most useful human characteristic, the horrors and neglect of the obvious.” Apologists I trust it is obvious we need to guard purity of intellect, method, vision, and morality. May God help us do so.


Dr. Thomas J. Gentry (aka., TJ Gentry) serves as the pastor of First Christian Church of West Frankfort, Illinois, the Executive Editor of MoralApologetics.com, and Executive VP of Bellator Christi Ministries. Dr. Gentry is a world-class scholar holding 5 doctorate degrees and 6 masters degrees. Additionally, he is a prolific writer as he has published 7 books including Pulpit Apologist, Absent from the Body, Present with the Lord, and You Shall Be My Witnesses: Reflections on Sharing the Gospel. Be on the lookout for two additional books that he will soon publish. In addition to his impressive resume, Dr. Gentry proudly served his country as an officer in the United States Army and serves as a martial arts instructor.

Reflections on Why I Left, Why I Stayed, by Tony and Bart Campolo, Part 11

The next installment in the Campolo father/son book is Bart’s chapter called “Can’t, Not Won’t: Losing Faith is Not a Choice.” Bart begins by saying that he encourages the newly de-converted, when sharing their story with friends and family, to begin by listing all the cherished values they learned in church, all the teachings of Jesus they love most dearly, and all the commitments to social justice and community building they still share. Only then talk about why they can no longer believe.

Rhetorically this is perhaps most helpful, but I do find myself wondering about a potential equivocation. In Bart’s case, anyway, he has abandoned moral realism. He no longer thinks there’s adequate foundation for believing in objective moral truths. So it remains unclear what’s meant by his “cherished values” unless he’s just presupposing a deep fact/value divide, but in which case, how stable is his professed love for such “values”? It largely seems as if he’s admitting that his worldview lacks foundations for such values, but because he remains personally committed to them, he takes them seriously still.

However, he could have easily gone in another direction, it would seem, as some atheists do. I’m not suggesting that all or most atheists do so, but the question of ontological foundations for our cherished convictions seems eliminable only at great peril. Why remain committed to such values when, say, doing so becomes costly—if one genuinely thinks they are not objectively true, prescriptively binding, or anything of the kind? It makes one’s value commitments a purely subjective and personal preference that, in principle, could vary from one day to the next.

Bart admits that early on, when he shared his de-conversion with others, he would get into the various reasons why he had grown skeptical of Christianity, which had the effect of putting believers on the defensive. He says he didn’t actually want to spoil anyone else’s faith, but it seemed that way when he took that approach. So eventually he says he learned to cut to the chase and claim something like this: “For reasons beyond my control, I simply stopped believing in God. The rest are just details.” In his case, “all that really matters is that over many years my ability to believe in any kind of supernatural reality gradually faded away, until I finally became convinced that the natural universe—matter, energy, and time—is all that exists.”

Bart claims he couldn’t retain his faith, and means to be taken seriously. “I didn’t choose not to believe in God; I just stopped believing.” He says it wasn’t willful. He had plenty of motivations to retain his faith. He says it didn’t happen on purpose; it happened to him, slowly but surely. God “disappeared before my eyes.”

The issue to which Bart is pointing here is quite an important one, pertaining to the matter of belief. It’s quite true that, for the most part, we don’t have direct volitional control over our beliefs. As I type this, my cat Mitty is lounging on my desk, partially behind the computer I’m writing on. Even if I were offered a hundred buck not to believe she’s there, I couldn’t do it. Beliefs don’t tend to work that way. We tend to be more doxastically passive than that; beliefs have a way of insisting on themselves, on the one hand, or exceeding our reach, on the other.

Then again, I resist Bart’s depiction of his de-conversion in wholly passive terms. I don’t think that’s true to life, either. Although we may not have direct volitional control over our beliefs, we surely, for at least a range of our beliefs, have indirect volitional control over them, it would seem. Pascal recognized this near the end of his Pensées, after offering several reasons to take faith seriously. Recognizing the challenge, he then pointed out that there are indirect ways of building faith. Our practices, our friends, our habits, our choices—all of these have an impact over time.

There are also indirect ways of undermining faith—bad theology, bad exegesis, bad hermeneutics, refraining from engaging in fellowship with fellow believers, living sinfully, etc. In a later essay Tony will suggest that Bart’s neglect of local Christian fellowship likely detracted from his faith.

But Bart seems to think that his volition and choices had little to nothing to do with his loss of faith. This seems monumentally unlikely. Having seen already some of the ways in which he processed the faith of his upbringing, for example, makes it, to my thinking, not unlikely that he would lose his faith. At least not a big surprise. Yet he persists in the claim: “For better or worse … none of us really chooses what we believe. No matter how motivated we might be, our sense of what is real is beyond our control.” Again, direct volitional control? Granted. Not even indirect volitional control? I doubt it.

So committed is Bart to this narrative that he expresses confusion that old Christian friends call and express their concerns and “hold me responsible for my obviously sincere lack of faith. After all, if Christianity is true, and there really is a God in heaven, he’s the one to blame.” Here he cites Paul in Ephesians 2:8-9 for evidence: “For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God—not the result of works, so that no one may boast.”

Again, I find Bart’s appeal to a biblical teaching the way he does quite misleading. That Ephesians passage, rightly understood, does not suggest that we play no volitional role in the acceptance of faith. Faith indeed is a gift, but gifts can be accepted or rejected, either explicitly or implicitly, in big ways and an aggregate of small ways. But Bart reads it this way (without much of any recognition that he could be wrong): “That faith is the gift of God, plain and simple. Which means, of course, that if there’s anyone my dear Christian friends, those concerned folks who keep reaching out to me, and especially my still-believing parents ought to be imploring, it is God, not me.”

Although I believe we can and should pray for our unbelieving friends and family, my theology is simply not this sort of monergistic picture of God according to which Bart’s decisions played no role in where he’s currently at. I think such a picture is defensible on neither biblical nor philosophical grounds; and in fact, I think there are hermeneutical, exegetical, and rational reasons to resist such a depiction. From what I’ve seen so far, I think Bart played a far bigger role in his de-conversion than he thinks.



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.

           

Podcast: Are the Holy Really Happy? Exploring the Moral Argument with David Baggett

Lesender Mönch mit Weinglas, signiert E. Grützner, Öl auf Leinwand, 50 x 40 cm

From Theology on Air

Theology on Air is a weekly podcast that explores the truth claims of Christianity, often through the eyes of non-Christians. Agnostics, atheists, skeptics, and people of other faiths discuss and debate the issues of the day and the timeless questions of the past. We'll dig deep into theology, the Bible, and current events, but we promise to do so with charity, grace, and a bit of humor. Theology on Air is brought to you by the leadership of Theology on Tap, Houston and recorded at the studios of First Lutheran, Houston.

Dr. David Baggett of Houston Baptist University joins us for a deep dive into the moral argument for God. He has some nuances from how it is commonly presented, so even if you are familiar with the argument, you will want to listen! We also look at whether evolution can account for morality, the Euthyphro dilemma, and whether holiness and happiness are connected. And if they are, why?

Get Dr. Baggett's book here


Lord’s Supper Meditation – Ongoing and Once for All

A Twilight Musing

          Part of the legend of King Arthur, early king of Britain, is that he was the “once and future king”; that is, he both existed as a historical person and will return to save England from a time of great peril in the future.  Those who believe in both the historical Jesus and His return someday to gather His people to Himself and render final judgment on the earth will see the similarity between the presentation of the legend and the matter of faith about Jesus Christ.  I think there is also an application of the “once and future” idea to the experience of the Lord’s Supper.

          When we partake of the bread of the Communion, we are said to be ingesting the body of Christ, recalling that He existed and walked in the flesh among mankind, the incarnate Son of God.  In doing so He presented the perfect form of God’s original creation of humans, without sin or any kind of blemish.  He also died and was resurrected in the body, and every eye will see Him (Rev 1:7) when He returns to transform and call to Himself all who have been redeemed in faith.  What we celebrate in the bread of the supper is the “ongoingness” of the Gospel message: As Jesus  Christ existed and walked on the earth in human form, so He calls and enables us to live our lives on earth in His image.  But just as He succumbed to death, giving up that perishable body and receiving a new, imperishable one, so we take His body within us with the promise that we shall overcome death as He did.  In the bread of Communion, we express the assurance that our life in Christ is a both “once and future” reality.

          In the wine, however, is a different aspect of our salvation and redemption, for in partaking spiritually of the blood of Christ, we are to contemplate an action of our Lord that was “once for all” (Heb. 9:24-28), the shedding of His blood to implement the New Covenant.  Accordingly, when He instituted the Lord’s Supper, He said that the wine was “my blood of the covenant” (Mark 14:24).  So when we partake of the wine, we focus on the unique event in history that fixed and secured our salvation. Before that pivotal event, blood sacrifice was effective only as a foreshadowing of the final and eternally sufficient offering of the perfect Lamb of God.

          Our participation in the life, death, and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ through the Lord’s Supper enables us to be divinely reassured that though we continue to battle the vicissitudes of life in these perishable bodies, through the power of our resurrected Lord these mortal bodies have a future, even after being returned temporarily to the dust from which they were created.  For in Christ we have a Covenant sealed by the Father through His Son’s once-for-all spilling of blood for us.  Let us rejoice in these gifts of bread and wine to renew our assurance of completing the cycle of enduring life in the flesh, being planted as seed in the grave, and being raised to bear the fruit of unchangeable life with God.  Thereby, we are united anew with the One Who is truly “the once and future King.”



Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife in Jackson, MI. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. Recently, Dr. Higgs has self-published a collection of his poetry called Probing Eyes: Poems of a Lifetime, 1959-2019, as well as a book inspired by The Screwtape Letters, called The Ichabod Letters, available as an e-book from Moral Apologetics. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable.

 

Elton Higgs

Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife and adult daughter in Jackson, MI.. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. His self-published Collected Poems is online at Lulu.com. He also published a couple dozen short articles in religious journals. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable; it's thrilling to welcome this dear friend onboard.)

Do You Follow?

I once read a quote, I think it was from Martin Luther but I cannot be sure, and the gist of it is that one of the most important things to help you grow as a Christian is to find a teacher and follow them, read them, learn from them, become so familiar with their thought that you find yourself thinking like them. Obviously, Luther wasn’t simply talking about following Jesus (which is a given, I think). Rather, he was talking about mentors, those we give the sacred place of influencers in our lives. In Luther’s case, he was particularly fond of William of Ockham (1285-1347), the Franciscan philosopher and theologian he referred to as mein lieber meister, “my dear master.” Truly, Ockham’s influence was profound for Luther, and it is unlikely that anything he ever wrote or said was untouched by him.

As an apologist, I try to take seriously Luther’s encouragement. While I don’t necessarily follow Ockham, I have found that I need key influencers in my life, substantive teachers from the past and present to help shape and form my soul to better understand, live, and defend my faith. Bearing this in mind, I’d like to share with you three of my apologetic mentors, hoping that you consider them for yourself. I suspect their names are known to most, especially those who regularly follow MoralApologetics.com. You will notice that the first two are men from the Christian past, important figures for their influence on the study and practice of apologetics. The third is a contemporary philosopher and apologist, and the weight of his influence on me is hard to calculate, but it’s immense. In discussing each of these men, I will share what I deem the three most important lessons I have learned from each thus far in my journey.

My first apologetic mentor is Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274), the important Roman Catholic thinker dubbed the Angelic Doctor. My first serious engagement with Aquinas was through the lens of the late Norman Geisler’s work, who was arguably the greatest Thomistic evangelical to date. I also had the privilege of earning a master’s degree in philosophy from Thomist scholars at a Roman Catholic college, and I wrote the thesis for that program on Aquinas’s argument from gradation of being. From Aquinas I learned: 1) faith and reason are the closest of friends, and far from enemies: 2) taking the time to learn an opponent’s position is just as important as being able to answer it; and 3) never lose a sense of wonder for God’s great goodness amid the study of His particulars. On this last lesson, I find Aquinas’s reported mystical experience near the end of his life, an experience that led him to stop writing, to be just delightful as a reminder to look beyond my learning to the Source of knowledge. When pressed by his brother friar, Reginald, about why he stopped writing his Summa Theologiae, Aquinas replied, “The end of my labors has come. All that I have written appears to be as so much straw after the things that have been revealed to me.” Amen, Thomas. Amen.

My second apologetic mentor is C. S. Lewis (1898-1963), who described himself as something of a dinosaur. As a literary scholar, philosophical adept, and apologetic popularizer (a compliment, by the way), I am drawn repeatedly to the well of Lewis’s writings for insight, comfort, and nurture. From Lewis I learned: 1) think broadly and write narrowly, never attempting the one without the other; 2) learn to see segues to the divine in everything, for everything (and everyone) is a means of seeing and hearing God’s voice; and 3) the world always needs apologetics, especially when everything but apologetics seems apropos. I take this third lesson from Lewis from his commitment to deliver the radio talks that would later be compiled into Mere Christianity at a time when his island home of England was under attack by Nazi bombers as the world was plunging into a terrible war. Lewis’s answer to the cry of his time? Heartfelt, brilliant apologetic engagement. Indeed, Lewis. Indeed.

My third apologetic mentor is Dave Baggett, author of numerous erudite and timely books, founder of MoralApologetics.com, and director of the Center for the Foundations of Ethics at Houston Baptist University. My relationship with Dave began when he was my professor, and it has since flourished and grown into what I consider among the rarest blessings in my life. This delightful friendship aside, what Dave has taught me thus far about apologetics, and specifically moral apologetics, comes down to three things: 1) the fabric of all existence is interwoven with moral clues revealing divine commands issuing forth from God’s intrinsic goodness which makes moral transformation possible and morality rational; 2) learn to argue without being argumentative, and abductive arguments are usually the best way to do this by making a winsome case and keeping a genuine relationship with your interlocutor; and 3) at the center of all that matters in the world is God’s love, and this is a non-negotiable. It was Dave who taught me that God not only loves me but He also even likes me. Thank you, doc. I needed to hear that.

What about you, friend? Are you teachable? Who are your traveling partners along the apologetic road, your mentors, your influencers? You need them. I need them. We all need them. Do you follow?


Dr. Thomas J. Gentry (aka., TJ Gentry) serves as the pastor of First Christian Church of West Frankfort, Illinois, the Executive Editor of MoralApologetics.com, and Executive VP of Bellator Christi Ministries. Dr. Gentry is a world-class scholar holding 5 doctorate degrees and 6 masters degrees. Additionally, he is a prolific writer as he has published 7 books including Pulpit Apologist, Absent from the Body, Present with the Lord, and You Shall Be My Witnesses: Reflections on Sharing the Gospel. Be on the lookout for two additional books that he will soon publish. In addition to his impressive resume, Dr. Gentry proudly served his country as an officer in the United States Army and serves as a martial arts instructor.

The Case for a Personal God from Morality: Guilt

The Case for a Personal God from Morality: Guilt[1]

 The universe and everything contained within it is either the result of a personal God (or gods) or a non-personal essence, force, or set of natural processes. Ultimate reality is either personal or non-personal, and everything within the universe flows from one or the other. This leads to the question: What best explains the observable data in the universe, such as cosmological constants, DNA, human personality, and morality? Are these things the result of a personal God or a non-personal essence, force, or set of natural processes?

 Although this article cannot reasonably tackle all of these data points (cosmological constants, DNA, human personality, and morality), it does look at one particular component of morality—namely, guilt—as evidence for the existence of a personal God. In what follows, we will examine the personal nature of guilt, how guilt points toward a personal God, and the connection between these matters and Christian theism.

 

The Personal Nature of Guilt

 Guilt is a nearly universal experience that involves painful feelings of remorse following a moral failure of some sort. What about the nature of guilt: is it personal or non-personal? Generally speaking, non-personal rules and principles, such as mathematical formulas, do not elicit feelings of guilt within individuals; only when one human person has wronged or harmed another person (or group of persons) in some way does guilt arise. As John Henry Newman avows, “Inanimate things [such as rules and principles] cannot stir our affections; these are correlative with persons.”[2] Similarly, H. P. Owen posits, “Why should the failure to enact [values] engender guilt? I can betray a person and I know that I deserve the guilt I feel. But I cannot see how I could betray values if they are impersonal.”[3] Likewise, R. Scott Smith notes,

 [W]hen we experience moral failing, we often feel guilt or shame. However, it does not make sense to feel that way in light of some nonspatial, timeless abstract entity with which we cannot even interact. Instead, we have those feelings in the presence of a person. This view does not make sense if morals are just abstract principles that do not have some connection to us.[4]

Presumably, as Newman, Owen, Smith, and others suggest, it would be odd to feel guilt before an abstract, impersonal moral code.[5] Therefore, there is reason to think that the moral code is personal.

 

How Guilt Points Toward a Personal God

There are many occasions where guilt can be explained solely in relation to human persons. However, there are times when no human person is in view and one still feels guilty. For instance, individuals sometimes feel guilty for failing to use their talents and abilities properly, and other times when persons experience guilt when they sense that they have wasted their lives.[6] Additionally, there are times when the person who has been wronged is no longer around to confer forgiveness, and still other occasions when the wrong seems to be so grievous[7] that no human person seemingly has the authority to offer forgiveness.[8]

In situations like these, before whom is one guilty? It becomes increasingly understandable that many would suggest nothing less than a personal God who bestows such talents and abilities to human persons. As J. P. Moreland says, “[I]f the depth and presence of guilt feelings is to be rational, there must be a Person toward whom one feels moral shame.”[9] Moreover, who is in a position of authority (besides God) to offer forgiveness in moments like these? For these reasons, if the cause of conscience and the One before whom humans are ultimately guilty cannot be completely accounted for in the visible world, then perhaps when individuals fall short they have not merely broken a rule, but rather, as A. E. Taylor claims, “insulted or proved false to a person of supreme excellence, entitled to whole-hearted devotion.”[10]

 

Christian Theism

In a previous article, I suggested that the moral value of justice gestures in the direction of a personal God, and that on the Christian view, God is intrinsically personal and therefore accounts powerfully for the personal nature of justice (and the personal nature of morality in general). In this article, I claim that the personal nature of guilt provides further evidence not only for the existence of God, but of a God who is personal. Here, the beauty of Christian theism is that God does not leave us floundering in our guilt; rather, he makes a way (through his Son, Jesus Christ) for us to be forgiven (of our sins and guilty state), restored (in right relationship to him), and ultimately transformed not only into better people, but into new people (2 Cor. 5:17).


Stephen S. Jordan (Ph.D.) is currently the Campus Pastor at Liberty Christian Academy in Lynchburg (VA), where he previously served as a high school Bible teacher for nearly a decade. He is also a Bible teacher at Liberty University Online Academy, an Associate Editor at www.moralapologetics.com, as well as a Senior Research Fellow and curriculum developer at The Center for the Foundations of Ethics at Houston Baptist University. Prior to these positions, Stephen served as a youth pastor in North Carolina for several years and taught courses at a local Seminary Extension for a year. He possesses four graduate degrees (MAR, MRE, MDiv, ThM) and a PhD in Theology and Apologetics. His doctoral dissertation was on the moral argument, where he argued for the existence of a personal God from morality. Stephen and his wife, along with their four children, reside in Goode, Virginia. In his spare time, he enjoys spending time with his family, being outdoors, fitness, sports, reading, and building relationships with people over good food.  


[1] Portions of this article adapted from my unpublished doctoral dissertation at Liberty University.

[2] John Henry Newman, An Essay in Aid of a Grammar of Assent (London: Burns, Oates, & Co., 1874), 109.

[3] Interestingly, immediately after this quote, H. P. Owen boldly claims, “Personal theism gives the only explanation by affirming that value-claims inhere in the character and will of God. In rejecting them we do not merely reject an abstract good; we do not merely reject our own ‘good’ (in the sense of our ‘well-being’); we reject the love which God is in his tri-une being.” Admittedly, this may be moving a bit too fast here, but it is interesting to consider how Owen invokes the Trinity in order to explain the personal nature of value-claims and the guilt one experiences when failing to keep them. H. P. Owen, The Moral Argument for Christian Theism (London: George Allen & Unwin, 1965), 80.

[4] R. Scott Smith, In Search of Moral Knowledge: Overcoming the Fact-Value Dichotomy (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2014), 317. More directly, H. H. Farmer claims, “[Sin] is something through which a man is set against God, the word God standing not for an impersonal Moral Order or Creative Life Force, nor for a man’s own Better Self, nor for the Totality of Social Ideals, but for the Eternal as personal will which enters into relation with the will of man in a polarity or tension of personal relationship.” H. H Farmer, The World and God: A Study of Prayer, Providence and Miracle in Christian Experience (London: Nisbet & Co., 1933), 173.

 [5] Paul Copan, True for You, But Not For Me (Minneapolis, MN: Bethany House, 1998), 62.

[6] This usually occurs later in life or when one is on his or her deathbed.

[7] Similar to the way A. E. Taylor describes the indelibility and dirtiness of guilt, Lewis explains one’s response to grievous actions in this way: “Much, we may feel, can be excused to human infirmities: but not this—this incredibly mean and ugly action which none of our friends would have done, which even such a thorough-going little rotter as X would have been ashamed of, which we would not for the world allow to be published. At such a moment we really do know that our character, as revealed in this action, is, and ought to be, hateful to all good men, and, if there are powers above man, to them.” C. S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain (New York, NY: HarperCollins, 2001), 51.

[8] David Baggett and Marybeth Baggett, The Morals of the Story: Good News About a Good God (Downers Grove, IL: IVP Academic, 2018), 180.

[9] J. P. Moreland, Scaling the Secular City: A Defense of Christianity (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker, 1987), 88.

[10] A. E. Taylor, The Faith of a Moralist (London: MacMillan and Co., 1951), 207.

Lord’s Supper Meditation – Symbolism of the Lord’s Supper

A Twilight Musing

A symbol is something to which we react intellectually and emotionally because it evokes certain memories, ideas, and experiences.  The value of a symbol, therefore, lies not only in its appropriateness to the complex of ideas which it is designed to recall, but also in the individual’s experience of those ideas.  In the Lord’s Supper, God has provided for Christians a symbolic feast which is capable of bearing a range and richness of interpretation limited only by the depth and breadth of the communicant’s experience of the Lord Christ. 

Part of the beauty of the Lord’s Supper consists of its ability to unify all the varying degrees of Christian maturity.  One person may see in the bread only an uncomplicated reminder that Christ came in the flesh and suffered for our sake, and no more in the wine than that He shed His blood in sacrifice for all mankind; another may find these symbols arousing within himself a deep surge of spiritual strength and thanksgiving because he associates them with a whole range of personal experiences of the presence of Christ in his or her life.  As in any other act of worship or fellowship we are drawn together not merely by an artificial unanimity of form, nor by intellectual agreement, nor even by the same degree of Christian maturity, but by the Divine Love toward which all our hearts are turned. 

So the symbolism of the Lord’s Supper is just as significant to the infant in Christ as to the spiritually grown man; and yet the purity of its simplicity is as awe-inspiring to the adult as to the infant.  The response that the Communion evokes from us is a measure of our intimacy with God through Christ; but even in the most sophisticated response there is no room for pride, for the symbolism of this feast is larger than us all.



Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife in Jackson, MI. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. Recently, Dr. Higgs has self-published a collection of his poetry called Probing Eyes: Poems of a Lifetime, 1959-2019, as well as a book inspired by The Screwtape Letters, called The Ichabod Letters, available as an e-book from Moral Apologetics. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable.

 

Elton Higgs

Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife and adult daughter in Jackson, MI.. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. His self-published Collected Poems is online at Lulu.com. He also published a couple dozen short articles in religious journals. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable; it's thrilling to welcome this dear friend onboard.)

Why? Apologetics, Moral Apologetics, and You

Saint Paul delivering the Areopagus Sermon in Athens, by Raphael, 1515.

I recently heard of a key administrator in a Christian university who questioned the legitimacy of continuing to fund the study of apologetics because the leader found the concern to defend the faith irrelevant and distracting from more pressing matters of ministry. Let that sink in for a moment. Apologetics is irrelevant and distracting? Sadly, there are many who agree with this leader’s concerns, and many more who would probably not be so bold as to relegate apologetics to a matter of irrelevance and distraction but who, nonetheless, have little time, energy, or resources to devote to defending the faith once delivered. Rather than cursing the darkness I find in this lamentable reality, I want to light a candle and, hopefully, shed light on why apologetics matters. My earnest conviction is that, far from irrelevance and distraction, apologetics is of the essence of the church’s mission in our post-modern, post-Christian, post-everything culture. So, here are three questions for those who are unsure that apologetics matters today.

First, why apologetics? Stated rather bluntly, the answer to this question is one word: obedience. Apologetics is commanded in Scripture, and the command is not isolated to academicians or those with specialized rhetorical gifts. Quite the opposite is true. Apologetics is the calling, the directive, the command to every believer. 1 Peter 3:15 makes this unequivocally clear, stating that each believer must “sanctify the Lord God in your hearts, and always be ready to give a defense to everyone who asks you a reason for the hope that is in you.” Pretty straightforward, right? Indeed, it is, and as Peter wrote to everyday believers who found themselves suffering for their faith amid a hostile culture, he also wrote to us. Peter’s command is not labored to make his point, and that’s just the point—apologetics is the straightforward expectation of all who trust in Christ even when the world around them doesn’t. All of us are commanded, in the context of setting apart Christ as Lord of our lives, to always be ready to defend our faith, our hope, our reasonable trust in the promises of God found in His word and manifested in our lives. Doing so is a matter of obedience, and not doing so is a matter of disobedience. It’s that simple. So, rather than questioning the relevance and legitimacy of apologetics, the real question is whether we will obey God. Apologetics is about doing our duty. Of course, there are plenty of other reasons to make a defense of our faith, including the help apologetics affords in clearing obstacles to evangelism, the need to strengthen the faith of those who struggle, and the way in which apologetics enflames the soul with deeper love for God in the heart and mind. But when we reduce the matter to its bare minimum, doing apologetics is a matter of obeying God.

Second, why moral apologetics? Given that there are many ways to “do” apologetics, including answering questions about the reliability of the Bible, providing evidence concerning the resurrection, offering arguments for the existence of God based on the cosmos, and so on, the focused concern of MoralApologetics.com is to promote a particular type of apologetic engagement, namely, moral apologetics. The driving concern in moral apologetics is to begin with moral facts, moral knowledge, moral rationality, and moral transformation, reasoning thereby with the mind and heart to the existence of God. Not just any god, by the way, but a personal God who is the source of all morality, of all good, and who calls and graciously enables His creatures to find their truest self and greatest happiness in a life of righteousness and holiness reflective of His divine nature. While there are important nuances and careful qualifications that can and should be made by moral apologists, the fundamental reason moral apologetics matters is because all people are innately aware of a moral sense that permeates the very fabric of human existence. We know what right looks like, we know when justice has been violated, and we know that guilt is a pervasive human struggle. It is precisely at these points that the moral apologist can enter into the angst and struggle of human existence on common ground with every other person. Moral apologetics provides a touchpoint, a genuine connection between God’s goodness and humanity’s moral wantonness and frailty. In my experience as an apologist, many times I have started from a moral connection and found a ladder of sorts to climb from morality to questions of explicit religious concerns, and especially Christian ones. I hasten to add that moral apologetics is not the only starting point for a faith conversation, and sometimes it may not be the best starting point given the particulars in play in each dialogue with an unbeliever. What moral apologetics does provide, though, is an accessible and universal “sameness” from which I can talk with others about their struggles, the world, and the hope God offers in Jesus Christ. So, why moral apologetics? From my vantage point, it is usually the most direct route to move from the question to the questioner at a time when the vast majority of struggles humanity encounters are principally of a moral nature. Moral apologetics just makes sense as a beginning point in my efforts to obey God’s command to give a defense for the reason I find my highest and surest hope in Jesus Christ.

This brings me to the final question. Why not you? Given that apologetics is a matter of obedience to God’s good commands, and that moral apologetics provides a reasonable and plausible starting point for discussing matters of ultimate reality and the Gospel of Jesus Christ, why would you not commit to becoming a better apologist? Why not take your place among the ranks of God’s people who are His ambassadors of truth and goodness in a world beset with lies and wickedness? I can’t think of anything more legitimate and relevant.


Dr. Thomas J. Gentry (aka., TJ Gentry) serves as the pastor of First Christian Church of West Frankfort, Illinois, the Executive Editor of MoralApologetics.com, and Executive VP of Bellator Christi Ministries. Dr. Gentry is a world-class scholar holding 5 doctorate degrees and 6 masters degrees. Additionally, he is a prolific writer as he has published 7 books including Pulpit Apologist, Absent from the Body, Present with the Lord, and You Shall Be My Witnesses: Reflections on Sharing the Gospel. Be on the lookout for two additional books that he will soon publish. In addition to his impressive resume, Dr. Gentry proudly served his country as an officer in the United States Army and serves as a martial arts instructor.

Reflections on Why I Left, Why I Stayed, by Tony and Bart Campolo, Part 10 

Having devoted several blogs to Bart’s opening salvo in the Campolo book, I now move on to Tony’s description of his own background and Christian conversion. Admittedly this will be a bit of an easier installment for me to write, because where I may demur from Tony here and there, it will be by only a little and not a lot.  

Tony was raised in a strong Christian home, and doesn’t much remember a time when he was an unbeliever. Before getting into subsequent developments in his narrative, he makes a point of emphasizing that his faith today “remains grounded in personal experience” that began as a kid. “I’m still a fairly good Christian apologist, but at the end of the day, I have to admit that the primary foundation of my faith is not what I know, but rather what I feel. As Blaise Pascal once observed, ‘The heart has reasons that reason will never know.’” 

I think I understand the import of what he’s getting at here, but admit to a bit of ambivalence over the way he puts it. He seems to press the parallel between knowledge and reason, on the one hand, and between the heart and feelings, on the other, whereas I’m inclined to think the picture of how things actually go doesn’t lend itself to quite so neat a demarcation. I suspect knowledge involves both the head and heart, as it were, and certain deep experiences, which may (or may not) involve our emotions, can fall within the category of rationality broadly construed. William Wainwright and William James (and ever so many others, including Pascal) have pointed to a phenomenon like passional reason—an integrated amalgam of reason and emotion, of experience and rationality. In my work in moral apologetics, owing to the ineliminably experiential aspect of morality, there’s an almost constant blending of cognitive and affective dimensions. 

I don’t mean, though, to belabor what is perhaps more of a semantic concern than anything else in this case, but I retain at least a bit of worry that it might be or become more than that—if not in Tony’s case, surely in others whose operative understanding of reason leaves no room for affective, relational, aesthetic, moral, or interpersonal factors, or who associate feelings with nothing but unreliable, non-veridical emotions. My view is, truth be told, probably not too distant from Tony’s, but I might have tried avoiding a misunderstanding here by not referring merely to feelings, but to, say, “heartfelt and well-evidenced beliefs of deep ingression.” But then again, that’s just dang wordy. (Much of what he has to say, incidentally, likely also comports with a Reformed epistemology paradigm.) 

Time and again Tony is reticent to move the discussion into apologetic territory. I don’t presume to know exactly why, but I suspect his heart generally seems to be in the eminently right place. He wants to keep the discussion warmly personal and relational and not allow it become a merely intellectual exercise to try winning an argument. But of course this is just where predicating apologetics on a model of passional reason and an expansive rationality can avoid its becoming what Tony wants to avoid. 

One more word about this passage. In the context of discussing how the Spirit bears witness with our spirit that we are his disciples, Tony writes that by “the grace of God I have been given the gift of faith.” Surely our capacity for faith is a gift, a provision made possible by God’s grace, but as I’ve mentioned before I think it’s unfortunate to take from this important truth anything like the notion that those with faith have been given the gift and those without it have not. Gifts presumably can be rejected. Of course here my theology is a distinct departure from Calvinism, but it’s an interpretation that I think bears up best under critical scrutiny and exegetical analysis, and avoids the utterly unpalatable implications otherwise (an issue we have discussed and to which we will return). 

It was during high school that faith came alive for Tony even more. In through this part of his story he shares a touching account of his ongoing and growing relationship with God. Then he wonders how folks like Bart, who no longer believe in God, are able to handle their guilt. As a social scientist, Tony is aware of how, say, Freud thought guilt, after suppression, emerges from the subconscious in the form of phobias and neurotic behavior. But for Tony the Christian faith offers a much more effective solution to guilt via God’s grace and forgiveness. 

When I discuss the performative variant of the moral argument, I have taken in recent years to do more than address what John Hare calls the “moral gap” between the best we can do and what we are called to do—by morality or God. I back up and first discuss our need for forgiveness, then for moral change, and finally for moral perfection, and then emphasize how Christian salvation provides for all three: justification for our forgiveness, sanctification for our moral transformation, and glorification for our moral perfection. This is one of those junctures where moral apologetics, it seems to me, lends itself impeccably well not just to an argument for theism per se, but Christianity in particular. So I resonate with Tony here quite a bit in this strong emphasis on divine grace at every step of our journey. 

Then he shares how his vision of what his Christian vocation was to be expanded in the ensuing years, as he became increasingly cognizant of his call to fight for social justice, “changing the world from what it is into what Jesus called the Kingdom of God.” Although I admit to finding such language a bit grandiose, I don’t want to be dogmatic in eschewing it too quickly. Surely we are called to pray for God’s will to be done in this world, and for his kingdom to come. And we are indeed called, all of us, to fight injustices, feed the hungry, and promote love. Too often evangelicals, at least as popularly conceived, can fall into the trap of holding too small a view of what salvation looks like in this world. If we neglect the least of these, we are neglecting Jesus himself. It’s an important reminder that there is some special sense in which God identifies with the poor and needy, oppressed and marginalized.  

Still, a danger of overly politicizing this looms, if we assume the means by which these tasks are done are centrally political. Surely on occasion this is true—Wilberforce’s lifetime political mission is a marvelous example. Still, politically liberal professing Christian believers can fall into the trap of lionizing the Democratic party every bit as much as certain conservative Christians can do so with the Republicans, and this is no small worry where Tony is concerned.  

With what realistic expectations can we expect to see a “reconstructed society” here in this world? Surely strides can be made; the evangelical view of sin arguably brought slavery to its knees, for example. Christian convictions and principles functioned at the foundation of the Civil Rights movement, women’s suffrage, and a whole range of social improvements. Paul Copan has done a nice job in years past chronicling such historical twists on the moral argument. But the idea that we can expect to see God’s kingdom ushered into this world prior to the eschaton—save for within the church itself—strikes me as a bit naïve. The temptation to assign a kind of primacy to political solutions has been a temptation of the church since her inception.  

So after admitting that he had come to see his faith as a call to be involved in a revolutionary movement that can transform the world into the kind of society God wants it to be, Tony anticipates my sort of objection by denying he is motivated by anything like utopian idealism. He admits his ultimate hope resides beyond the grave and not here and now. And sure enough, Tony’s always been an interesting figure in this way by conjoining his liberal political proclivities with orthodox theology—at least until his change of mind on homosexuality, previously discussed. 

Tony’s chapter touches briefly on a few more interesting issues, but since they will come up again later, I’ll defer discussing them until then. One last point for now: Tony notes the way Bart’s inspired by certain of life’s realities, what Maslow might call “peak experiences.” Then he adds this: “It just might be that what Bart has really rejected is not God, but rather the way so many of us Christians usually talk about God.” 

Tony has a point here, although he’s tempted, I think, to overly press it and let Bart off the hook too quickly. It wasn’t just the way others talked about God that might have contributed to Bart’s departure; I’ve argued that some of his own bad theology mistakenly made him think that he had to depart from the faith. But the larger point for now is even more important: not every ostensible rejection of God and Christianity is likely a pure rejection of the true gospel of Christ. I suspect, as Tony intimates, that on occasion and perhaps not infrequently what is getting rejected is something of a garbled version of the truth, a twisted conception of Christianity, a warped view of God.  

Of course we are not the judge; it’s a bit beyond our pay grade, but this is, I think, a good reminder for us to bear in mind: the importance not to presume to know more than we do as we observe the spiritual pilgrimage, stumbles, and struggles of others. This is why coming alongside of them and listening carefully and attentively to what they have to say can often prove more than a little illuminating. 


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.


The Dark Factor of Personality | The Science of Morality

The “dark factor” is the basic disposition to maximize one’s individual utility and disregarding, accepting, or malevolently provoking disutility for others while adopting justifying beliefs. In the social sciences, this is a study in what is called “ethically, morally, and socially questionable behavior”. The theory posits a common source behind “dark traits” (listed below) and the behavior manifested—thus presenting in that behavior beyond what any individual dark trait would predict.

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The Case That Our Moral Knowledge Points Toward God: Part 4

INTRODUCTION

This is the fourth and final article in a series on how one might offer several different moral arguments that all (1) focus on our knowledge of moral truth and (2) reinforce each other so that their joint force is even stronger than that of each individual argument.[1] This series of articles has focused specifically on three well-known arguments for God’s existence that have to do with our moral knowledge: the similar arguments of Mark Linville and Alvin Plantinga, an argument by Scott Smith, and an argument put forth by Angus Ritchie. In this article, the series concludes by offering a strategy for how these arguments can be used in conjunction so that they reinforce each other.

 

A CUMULATIVE CASE MORAL KNOWLEDGE ARGUMENT 

Although there are differences between each of the moral knowledge arguments described in this article, there are also many similarities; moreover, the differences are not such that the Christian moral apologist must choose one to the exclusion of the others. Instead, these versions are complementary and can be used in conjunction to make an even stronger moral argument for God’s existence—one that is sturdier than any one of these versions by itself. In this final section, we will consider how these different arguments may be used in combination and explore a strategy for making this work. To accomplish this, it is helpful to begin by comparing and contrasting these views before integrating them into a cumulative argument.

It is clear that Plantinga and Smith make the most ambitious claim, as they argue that there is reason to doubt that we could have any knowledge at all in a naturalistic world. Nevertheless, Plantinga and Smith make their cases entirely differently, since Plantinga argues that the evolutionary aspect of naturalism provides a defeater for moral knowledge and Smith attempts to show that the physicalist aspect of naturalism removes any basis for the personhood and mental states that would be needed for knowledge. Linville’s point is somewhat less bold, arguing that on naturalism we have a defeater for moral knowledge but not other types of knowledge. In doing so, his approach is more similar to Plantinga’s than Smith’s in terms of arguing that the evolutionary aspect of naturalism undermines knowledge; however, unlike both Plantinga and Smith, Linville does not deny that all knowledge is undermined on naturalism. Ritchie’s claim is the least ambitious, since he grants that moral knowledge is possible even on naturalism. Ritchie takes moral knowledge as a fact that requires explanation and makes the more modest claim that naturalism cannot adequately explain moral knowledge. In terms of how he goes about this, we have seen that his approach is more similar to that of Plantinga and Linville than to that of Smith, as Ritchie’s focus is on the evolutionary aspect of naturalism.

With these differences and similarities in mind, let us now consider how to integrate them into a cumulative moral argument. It is reasonable to begin with the most ambitious claims first. The arguments of both Plantinga and Smith lend themselves well to being the first line of argumentation for two reasons. First, if successful, they raise the sharpest challenge against naturalism by providing a defeater for all knowledge on naturalism. The naturalist who sees the force of either—or both—of these arguments thus has reason to doubt whether naturalism can be rationally affirmed; moreover, if the naturalist finds either of these arguments to be sound and also finds it plausible that we do have knowledge in the actual world, then he has good reason to doubt the truth of naturalism. Second, there is the advantage that these two arguments have an entirely different focus. If the moral apologist’s secular interlocuter is unconvinced by one of them, that does not weaken the force of the other; thus, using these two arguments as the first line of argumentation has an initial cumulative benefit.

Linville’s argument can be used next in order to make a more modest case in the event that the unbeliever sees merit in Plantinga’s argument but finds it implausible that all knowledge would be undermined on evolutionary naturalism. As we have seen, Plantinga rightly contends that it is irrelevant to his argument whether we seem to have knowledge in the actual world, and he argues persuasively that there is no reason to think that adaptive behavior requires the truthfulness of any of our beliefs; however, some may find it more plausible that holding true beliefs would provide a survival advantage. It is at this juncture that Linville’s more modest approach can be used, as he differentiates between moral and nonmoral beliefs by allowing that holding true nonmoral beliefs will often provide a survival advantage whereas the truthfulness of moral beliefs does not seem to provide a survival advantage. Linville makes a good case for why it is not arbitrary to exclude moral knowledge on naturalism even if one allows other knowledge.

If the skeptic of theism is still unconvinced and simply finds it unreasonable to doubt that we would have moral knowledge on naturalism, one can utilize Ritchie’s even more modest argument. Even if the defender of our cumulative moral knowledge argument does not agree with Ritchie that moral knowledge is justified on naturalism, one can grant this for the sake of argument and make the case along with Ritchie that naturalism cannot adequately explain how we have this knowledge. The moral apologist can defend Ritchie’s claim that any viable worldview must be able to explain moral knowledge and point out that Ritchie himself even goes so far as to accept that our nonmoral beliefs can be not only justified but explained by natural selection on naturalism. Ritchie’s dilemma can then be posed to the skeptic to show the difficulty of explaining moral knowledge on naturalism. If the skeptic recognizes that there is no evolutionary advantage to some of our moral beliefs, then she should be able to see that naturalism cannot explain those moral beliefs; however, if she claims that all of our moral beliefs do carry an evolutionary advantage then she faces the problem that some actions that are favorable for the survival and effective replication of the human species seem to be immoral (e.g., killing the weak, disabled, and diseased; mandating rape if the only women left on earth refused to procreate).

In this way, all of these arguments are complementary and fit nicely into a cumulative case strategy. For both apologetic and moral reasons, one does not want a naturalist to give up on thinking that there is objective moral truth or to hold onto her naturalism while abandoning her belief that she has genuine moral knowledge. It is therefore critical when making this case to encourage her to give up naturalism and not give up on moral knowledge. The intent of this cumulative moral argument is to show that naturalism cannot adequately justify—or at least explain—moral knowledge. This can in turn be used as part of an even broader cumulative moral argument that seeks to show that naturalism cannot justify other aspects of morality, such as the existence of objective moral values and duties, moral transformation, and moral rationality.


1. These articles are adapted for a popular audience from an article that I published in the Journal of the International Society of Christian Apologetics (Volume 12, 2019, pp. 49-64) that is titled “Toward a Cumulative Epistemic Moral Argument for God’s Existence.”

Lord’s Supper Meditation – Renewal of Vows

A Twilight Musing

Some married couples choose, for one reason or another, to renew their marriage vows.  It may be that they have had dissention in their relationship and want to reaffirm the promises they made to each other in the first bloom of their love.  Or maybe they want merely to say to the world, “Join us in celebrating the holiness of marriage vows and the richness of life that can be demonstrated by people being faithful to each other over a long period of time.”

The similarity between marriage and our personal and corporate covenant relationship with Christ is commonplace in Scripture.  Perhaps the most focused instance of this comparison is in Eph. 5:22-33, where Paul speaks of Christ as a husband to his bride, the Church, and the bond between husband and wife as an embodiment of the mystery of union between Christ and His church.  The husband is to cherish and protect his wife as he would his own body, and the wife is to honor and serve her husband as she would Christ Himself.

Based on this analogy, when we partake of the Lord’s Supper, we would do well to see what we are doing as a renewal of our vow at baptism to submit to the Lordship of Christ, and a reaffirmation of trust in God’s promise in Christ to love and protect us, even to the giving up of His own life.  In partaking of the bread and the wine, our life in Christ is renewed, and we rejoice like a bride whose husband has given his life for her but has been resurrected to continue living with her.  We can, to alter an old saying, have our Lord, and consume Him too.

Those who renew their marriage vows usually do so only once in their lifetimes, but we have the opportunity frequently to reaffirm our union with Jesus.  Our earthly marriage to another mortal, however rich it may be, will end someday, while marriage with Christ will last forever (Rev. 19:6-9; 21:2-4, 9).  If we are married people partaking of the Communion, our physical union with our spouses is sanctified by our reaffirmed union with Christ; if we are single, we can find the ultimate intimacy in perceiving Christ as our lover.



Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife in Jackson, MI. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. Recently, Dr. Higgs has self-published a collection of his poetry called Probing Eyes: Poems of a Lifetime, 1959-2019, as well as a book inspired by The Screwtape Letters, called The Ichabod Letters, available as an e-book from Moral Apologetics. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable.

Elton Higgs

Dr. Elton Higgs was a faculty member in the English department of the University of Michigan-Dearborn from 1965-2001. Having retired from UM-D as Prof. of English in 2001, he now lives with his wife and adult daughter in Jackson, MI.. He has published scholarly articles on Chaucer, Langland, the Pearl Poet, Shakespeare, and Milton. His self-published Collected Poems is online at Lulu.com. He also published a couple dozen short articles in religious journals. (Ed.: Dr. Higgs was the most important mentor during undergrad for the creator of this website, and his influence was inestimable; it's thrilling to welcome this dear friend onboard.)

Models of Oral Tradition and the Ethics Behind Accurate Transmission

The Sermon on the Mount, Carl Bloch

In a heartfelt testimony, Bart Ehrman describes the origins of his descent from a fundamentalist Christian to an atheist-leaning-agnostic in his book Misquoting Jesus. The central factor in Ehrman’s doubt was the differences found in the Gospel texts. The catalyst of his departure was an apparent error in Jesus’s quotation of 1 Samuel 21:1–6 along with apparent differences in the Gospels’ presentation of the life of Jesus.[1] Ehrman is not alone. While Ehrman is correct in that Christianity and Judaism are “bookish religions,”[2] James D. G. Dunn is also correct in noting that properly understanding the transmission of early Jesus requires a shift in one’s default thinking to an “oral mind-set.”[3] At the end of the day, it must be asked how much liberty early writers were given to report the deeds and teachings of Jesus. If the writers of the New Testament intentionally tried to mislead individuals, then there lies an ethical problem behind the formation of the New Testament Gospels. Let us look at the three models of oral traditions and which one most closely aligns with the New Testament texts.

 

Informal Uncontrolled Model—Bultmannian Viewpoint

The first model is advocated by German scholar Rudolf Bultmann and is called the informal uncontrolled model. In his book Jesus and the Word, Bultmann shows a striking similarity to Ehrman’s concepts as he writes, “I do indeed think that we can know almost nothing concerning the life and personality of Jesus, since the early Christian sources show no interest in either, are moreover fragmentary, and often legendary; and other sources about Jesus do not exist.”[4] Bultmann does not deny that a genuine Jesus tradition is found in the Gospels, but holds that they have faded from view. In this model, the transmission of the Jesus traditions was informal because of the lack of an official teacher to pass along (i.e., παραδιδωμι) the information, and it was uncontrolled since the community exercised great fluidity as the data was changed and shaped according to the needs of the time.[5]

 

Formal Controlled Model—Scandinavian School

In stark contrast with the informal uncontrolled model, Scandinavian scholars such as Birger Gerhardsson, Harald Riesenfeld, and Samuel Byrskog contend that the church had far more control over the Jesus traditions than the Bultmannian school conveyed. As Riesenfeld and the Scandinavian school deduced, the παραδιδωμι of the Jesus tradition was formal in the sense that it was entrusted to a special school of disciples, and it was controlled in the sense that the key features were memorized and preserved.[6] In his classic yet controversial book Memory and Manuscript, Gerhardsson compares the early transmission of the Jesus traditions to the παραδιδωμι (i.e., handing down) of the Oral Torah,[7] which was set forth with care using mnemonic devices, written notes, repetitions, and with a great concern for accuracy.[8]  Thus, “Jesus is the object and subject of a tradition of authoritative and holy words which he himself created and entrusted to his disciples for its later transmission in the epoch between his death and the Parousia.”[9] But what about the portions of Scripture that seem to present variations in the material? Gerhardsson holds that the traditions were more comparable to haggadic material than halakhic material[10] which permits a wider margin of variation. Thus, one should anticipate some variations in the retelling of the material while also maintaining a high scrutiny for truth and accuracy.[11]

 

Informal Controlled Model—Kenneth Bailey

A third model is provided by Kenneth Bailey in an article written for Themelios Journal, which he calls the “informal controlled model.”[12] The informal controlled model is an ancient methodology are transmitted by a community called the haflat samar.[13] Certain individuals of the community memorize the material and recite it to the community. The elders of the community also memorize the material and offer correction if the reciter should err in his retelling of the story or teachings. While the storytellers were given some license to adapt the material, the core essential data must remain the same. Bailey estimates that no more than 15 percent of the story could be changed to permit interpretations and applications, but even then, the essential markers of the material could not be altered.[14] Thus, for Bailey, the material is informal in the sense that the community is involved with the preservation of the material and controlled due to the insistence of the community to accurately convey and παραδιδωμι truthful information that accurately conveys what one said and did.

 

Conclusion

From my continued research, the New Testament Gospels seem to convey a blend of the Scandinavian formal controlled model and Bailey’s informal controlled model. The early credal material assuredly matches Gerhardsson’s and the Scandinavian model. However, the parables seem to hold a greater similarity with Bailey’s informal controlled model allowing for greater flexibility. It may be that different portions of the New Testament Gospels swing from one side of the pendulum to the other. Regardless of whether a passage is found in Gerhardsson’s or Bailey’s model, both emphasize the early Christian community’s commitment to accuracy and truthfulness. Therefore, one can take confidence in the early church’s commitment to ethical integrity and truthful transmission. The early Christians believed that they were preserving the message of Jesus whom they believed was the Son of God. As such, models such as Bultmann’s do not consider the early ethical standards of the first church. Also, Bultmann’s model does not seem to cohere with the biblical data. Craig Blomberg puts it best by saying, “we may confidently declare that the approach to oral tradition (that is, the formal controlled and informal controlled models) is far more likely to approximate historical realities than those of Funk, the Jesus Seminar, and others who promote the model of informal, uncontrolled tradition.”[15]


About the Author 

Brian G. Chilton is the founder of BellatorChristi.com, the host of The Bellator Christi Podcast, and the author of the Layman’s Manual on Christian Apologetics. Brian is 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.

 

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[1] Bart D. Ehrman, Misquoting Jesus: The Story Behind Who Changed the Bible and Why (New York, NY: HarperOne, 2009), 9.

[2] Ibid., 20.

[3] James D. G. Dunn, The Oral Gospel Tradition (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, UK: Eerdmans, 2013), 49.

[4] Like Ehrman, Bultmann argues that the earliest community was not interested in preserving historical information about Jesus and his messages, but they were rather more interested in the situations facing the evolving church. Rudolf Bultmann, Jesus and the Word (New York, NY: Scribners, 1958), 8.

[5] Historical accuracy was not the primary focus in this model. While Ehrman and the Jesus Seminar popularized this model, this is far from the only one.

[6] Riesenfeld argued that the “words and deeds of Jesus are a holy word, comparable with that of the Old Testament, and a handing down of this precious material is entrusted to special persons.” Harald Riesenfeld, “The Gospel Tradition and Its Beginnings,” in The Gospel Tradition (Philadelphia, PA: Fortress, 1970), 19.

[7] Oral traditions associated with the Torah and the memorization of the written texts.

[8] Birger Gerhardsson, Memory and Manuscript: Oral Tradition and Written Transmission in Rabbinic Judaism and Early Christianity (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1998), 335.

[9] Riesenfeld, “Gospel Tradition and Its Beginnings,” Gospel Tradition, 29.

[10] Halakhic material (Heb. “the way”) contained the totality of the laws that were passed down since biblical times and largely from written sources. Haggadic material—haggadah meaning “tales”—contains non-legal material that was offered to preserve historical events, folklore, and moral teachings that were part of the Jewish Oral Law (תורה שבעל פה). The Haggadah has passed along important teachings and interpretations, while also allowing for a more spiritual and allegorical dimension.

[11] Gerhardsson, Memory and Manuscript, 335.

[12] Kenneth E. Bailey, “Informal Controlled Oral Tradition and the Synoptic Gospels,” Themelios 20, 2 (1995): 5.

[13] Samar is an Arabic cognate of the Hebrew shamar which means “to preserve.” Ibid., 6.

[14] Ibid., 7.

[15] Craig L. Blomberg, “Orality and the Parables: With Special Reference to James D. G. Dunn’s Jesus Remembered,” in Memories of Jesus: A Critical Appraisal of James D. G. Dunn’s Jesus Remembered, Robert B. Stewart and Gary R. Habermas, eds (Nashville, TN: B&H Academic, 2010), 125–126.

Reflections on Why I Left, Why I Stayed, by Tony and Bart Campolo, Part 9

I have now done several replies to just one chapter, Bart’s chapter explaining how he left the faith, so I had better do one more post about that chapter and call it done. We have seen how Bart gradually moved away from various of his religious convictions—some orthodox, some he merely thought orthodox, for reasons that were sometimes a matter of capitulation to other influences, and for other reasons which were arguably not a matter of capitulation or compromise at all, but quite principled. What conduced to a slippery slope, however, was his unwillingness to make those very distinctions.

On top of his struggles with issues like the moral propriety of gay sexual practices, the doctrine of damnation, and divine sovereignty, he had a life-transforming experience when he endured a terrible, life-threatening cycling accident in Cincinnati. Later on, in retrospect, he took three big lessons from the crash. First, “I learned that my core identity—my essential self, if you will—is all in my head…that my individual personality, mind, heart, and soul are all contained in my brain.” [Here he points to the work of Malcolm Gladwell and David Linden to the effect that our judgments and desires are largely controlled by the release and absorption of certain chemical in our brains in ways our conscious selves only vaguely understand; for a solid response, see here.] Second, he suddenly knew he would die one day. And third, when he dies, including his brain, he will vanish forever. “Like it or not, this life is the only one I’ve got.”

What he calls lessons are probably better thought of as inferences that he makes on the basis of what he considers good evidence. Of course, though, plenty of believers think there are intimate, organic connections between body and soul without inferring that the latter is finite, and their convictions are not without evidence, too—such as a range of highly evidenced out-of-body experiences that defy naturalistic analysis (see here). That we are going to die is a sober fact that all of us, believers and unbelievers, have to come to terms with. But Bart’s elaborate assertion without much of an argument that we just are our bodies and that, at death, we cease to exist is a quite ambitious metaphysical claim, radically underdetermined by the evidence he adduces.

When Bart shared his newfound conviction that nobody survives past physical death with his wife, he discovered this was something she had come to believe herself for some while. He realized that, if they’re right, it wouldn’t entail God’s nonexistence, but steeped as he was in evangelical theology, he took such a fact about the finality of death as reason to disbelieve in God. “As far as I was concerned, if there was no afterlife, there was no good and just God, which reduced the teachings of Jesus to an odd mix of delusional metaphysics and commonsense wisdom about the benefits of virtue.”

This was both sobering for Bart as well as animating, motivating him to figure out a new way to live. Despite his change in worldview, some things remained the same. For example, he retained his commitment to build warm and loving communities, to social justice, to education and the arts, and to believing that sacrificial love is the best way to live. Their worldviews had changed, but not their values. He gravitated to what he thought were scientific explanations and logical arguments, but also yearned for something of a “new gospel.”

This he found in secular humanism and his new hero, Robert Ingersoll, a 19-century politician and orator. “What struck me most when I started reading Ingersoll…was his deep and obvious commitment to love as the ultimate hope of humanity, and his great eloquence in communicating it…. [T]he surest path to true happiness is to concern yourself with the happiness of others. He instantly became my role model as a secular humanist evangelist.”

For now I will reply just to this last point about the correspondence between love and happiness. I have written quite a bit on this topic, as have many other moral apologists through the centuries. Not only is Bart right, in one sense, he’s more right than he knows; and in fact he’s implicitly furnished us with the resources for a variant of the moral argument for God. This is the argument from providence, as John Hare calls it, and it goes something like this: Full rational commitment to morality [or a life of love] requires that morality is a rationally stable enterprise; in order for morality to be a rationally stable enterprise, it must feature ultimate correspondence between happiness and virtue; there is no reason to think that such correspondence obtains unless God exists; so rationality dictates the postulation of God’s existence.

Without theism and a providential God at work ensuring ultimate and airtight correspondence between a life of love, on the one hand, and happiness, on the other, there will invariably be points of disconnect when the virtuous life of love, far from conducing to happiness, will result in far more misery than happiness. Theism, though, salvages the rationality of morality. This was an insight that Sidgwick, Kant, Reid, Locke, and others have spilled a great deal of ink on through the centuries. If Bart is looking for an argument, I might point him in this direction.

As much as I am loath to do this, because I don’t want this to seem a diatribe against Bart, it’s worth noting that such an argument would be unlikely to speak to Bart, because he actually isn’t committed to anything like the rationality of morality. Indeed, he has given up that there is anything objectively binding about morality at all. He has abandoned moral realism, by his own admission.

So his ongoing commitment to, say, the value of a life of love, is predicated on a divorce of fact and value. Whatever sense in which such a life, at least in general, is a better choice is purely practical or pragmatic. He seems to replace the “delusional metaphysics” of Jesus with no relevant metaphysics at all—just a choice on his part to live in a way that he thinks will conduce to happiness. As a philosopher I find this wholly inadequate and, frankly, profoundly unphilosophical. In some ways he remains, I think, his father’s son—content with sociological analysis, which is often fine as far as it goes. But it’s no substitute for robust philosophical reflection. It’s no surprise that plenty of other atheists would find there to be little compelling reason to be committed to living such a life; if Bart wants a worldview that actually puts love front and center, not just contingently but essentially, perhaps he should reconsider the faith he left behind.

To read more about the argument from providence and the television show The Good Place, see here.

To read more about the natural human desire for immortality, see here.



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.


 

Squid Game as Anti-Gospel Lecture Series

It has long been argued that everyone is a theologian promoting through their actions, words, products, and attitudes something about whatever god(s) they either do or don’t believe in and that god(s)’s relationship to the world and those in it.  If this is true, then some of the most influential theologians today are not lecturing in the academic commons of universities or seminaries; instead, they are those directors and creators of viral videos and/or tv/streaming series that enjoy wide acclaim, accumulate countless views, and are reiterated by cultural memes, satires, commentary, and popular discussion. Believers living among such voices must not only be aware of such implicit and explicit theologies that are celebrated and revered in our culture, but they must also be prepared to point people who don’t even realize they are being lectured to toward true biblical theology by correcting where competing theologies get it wrong and communicating in compelling ways what is right concerning the Lord God and his relationship to the world.  

Enter Squid Game—an immensely popular new (though now considered only relatively new) Netflix series that secured the record for the biggest series launch when it eclipsed 111M views shortly after its release. What have over a hundred million viewers taken their time to observe? The answer is a nine-episode Korean thriller that follows Seong Gi-hum—a desperate man who has hit rock bottom—and hundreds of others who are equally destitute as they compete in an extreme series of games for the equivalent of about 38 million dollars (US currency). What becomes clear early in the series is that only one person can win the prize money and those who lose any of the competitions end up paying with their lives. For a host of reasons, I cannot warmly recommend viewing this series to those reading this. However, assuming some will and don’t want to have anything important exposed, I must mention that I will be revealing things about this show in the remainder of this discussion that might spoil elements of the story (grim and uninspired though it may be).  

Given that hundreds of millions of people around the world have watched this series and have also, no doubt, been introduced to, if not, influenced by the implicit and explicit theology that it consciously or subconsciously promotes, I could not help but seek to expose its narrative for what it is (at least in part)—an anti-gospel message—with the hopes of directing people to a vastly superior story.  

The Gospel Narrative 

Before one can understand how Squid Game portrays what might be described as an anti-gospel narrative, she must first come to grips with important elements of the true gospel of Jesus Christ. The gospel message begins with a perfect world that God created. In this world, the Lord’s most special creations—human beings—were uniquely designed to relate to him personally and gloriously. However, shortly after God completed his creation and established proper boundaries to keep it that way, mankind disobeyed God, allowing sin to infect everything about the human person and the world that he/she inhabits. As a result, the creatures that were made to relate meaningfully to God were separated from him (both in life and in death), became indebted in their own iniquity, and were rendered woefully incapable of achieving, working, winning, or paying their way back into the Divine’s good graces. It was in this desperate situation that the benevolent Creator of the universe decided to enter the broken world in a most special way—through his Son Jesus (God made flesh). This Jesus lived a perfect life, was punished for the sins of others when he was crucified on a cross, and rose again three days later, paying the sin debt that humanity owes and defeating the power of death for all who would trust in him. Placing faith in Jesus’ person and work results in reconciliation with God and eternal life (where wrath and punishment because of sin once ruled). All this is made possible through grace for those who believe. One day, the same Jesus who came to die will return to reign with his people in a new heaven and a new earth for all eternity. This is the greatest story and it communicates an accurate understanding of God, the human person, sin, redemption, and hope found in Jesus Christ.  

The Anti-Gospel Narrative of Squid Game 

The gospel narrative and Squid Game’s narrative begin in much the same way. Both depict people in over their heads in immense debt (the gospel involves debt to sin and for the game participants it is mostly monetary debt to creditors or loan sharks). The theme of resulting desperation rings true in both stories also as we see people seemingly unable to have their very real issues fixed in their own strength. However, something intervenes to provide an answer for the sorry figures in Squid Game in the form of an opportunity to win liberation from their problems in a series of games. Throughout these games, it is the cleverness and ability of the players that takes centerstage and their personal strength is awarded with opportunities to advance closer to victory. Along the way, those who can’t compete well die (with the kind of violent efficiency that seems to undervalue human life altogether). The main character—who I guess you might call a protagonist—is thrust into this scenario and ends up as the last man standing, winning the vast sum of money and “freedom” from the crippling debt he owed. However, though victorious, Seong Gi-hum can’t enjoy his winnings as he remembers what he and others were made to go through to earn it. He wanders for a year or so and finds himself in much the same position he was when the story began—bitter and depressed. As time progresses, the viewer and Seong Gi-hum learn that the game’s creator had entered the competition as one of the contestants—not to save the contestants, but to observe the competition firsthand. This creator is eventually taken out of the game in a clandestine way, sparing him the pain of a violent death in the dystopia that he himself created. It is also revealed that the creator of the game is terminally ill and desired one more cheap thrill at others’ expense before he died. The games have become a tradition in which the creator invites the super-affluent to make large wagers on players and the outcomes of individual events throughout each year’s competition. This tradition appears poised to continue even after the creator dies. The show is a pessimistic look at humanity that glorifies horror and exalts the human capacity to work his way out of trouble. However, even when such a victory is attained, viewers also see that it cannot be enjoyed by the one who has worked so hard to win.   

Two Narratives Collide 

By now I’m sure you have already identified some of the ways Squid Game serves as a sharp antithesis to the gospel message of Jesus Christ. However, in case you missed some of the important parallels between these two stories, here is a helpful list.  

Benevolent Creator Vs. Selfish Sadist 

In the gospel story the Creator is an all-powerful and benevolent God who desires to share his love for his Son in the Spirit with others—namely, human beings (Neh. 9:6; 1 John 3:1). This is why he creates them in the first place and is highly interested in redeeming them when they go astray (John 3:16). In Squid Game, the creator figure is a selfish sadist who has near-absolute control over the domain of the competition and its competitors which he manages for cheep thrills and personal gain.  

The Image of God in Man Vs. Expendable Game Pieces 

According to the Bible, human beings are fearfully and wonderfully made with great purpose, originally equipped with the capacity to reflect the Creator’s glory (Gen. 1:26-27; 2:7; Psalm 139; Eph 2:10). In fact, even after the fall, God repeatedly reiterates that human life, even in its broken condition, is not only highly valued, but loved and should be treated as such (Gen. 9:6; James 3:9). In Squid Game, humans are portrayed more like expendable pieces on a diabolical board game. They are there simply to entertain those who are watching from the outside placing their bets as they would in a horse or dog race. Characters come and go with such great frequency and violence that it is easy to become desensitized to what one is seeing as human life is snuffed out with gruesome efficiency.  

Salvation by Grace through Faith Vs. Salvation by Works 

The gospel of Jesus Christ teaches salvation by grace through faith and reveals that men and women are totally incapable of doing anything in their own power to be reconciled to the Creator and repay the immeasurable debt they owe because of sin (Eph. 2:8-9). Salvation is offered as a gift from God to those who place their trust in who Jesus is (God made flesh) and what he accomplished (redemption through the cross and empty grave) (Rom. 10:9-10). The anti-gospel of Squid Game teaches that freedom from desperation and debt is achieved by personal performance in the series of competitions that have been laid out for them. It is their cleverness, agility, and effort that will see them through to the end. However, even in this series, all but one proves they were up to the challenge. The majority learn that even their best efforts aren’t enough to bring them salvation.  

Savior Sacrifices himself Vs. People are Sacrificed for a Chance 

The narrative of God reaches its climax when God sacrifices his only begotten Son to redeem people from their sin (John 3:16-17). This willingness to send Jesus and see him killed for undeserving sinners reveals the immeasurable grace and love of this benevolent Creator (Rom. 5:8). The narrative of Squid Game involves people sacrificing themselves for a chance at redemption and everyone, save Seong Gi-hum, coming up short. In fact, when the creator of the games is due to lose his life by losing one of the competitions (after inserting himself into the games as one of its contestants), it is later learned that he escapes unscathed, only to die a year or so later. In this show, people, not the creators, make the sacrifice and this they do for the sick pleasure of those betting on the action.  

Saved to Life Abundant Vs. Saved to Guilt and Heartache 

The biblical gospel teaches that those who are saved by grace through faith in Christ are given eternal life and this in abundant supply (John 10:10; 11:25). This realization brings hope and peace amid a broken and fallen world as believers anticipate a preferred future with their Lord and Savior in heaven (1 Thess. 4:13ff). The anti-gospel of Squid Game paints a grim picture of the victory it offers as the winner of the competition is plagued with grief and guilt, unable to enjoy his winnings and the security it provides. As soon as he begins to finally turn a corner, he is so riddled with the desire for revenge for what he experienced, that he seeks to reinsert himself into the games to destroy those who are keeping it going. In at least this last observation, it should be noted that the creators of Squid Game do get something right—any salvation that can be earned in one’s own strength does not last and does not ultimately satisfy.  

These observations/comparisons between the true gospel and the anti-gospel of Squid Game are important to identify given the international popularity of this show and the anticipation many have for its second season. Believers would do well to recognize that many millions of people who are viewing these episodes are not only being entertained by a provocative new show, they are also being lectured to in ways that are diametrically opposed to Scripture and what it has to say about who God is and his relationship with mankind. Now that the subversive theology of this series has been exposed, may we be ready to meaningfully engage those who have seen this popular new show and share a better, more compelling story: God’s story of Jesus Christ, the Savior of the World.  


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 Salem Baptist Church in Sabot, VA, where he lives with his wife Brianna and their children.

Jeffrey Dickson

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.