Lord's Supper Meditation - Subjects Together of Christ the King

A Twilight Musing

At most gatherings of human beings, there is a pecking order.  We are seated at concerts, games, and stage shows according to what price we have paid for the ticket.  At social gatherings people tend to gravitate toward those who are more influential because of their wealth or reputation or social standing.  Jesus refers to this human tendency when he speaks of those who go to a dinner and seek out the best and most honorable seat.  James cautions against giving undue deference to people merely because of their apparent prosperity.   

My brothers, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ, don't show favoritism.  Suppose a man comes into your meeting wearing a gold ring and fine clothes, and a poor man in shabby clothes also comes in.  If you show special attention to the man wearing fine clothes and say, "Here's a good seat for you," but say to the poor man, "You stand there" or "Sit on the floor by my feet," have you not discriminated among yourselves and become judges with evil thoughts?   Listen, my dear brothers: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith and to inherit the kingdom he promised those who love him?  But you have insulted the poor. (James 2:1-6a) 

God rejects this kind of competitive discrimination and calls all sorts of people together into His house, with equal status before Him, to enjoy the feast He has prepared.  As we partake of this table together, we testify to the oneness of the Body of Christ: to the need each part has for all of the others, as well as the need of the whole Body for each part.  We remember that Jesus humbled Himself and took on the role of a servant (Phil. 2:5-8), in order that we might be here sharing in His servanthood, to one another and to the world.   

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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.

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Resolved: Grow in Moral and Theological Virtue

It’s that time again. Get ready. Here they come. With pen to paper or fingers to keyboard the lists of New Year’s resolutions will issue forth, and even though many resolutions will not survive the month of January, the impulse to make them is a good one, I suppose. After all, who doesn’t want to do better, to make a change, to lose that weight, write that book, finish that project, or whatever? Who doesn’t resolve to grow in the year ahead? I do, and I suspect you do, too. Well then, here’s a proposed resolution for 2022 that all of us, especially the Christians, can and should put at the top of our lists. Let’s resolve to grow in virtue in the new year, to make 2022 “The Year of Virtue,” if I might be so bold!

What is a virtue? A virtue is what may be described as a stable disposition of the soul, a guiding principle that permeates all a person’s thoughts and deeds. While not everyone may be able to define a virtue with this type of technical specificity, we all know what it looks like when others are virtuous and when they are not. Virtue is attractive, even if we don’t always understand how or why. On this point, it will help to remember that we find virtue attractive and we are able to be virtuous because we are made in the image of God, and He is virtue. He’s not just virtuous, though that is certainly true, but He is virtue, and all our understanding and gravitation toward what is virtuous reflects our being made in God’s image and having a sense of the divine permeating the very fabric of our souls.

To help frame the discussion of virtues a bit more, consider two types of virtues: moral and theological. Moral virtues are the stable dispositions of the soul that all persons, Christian and non-Christian can develop by virtue of God’s common grace in the areas of temperance, prudence, justice, and courage. When we think of temperance, we think of self-control, of the practice of moderation in all things—not too much and not too little of what is good and right. Prudence is like wisdom, the right use of knowledge to the betterment of the person and the society. Justice is that sense of and commitment to what is right, what is righteous, just, and fair. Courage is the ability to face fear and continue to move forward in an endeavor. To be sure, courage is not the absence of fear but the determination to not let fear paralyze and control. These moral virtues all intertwine in relationship to each other, so that, for example, the temperate person is prudent, and her expressions of justice are infused with courage.

How, then, can the moral virtues grow? Of all the possibilities I know, I believe one is most important in this regard. Even in the lack of an abundance of any of the morally virtuous dispositions of the soul, even when courage is small or prudence is hard to identify, a person who exercises what little they have of the virtue will grow in that virtue. Think of a baby’s first steps. They toddle along and fall, first a half step followed by a tumble. Then another full step, a fall, a cry, another attempt, and finally the baby is walking. Though the first step wasn’t a full or stable one, it was an attempt and it led to the next and the next and the next. That’s how moral virtues grow, one feeble choice at a time. Failure gives way to forward movement, and the virtues grows stronger and inspire and sustain each other along the path to human flourishing and happiness. This is true of all persons, as all have the capacity for moral virtue by divine endowment.

What about theological virtues? These are unique to Christians, with capacity for their cultivation given by the grace of God in salvation and infused over time through participation in God’s ordinary means of grace (such as worship, Scripture reading, prayer, fellowship, spiritual disciplines, and the like). Paul lists the theological virtues in 1 Cor. 13:13, declaring that “now abide faith, hope, love, these three; but the greatest of these is love.” Notice that Paul states that faith, hope, and love “abide,” which is to say they live and remain in the believer even when other special manifestations of the Spirit’s gifts may dissipate or disappear in the outworking of God’s salvific plan. These three remain in the believer, with potential for growth as stable dispositions of the Christian soul now and into eternity. Love is the greatest, which is to say it is the primary or controlling theological virtue (just as prudence may be thought of as the greatest or primary moral virtue), and together faith, hope, and love grow and increase together to help Christians become more like Christ, more theologically virtuous as they “work out [their] own salvation with fear and trembling” to accomplish their calling as having been “created in Christ Jeus for good works” as a result of having been “saved by grace through faith.”[i]

I hasten to add that as Christians grow in theological virtue they are going to grow in moral virtue, which will in turn influence their growth in theological virtue. All of this is possible through the goodness of God and His commitment to seeing each believer realize their full potential in Christ. That’s what love looks like, after all. It desires the best for its recipient, and Christians are their best when they are morally and theologically virtuous. That’s how we can represent Christ to the world, to be His living epistles, His icons of virtue and goodness.

We come again, then, to our resolutions for the start of 2022. Join me, brothers, sisters, in resolving to grow in moral and theological virtues. Let’s make 2022 “The Year of Virtue” for the sake of a world in desperate need of God’s goodness and mercy as revealed through His virtuous people.

[i] Phil. 2:12; Eph. 2:8-10.

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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.

Top Ten Articles for 2021

Top Ten Most Popular Articles for 2021

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10. Defusing the Euthyphro Dilemma

October 11, 2021 / Adam Johnson

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9. Loki and the Problem of Determinism

July 19, 2021 / Brian G. Chilton

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8. Divine Command Theory and the Euthyphro Dilemma: Part I

May 12, 2021 / Matthew Flannagan

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7. The Paranormal Evidence for Morality

September 27, 2021 / Jonathan Pruitt

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6. A Dozen Moral Arguments

October 25, 2021 / David Baggett

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5. Multiple Source Attestation for the Resurrection of Jesus

April 02, 2021 / Brian Chilton

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4. The Moral Argument for God’s Existence

August 30, 2021 / Adam Johnson

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3. No, Wormwood, Empathy is Not a Sin

September 08, 2021 / Brian Chilton

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2. Communion Meditation: The Assurance of Hope

April 09, 2021 / Elton Higgs

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1. Forsaken: An open letter to American military veterans as Afghanistan falls

August 19, 2021 / Jan Shultis

The Case That Our Moral Knowledge Points Toward God: Part 2

This is the second 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 focuses specifically on three well-known arguments for God’s existence that have to do with our moral knowledge. After examining each argument, the series will conclude by offering a strategy for how they can be used in conjunction so that they reinforce each other. Last time we examined the similar (but different) arguments given by Mark Linville and Alvin Plantinga concerning evolutionary naturalism (EN). Now we will inspect an argument from Scott Smith.

SCOTT SMITH’S ARGUMENT 

Like Plantinga, Smith concludes that we would have no knowledge—moral or otherwise—if naturalism were true, but Smith arrives at this conclusion quite differently. Instead of arguing that EN would give us a defeater for all of our knowledge because we would have evolved for adaptive behavior rather than holding true beliefs, Smith focuses on the fact that naturalism eliminates any basis for humans having an immaterial essence, or soul, that can allow for genuine mental events—intentional thoughts “of” or “about” things in the world. If a human person is only a physical brain that receives and processes inputs, then Smith argues that such intentionality is impossible. This, he believes, unavoidably undermines any basis for us having knowledge. Let us examine Smith’s view more closely.

Smith makes his case largely by laying out some key implications that the atheist Daniel Dennett believes follow from naturalism, since Smith believes much of Dennett’s perspective is an accurate representation of what would be true in a naturalistic world. Smith perceives Dennett as one of the few philosophers of science working in cognitive science who takes seriously “the implications of naturalism—and naturalistic evolution.”[2] Dennett denies that there is an enduring self (a “you” that continues to exist over time); instead, the brain has been shaped by evolution to give us the illusion that there is a self and that the self has mental content such as “beliefs, desires, fears, and hopes.” Humans are just biological machines and have no intentionality, but we have come to regard ourselves and others as intentional agents because it is useful for predicting behavior.[3] Just as this allows us to predict what a “chess-playing computer will do,” it is efficient for us to view humans and animals in the same way and attribute intentionality to them; however, in reality, there is no such intentionality. We live in a physical world with no metaphysical persons who have real intentional states, so we do not really think “of or about something.”[4]

Dennett admits that genuine mental states must be “of” or “about” some particular thing. One cannot have a thought or experience that is not about something. This “ofness” or “intentionality” is essential to every mental state. A thought about a particular thing (e.g., a cat) could not be about something else (e.g., a dog) and “still be the thought that it is.” Dennett recognizes that true mental states must be nonphysical in nature in order to be “of their intended objects.” Since Dennett realizes that naturalism leaves no room for nonphysical essences, Smith agrees with Dennett that naturalism merely allows us to “take (interpret, conceive) a mental state to be about something.”[5] But Smith argues that this does not constitute knowledge, as the “denial of the existence of essences results in our inability to have knowledge.”[6] Naturalism requires that mental states must be “reduced to physical stuff or denied.” Since our mental states have no essence and no “ofness,” our “experiences” are merely “the last state in a long, causal, physical chain.” But this means we can never get past experiencing our “last physical state” so as to know whether we are perceiving the object of our experience as it is. Only if mental states are nonphysical can they “escape the physical limitations of causal chains.”[7] Natural selection entails that our thoughts are no different from a computer program. A computer’s intentionality is not original but is derived from its programmer, and any intentionality (“ofness” or “aboutness”) that we have in our thinking is similarly derived from natural selection.[8] Although our mental states, sense of self, and moral beliefs seem evident to us, these things would not have any basis in reality. In terms of morality, “evil” merely becomes our “interpretations of physical events.” There are no “intrinsically mental (or moral) entities” that could have a “good or bad quality” or an “essence.”[9] For there to be objective moral truths that we can know, there would have to be “essences involved both in our mental states, the moral principles and virtues, and in persons.”[10]

Smith also emphasizes that the “self must somehow remain essentially the same through time and change, such that the identical person owns these thoughts and experiences, grows in understanding and learning, even if over a span of many years.”[11] Smith thus thinks that the reality of the soul, which clearly is beyond the resources of naturalism, is essential to us having knowledge. It is problematic if “I” am not an enduring self with true mental properties and if there are no essences for me to know. But with naturalism, the most we can do is merely attribute moral motivations to others while the actual processes going on in the human machine are purely physical and lack intentionality.[12]

Smith rightly points out that Dennett’s claim that we attribute intentionality to others is problematic. This is because one would seem to require real thoughts and intentional beliefs that are “about” or “of” another person in order to attribute intentionality to that person. Although Dennett does claim we can know things, his view undermines any basis for knowledge because our brain merely receives inputs and processes them. So, Dennett fails to realize that without any basis for intentionality and the self, it is self-refuting for him to claim true knowledge of his theory or of anything else.[13] We can never have a “conscious awareness” of reality as it is; ultimately, “everything is interpretation all the way down.”[14] Smith thus takes the firm position that “naturalism cannot give us knowledge.” This means that “all the various naturalists’ proposals for ethics also must fail due to their inability to offer any knowledge.”[15]

Smith’s argument has much force. He is surely correct that the mental events necessary for knowledge are different from physical events because physical events are not about anything.[16] A soul seems necessary in order for human persons to be more than biological machines that simply process inputs and produce mechanistic outputs. If mental events are nonphysical, as they seemingly must be, then it is hard to see how purely physical things could have them. Having surveyed Smith’s view, next time we will consider one final argument concerning moral knowledge.

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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.”

2. R. Scott Smith, In Search of Moral Knowledge: Overcoming the Fact-Value Dichotomy (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2014), 137.

3. Ibid., 138-139. This idea of viewing ourselves and others as intentional, rational agents allows us to predict behavior, and Dennett calls it the “intentional stance.” This concept is laid out by Dennett in his book by the same name. See: Daniel Clement Dennett, The Intentional Stance (Cambridge, MA: MIT Press, 1987).

4. Ibid., 140-142.

5. Ibid., 293.

6. Ibid., 294.

7. Ibid., 303.

8. Ibid., 143.

9. Ibid., 145.

10. Ibid., 322.

11. Ibid., 309-310.

12. Ibid., 146.

13. Ibid., 147-151.

14. Ibid., 151.

15. Ibid., 153.

16. J. P. Moreland has highlighted many other evidences that mental and physical events are not identical. These include: mental events, unlike physical events, are known and experienced only by the person having them; mental events, unlike physical events, have no parts; only mental events can be vague or pleasurable; one only has direct access to one’s mental states but physical states can be accessed by multiple people; and mental states, unlike the physical, are necessarily owned by a specific person. See: James Porter Moreland, The Soul: How We Know It's Real and Why It Matters (Chicago, IL: Moody Publishers, 2014) 80-81.

Be Like Mary

Adoration of the Shepherds by Dutch painter Matthias Stomer, 1632

So, we've been talking about key players in the Christmas narrative. We've talked about the angels. We've talked about the family of Joseph who made room for them in their home, even if not the guest room (the “inn”). We've talked about the shepherds. We’ve talked about Joseph choosing to stay with Mary despite her unusual pre-marriage pregnancy, but what Christmas week would be complete without talking especially about Mary, the mother of Jesus? She’s the one later Christians would call Mary, the Mother of God, the Theotokos, the God-bearer. Now before you get panicky in fear of a Roman Catholic takeover, it's right that we would recognize Mary for who she was and what she did. That's why she's such a significant person.

She was the one who bore the Son of God, who delivered Him on His birthday, who went on to raise Him to manhood. I dare say Mary was the one who knew Jesus most intimately in His life and ministry. To this point, there's a relationship between Mary and the greatest philosopher of all time. Before I tell you who that philosopher is, think about philosophy. What is it? The love of wisdom. Philosophy literally means the love of wisdom. To be sure, Jesus is wisdom. Who loved Jesus most intimately? His mother, and that's why she has been called the greatest philosopher of all time. She was the greatest one ever to love wisdom, to love Jesus.

Why is it that we're still talking about Mary, especially since things that have been said about her over the centuries may be overstated, such as her immaculate conception, sinless life, or bodily assumption into heaven? Well, for starters, she didn't say those things herself. What we can say is what Scripture says, and it tells us first, that when she was invited to play a role in the plan of redemption, when the angel appeared to her, she said, yes. Aren't we glad she did? Mary said to Gabriel’s announcement, “I am the handmaiden of the Lord. Let it be unto me according to your word.” Also, Mary was there as Jesus was presented in the temple, having previously been there when the shepherds visited at His birth. She was there when Jesus and Joseph, along with her, all packed up and went down into Egypt to get out of harm’s way from Herod. She was there throughout His ministry. She was there at the cross. She was there at the resurrection. She was there in the upper room on Pentecost. Mary was significant. We can learn from her to say yes to God and to stick with Jesus no matter what.

There’s one more thing she did that is so valuable. Again, and again she's described as taking all the things she learned about Jesus and pondering them in her heart. Can you think of anything better than Jesus to fill your heart with? Can you think of anything better to ponder?

So, we want to be like Mary. We want to be like she, whose Son saved us and her, the whole world, and we want to say yes when He calls us to our mission. We want to ponder and let sink deep into our being all that we know about Jesus and all that He is to us. Every day, we want to be like Mary, and by doing so, we can be more like her Son, Jesus.

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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.

Lord’s Supper Meditation – Judas Takes the Bread

The Last Supper; Christ Washing the Apostles’ Feet, about 1400–10, Unknown. Tempera colors, gold, silver paint, and ink on parchment; 13 3/16 x 9 1/4 in. The J. Paul Getty Museum, Ms. 33, fol. 286v

A Twilight Musing

As we learn from the portrayal of Judas in the account of the Last Supper in John 13, there is  spiritual peril in being formally a part of fellowship with Christ without being truly connected with Him.   The very beginning of this chapter (vv. 2-3) highlights Jesus’s acute awareness of Judas’s immanent betrayal: “During supper, when the devil had already put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray him, Jesus, knowing that . . . he had come from God and was going back to God,” arose to wash the disciples’ feet.  We assume that Jesus washed Judas’s feet along with all of the others, but Jesus explicitly excludes Judas from the benefit of being made clean (sanctified): “For he knew who was to betray him; that was why he said, ‘Not all of you are clean’” (Jn. 13:11).  He reinforces this exclusion of His betrayer from the spiritual benefit of the foot washing when He tells them, “If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them. I am not speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen. But the Scripture will be fulfilled, ‘He who ate my bread has lifted his heel against me.’”

The point of all of this veiled anticipation is made clear in the account of Judas being identified by receiving a piece of bread from the hand of Jesus. 
         

After saying these things, Jesus was troubled in his spirit, and testified, “Truly, truly, I say to you, one of you will betray me.” The disciples looked at one another, uncertain of whom he spoke. One of his disciples, whom Jesus loved, was reclining at table at Jesus' side, so Simon Peter motioned to him to ask Jesus of whom he was speaking. So that disciple, leaning back against Jesus, said to him, “Lord, who is it?” Jesus answered, “It is he to whom I will give this morsel of bread when I have dipped it.” So when he had dipped the morsel, he gave it to Judas, the son of Simon Iscariot. Then Jesus said to him, “What you are going to do, do quickly.” Now no one at the table knew why he said this to him. Some thought that, because Judas had the moneybag, Jesus was telling him, “Buy what we need for the feast,” or that he should give something to the poor. So, after receiving the morsel of bread, he immediately went out. And it was night.  When he had gone out, Jesus said, “Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him.”  (Jn. 13:21-31)

There are several observations to be made about this passage.  First, Jesus is “troubled in spirit” concerning the upcoming betrayal, and He shares His concern with the disciples.   Why?  It seems unlikely that He is troubled only about the suffering and death that this act will bring about.  It is plausible that He is also concerned about the impact of the betrayal on both Judas and the rest of the disciples.  Satan’s work has disturbingly infiltrated this close-knit group; Satan has already “put it into the heart of Judas Iscariot, Simon's son, to betray” Jesus, and when the Master reveals it, the disciples respond with “Who is it?” and “Is it I?”  Immediately, their ability to assume solidarity in this small, intimate band is compromised.  We are told that the one “whom Jesus loved” (John) was seated next to Jesus, “leaning back against” Him, and therefore was ideally situated to ask the Master, “Lord, who is it?” 

It is symbolically significant that Jesus’ answer to this question is sharing a piece of the Passover bread with Judas.   Judas’s receipt of the bread from Jesus, far from being an act of sharing and communion, marked the point at which “Satan entered into him” and he was completely possessed by the Enemy.  Thus, the bread of communion becomes for him a kind of “Devil’s Mass,” and in taking it from Jesus’ hand he commits self-condemning sacrilege.  One is reminded of the warning of Paul in I Cor. 11:27-29: “Whoever, therefore, eats the bread or drinks the cup of the Lord in an unworthy manner will be guilty concerning the body and blood of the Lord. Let a person examine himself, then, and so eat of the bread and drink of the cup. For anyone who eats and drinks without discerning the body eats and drinks judgment on himself.”  The fact that Judas goes out immediately to execute the betrayal, perhaps with the bread still in his hand, indicates how thoroughly under the control of the Enemy he was.

So it is that we can recognize in the portrayal of Judas in this passage the danger of only maintaining appearances when we participate in the intimate fellowship of Communion together with Christ.  May we humbly receive His cleansing and His sharing of Himself in such a way that it is a blessing to our souls and not a curse to a hard heart.

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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.

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Reflections on Why I Left, Why I Stayed, by Tony and Bart Campolo, Part 8

As promised, this blog will now explore the doctrine of damnation, the logic of perdition, the terrifying and much-maligned notion of hell. Bart seems to have interpreted scripture along the lines of meticulous providence, which understandably and invariably encountered insuperable difficulties in the context of brutal human experience. He admits that his theology before losing his faith was not much different from that of Shonda’s Sunday School teacher, which is a sad commentary about the quality of his theological sophistication at that stage. For someone with his strong ethical sensibilities and soft heart, he was, in retrospect, eminently ripe for walking away from his faith.

He had believed that “anyone who didn’t accept Jesus in this life was going to hell afterward,” and this would include one like Shonda unless she changed her mind about Jesus. He writes, “To me it was absurd to think that an all-powerful, all-loving God would willingly fail to protect an innocent little girl in this life, and then, when she couldn’t trust Jesus as a result, doom her to eternal damnation in the life to come. So absurd, in fact, that I decided to think otherwise.”

After rejecting meticulous providence (mistakenly taking this to involve eschewing divine sovereignty), Bart then “decided there must be some kind of back door to heaven reserved for good people who didn’t manage to come to Jesus before they died.” Once more Bart effected this maneuver with at least a tacit sense that doing so constituted a departure from orthodoxy—simply a decision he was undertaking on his own, a deviation from biblical teaching.

Again, there are two issues at play here. Prior to asking whether the Bible’s teaching on this matter is accurate, the question is whether or not Bart’s interpretation was right. If it wasn’t, the question of whether such an interpretation is accurate does not arise. Bart’s confidence in his biblical interpretation is strong—far too strong—and in light of his moral sensibilities and personal experience, he simply thought he needed to reject biblical inspiration and adopt views at variance with biblical teaching.

A far preferable methodology, to my thinking, would have been to subject to much greater critical scrutiny some of his narrow biblical interpretations. But as we have seen, he equated such an effort with theological accommodation. Surely this is a danger; indeed, I have suggested that Tony’s change of mind on the issue of homosexuality is a paradigmatic example, which seems to be Bart’s view as well. But there is a distinction between principled theological adjustment and unprincipled accommodation, a distinction often seemed lost on Bart because of his failure to subject to adequate scrutiny his biblical exegesis.

So there seemed to form in Bart’s worldview a perfect storm: the conjunction of treating his biblical interpretations as sacrosanct, interpretations often predicated on ultra-Calvinism and meticulous providence, a failure to distinguish between principled and unprincipled theological adjustments, and his largely laudable moral sensibilities. Frankly what would have been surprising is if he didn’t end up losing his faith given this cacophonous cocktail.

As time went on, Bart says that, by a certain point, belief in hell was “long gone.” But what was his doctrine of hell, exactly? It was not simply based on the notion that salvation is ultimately only available because of Christ, but something like that conviction conjoined with a host of add-ons. Not only must one accept Christ to avoid hell, for example, one must accept Christ in this life, without exception. Bart could have rejected, or at least questioned, the latter without rejecting the former. For example, what happens to the unevangelized subsequent to their death? Even Billy Graham admitted he wasn’t sure, and not because he harbored doubts that salvation was only through Christ.

Moreover, by Bart’s admission, he began looking for a back door to heaven reserved for good people who didn’t manage to come to Jesus before they died. I’m not entirely sure what Bart means by “good people,” especially if all of us as human beings are sinful and in need of salvation. If he means people who haven’t definitively rejected Christ in this lifetime, but who for one reason or another didn’t explicitly accept him, I’m eminently open to such a possibility. I think many Christians are. It seems to be an arguable entailment of God’s love. This is no “back door,” or unprincipled theological accommodation. It is, though, a rejection of an ultra-fundamentalist epistemology, a Calvinist paradigm of soteriology, a meticulous providence view of divine sovereignty, and presumptuous theological add-ons.

Not every view with which we have been raised needs to be treated as a sacred cow, a nonnegotiable, sacrosanct tenet. There is a huge distinction between a hermeneutical commitment to the reliability of scripture, on the one hand, and a treatment of each of one’s own biblical interpretations as inerrant, on the other. The latter bespeaks a profound lack of epistemic humility.

Belief in biblical inspiration means that its truly nonnegotiable and crystal clear teachings are to be accepted as altogether reliable. But it assuredly does not entail that we assume as beyond criticism our biblical interpretations on every ancillary, peripheral, or secondary question that might arise. The Bible makes clear that salvation is ultimately only through Christ; this is properly treated as a nonnegotiable piece of orthodoxy. Various presumptuous and fine-grained conjectural add-ons are not.

C. S. Lewis’s Great Divorce offers a way to understand hell that doesn’t depict it as simply the ultimate torture chamber for those who unluckily failed to accept Christ in this life or who happen to rejected a garbled, twisted, or degraded picture of Christianity. It is rather a morally robust picture of damnation as the tragic consequence of a clear-eyed rejection of every last overture of God’s love, where, as in Dante, one’s sufferings are intrinsically connected to those sins one refuses to let go of until the bitter end. I mention thinkers like these not to treat their fictional pictures as gospel truth, but to showcase intriguing possibilities for how to think maturely about substantive matters of theology.

In his Exclusion and Embrace, Miroslav Volf reflects on the apparent tension between a God who loves us enough to die for us and a God who would relegate us to hell. Among his many insights is this one: “God will judge not because God gives people what they deserve, but because some people refuse to receive what no one deserves; if evildoers experience God’s terror, it will not be because they have done evil, but because they have resisted to the end the powerful lure of the open arms of the crucified Messiah.”           

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

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The Case That Our Moral Knowledge Points Toward God: Part 1

INTRODUCTION 

This is the first 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 the force of each individual argument.[1] There are different kinds of moral arguments for the existence of God. Some aim to show that God is needed for objective moral truth to exist; others focus on the advantage that God offers for justifying other aspects of morality, such as: moral knowledge, moral transformation, or moral rationality. This series of articles focuses specifically on three well-known arguments for God’s existence that have to do with our moral knowledge. I will make the case that these arguments, while different, are complementary. After examining each argument, the series concludes by offering a strategy for how they can be used in conjunction so that they reinforce each other. In this first article of the series, I examine Mark Linville’s “Argument from Evolutionary Naturalism” (AEN), which is similar to an argument given by Alvin Plantinga.

THE ARGUMENTS OF MARK LINVILLE AND ALVIN PLANTINGA 

Mark Linville’s AEN is a deductive argument which aims to show that naturalism is false because evolutionary naturalism (EN) undermines any basis for humans having moral knowledge, yet we seem to have moral knowledge.[2] Since Darwinian evolution is the “only game in town” for naturalists in terms of accounting for the diversity of biological life, Linville justifiably lumps evolution and naturalism together.[3] Linville is hardly the first to make the claim that EN cannot justify moral knowledge; many secular ethicists recognize this,[4] and a number of theists, like Linville, have also reached this conclusion—perhaps none more notable than Alvin Plantinga. Let us first examine Linville’s argument and then compare it with Plantinga’s. Linville argues:

(1) If EN is true, then human morality is a by-product of natural selection.

(2) If human morality is a by-product of natural selection, then there is no moral knowledge.

(3) There is moral knowledge.

(4) Therefore, EN is false.[5]

Premise (1) contends that through the process of natural selection we have evolved with a sort of programming to hold moral beliefs that are conducive to survival. Morality is crucial to our “survival and reproductive success,” so we cannot think it is independent of natural selection. All rational moral deliberation must be within the boundaries of that programming.[6] Linville points out that Darwin himself held that our moral programming would have been much different had we evolved under different conditions; if humans had evolved under the sort of conditions in which hive-bees evolved, then “there can hardly be a doubt that our unmarried females would, like the worker-bees, think it a sacred duty to kill their brothers, and mothers would strive to kill their fertile daughters, and no one would think of interfering.”[7] If EN were true, we surely could not escape the bounds of our evolutionary moral programming. So we should accept (1).

Premise (2) recognizes that just because our moral beliefs help us to survive, that does not require that the beliefs track any moral truth. The evolutionary processes involved in the development of our moral beliefs are independent of these beliefs being true, and if EN were true then a plausible account of our moral beliefs can be given by appealing to the survival value of us holding them.[8] This means that “our moral beliefs are without warrant” and “do not amount to knowledge.”[9] By contrast, a theist can appeal to God’s design of our minds to recognize moral truth, providing a basis to justify our moral knowledge. Premise (3) holds that we do seem to have genuine moral knowledge, thus (4) concludes that EN is false.

Alvin Plantinga’s argument is slightly different. While Linville argues that, if EN were true, our moral knowledge would be aimed at adaptiveness for survival, Plantinga emphasizes the adaptiveness of our behavior and argues that all of our beliefs are unimportant apart from their being consistent with adaptive behavior. In a world where EN is true, our beliefs essentially go along for the ride, and their truth or falsity makes no difference so long as they do not get in the way of adaptive behaviors. Plantinga’s argument is that we have reason to doubt the reliability of our “cognitive faculties” (e.g., memory, perception, sympathy, introspection, induction, moral sense).[10] What EN ensures is that we behave in ways that lead to survival and reproduction; thus, the role of our cognitive faculties is not producing true beliefs, but instead “contributing to survival by getting the body parts in the right place.” Natural selection guarantees adaptive behavior, but why think our cognitive faculties produce true beliefs?[11]

Plantinga’s argument goes as follows. Premise (P1) holds that “the conditional probability that our cognitive faculties are reliable, given [EN], is low.”[12] Premise (P2) is that “anyone who accepts (believes)” EN and also realizes that (P1) is true “has a defeater for” thinking that her cognitive faculties are reliable.[13] Premise (P3) then states that “anyone who has a defeater for [the reliability of her cognitive faculties] has a defeater for any other belief she thinks she has, including [EN] itself.”[14] (If one’s cognitive faculties are unreliable, then all beliefs produced by them—which are all of one’s beliefs—are unreliable.) Finally, Premise (P4) concludes that: “If one who accepts [EN] thereby acquires a defeater for [EN], [EN] is self-defeating and can’t be rationally accepted.”[15]

Clearly (P1) is the crucial premise. Linville notes that many intuitively find Plantinga’s first premise implausible because “the link between true belief and adaptive behavior” seems credible when it comes to nonmoral behaviors, such as hunting for food. Linville prefers the more modest claim that EN only calls into question our moral beliefs because the adaptive success of many nonmoral behaviors seem to be tied to the truth of our beliefs.[16]

Despite Linville’s concern, Plantinga makes a solid case for P1. Plantinga recognizes that most of us assume our cognitive faculties are mostly reliable. But “the naturalist has a powerful reason against this assumption, and should give it up” if he also accepts evolution. When a frog eats an insect, it does not matter what the frog believes or whether those beliefs are true so long as the frog engages in the right behavior to eat the insect and thus survive.[17] In response to the sort of concern raised by Linville that “true beliefs will facilitate adaptive action” better than false beliefs, Plantinga agrees but contends that it is “irrelevant” because “we are not asking about how things are, but about what things would be like if both evolution and naturalism (construed as including materialism) were true.”[18] Plantinga is not arguing that our cognitive faculties are unreliable in the actual world; he is only arguing that they would be unreliable if EN were true. Moreover, no test could demonstrate the reliability of one’s cognitive faculties because such a test would require the use of one’s cognitive faculties. Plantinga rightly concludes that “this defeater, therefore, can’t be defeated.”[19]

If Plantinga’s argument succeeds, then it expands the scope of the knowledge problem faced by EN beyond Linville’s argument: All of our beliefs are dubious. Next time, we will look at a second kind of moral knowledge argument.

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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.”

2. Naturalism is the view that the natural world is all that exists (i.e., there is no God or supernatural realm). Evolutionary naturalism is the view that both naturalism and Darwinian evolution are true.

3. Mark Linville, “The Moral Argument,” in The Blackwell Companion to Natural Theology, eds. William Lane Craig and J. P. Moreland (Oxford: Blackwell Publishing Ltd., 2009), 392-395.

4. Ibid., 393. Secular ethicists such as E. O. Wilson and Michael Ruse have similarly concluded that EN reduces ethics to an illusion and requires that any belief we have that we are apprehending some real and objective moral truth is merely a “useful fiction” that has survival benefits.

5. Ibid., 394-398. On pages 397-398, Linville frames the argument he laid out on page 394 in epistemic terms by modifying Premises (2) and (3) to refer to “moral knowledge” rather than “moral facts.”

6. Ibid., 400-403.

7. Charles Darwin, The Descent of Man and Selection in Relation to Sex, 2nd ed. (New York: D. Appleton & Co, 1882), 99.

8. Linville, “The Moral Argument,” 394-398.

9. Ibid., 397.

10. Alvin Plantinga, Where the Conflict Really Lies: Science, Religion, and Naturalism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011), 311-312.

11. Ibid., 315-316.

12. Ibid., 317.

13. Ibid., 340.

14. Ibid., 343.

15. Ibid., 344.

16. Linville, “The Moral Argument,” 408.

17. Plantinga, Where the Conflict Really Lies, 328.

18. Ibid., 335.

19. Ibid., 346.

The Case for a Personal God from Morality: Justice

Two incredibly important questions that every human person should consider involve God’s existence and nature: (1) Does God exist? (2) If so, what is he like? [1]

One of the unique features of the moral argument is its ability to not only provide evidence for God’s existence, but also shed a significant amount of light on God’s character. For example, the moral argument points to a God who exists, but also to God as essentially good and loving, as well as holy and transcendent. The moral argument also indicates that God is deeply personal.

Although there are numerous facets of morality that gesture in the direction of a personal God, the moral value of justice is considered here.

The Personal Nature of Justice

What is justice? Among other things, justice is a personal response to the wrongdoing of morally free human persons.[2] It is said that justice has been served when a guilty party has been punished for his or her wrongdoing. Rather than merely existing as an abstraction of the universe or flowing from a non-personal process of sorts, justice is a property of persons. When a judgment is made upon a particular person or group of persons (or a situation in general), whether it be one of approval or disapproval, a mind and a will are assumed, and generally speaking, one who possesses a mind and a will and the possibility of grasping the role of justice is a person. Is it plausible for justice to simply exist apart from connection to a person or persons? William Lane Craig responds to this question in the following manner:

It is difficult, however, even to comprehend this view. What does it mean to say, for example, that Justice just exists? It’s hard to know what to make of this. It is clear what is meant when it is said that a person is just; but it is bewildering when it is said that in the absence of any people, Justice itself exists. Moral values seem to exist as properties of persons, not as mere abstractions—or at any rate it’s hard to know what it is for a moral value to exist as a mere abstraction.[3]

On a human level, it is clear that justice exists and that its instances are present in persons. What about ultimate justice, if such a thing exists?

The Hope for Ultimate Justice and How It Points to a Personal God

 When a human person chooses to carry out a criminal act, he is deserving of punishment, and only when he receives the punishment he deserves, has justice been served. This raises a difficult question: What about the times when justice does not seemingly prevail, at least in this life? There are countless examples of this throughout history, including Joseph Stalin and his participation in the killing of between twenty and sixty million people, Adolf Hitler and his role in the murder of six million Jews, and Pol Pot and his slaying of nearly one-third of the Cambodian population (between one and three million Cambodians). Other examples include the numerous persons who get away with atrocities such as rape, sex trafficking, child abuse, and murder. When human justice is not enacted in this life, should one hope that there is a personal God to enact justice in the next? According to Richard Creel,

As long as it is logically possible that evil be defeated, that innocent suffering is not meaningless and final, it seems to me that we have a moral obligation to hope that that possibility is actual. Therefore we have a moral obligation to hope that there is a God because, if there is a God, then innocent suffering is not meaningless or final. . . . To be sure, the Holocaust was enormously tragic—but without God it is even more tragic. Indeed, a far greater evil than the evils of history would be that the evils of history will not be defeated because there is no God.[4]

 If there is no God or the divine is altogether non-personal, legitimate hope for ultimate justice appears unattainable.[5] On the other hand, if there is a holy and personal God who exists, then “innocent suffering is not meaningless or final.”[6] Therefore, by considering the concept of ultimate justice, one is able to postulate not only the existence of a personal deity who is capable of enacting justice, but also an afterlife in which ultimate justice is served.

 At this point, a Platonist might suggest that justice merely exists as an abstraction of the universe, and that there is no need to ground justice in a personal God. Suppose that an abstract Platonic realm does exist for a moment. In theory, it is at least possible to understand how ultimate justice could possibly exist, but it is much more difficult to grasp how a non-personal realm (with no ultimate person in view) could enact justice because enacting seemingly requires the existence of a person who does the enacting. Abstract realms cannot enact justice; personal beings enact justice. And in this case, if there is such a thing as ultimate justice (which I believe there is), and if there is to be legitimate hope of it being enacted, it is reasonable to posit the existence of a personal God.

Christian Theism as a Robust Explanation

Although there are several belief systems that set forth the notion of a personal God, with some conceptions coming nearer to adequately accounting for what is required of a personal God than others, Christianity uniquely demonstrates that not only is God personal, but that he has always been personal. If the only sense in which God is personal is in his personal interactions with human persons, then one could say that God’s personality was frustrated before he created human persons or that God became personal only after he created human persons. To say these sorts of things presents all sorts of theological and philosophical problems, namely, that God is dependent on something other than himself and therefore not self-sufficient. However, a Trinitarian conception of God, which is a distinctly Christian concept, solves these sorts of problems, suggesting that God has always been personal in and through the inner personal relations of the three Persons of the Trinity: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. This is the fundamental reason why the Judeo-Christian God, the God of the Bible, provides a robust account of the personal nature of justice (and the personal nature of morality in general): he is intrinsically personal himself.

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Stephen S. Jordan is currently the Campus Pastor at Liberty Christian Academy, 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, and good coffee/tea.

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

[2] According to Kant, “In his moral actions, however, man is a free agent and is, therefore, liable for consequences of actions done…In a word, the key to the imputation of responsibility for consequences is freedom.” Immanuel Kant, Lectures in Ethics, trans. Louis Infield (Indianapolis, IN: Hackett Publishing Company, 1963), 60.

[3] William Lane Craig, Reasonable Faith, 3rd ed. (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2008), 179.

[4] Richard E. Creel, Divine Impassibility: An Essay in Philosophical Theology (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 149-150.

[5] There are those who accept the need for justice on a human level but dismiss the need for ultimate justice. However, on this view, it appears that there are many who get away with injustice unscathed. For this reason, among others, it at least seems logical to hope there is such a thing as ultimate justice and that it will be enacted.

[6] Along the same lines, Marilyn McCord Adams states: “If Divine Goodness is infinite, if intimate relation to it is thus incommensurably good for created persons, then we have identified a good big enough to defeat horrors in every case.” Marilyn McCord Adams, Horrendous Evils and the Goodness of God (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, 1999), 82-83.

Lord’s Supper Meditation – Two Kinds of Suffering

A Twilight Musing

In the Lord’s Supper, both the bread and the wine represent the suffering of Jesus, but perhaps it is instructive to see the bread as focusing on His suffering in the flesh and the wine as focusing on His suffering in spirit.

 Jesus’ physical suffering on the last day of His life was no different from the suffering endured by the two thieves crucified along with Him.  Had only His physical body died, the eternal purpose of redeeming humanity would not have been fulfilled, even though He died in innocence and not because His body was forfeit to death because of sin.  Jesus had to go beyond merely having His heart stop beating and His lungs cease functioning.  It was man’s spirit that was doomed to die because of sin, and Jesus’ sacrificial death had to embrace that alienation from the Father expressed in the cry on the cross, “My God, my God, why have You forsaken me?”  By the time He died, however, He was able to say, “Into Your hands I commit my spirit.”  Jesus gave back to God the Father that part of Him that had most profoundly died, the death that satisfied the penalty of death in the spirit.  It appears that while Jesus’ mangled body lay in the tomb for three days, the core of His life—the part that was capable of redemptive sacrifice--was with the Father, awaiting the First Day of the Week to descend once more into the Incarnate Son’s uncorrupted frame and transform it into a body that was imperishable, the “firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep” (I Cor. 15:20).

So as we partake of the bread, we can concentrate on the fact that in His physical body Jesus suffered in all points as we do in the flesh, experiencing rejection, misunderstanding, persecution, slander, betrayal, and finally horrible torture and the shame and pain of the cross, wrapping up in Himself the physical suffering of all mankind.  But the drinking of the wine in communion can call our attention to the fact that the cup that Jesus was called on to drink (in spite of beseeching the Father that it might not be so) was an indescribable suffering at the core of His soul.  God laid down the principle that the life of a person or an animal is in its blood (Lev. 17:14); and as we drink the symbolic wine, we imbibe the process by which the bitter cup of alienation from God is transformed into the cup of eternal life.

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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.

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Reflections on Why I Left, Why I Stayed, by Tony and Bart Campolo, Part 7

When I first started this series about Tony and Bart Campolo’s book, I figured I’d do a blog per chapter, but I’ve been going at a slower pace than that. The richness of the material requires it. I now need to do a third blog on Bart’s first contribution to the chapter, “How I Left.” What we have seen is that Bart, owing to various experiences, began to see his confidence in his Christian convictions erode. His friendships with some gay friends made him lose confidence in biblical authority, for example, which we’ve already discussed a bit. And similarly he rejected his belief in the doctrine of hell.

I suppose belief in hell isn’t exactly an essential Christian belief, in the sense that, presumably, Christians can be universalists. At least when it comes to human beings, then, they might think hell remains empty. What their view is of fallen angels, Satan, etc. would be another matter. But the point is that one doesn’t have to believe that anyone goes to hell in order to be a Christian. That said, though, traditionally most Christians have endorsed some doctrine of damnation, and there seem to be solid biblical reasons for doing so. So in this blog and the next I’d like to reflect a bit specifically on Bart’s reasons for rejecting the doctrine and why I do not find his reasons compelling, but rather confused.

Bart writes that while his commitment to Jesus’ teachings about loving relationships and social justice grew stronger, the content of his faith kept shrinking. The intensity of his commitment to effect good in the world was increasing, but his confidence in traditional Christian beliefs was lessening. This included the doctrine of hell, which was “long gone by then,” thanks, he says, “to Shonda and a host other Shondas we got to know.”

Shonda, recall, was the mother of one of the kids in the day camp he helped run in Camden, New Jersey. She had been raised a believer, but at the age of nine, tragically, she was gang raped by a group of young men. When she asked why God hadn’t rescued her, her Sunday school teacher explained that because God was all-knowing and all-powerful, he could have stopped the attack, which meant that he must have allowed it for a good reason. “The real question, the teacher when on, was what Shonda could learn from the experience that would enable her to better love and glorify God.” At which point Shonda said she rejected God forever.

What Bart admits was that his theology at this time wasn’t much different from that of Shonda’s Sunday school teacher. “Indeed, I believed that God was sovereign, and that anyone who didn’t accept Jesus in this life was going to hell afterward, which made God seem like the cruelest of tyrants, at least as far as Shonda was concerned.” It struck Bart as absurd that an all-powerful, all-loving God would willingly fail to protect an innocent little girl in this life, and then, when she couldn’t trust Jesus as a result, “doom her to eternal damnation in the life to come.” So absurd, in fact, that Bart decided to think otherwise.

Note that it wasn’t at this point Bart rejected faith altogether. Rather, he “instinctively and quietly adjusted” his theology to accommodate his reality. He decided that God wasn’t actually in control of everything that happened in this world after all, and then he decided that there must be “some kind of back door to heaven reserved for good people who didn’t manage to come to Jesus before they died.”

There are (at least) two important issues to discuss here: divine sovereignty and the doctrine of damnation. For the rest of this blog I intend to discuss the matter of divine sovereignty, and in the next blog the matter of hell.

I find it supremely telling that Bart’s adjustment to his theology regarding sovereignty was to choose to believe that “God wasn’t actually in control of everything that happened in this world after all.” This is a very important point, because it reveals that Bart’s operative conception of sovereignty was a conception that would arguably make God the author of sin. To believe that God is in utter control of everything that happens is the view of meticulous providence, but to my thinking there is little reason to believe any such thing, and a number of reasons to disbelieve it. All that happens is within God’s permissive will, surely, but to put God’s agency at the center of all that happens yields unpalatable results and goes beyond biblical teaching.

Once more, there are two questions regarding such a doctrine. Does the Bible teach it? And is the Bible reliable? I don’t think the Bible teaches it, and most Christians do not. When a group of men gang rapes a child, did God somehow cause that to happen? Surely not. Now, it’s true that some would affirm that God does cause such things to happen. John Piper has said as much, as has a certain stripe of other Calvinists. But I find such theology fundamentally mistaken, if not pernicious. And if it is mistaken, the question of whether the Bible is accurate in teaching such doctrine doesn’t even arise.

Here’s an interesting insight. Some have suggested that it was the liberal and progressive aspects of Bart’s upbringing that made him so susceptible to losing his faith. I doubt it. I’m rather inclined to think it was the ultra Calvinist-sounding nature of some of his convictions. And notice this by way of confirmation: Bart himself, when he adjusted his theology on sovereignty, admits in retrospect that this “was the beginning of the end for me.” He identified Christian theology with something like extreme Calvinism and meticulous providence, and when he rejected the latter, it put him on a road to reject the former and lose his faith altogether. What makes this as needless as it’s tragic, to my thinking, is if the original conflation of Christianity with meticulous providence was mistaken in the first place. It was.

Among the many problems with such theology, in my view, is that it renders the problem of evil intractable. Making God the ultimate author of sin and of the most heinous acts of cruelty and injustice and abuse is hardly consistent with God’s essential nature of love. Rather than conducing to finding a practicable solution to the problem of evil, it exacerbates the problem to the point of rendering it intractable. Rather than saying the possibility of such things tragically happening is introduced in a world in which God confers meaningful freedom that can be horribly abused, it makes us say silly things like God must have wanted the rape itself to happen for some reason. It’s both bad theology and bad philosophy.

So Bart’s mistake was not, I would submit, the rejection of meticulous providence, but his identification of such hideous theology with Christianity. If there are other accounts of divine sovereignty that don’t yield such unpalatable implications—accounts entirely consistent with sound principles of biblical interpretation—then it’s altogether rational and principled to reject something like meticulous providence. Indeed I think it’s rationally, ethically, and exegetically incumbent on us to do so. It’s no unprincipled theological accommodation; it’s doing good theology, refusing to treat as sacrosanct a rather obviously wrong interpretation that represents a minority view in the history of the church to begin with.

Bart admits to dialing down God’s sovereignty and dialing up His mercy. I don’t think he was wrong to do so, starting as he did with his warped and inhumane understanding of sovereignty. Sadly he is hardly the first to abandon faith because of a clear-eyed recognition of the morally distasteful implications of such hyper Calvinism.

In the next installment, we will take up the matter of damnation.

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

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A Word from St. Nicholas

Jaroslav Čermák (1831 - 1878) - Sv. Mikuláš

May I share with you what’s on my heart? I’m carrying a load on my shoulders. It’s about Christmas and me. I’ve been around a long, long time --- centuries in fact. I must tell you the truth. I’m not the same man I used to be. I’ve changed. When you see me today in a store, at the mall, or in a parade, you’re seeing a different man. I’m afraid some have gotten the wrong impression of me.

In the beginning I wore a bishop’s robe. I was tall and thin then. As centuries have rolled by, I’ve put on weight and rolled with them. Jenny Craig, ‘Weight-watchers’ and the Keto diet weren’t around. Since the nineteenth century, I’ve been a round and jolly fellow. I’ve had to get new, red breeches and a fur stocking cap; my cheeks are like cherries; and, yes, I still have a twinkle in my eye; but my age is telling on me. Look, my long hair and beard are white!

May I be honest with you? It really scares me to think to what proportions I’ve grown. This is just it. Too many boys and girls think that I am Christmas. They’ve put me at the center of their Christmas: I’m the one to whom boys and girls make requests; I’m the one they wait on at five minutes to midnight; and I’m the one they look to give them what they want.

Am I really? No, no, my goodness, no!!  Let me tell you who I really am. People call me St. Nicholas, and so I am. But, please, let me tell you about the real me, the real St. Nicholas.

Sixteen hundred years ago, in the fourth century to be exact, I impressed people. Here’s how it began. One day, I should say, one, crisp winter night, I saw something very clearly in my mind. I understood whom Christmas is really about:  Christmas is about Jesus Christ.  I saw Jesus had given me a gift: He came in the flesh; lived a miraculous life; died on a cross and rose from the dead. All to forgive my sin and reconcile God and me! 

This meant the gift of Life and salvation to me! Even me! He gave it long before I ever knew him. Finally, I received that Gift and owned it for myself. Have you? Things began to happen inside me. One thing that changed was the burden I felt for the poor, the sick, and the suffering. There were great needs in my town of Myrna (Turkey). As my parent’s had left me great wealth, I decided to return it to Jesus Christ. I gave gifts and presents to those with hardships.

Since I was Myrna’s bishop, I knew I had to give secretly. If I didn’t, people knew me and would think I was showing off. Also, I didn’t want people to know who was giving them gifts. I might embarrass them. So, I began giving my gifts out secretly at night.  While people slept, I left gifts on their doorsteps.

I remember one poor man with three daughters. The girls were coming to a marriageable age. In those days, a young woman's father had to offer prospective husbands something of value —a dowry – to go along with his daughter. The larger the dowry, the better the chance a young woman had to attract a good husband. Without a dowry, a woman was unlikely to marry. I feared for this poor man's three daughters. He didn’t have the money for one dowry, much less three.  Without dowries, his daughters would probably be sold into slavery, or prostitution.

So, secretly, on three different occasions, I tossed bags of gold through the poor man’s open window. I later heard the gold landed in the girls’ stockings; some clanged into their shoes left by the fire to dry. This is where your custom comes from of children hanging stockings on the fireplace mantle.

Somehow, just what I feared happened. The word got around: ‘The Bishop of Myrna goes out at night and gives presents to people.’  People started calling me ‘Saint Nicholas’.  When the Dutch Americans tried to say my name, Sinterklaas, it came out ‘Santa Claus’ rather than ‘St. Nicholas’.

What I’m trying to say is I am not Christmas! Jesus Christ is Christmas! I’m a servant of Christmas.  I’m the result of Christmas. Christmas doesn’t come because I bring gifts. I bring gifts because Christmas has come. If it had not been for Jesus Christ, I would not be here.  He is Christmas. He is the First Gift. He is the One to whom we make our requests. He is the One who fulfills our desires. He is the One for whose coming we wait with hushed breath.

This Christmas Eve, I will be bringing gifts. But please, remember, the Gift you most want is the Gift of Gifts, Jesus Christ. Ask for Him. Receive Him. Believe Him. Adore Him - if you have not. You too will be giving secret gifts to those with needs. ‘Ho, Ho, Ho, happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night’!

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Tom is currently a retired Elder in the Virginia Annual Conference. He has pastored churches in Virginia, California and England. Studying John Wesley’s theology, he received his Ph.D. and M.A. degrees from the University of Bristol, Bristol, England and his Master of Divinity degree from Asbury Theological Seminary. While a student, he and his wife Pam lived in John Wesley’s Chapel “The New Room”, Bristol, England, the first established Methodist preaching house. Tom was a faculty member of Asbury Theological Seminary. He has contributed articles to Methodist History and the Wesleyan Theological Journal. He and his wife have two children, daughter Karissa, who is an attorney in Richmond, Virginia, and, John, who is a recent graduate of Regent University. Being a part of the development of their grandson Beau is a rich reward. Tom enjoys a good book by a crackling fire with an English cup of tea. His life text is, ‘Jesus, confirm my heart’s desire, to work and speak and think for thee’.

The Incarnation's Appeal to Humility (Part 2)

Introduction 

In the last entry, we discussed how Christ’s incarnation, as noted by the early hymn of Philippians 2, appeals to the importance of humility. With the humble model that Christ provided, the believer should follow suit if he or she is truly a Christ-follower. The first half investigated the humble authority and humble assistance (i.e., his willingness to serve others). The second half of our series examines two additional truths that permeate through the humility of Christ’s incarnation. The last two points relate to the importance that faith, or trust, in God has on one’s humble state.

The Incarnation’s Appeal to Humble Acceptance (Phil. 2:8)

Humble acceptance of our state is probably among the most difficult of the virtues listed in this article. The hymn notes that Christ “humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death—even to death on a cross” (Phil. 2:8). Christ’s obedient actions correlate with the prayer he encouraged his disciples to pray, saying, “Your kingdom come. Your will be done on earth as it is in heaven” (Matt. 6:10). Christ realized that the Father’s mission would send him to the cross, and Christ was obedient to accomplish the Father’s will. Reread the last sentence. Contrast this with the muscled-up celebrity pastor who wears flashy apparel and don teeth that are unnaturally white. More to the point, compare Christ’s life to the message being purported by celebrity pastors. Often, they say that God wants you to live your best life, wants you to have a life free from trouble, and that any form of sickness or trial derives from a lack of faith. Is it just me or does this completely contradict the humble lifestyle of Jesus? This is not even a minor interpretive issue. The life of Jesus thoroughly exhibited humility and his messages, particularly the Sermon on the Mount, taught others to live in like manner. If one accepts the validity of messianic prophecy as I do, then it was even prophesied that Jesus would live in such a manner in the Suffering Servant motif of Isaiah 53. Jesus was willing to obey the Father, no matter what the Father’s plan demanded. The flashy, muscular, me-centered Christianity often asserted by the fashionable speakers of our age is quite foreign to the life and teachings of Jesus of Nazareth.

The Incarnation’s Appeal to Humble Assurance (Phil. 2:9–11)

The hymn concludes with a point of great optimism and assurance. The humble life of Jesus would be rewarded. All was not in vain. The hymn declares that Christ …

“humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death—even to death on a cross. For this reason God highly exalted him and gave him the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee will bow—in heaven and on earth and under the earth—and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, the to glory of God the Father” (Phil. 2:9–11).

As my preacher friends would say, “That will preach!” The first sentence of the stanza ends with Christ’s death on the cross. The next line begins with Christ’s exuberant victory! While space is unavailable to discuss all the nuances and exhilarating details of this passage, suffice it to say, Christ’s humility led to his glorification through the Father’s promises. Does this mean that we should be humble simply to find a reward in heaven? Certainly not. Humility should come from our acknowledgment of God’s glory and our dependence upon him. However, Christ does promise that “everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and the one who humbles himself will be exalted” (Luke 14:11). Ultimately, rather than living for an eternal reward, what is called for is faith in God’s promises. It may be that we will not see the fullness of our work until we reach God’s throne. However, if we trust in God’s promises, we know that the blessings he provides us in eternity will far outweigh any temporary afflictions that we may endure. Paul understood this concept, writing, “For our momentary light affliction is producing for us an absolutely incomparable eternal weight of glory” (2 Cor. 4:17).

Conclusion

This exploration leaves me with a haunting question: If Jesus were to come today, would we recognize him? Would we desire to follow him, particularly with his message, which often contradicts the individualistic, aggrandized, glorification of the self? I am often left to wonder if we have sold the soul of Christianity to create altars for ourselves. To bring a resurgence of authentic Christianity, each of Christ’s followers needs to take time to reflect on the biblical portrayal of Christ. During this Advent season, we have an opportunity to reflect on the life and ministry of Christ. Many churches will hold special services, lighting of the candles, plays, and cantatas. As you participate in these services, allow the Spirit of God to guide you in such a reflection period. Maybe Advent would be a good time to push away social media to spend time with God in his Word. Additionally, consider reading books on the incarnation of Christ. One good resource to consider is Athanasius’s On the Incarnation of the Word of God which can be found online.[1] This Christmas season, stay humble my friends, and keep the faith.

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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

© 2021. MoralApologetics.com.

[1] See Athanasius of Alexandria, On the Incarnation of the Word of God, in Philip Schaff and Henry Wace, eds, Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 2nd series, Archibald Robertson, trans (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature, 1892), https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/2802.htm.

Lord’s Supper Meditation – Reconciled with One Another

A Twilight Musing

Ideally, the meaning of Holy Communion in the Lord’s Supper is that the love of God, as seen through His Son, has obliterated the petty differences of opinion, the long-held grudges, the clashes of temperament which are so often barriers between even well-meaning Christians.  But since we so seldom live up to this ideal, we may be tempted to throw up our hands in despair because we realize how far short we fall of the standard of mutual charity needed for true communion.   However, we must not forget that it is the Feast which sanctifies us, rather than we who sanctify the Feast.

It behooves us, then, to make each Communion a time at which, because we contemplate meaningfully the reconciliation wrought by our Savior Jesus, we determine to allow His Spirit to break down at least one more obstacle which separates us from those with whom we should be one.  Those matters which divide us cannot long exist in the face of a sincere and prayerful desire that the risen Lord reign in all our lives—but first in our own.  What better place to seek out and destroy our sinful animosities, with God’s help, than the table at which God reminds us that our peace is made with Him by the sacrifice of His Son?

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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.

Book Recommendation: Why God Makes Sense in a World That Doesn't: The Beauty of Christian Theism

Why God Makes Sense in a World That Doesn't: The Beauty of Christian Theism

By Gavin Ortlund

“Ortlund’s considerable talents applied to the ultimate question have yielded an impressive and eminently readable treatise that is both academically rigorous and deeply personal. Impressively researched and beautifully crafted, this book makes contagious the author’s obvious delight at exploring life’s mysteries, and it casts an animating vision of gripping beauty and enchanting transcendence. Without triumphalism it features epistemically modest yet hearty reasoning that invites readers into a conversation and into close consideration of existentially central threads of evidence—from math to morals—that end up weaving a lovely tapestry and providing a needed corrective to the postmodern fragmentation of truth, goodness, and beauty.”

— David Baggett, Director of The Center for the Foundations of Ethics

Reflections on Why I Left, Why I Stayed, by Tony and Bart Campolo, Part 6

Last time we distinguished between the interpretive and inspiration (or inerrancy) questions when it comes to biblical teachings on homosexuality. We saw that Bart and Tony disagree on both. Tony thinks the Bible is authoritative but that it does not teach that homosexual behavior is wrong; Bart thinks the Bible does teach that it’s wrong, but that the Bible isn’t authoritative. In this blog we will pause long enough to consider some more the interpretive or hermeneutical matter of whether the Christian scriptures teach that gay and lesbian behavior is in fact sinful. I tend to agree with Bart that the Bible does in fact teach that the Bible morally proscribes homosexual behavior.

As this is a large question of biblical interpretation on which no small amount of ink has been spilt over a long period of time, I will endeavor to delimit what I have to say to matters that have specific connections with the sorts of considerations that convinced Tony to adopt a progressive and permissive interpretation of scripture on this vexed matter. Recall he characterizes the position at which he’s arrived, after what he characterizes as a long period of ambiguity and deep uncertainty, as full acceptance of gay couples into the Church who have made a lifetime commitment to one another.

The deepest underlying and prior question, to Tony’s thinking, is this: What is the point of marriage in the first place? Here he bifurcates the options into these two categories: An Augustinian depiction of marriage as having for its sole purpose procreation, on the one hand, and a view that recognizes a “more spiritual dimension” to marriage, on the other. According to the latter view, God intends married persons to help actualize in each other the fruit of the Spirit; marriage is primarily about spiritual growth.

He admits that a large factor that convinced him to change his mind was his experience of spending time with gay couples, and he thinks it’s high time for the exclusion and disapproval of their unions by the Christian community to end. He invites others to join the battle against making them feel like they are mistakes or not good enough for God “simply because they are not straight.” As a social scientist, he is convinced that sexual orientation is hardly ever a choice, and he takes as a cautionary tale common stances in the past justified at the time by an interpretation of scripture we later came to reject.

Let’s consider the fundamental question as far as Tony is concerned: What is the point of marriage in the first place? It seems fairly obvious that Tony’s treatment of the issue of procreation in marriage casts this dimension in extremist fashion, namely, that procreation is the only value or purpose of marriage. That is arguably something of a straw man. It simply doesn’t follow from procreation not being the only purpose of marriage that it isn’t essentially tied to its nature.

Three main sources have proven themselves helpful to my own analysis of this issue. First, the book What Is Marriage? by Robert George, Ryan Anderson, and Sherif Girgis, who argue for an understanding of marriage according to which its essential nature is “a comprehensive union: a union of will (by consent) and body (by sexual union); inherently ordered to procreation and thus the broad sharing of family life; and calling for permanent and exclusive commitment ... a moral reality: a human good with an objective structure, which is inherently good for us to live out.” This conjugal view of marriage (one rife with spiritual import), in contrast to a revisionist view that eliminates the procreative component from the picture altogether, seems to me to make considerably better sense of the purpose and point of marriage. It includes reference to procreation but not in the one-dimensional way that Tony willfully paints it. 

Second, I would point readers to this article by longtime Asbury College President and Old Testament scholar Dennis Kinlaw: “Homosexuality Calmly Considered: A Theological Look at a Controversial Topic.” It’s well worth a careful read.

Third and last, but certainly not least, I urge those interested in the issue of what the Bible teaches on this matter to look at probably the best single volume on this issue—written by my friend, Bible scholar Robert Gagnon—entitled The Bible and Homosexual Practice: Texts and Hermeneutics. The most important issue about this whole matter, from a Christian perspective, is what the Bible actually teaches—this is the heart of the interpretive matter under discussion. That the Bible has been misinterpreted before, as Tony points out, is undoubtedly true, but relevant to the present discussion only if the traditional interpretation of scripture on homosexuality is mistaken. Pointing out such a possibility is no argument that it’s the case. That this debate involves an important exegetical question makes clear that the question isn’t merely one of take-it-or-leave-it. There is such a thing as rightly dividing the word of truth—and wrongly dividing it. It strains credulity to think that Tony has done his due diligence in this matter when a book like Gagnon’s goes unaddressed by him.

Rather than discussing a mere handful of biblical texts, Gagnon’s treatment is comprehensive, careful, and exhaustive. It ranges from the witness of the Old Testament, the notion of going “contrary to nature” in early Judaism, to the witness of Jesus and of Paul and Deutero-Paul. With the mind of a top-rate scholar and heart of a pastor, Gagnon also considers the hermeneutical relevance of the biblical witness and anticipates and answers a wide range of objections. I urge those who wish to understand biblical teaching on this question to read this book.

Notice Gagnon’s reference in his title to homosexual practice. The concern is not one of orientation. Fallen human beings are filled with all manner of inclinations for wrongdoing without that fact implying anything about what’s morally normative. The issue is behavior, not predilections or proclivities, trials or temptations. For Tony still to conflate these matters, after orientation versus practice have been carefully distinguished time and again, makes one wonder how ingenuous he’s being.

Not coincidentally, the same question haunted him during the years he half-heartedly feigned his official resistance to gay practice in various debates. With his pro-gay wife he would appear, offer weak, fideistic-seeming arguments against homosexual practice, and allow her to give her best arguments in favor of it. Another time he actually joined with Gagnon and argued against homosexual practice against two opponents who took an affirmative position, and conducted himself in such a way that Gagnon personally challenged him afterwards by pointing out the obvious: Tony didn’t believe what he was claiming to believe, even then.

On this issue, then, Tony’s ostensible “change of mind” does indeed seem to fall prey to Bart’s depiction of it elsewhere in their book: Tony has chosen the interpretation of the Bible on this matter that he wants to hold rather than adopt an interpretation based on solid principles of exegesis and hermeneutics. It’s difficult to see how this qualifies as showing to show himself approved as a workman who need not be ashamed. 

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

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The Last Place

My cousin Jay is vacationing on Bald Island. “What’s Bald Island like?’ I wonder. “It’s a tiny island off Carolina Beach, N.C. One takes a ferry to the island; no cars are allowed; one gets around by golf cart. Bald Island is a resort village among forests, sandy beaches with sand dunes and oat grass.”

 Jesus broaches with his disciples the subject of the kingdom of God. They’re intrigued.  What’s it like? Knowing their interest, Jesus asks, “What is the kingdom of God like?”  He reveals to them the Kingdom’s singular code and character. Let me share with you this deep code underneath the Kingdom’s character. Is this code integral to your character?

Jesus reveals to his disciples he’s soon to be rejected, tried, killed, and raised. Physically, he will soon be gone from them. They are to take over His ministry in His absence. The deep code of the Kingdom must undergird their character – and your character.

You are the disciple in His place now. He is speaking to you. You are taking over His ministry in this generation. His ministry must become your ministry. The deep code of the Kingdom underneath Jesus’ character must become yours.

Jesus reveals the Kingdom’s deep, underlying code and illustrates it through parables (stories illustrated with everyday objects and situations). He says, “If any want to come after me, let him deny himself and let him take up his cross daily…Whoever does not carry his own cross and come after Me cannot be My disciple” (Luke 9: 23)

What does Jesus mean “deny himself”? For short, denying oneself literally means, consider “your life as already finished”.  Do you reckon yourself already dead? In Charles Dickens’ novel, A Christmas Carol, which we will soon be watching, the hum-bug miser Ebenezer Scrooge has his last Christmas Eve vision. He is taken to the cemetery, and there guided to a particular tombstone. He brushes away the snow where he sees his name inscribed. Aghast, he sees himself already dead. Denying yourself is seeing yourself already dead; your selfish self, the self you privilege, the self you please, the self you put first. Consider yourself now dead…gone…departed. Do you? Will you?

 A disciple not only treats him/herself as dead, the disciple also “takes up his cross daily”.  Every Jew and Roman of Jesus’ day knew the Roman cross. Julius Caesar lined a two hundred mile stretch of road with crosses bearing enemy soldiers. Criminals were forced to carry their own crosses:  they bore the wooden patibulum, the cross piece, over their shoulders to the execution site. If Jesus contemporized it, he might say, “Carry your needle and intravenous line to your lethal injection”.  Do you consider yourself dead? Are you carrying your patibulum? Is the code of the Kingdom yours?

Jesus illustrates the code of Kingdom with the “Parable of the Last Place”.  He is in a Pharisee leader’s home for dinner. Jesus notices the invited guests clamor for the seats of honor. Guests semi-recline on couches arranged around the U-shaped tables. At the bottom of the U, is the most honored couch. The middle position of the couch is the most honored place with the person on the left and then the right venerated in descending order. Jesus sees guests scrambling for these choice seats. Have you ever been to a dinner and noticed you are not seated in an honored seat? How did you feel?

In my early ministry, I attended Paul Popenoe’s American Institute of Family Relations conference in Costa Mesa, California. We lunched in a ballroom of round tables. I looked for the table where my favorite speaker was going to sit. I wanted to ‘pick his brain’, so I plopped myself down in an empty seat near his.  Very soon, a woman came over to me and said in the earshot of all at the table, “Sir, I’m sorry but this seat is reserved.” Did I feel small. I slinked off to find any seat I could.

Jesus turns to those seeking select seats and says, “When you are invited to a wedding feast, do not take the place of honor. Someone more distinguished than you may have been invited by him, and he who invited you both will come and say to you, ‘Give your place to this man’.  In disgrace you will proceed to occupy the last place. But when you are invited, go and recline at the last place.  The host may say to you, ‘Friend, move up higher’; then you will have honor in the sight of all…”

Jesus draws this conclusion: “For everyone who exalts himself will be humbled, and he who humbles himself will be exalted.”  This is His illustration of the deep code of the Kingdom: deny yourself. Therefore, humble yourself and take “the last place”.  Since you consider yourself dead, take the last place! This is the working out of the deep code.

Why does one seek the place of importance anyway? To exalt oneself; to glorify oneself; to try to increase one’s self-importance, honor, fame, position, power or fortune; or to idolize one’s self.  This, the Bible calls “pride”.  It is grasping glory for oneself and veiled striving to be god.  God condemned Lucifer for saying, “I will make myself like the Most High?” (Isaiah 14: 12).  C. S. Lewis said, “It was through pride that the devil became the devil.”

Are you tempted to increase yourself? This is contrary to the Kingdom’s code. Jesus’ disciple seeks the last place. Who likes last place? It’s the pokey, cramped, unwanted, and scorned place…the place of self-denial and cross carrying (humility).  The early church theologian Augustine said, “The way is first humility, second humility, third humility.”  Consider yourself already dead, carry your patibulum, and then take the last place.

In another parable, Jesus further illustrates the Kingdom’s deep code of “denying himself” and taking “up his cross”.  Jesus says when you give a great dinner, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame and the blind. They cannot repay you. When we lived in Bristol, England, a couple in our church, the Bucks, gave a Christmas dinner. They had a large, beautiful, eighteenth-century country house. They invited persons without families, persons alone for Christmas, people displaced, or who had sacrificed along the way: a retired missionary; a bachelor, Methodist minister; and American aliens like us.

What do the guests at the parable’s banquet have in common? They are stricken; physically challenged; and radically dependent on others. They are physical allegories, symbols, of disciples who are spiritually destitute and also radically dependent. Disciples recognize their spiritual deficiency in righteousness and absolute dependency for life upon Jesus Christ. These reckon themselves already dead, carry their patibulums to crucifixion, and take the last place.

Tom Thomas

November 2, 2021

All Soul’s Day

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Tom is currently a retired Elder in the Virginia Annual Conference. He has pastored churches in Virginia, California and England. Studying John Wesley’s theology, he received his Ph.D. and M.A. degrees from the University of Bristol, Bristol, England and his Master of Divinity degree from Asbury Theological Seminary. While a student, he and his wife Pam lived in John Wesley’s Chapel “The New Room”, Bristol, England, the first established Methodist preaching house. Tom was a faculty member of Asbury Theological Seminary. He has contributed articles to Methodist History and the Wesleyan Theological Journal. He and his wife have two children, daughter Karissa, who is an attorney in Richmond, Virginia, and, John, who is a recent graduate of Regent University. Being a part of the development of their grandson Beau is a rich reward. Tom enjoys a good book by a crackling fire with an English cup of tea. His life text is, ‘Jesus, confirm my heart’s desire, to work and speak and think for thee’.

The Incarnation's Appeal to Humility

Humility seems to be a lost spiritual discipline these days. If not completely lost, it is not practiced that often. Fast-talking, foul-mouthed, egocentric personalities seem to be elevated to the point of heroic status, possibly because those individuals are representative of those who take little flak from anyone or anything. Arguably, the antihero has risen to the status of the American ideal. But does this represent the nature of the One whose birth we celebrate every December 25th?

From the time of Thanksgiving until Christmas, the church enters the phase of the liturgical calendar called Advent. This is a time of preparation for Christmas when the birth of Christ is celebrated. Much ink has been spilled concerning the correct dating of Jesus’s birth.[1] Are we celebrating the correct date of Jesus’s birth, or should we celebrate in the spring or fall? To be honest, the older I get, the less importance I see in pinning down the exact date of Jesus’s birth, outside of academic interest alone. While theories abound, it may be impossible to know with any degree of certainty what the precise date of Jesus’s birth is.

The more important issue is to take time each year to contemplate the birth of Jesus and what it means for the Christian faith. In AD 335, Athanasius of Alexandria penned one of his most famed and endearing works entitled On the Incarnation of the Word of God. In his work, Athanasius writes, “For He became Man that we might be made God: and He manifested Himself through the body that we might take cognizance of the invisible Father: and He underwent insult at the hands of men that we might inherit immortality.”[2] Athanasius points to the humility of Christ as exhibited by the sacrifice that he would ultimately make.

The most remarkable aspect of Christ’s incarnation is that he left a state of perfect bliss to enjoin himself with humanity. Philippians 2:6–11 is an amazing passage of Scripture. Most likely, it is an early Christian hymn that predates the New Testament writings. The hymn makes the connection of Christ’s humility as exhibited through his incarnation. Before citing the hymn, Paul teaches that believers should “Adopt the same attitude as that of Christ Jesus” (Phil. 2:5).[3] What can we learn about humility from Christ’s incarnation? I argue that we can learn four spiritual principles from the humility in Christ’s incarnation. The first article will examine the first two, whereas the second will peer into the last set.

The Incarnation’s Appeal to Humble Authority (Phil. 2:6)

The hymn begins by noting that Christ, “who, existing in the form of God, did not consider equality with God as something to be exploited” (Phil. 2:6). The term aJpagmo;n (hapagmon), translated “exploited,” indicates something that is not held on to forcibly.”[4] The Moody Bible Commentary, in my opinion, rightly interprets verse 6 as saying that “Jesus does not exploit His equality with God for selfish ends.”[5] Jesus remained God, and his position did not change when he became a human being. Rather, Jesus humbly walked among humanity. Even though he had greater authority than any living human being ever had, or ever would have, Jesus continued to live a humble life. In like manner, believers must walk even more humbly, as we have far less authority than Jesus. Rather than being obsessed with power, authority, or prestige, believers would do well to remember their humble state when compared to the awesome authority of God.

The Incarnation’s Appeal to Humble Assistance (Phil. 2:7)

The hymn continues by noting, “Instead [Christ] emptied himself by assuming the form of a servant, taking on the likeness of humanity” (Phil. 2:7). Throughout his life, Jesus taught, led, and modeled servant leadership. Even though he held more authority than anyone ever could ever imagine, he led by serving. The text says that Christ “emptied himself.” Theories abound on what this means,[6] but all would agree that this is humility personified. Imagine this: The King of kings, who was in the highest court of all time (i.e., the divine council), allowed himself to be born in a dirty, stinky manger.

Compare this to the modern mindset that many hold today. I worked in an environment a few years ago, where the employees had been asked to assist the custodian with his duties, where possible. The custodian had suffered from some heart problems. His doctor had discouraged him from lifting anything heavy, including trash bags, which could weigh well over 20 lbs. To assist him until he could fully recover, leadership requested that we the employees help him by throwing away the trash bags into the trash bin. Most of the employees were more than willing to help the custodian. To assist the custodian, I grabbed a couple of the trash bags and loaded them into the cart so that they could be taken out. At the time that this occurred, I was still working on my bachelor’s degree. One employee looked at me and said, “I have earned a master’s degree. I don’t do things like that anymore!” This startled me. Did the individual take out their own trash? One would think so. Furthermore, does obtaining degrees in higher education remove the need for one to perform menial tasks? Now that I am working on the last phases of my dissertation for my Ph.D. program, I need to talk to somebody, because something has not worked out right for me. After all, I am still required to perform daily tasks like taking out the trash. (In case your sarcasm detector is broken, I am, of course, speaking tongue-in-cheek.)

The employee’s reaction is commonplace in modern society. Many people, myself included, have sought to obtain positions and statuses where others look up to us. I am, quite honestly, startled how social media has brought out our incessant desire to be seen, heard, and appreciated. Being seen, heard, and loved are not necessarily bad things, mind you. Such desires merely illustrate the needs of the human heart. However, the problem comes when these desires overwhelm us and become obsessive, to the point of exhibiting narcissistic traits, where others are cast down at the altar of our own ego. When we become infatuated with the number of likes our posts hold, the number of awards we have, and the standing we have among others, we are not focused on the virtues of Christ. Such actions stand directly opposed to the model that Christ afforded and expects from us.

Conclusion

Thus far, we have learned that Christ’s incarnation emphasized humility in his authority. That is, even though Christ had the highest authority that any could hold, he did not flaunt his authority and neither did he use his authority as a means to boast. Rather, he assumed the role of a lowly servant. By this point alone, we should all stop to consider how counteracts some segments of Western Christianity that appeals to the idea of domination by force. Secondly, we noted how Christ’s incarnation speaks to the need of humble assistance. That is, the believer should not seek to be served, but rather to serve. Already, the incarnation has challenged us to the core regarding humility—or at least it has me. In the next entry, we will investigate how Christ’s acceptance and assurance speaks to our need for humility.

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[1] I have written on the different possibilities of Jesus’s birth date at BellatorChristi.com. See Brian Chilton, “When and What Time Was Jesus Born,” BellatorChristi.com (12/19/2017), https://bellatorchristi.com/2017/12/19/when-and-what-time-was-jesus-born/.

[2] Athanasius of Alexandria, Athanasius: On the Incarnation of the Word of God, 2nd ed, T. Herbert Bindley, trans (London: The Religious Tract Society, 1903), 142.

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

[4] 57.236, in Johannes P. Louw and Eugene Albert Nida, Greek-English Lexicon of the New Testament: Based on Semantic Domains (New York: United Bible Societies, 1996), 583.

[5] Gerald W. Peterman, “Philippians,” in The Moody Bible Commentary, Michael A. Rydelnik and Michael Vanlaningham, eds (Chicago, IL: Moody Publishers, 2014), 1861.

[6] Three theories provide a possible interpretation. 1) The kenotic theory holds that Christ emptied himself of his divine attributes while on earth. 2) The incarnation view asserts that Christ merely emptied his nature into humanity by assuming the form of a servant. 3) The Servant of the Lord portrait views the term “emptying” as a metaphor of the Servant of the Lord motif in Isaiah 53. As Hansen notes, the Philippians hymn could provide an interpretation that holds some elements of all three. Walter G. Hansen, The Letter to the Philippians, Pillar New Testament Commentary (Grand Rapids, MI; Cambridge, UK: Eerdmans; Apollos, 2009), 146.

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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

© 2021. MoralApologetics.com.

Lord’s Supper Meditation - Recognizing Jesus

A Twilight Musing

Luke tells the story of Jesus’ appearance after His resurrection to two disciples on the way to Emmaus.  It is instructive to note the successive stages of their understanding and recognition of Jesus, which culminated when He “took the bread and blessed, and broke it, and gave it to them.  And their eyes were opened and they recognized him” (Luke 24:30-31).  When Jesus first began to walk with them, they related to Him the events of the past few days, but without understanding.  They had seen that Jesus was a great prophet and the potential redeemer of Israel, but they were puzzled by His seemingly ignoble death and even by the news of His resurrection.  They had been impressed by the life of Christ, but they did not understand His mission or His relationship to God’s purposes.  So Jesus “interpreted to them in all the scriptures the things concerning himself” (v. 27). 

Even then, however, they did not recognize the risen Jesus before them, for mere intellectual comprehension of the Scriptures does not guarantee that one is acquainted with Jesus personally.   It was the burning of their hearts within them (v. 32) as they listened to the Scriptures that moved them to invite Jesus into their home to sup with them.  (We are reminded of Jesus’ words in Rev. 3:20: “Behold, I stand at the door and knock; if any one hears my voice and opens the door, I will come in to him and eat with him, and he with me.”)  These two disciples from Emmaus would never have recognized Jesus had He not come into their house and revealed Himself through the breaking of the bread.  The principle of knowing and appreciating Jesus is clear: it does not come through seeing Him as an unusual man, or through mastery of the Scriptures only (although that is a necessary step), but through the intimacy of breaking bread with an invited guest.

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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.

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5 Reasons Every Apologist Should Be Confident and Grateful

I want to tell you a bit of my personal story about how and why I became interested in apologetics. The year was 1988. I was in my first year of undergraduate studies, and it was my first day in the Philosophy 101 class at the community college I attended. I arrived at class early, sat near the front as was my custom, and waited for the professor to arrive. The class was full, about twenty-five students. I was 18 years old and serving as a youth minister, having already been preaching since I was fourteen. I was confident in my faith and had, until that time, not really faced any substantive challenges or obstacles related to Christian teaching or practice. Honestly, I had only heard of apologetics in passing, and philosophy was not something I had ever studies. I was only in the class because it was a general education requirement for my degree plan. So, there I sat on day one of the class, not really knowing what to expect and certainly not prepared for what was about to happen. The professor entered the room, and everyone quieted down as he walked to the board. Without any greeting, he took a piece of chalk and began writing. He wrote the following sentence on the board: The Bible is full of errors. After he finished writing, the professor turned, leaned over his desk and toward all of us and said, “If you are here and you disagree with this statement, I will show you this semester why you are wrong. Does anyone want to challenge me?” I sat in stunned silence along with the rest of the students, and then someone in the back of the room spoke out sheepishly in response to the professor. “The Bible is God’s Word and I believe it. You are wrong, professor.” More silence followed as the professor looked at the student with something of an incredulous smirk on his face. Finally, he replied to the student. “Is that all you can say? Really? I am a convinced atheist, and your response only confirms why I should be one. Christianity is nothing but a pack of lies.”

The student said nothing. The professor then rattled off a litany of reasons he “knew” the Bible was wrong. There are contradictions. We do not have the original writings. The message changed to meet political and social needs. Jesus was a myth. There was no God because evolution had disproven his existence. On and on he went, and with each statement I felt something I had never felt before. With each of the professor’s statements I felt a heaviness settling on my mind and heart. By the time the professors stopped speaking, it was like a dark cloud hung over the room, and I seemed to be sitting all alone in the darkness. My heart was racing. My throat was dry. My emotions were a mixed bag of anger and frustration. My mind froze for a moment, and then a thought formed as I sat there. A question. “What,” I thought, “if he is right? What if the Bible really is full of errors? What if my Christianity is false?” The questions reverberated in my whole being, and with each reverberation I slipped deeper and deeper into what seemed an abyss of helplessness and doubt. By the time the class ended I had an overwhelming sense of paralysis in my mind. By the end of the day, I was in full-on depression that only got worse with time. I was in trouble, and I knew it, but I did not know what to do about it. Over the next weeks every class with the professor only made my situation worse, and by the end of the term I was in full-blown crisis mode. My whole life seemed in jeopardy, and I began going to very dark and desperate places in my mind. I dreaded being alone with my thoughts, and I eventually began to contemplate suicide. I wanted to die rather than live with this doubt about what I had—at least until that class began—considered the most central thing in all of mine and anyone else’s life. My faith was crumbling, and I was unsure what to do, nor was I certain that anything could be done.

One Saturday afternoon in early summer, still reeling from the class with the hostile professor, I drove to a remote location near a local lake. I sat in my car, gripping the steering wheel, and shaking. I said nothing for a moment until I could bear it no longer. Then I yelled out, “God, if you will not stop this struggle in my mind, I am going to kill myself! Please, help me! That was it. I sat there a bit longer, then drove home with the same burden and depression. Another week went by, and I had found no relief. Then, in a conversation with one of the men I knew in a local church, I received a life-changing question. I was not lamenting my situation to the other man, as I had already concluded it was hopeless. I was still thinking of suicide, and I was becoming more deeply depressed by the day. I had lost interest in my regular activities. No joy in leading the youth group. No desire to read the Bible or pray. No motivation to preach or evangelize. Nothing but crippling doubt. Yet here I was in this conversation and the man asked me, “Have you ever heard of apologetics? I ask because I found a really informative book on it, and I thought you might be interested.” My mind raced again, though this time there was something odd about the feeling. It was as though the question from the man opened a door slightly and a light began to creep into the room of my soul. I could not explain it at the time, but it was something I had not felt in a long while. I took the bait of the question and responded, “Never heard of it. What is apologetics?” Looking at me with a rather stunned expression, he said, “Well, apologetics is the defense of the faith. You know, things like giving answers to challenges to God’s existence and the Bible…stuff like that.” I sat there not knowing what to say next, and it must have been obvious to the man to whom I was talking. After an awkward pause, he said, “Here. Read this. It’s all about those things.” He handed me a book entitled Evidence that Demands a Verdict by Josh McDowell.

At first, I just sat there in silence with what I suspect was a confused look on my face. Eventually, I accepted the book with a meager expression of thanks and the conversation ended. I took the book home and began to read…and read…and read. The book answered every question the professor raised and dozens more, and every answer resounded with evidence from history and science and…philosophy. To my amazement, the book included philosophical reasoning to answer the challenges I received from my atheist philosophy professor. As they say, “the rest of the story” is that I read the book from cover to cover, and then again, and again. By the time I made my way through the material McDowell presented I had a visceral sense of two things: my faith was defensible, and my hope was returning. Fast forward to today, and I have since spent thousands of hours studying apologetics and challenges to the Christian faith. What started as a catastrophe of faith became a triumph. Obviously, I did not kill myself. In fact, apologetics is something that—then and now—has become a source of experiencing a deep and abiding life as a Christian. Apologetics made the difference. I want to say that again. Apologetics made the difference.

Thus, as I write this today over 30 years later, I thought it apropos to share with you what I believe are five reasons every apologist should be confident and grateful. My list is certainly not exhaustive, nor is it intended as an apologetic argument for any of the five topics. It is, however, a call to persevering gratitude for all of us who have struggled, are struggling, or will struggle with the challenges posed by an unrelenting attack on Christian truth by secular culture and Satan. My hope is that you will consider these five reasons and find a cause for joyful doxology as you remind yourself that there is much to be confident of and to give God praise for in your Christian faith. To that end, I urge you to be thankful, defender!

1. Be Thankful for a Reasonable Faith: The Christian faith is not one of blind, irrational leaps into believing without evidence. Rather, the Christian faith stands firm on robust experience based on rational thought and defensible claims. Faith and reason give us wings to fly to the bulwark of truth found in the Gospel. Be thankful, defender! Ours is a reasonable faith.

2. Be Thankful for Natural Theology: God gave us two books, one in nature and one in Scripture. We may be ‘Bible Ultimately’ people, but we enjoy an abundance of revelation in the world around us and the image of God within us. Natural theology is a veritable bounty of pointers to the one true God’s existence, and it is ours to enjoy as the heavens declare the glory of God. Be thankful defender! Nature is on our side.

3. Be Thankful for a Trustworthy Bible: Contrary to my professor’s claims, the Bible is not full of contradictions and errors. There is not a single instance—not one—where criticisms of the Bible stand up to scrutiny and careful investigation. God’s word is settled in the heavens and defensible on earth. Be thankful, defender! Ours is a trustworthy Bible.

4. Be Thankful for Resurrection Evidence: Countless critics attack Christianity at its very heart, the claim that Jesus rose from the dead. Yet, the evidence is resounding from the echo of the empty tomb to the eyewitness accounts of the risen Jesus to the transformed lives of James, Paul, and countless others. We do not just make the claim Jesus rose from the dead; we can defend it with ample evidence. Be thankful, defender! Jesus rose from the dead.

5. Be Thankful for Your Fellow Apologists: What would have become of my life without Josh McDowell and the countless other apologists before him and since who have labored to give a reason charitably and articulately for the hope that is in them? No Christian ever needs feel left alone in the battle for faith. We truly stand on the shoulders of those giants of Christian apologetics who have gone before us, and the fruits of their labors are ours to learn and deploy. Be thankful, defender! The apologetic army of the ages is strong.

Stand firm, brothers and sisters, and always be grateful and confident in the faith once delivered.

About the Author

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.

https://www.amazon.com/Pulpit-Apologist-between-Preaching-Apologetics/dp/1532695047/ref=sr_1_3?dchild=1&keywords=pulpit+apologist&qid=1632093760&sr=8-3

Diving Deeper

T. J. Gentry, “Progressing Toward Destruction,” BellatorChristi.com (10/11/2021), https://bellatorchristi.com/2021/10/11/progressing-toward-destruction/

Brian Chilton and Curtis Evelo, Interview with T. J. Gentry, PhD, DMin, “SIS S1 E6 Pulpit Apologist,” BellatorChristi.com (8/1/2021), https://bellatorchristi.com/2021/08/01/sis-s1-e6-pulpit-apologist-w-dr-thomas-j-gentry/

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