*Please note that this article is not critiquing inerrancy as a whole, but rather a specific form of it - we'll call it hyper-inerrancy. Hyper-inerrancy is often found in fundamentalism and in many with a lay understanding of what inerrancy means, and who aren't aware of its implications. This is an inerrancy of tokens rather than of types. For a more detailed discussion of that, you can check out this article from Stand to Reason. I think identifying and eliminating that type of understanding of inerrancy is vital for Christian intellectual integrity and apologetics. The idea of inerrancy has honestly been a struggle for me over the past few years. Ironically, that struggle started as I delved more into apologetics. There are two key points of struggle for me in regard to inerrancy: the autographs and the circumscription.
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*This is a rapid fire piece. I have so many ideas backlogged and I want to put something out each month, but I just can't bring myself to write a ton of full-length pieces. I decided to start a less formal format where I quickly lay out some thoughts I had. These pieces are often first thoughts, and should be taken with an even bigger grain of salt than pieces I've spent more time on. Most people advocate the idea that life and morality are best exemplified by the avoidance of extremes. If you err in one direction, you end up being licentious, and if you go in the other direction, you end up being uptight and legalistic. The letter of the law or no law at all. Both are problems.
But when you try to apply this concept of avoiding the extreme, you end up with a life that doesn't depict radical Christianity at all. Let's just take economics as an example. If you were to tell the early church in Acts to avoid extremes, you'd tell them not to horde their money, but also not to give their money away "unwisely." They should live modestly, but they also should make sure to save enough to put their immediate family first, to put their kids through college, and to have a safe, comfortable retirement fund to provide for their future. You certainly wouldn't tell them to share all their possessions and to give to those in need to a point that it hurts them and their families. Yet that's exactly what the early church did. The thing is, God's commands are extreme. So hording for self and spending in excess for self both fail to demonstrate love, just in different directions. They're both egoistic. But selling possessions, giving to the poor at cost to yourself, and sharing in common are extreme measures, but they are beautiful goods. I think we have to nuance the term "extreme" or else we equivocate on it. When we say don't go to extremes, what we should mean is that we shouldn't err to either side, either extremity, or either direction. What we shouldn't mean is that we live a life devoid of actions which are extreme and powerful. Think of it like driving on the road. When you stay in the middle - in your lane - you go at high speeds and have purpose and direction. But when you go into either ditch, you hit ruts, signs, fences, guardrails, and you slow down or crash. Extreme speed can only be maintained when avoiding the extremity of the road. Chesterton has a wonderful discussion on this in his book "Orthodoxy." Chesterton argues that Christian virtue is not the avoidance of extremes, but rather the furious joining of two extremes. Courage, for example, comes when one counts his life as lost while simultaneously desiring to preserve his life. To only count one's life as lost is to be a suicide, while to only care about the preservation of one's life is to be a coward. Courage, like most/all Christian virtues, can only be held if one holds both extremes in the middle. The Christian life is an extreme life and we ought not to use this idea of "avoiding the extreme" to water down how we are called to live. *This is a rapid fire piece. I have so many ideas backlogged and I want to put something out each month, but I just can't bring myself to write a ton of full-length pieces. I decided to start a less formal format where I quickly lay out some thoughts I had. These pieces are often first thoughts, and should be taken with an even bigger grain of salt than pieces I've spent more time on. Most Christians believe in some sort of progressive revelation. God didn't reveal all of himself at one time, but rather revealed more and more truths about himself and his plan over time. This seems like a clear fact considering the perfect revelation we get in Jesus, which was thousands of years in the making, but it also makes moral sense. We, as parents, don't hold our kids to the same standards we'd hold adults, as they are just learning to deal with morality and expectations. Had God given humanity immediate justice and held us to full expectations, sin would have destroyed us all. But God is gracious and patient with us.
But for those who hold to inerrancy, as my group does, this idea of progressive revelation seems to be a problem. The thinking on inerrancy is that the truth of God's word is so important, that there can be no imperfection in the words of God. God had to ensure that the Bible was not only initially transmitted perfectly, but that it was maintained perfectly - at least in regard to the main ideas (some allowance is made for grammar and syntax differences, as the Bible is undeniably errant in this regard as evidenced by a plethora of divergent manuscripts). The thinking is that what God says is so important and vital for us, that he couldn't have failed to transmit his words perfectly. However, there's a double standard at play here. The issue is that our idea of inerrancy is applied to the syntax and data, but not to understanding. This is a problem for all Christians who hold to inerrancy, but especially for Reformed Christians who believe that God has control even over hearts and minds. What we are essentially saying is that syntactical/dative inerrancy is so important that God ensured an inerrant text, yet the content wasn't important enough that he ensured inerrant understanding. The physical Bible is inerrant, but God's communication skills are extremely errant as proven by the multitude of people who either don't believe in him, or who deviate from what he intended to convey in their various denominations and sects. If inerrancy of the physical text is important, then certainly inerrancy of comprehension is important. If God knows how to communicate - and especially if God has control over hearts and minds - then one would expect that something like progressive revelation would not exist. God could have zapped information into brains like a pensieve, he could have communicated more forthrightly, or he could have changed hearts and minds and made the blind to see. I have to ask myself, then, why one sort of inerrancy is important to me, the syntacitcal/dative, while the other, arguably more important aspect of inerrancy of comprehension, is not. Jesus answered, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me..." (Jn. 14:6). "He committed no sin and no deceit was found in his mouth" (Is. 53:9 / I Pet. 2:22).
Truth is a topic that has been on my mind a lot this year, as the world seems to be careening towards an epistemological precipice, driven closer and closer to the edge by a world filled with lies, propaganda, polarization, and relativism. In a world of such grand illusions, I take comfort in knowing that I serve a God who doesn't merely utilize truth when it's convenient, but a God who is truth always. Yet as we draw closer to our celebration of the Christ's incarnation, I'm left with a bad taste in my mouth in regard to truth, because in some ways, the incarnation seems disingenuous. Does Jesus really embody truth? I mean, literally, does he embody it? Because the way Christian thinking often goes, it seems like in the taking on of a human body, the God-man actually masked the truth. Jesus is divine, glorious, holy, magnificent, and all other good and amazing terms you can think of. But when the Word became flesh, it seems like his divinity and his glory were actually being concealed. Photo by Mark Jason Gatus on Scopio *This is a rapid fire piece. I have so many ideas backlogged and I want to put something out each month, but I just can't bring myself to write a ton of full-length pieces. I decided to start a less formal format where I quickly lay out some thoughts I had. These pieces are often first thoughts, and should be taken with an even bigger grain of salt than pieces I've spent more time on. I despise consequentialism - the idea that the ends justify the means. Many Christians say they despise it too, but we practice this ethic all the time. My go-to example is the 2016 election of President Trump by over 80% of those in my group - conservative Christians. "He's not as bad as the other candidate!" "We can't vote third-party or abstain because a greater evil would result!" "The president isn't a pastor-in-chief, he's a commander-in-chief." "The possibility of getting supreme court justices who will ban abortion and gay marriage justifies significant moral flaws." The list could go on. The ends justified the means.
In my group's mind, justifying, overlooking, or dismissing "minor" evils like sexual assault, mysoginy, racism, denigration, mistreatment of immigrants, and all that stuff - it's all ok because even if we combined all those evils, they pale in comparison to the egregious issue of abortion. Abortion has killed tens of millions of humans in the past fifty years. One of the main problems with a consequentialist ethic is that we recognize its moral reprehensibility when we apply it to other situations. My favorite go-to example is from the book of Kings, when two mothers plan to cannibalize their children to save both of their families. From a consequentialist standpoint, murdering two kids to save two whole families sounds like the perfect moral plan. Numerically speaking, the equation is flawless. Two lives are lesser than, say, ten lives. But we recognize that such an action wouldn't be justifiable - unless, perhaps, one of the mothers was running for president. But let's take another example here - one which would lead to infinite quantities of good being achieved. If, as most non-Reformed, and many Reformed Christians believe, children who die before a certain cognitive function are elect and go to be with God when they die, then why not allow abortion and advocate for a theocracy in which all children of non-Christians (and perhaps wayward and mediocre Christians as well) are killed? Think of all the souls who would immediately experience bliss rather than the fires of hell? What is the murder of a temporal life in comparison to the saving of a soul for eternity? Of course such a thought is reprehensible because we recognize that it's evil. Regardless of the good that would be brought about - the infinite good for billions of people - we can't justify such good by participating in evil. Despite an Augustinian view one might take which justifies actions through motivations, we can't justify evil with any intent, even the best ones. What strikes me as particularly revolting about Christian consequentialism is that it is fine trading on other sins and evils for an unguaranteed "greater good," yet it refuses to trade on sins and evils for a known good. We can compromise morality in voting to obtain power which may or may not lead to the short and long-term goals we have in view, yet we refuse to embrace evil for a known infinite good we could accomplish for billions. If Christian morality includes consequentialist ethics, we're novices who are refusing to do great good. But if Christian morality doesn't include a consequentialist ethic, we're unfaithful subjects to the King who are determining good and evil for ourselves because we don't think our Lord is able to produce good results out of mere faithfulness. We have made ourselves kings, and in doing so, have exposed ourselves as fools. I finally got my second tattoo a few months ago. As I did with the first one, I want to lay out the significance of its meaning here.
Broken Sword: The image of a sword is the most recognizable. However, you'll notice that the sword is broken and in the process of shattering. It is not a useful weapon, but one that has been, or is being demolished. ICXCNIKA: This is a popular depiction on crosses in the Eastern tradition. It stands for "Jesus Christ Conquers." You are probably familiar with the word Nike (or Nika here), which just means "to conquer." This phrase is meant to be ironic in that we have depicted a flawed weapon - a broken sword - but then declared that Jesus Christ conquers. This phrase, along with the ironic image, should lead to a final image made prominent through the placing of the letters. The Cross: The letters help to illuminate that while we initially see a sword in the image, we are also seeing a cross. When we put the letters together along with the idea of a broken sword, we recognize that this irony here is an irony we see in the book of Revelation. In Revelation we initially see Jesus as a lion, but then he becomes the slain lamb. We see him going out to conquer, but he does this through his blood. We see him wield a sword, but this sword is the testimony of his mouth. Likewise, my tattoo depicts that it is not with a sword that Jesus conquers, but rather through the cross. He shatters swords. I know most people think tattoos are stupid decisions, but I have never regretted my decision to get one. Part of the reason I have no regret is because my tattoo is infused with meaning. Whether or not you agree with the decision to get a tattoo, I'd like to share with you the theology lessons you can pull from my tattoo, should you ever see me shirtless at the pool and aren't blinded by the white.
Trinity: The most recognizable part of my tattoo is probably the center, which is the trinity knot. The trinity knot represents the trinity by having three points (for the godhead) as well as being a never ending loop (with a circle) to represent the infinite, never beginning, and never ending aspect of the godhead. The trinity is the center because God is the center of everything. Upside Down Kingdom: At the bottom you can see a kingdom which is upside down. I was first introduced to the "upside down kingdom" terminology by Donald Kraybill, whose book is of course titled, "The Upside-Down Kingdom." The book was revolutionary for me, and started me on a journey that would revolutionize my Christian thought and actions in the world. The concept is essentially that Christ's taught us an upside down way of living. The last are first. Slaves are free. The least are the greatest. Masters are to serve. Christ's way overturns the powers of this world not through aggressive force, but through sacrificial love. This is the foundation the world is built on. In fact, we see it in the Garden of Eden, for the first thing that happened when sin entered the world was that humanity recognized their nakedness. It was the first time they had looked to themselves, for before they had only looked to serve each other, God, and nature. The upside down Kingdom is God's way. The Garden and the Tree of Life: It is on the foundation of God's upside down Kingdom, whose center is the godhead, that the utopia of the garden and the tree of life are built. The River: The river represents the streams of living water which flow forth from God's utopia. Jesus said that he is the living water, and it is he who brought the upside-down Kingdom to earth, bringing us restoration and salvation so we could live with him again in utopia upon our resurrection. But this river isn't just isolated to the Garden. Isaiah shows that this river flows forth from Christ, through his people, and out into the world. This is why the river flows out of the garden and extends to my arm. Through me - and all other believers - God moves through the world and brings life and restoration to his creation. He is making his enemies his footstool and he is calling others to himself, and he has chosen to use us as his ambassadors to do it. The Heart: This image is placed over my heart, as it is the godhead dwelling in me, through the Spirit, which transforms me and enables me to be the hands and feet of Christ in the world. *This is a rapid fire piece. I have so many ideas backlogged and I want to put something out each month, but I just can't bring myself to write a ton of full-length pieces. I decided to start a less formal format where I quickly lay out some thoughts I had. These pieces are often first thoughts, and should be taken with an even bigger grain of salt than pieces I've spent more time on. The notion of "hearing from God" has been made a big deal of in our circles lately. It seems a lot of people are up in arms about this idea of hearing from God, or the idea that God speaks to someone today. My group is already pretty averse to charismatic experiences, and really, the Spirit in general (though that would be denied), but this whole hearing from God stuff has seemingly short-circuited a lot of wires. On one hand, I understand why the idea of hearing from God is looked down upon. How many people have used such a concept as a pass for their ideology or for their abuse of others? You may have heard God, but how do I know that you heard him? There seems to be a whole lot of subjectivity inherent in this idea that one hears from God.
About 10-15 years ago, I wrote a sci-fi book focused around some ethical conundrums. It is intended to raise a lot of important questions we need to deal with considering where technology is going, but is also intended to delve into the foundation of the abortion discussion.
Photo by Brandon Harrell on Scopio For a podcast version of this with some revisions, follow this link.
It is easy for each generation to look at social changes and view them as negative changes in morality. Whether it is the development of more revealing clothing, more open use of swearing and crude words, the legalization of pot, or any other number of changes - it can seem to an older generation that the sky is falling. But at the same time, there are changes which happen socially that clearly fall within the moral realm. Loosened sexual ethics, sentimental spirituality refusing to plug into a church body, or the increasing acceptance of certain birth control methods, like the day after pill, are all examples of social changes which, from a historical Christian standpoint, clearly cross the threshold of immorality. While I could harp on any one of these issues and bemoan the degradation of modern, liberal Christianity, I instead want to point fingers at my own group and ask for our personal reflection as I highlight what I think is a troubling trend which undermines our ability to critique modern culture. |
*The views and ideas on this site are in no way affiliated with any organization, business, or individuals we are a part of or work with. They're also not theological certainties. They're simply thinking out loud, on issues and difficulties as I process things.
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