Threads from Henry's Web

Category: Christian Apologetics

  • Disaster and Judgment

    John Piper has suggested that the tornado that struck Minneapolis was a judgment on the ELCA for the recent change in their statement on human sexuality. Piper is a great preacher, and despite some disagreements, I love to hear him present a good gospel message, but I find this, and other similar statements, quite disturbing.

    I think it is biblical to hold that God can send judgment. But I also think it is Biblical, with Job as the showcase example, to think that disaster need not be judgment. Much damage can be done when Christians are told that all setbacks and hardships are somehow a sign of punishment from God. Suffering may come so that we can learn, it may come despite our best efforts, it may come to the best of us, it may come to the worst of us, and finally, it may come because that’s how things work.

    After Hurricane Ivan I was very glad that our double wide trailer was undamaged. As I drove from the home where we had been guests to our home, I saw many similar structures completely gutted. In fact, I had little hope in my mind after the drive that I would find anything where we lived, but there was no damage at all.

    So did God love us more than those other people? Was this salvation because we are praying people who put our trust in God? Even in normal circumstances, I would hardly think so. But in this case our 17 year old son was dying, and within a week of the storm he had gone on to be with the Lord. If we could have lost our home and kept our son, what might I have chosen?

    So to reverse it, were we much more wicked than all those folks who did not lose children to cancer that day or that week?

    It’s simply a dangerous game. If you feel strongly about what the ELCA has done, expressing that belief is appropriate, even expressing it vigorously. But I think it would be better to leave the tornadoes out of it.

    I found the Internet Monk’s comments on this very helpful and well stated, though his were in response to a different post.

    Update: I had intended to provide links here to my Hand of God series of three essays: Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3, as well as a story I wrote some time ago for the God-Talk Club series on my Jevlir Caravansary fiction blog, The God-Talk Club: Tornadoes.

  • Borrowing and Inspiration

    I want to discuss inspiration just a bit, partly because it is relevant to my next post on Biblical interpretation (I hope to post it later today), and partly because there is someone on Twitter who is spouting a great deal of nonsense with regard to parallels and borrowing.

    (For those interested, he is @BibleAlsoSays, he claims to be “Religion’s Nightmare,” and he has a rather routine web site by the same name. If you are a believer, don’t worry about going to the non-believers side. You’ve likely heard all these accusations before.)

    But my purpose here is to take a quick look at the way in which we debate inspiration, particularly, but not exclusively, when we’re using the term “inerrancy.” I would note that the problem I’m discussing remains the same in any discussion in which some form of inspiration beyond an ordinary text is claimed of scripture.

    I recall an e-mail discussion I had with a Muslim lady some years back. She seemed to believe I was a sincere Christian who might be willing to look at something better. We exchanged several e-mails, but her final attempt to persuade me can be summarized as: The Qur’an provides you with a clear and absolute answer for every question and aspect of life.

    Now I don’t know enough about Islam or the Qur’an to say just how many Muslims would agree with that, though I have heard it from more than one Muslim, so I know it is not a unique argument. What ended our discussion was my response. I told her that I didn’t find that to be an attractive quality in a holy book. She was quite stunned.

    You see, to her it was obvious that a book that answered all of her questions and gave her absolute ground on which to stand must be divine.

    I hear the inverse of that argument quite frequently. There is some aspect or another of the Bible that someone thinks is inconsistent with divine revelation. They bring this to me, sometimes repeatedly, because it is so obvious to them that it is the nail in the coffin of my faith, and they are quite stunned when my faith doesn’t merely rise from the supposed coffin–it never got in it in the first place.

    The problem, stated simply, is this: What are the proper characteristics of divine revelation, and how do you make that determination? In each of these cases, someone has determined what divine revelation must or must not be, and thus their argument is conclusive. Well, it’s conclusive if you accept their assumption.

    Now some of you might be questioning me on another point, which is just how parallel the parallels are, and just how “copied” the copied scriptures are. This is a good question. While one may find strong parallels to the stories of creation and the flood, one also finds significant differences.

    It is my contention, for example, that the Genesis account was not copied from the Babylonian or Sumerian accounts, but that the author was aware of other creation accounts and intentionally contradicted them. One need only compare the function of the wind in Enuma Elish to Genesis 1:2 to get my basic point.

    But in addition, while one may demonstrate a parallel in certain places, it is much harder in others. Where in the ancient world do we find poetry comparable in style and theme to that of Isaiah 40-66? Where do we find struggles with God that are truly like those of Jeremiah?

    But valid as those points are, I don’t think they get to the basic point, which is that we impose a set of assumptions of what a sacred text should be on various sacred texts, which would result in nothing more than selecting the sacred text that we find most helpful to the needs we feel. But is that a valid argument for truth?

    I would suggest that a major part of the problem here is the attempt to select a religious text as standard prior to a “selection” of faith or a faith community. In my own experience, an acceptance of scripture was not logically prior to an acceptance of Christ, even though I knew scripture.

    I might put it this way: The good news (gospel) is not that the Bible is true and you ought to obey it, but rather that Jesus Christ died for your sins and rose from the dead. I become part of the body of Christ first, and then accept the scriptures because they testify of Jesus.

    Now I don’t want to make this a purely fideistic approach. I do believe there is a place to discuss reliability, but that place is within the context of the body of Christ and not as a sterile issue that simply attempts to demonstrate a body of facts. But at the bottom of my belief system, unsurprisingly, is an act of faith. Without that act of faith, the rest does not seem nearly so logical.

    Apart from the conviction in my heart–you ask me how I know He lives / He lives within my heart–I would not be able to get past the impossibility of the resurrection. Let me add here that those who try to make the resurrection more “possible” do nothing for me. If the resurrection is “possible” in a natural sense, then it is also meaningless.

    Thus, for me, learning about inspiration has been much more of a journey in which I look at how God works. I learn more about how God speaks by looking at how scripture works–borrowing and all–than I do by reading specific texts that discuss inspiration. By looking at scripture I understand how God works.

    There is one other point regarding borrowing. People who make an issue of borrowing in the ancient world seem to me to be generally unaware of literature. What we call mythological themes are repeated in literature all over the place.

    To call this copying plagiarism, besides being anachronistic, is to ignore the passage of time and the contemporary standards of referencing. But saying that the Genesis story of the flood was copied from Gilgamesh, or that the first chapter of Genesis was copied from Enuma Elish ignores even modern standards. The standard movie disclaimer “inspired by a true story” might be closer to the truth.

    To be effective, communication must communicate, and that involves using relevant themes. Mythological themes come from the problems of real life, and it should not be surprising at all that they are repeated multiple times.

    I would add one final note, though this blog post is getting too long. In establishing parallels, one must look at both similarities and dissimilarities. One can make almost any two stories seem parallel if one is permitted to list only similarities. On the other hand, one can prove that two stories are not at all parallel if one is permitted to list only dissimilarities. You can only establish some form of true relationship when you consider both, and in addition account for universal themes.

    For me, the study of parallels is a completely relaxed process of looking at how scripture communicates–a wonderful blend of human and divine. Without the human, it could not be said to communicate; without the divine it would have nothing to communicate.

  • Embracing the Mysteriousness of God

    First, let me put away another mystery, though I doubt anyone was wondering that much. I’ve been working on a couple of new book releases and the resulting schedule kept me from blogging most of the week. No mystery there!

    The word “mystery” is rather popular today, but only in the sense of something to be solved through the application of proper efforts and skilled detective work. We like mysteries because we like to solve them.

    That’s why I used the word “mysteriousness.” God is essentially mysterious, not in a sense of something that will be solved, but rather in the sense of something–or Someone–who will ever elude our best efforts to understand.

    This is a piece of baggage that comes with the notion of a God who is infinite, omnipotent, omniscient, or anything similar. We cannot totally comprehend infinity. We cannot really embrace all knowledge. As soon as we attribute such characteristics to God, we are doomed to a certain amount of mystery, in fact a very substantial amount of mystery.

    I encounter this most frequently in discussing Biblical inspiration. Why could God not have made the Bible more straightforward, or speak to us in ways that leave no doubt? Why can’t he answer all our questions? Why doesn’t he make his presence more clearly manifest?

    Those are good questions, and ones I’m not about to answer! That’s not my topic here.

    There’s a certain conversation that takes place between Christian believers and others that goes something like this: Question about Christianity, Answer, Question about Christianity, Answer, … Excessively difficult question about Christianity, “God is a mystery.”

    Now many people have a problem with this resort to mystery. It seems like a dodge or perhaps sidestep. I have a problem with it as well, but only in its positioning. It shouldn’t be the last resort; it should be embraced at the first.

    I believe in the doctrine of infinite ignorance. God is infinite, suggesting there is an infinity to know about God. I am finite, so any amount of knowledge I hold is finite. Subtract any finite amount from infinity, and you still have infinity. Therefore I am infinitely ignorant of God.

    I would like to note I am not saying that I know nothing at all of God. Invert that statement, and one must note that the fact that any finite amount subtracted from infinity leave infinity does not mean that the finite portion is non-existent or even negligible from the proper point of view.

    What I am suggesting is that, as Christians, we embrace first God’s mystery. Celebrate how much beyond us he is. Give the “that’s a mystery” response first rather than as a last resort.

    We’re stuck with God as mystery, because if we make him fully comprehensible he will no longer be God, at least not in the sense meant by Bible writers and by Christians through the ages.

    This may not satisfy questioners, but it is, at least, honest and open from the start. No I don’t know all there is to know about God. I only know a very, very small amount. I’m willing to share with you my attempts at understanding, but I’m always aware of the size of my subject.

  • Interpreting the Bible – Mid-Course Focus

    This isn’t a summary of previous posts, but rather an attempt to focus on the issue I’m trying to address with this series before I continue. The problem with a series like this is that the examples begin to take over the topic. Since I have used complementarianism and theistic evolution as examples, and brought inerrancy into the discussion in order to demonstrate that it is not the key issue involved, it is easy for a reader to decide that I’m trying to debate any one of those issues, or perhaps to prefer that I debate them and try to redirect the topic.

    Since the posts to which I responded brought up two more issues, homosexuality and violent passages in the Bible, which are again controversial issues, I want to focus back on the point I’m trying to make: It’s both difficult and inappropriate to tell your opponent what his or her position ought to be. In this case I’m responding to the charge that a Christian who accepts the theory of evolution is less Biblical because the “obvious exegesis” of Genesis favors a young earth creationist position.

    Also, though I believe that theistic evolution is the best position to take at the moment, I am not attempting to demonstrate that. Rather, I’m attempting to show that it, along with a number of other positions on Genesis, can be held plausibly as interpretations of the Biblical text. The particular position one adopts depends on other factors, including the particular approach one takes to Biblical interpretation. After this mid-course focus I’m going to look at other issues and ask whether the exegesis is so obvious that an opponent of some particular brand of theology can easily dismiss it as “not real Christianity.” Within some limits, Christianity allows, and has always allowed, some flexibility.

    The problem often starts with a charge that goes something like this:

    1) The Bible clearly teaches X
    2) X is unthinkable or false
    3) So Christianity must be false

    Now there are numerous and huge gaps in the logic as I have written it, but I think those gaps generally exist in the argument as presented by critics of Christianity. (Note to my philosophically inclined friends: To avoid general implosion with possible damage to the space-time continuum, do not try to critique that as a syllogism. Did I say it was a syllogism? I did not!) Let me apply this to a couple of relevant issues:

    1) The Bible clearly teaches that the earth was created in seven literal days 6,000 years ago
    2) That teaching is false
    3) Christianity must be false

    One obviously missing element here is “Christianity actually teaches X” but that is generally assumed, as is the direct connection between “The Bible clearly teaches X” and “Christianity accepts X as true.”

    For example, one could say that the Bible teaches that an animal must be brought as a sacrifice if one sins, but Christianity does not teach this, for reasons that seem good and proper to pretty much all Christians. Here we have a teaching that is fairly clear, but that Christians believe applied to a particular set of times and places, not including the present. You can try to use this to demonstrate that Christians don’t really follow the Bible, but it’s not going to help as an argument against Christianity because it teaches animal sacrifice. (PETA beware!)

    That would fit more with another form of the argument:

    1) The Bible teaches that God condones and even commands violence
    2) Condoning violence is unthinkable (but where is the demonstration that it is wrong?)
    3) Therefore Christianity is false

    Now supposing this argument is used against a Christian who is a pacifist. Clearly the conclusion is false with reference to that person’s belief.

    The point I am trying to make here is not primarily whether the Bible teaches any of these things, or whether they are true or false, but whether a Christian can believe or disbelieve them and still be a Christian. Is it proper to dismiss theistic evolutionists and even old earth creationists as “not real Christians,” rather than to respond to their actual position?

    Dawkins, in his book The God Delusion, clearly wants to argue with fundamentalists and then dismiss all Christians based on his arguments against fundamentalists. I blogged about that starting in From the Land of the Deluded, where I make some similar points.

    I have two suggestions here. First, that Christianity is not defined by American fundamentalism. I have supported that partially and will continue to do so as the series progresses. Second, that it is better to respond to an opponent based on what that opponent actually believes rather than what you imagine them to believe or what you think they ought to believe.

    It is inevitable that this will sometimes fail, but it is an admirable goal in any case, and trying to define your opponent out of existence as the first step to a debate is probably not going to get you very far.

    Christians do this to atheists from time to time as well, in particular by concluding that an atheist actually hates God or does not desire to be under authority. This suggests that an atheist isn’t really an atheist, but is rather a rebellious theist. Perhaps it would be a good idea to stretch our Christian imaginations a little bit, and allow that someone might just not find the idea of God convincing, or might not see sufficient evidence to believe. Imagine, in other words, that the atheist is honestly stating his or her beliefs.

    Further, we need to realize that what seems to us a certain result of a particular belief might not be so certain for someone else. In talking about grief, I am likely to mention that my relationship with Jesus Christ and spiritual disciplines including prayer and fasting have been critical to me in facing loss. Do I mean that someone without those particular beliefs will not be able to handle what I have handled? Not at all! From personal experience I know persons from other faith traditions who have found their beliefs and spiritual practices critical, and I know non-believers who have also endured and come out of such trials successfully. I mention this particular case because it is very common for Christians to believe that atheists will be unable to endure hardship and loss.

    One last illustration might help. I speak frequently to Methodist groups, as I’m a member of a United Methodist congregation. Every Methodist group with whom I have discussed Calvinism has come to the conclusion that Calvinists will not engage in evangelism. Why? If Calvinists believe in predestination–that God has determined who will be saved or lost–what purpose is their for evangelism? The result is already determined!

    Now I have always pointed out that Calvinists do, in fact, practice evangelism, and thus attacking them for a failure in outreach would be inappropriate. A few years ago, however, I had the experience of hearing John Blanchard, a Calvinist evangelist (something many Methodists would regard as an oxymoron), who was asked this very question: Why, if you believe in predestination, are you an evangelist?

    His answer, as I remember it, was this: Predestination is a doctrine, and I believe it; evangelism is a command, and I obey it.

    Hmmm. A bit different logic than we Methodists were assuming he would use, but here we have him believing both things. He is not the person we assumed he would be.

    Neither is the theistic evolutionist the person you assumed him to be. He is not necessarily a scientist whose religion is loosely pasted on. He might be a devout believer and a scientist. On the other hand, his training might be in Biblical studies, like mine is, and the church and faith might be the stuff of his daily life. In any case, he (or she) not likely to be impressed when you claim he’s not who he says he is.

    As I move forward I’m going to discuss views on homosexuality and the church. It may surprise some to know that many advocates of acceptance of gays and lesbians in the full fellowship of the church are actually quite conservative in their understanding of exegesis. One can fault their results in a number of passages, in my view, but one can hardly say that they lack the intent or a conservative approach, even as one charges them with special pleading in particular cases.

    And so as not to disappoint, let me note right now that my intention will not be to argue one side or another here, but rather to look at the types of Biblical interpretation involved.

    Previous posts in this series were:

  • Quote of the Day 1-20-09

    From Bruce Alderman:

    To be honest, I think the ugliest thing about Christianity is the pervasiveness of preachers and apologists who try to scare people into the faith, and who seek to reduce their flocks’ exposure to other viewpoints. …

    The entire post is worth reading.

    There’s a great deal of good material in the blogosphere if you can just find it. I don’t promise truly “daily” quotes of the day, but when I find them, I like to post them.

  • Proving the Virgin Birth

    . . . or not. Bruce Alderman has a good post about Tipler’s efforts in this regard. (Peter Kirk has also discussed this, and both articles are well worth reading.

    Physicists seem to look at the world a bit differently than I do, and I often don’t understand what they’re up to, but for me the whole effort to make a miracle possible is a bit self-defeating. If it could happen by normal means is it a miracle any more? Isn’t it just an unusual event? And how can one ever prove absolutely that a miracle is not just an unusual event for which we don’t yet know the cause?

    I apparently just don’t get it.

  • Evangelism from an Atheist Perspective

    I tend to talk a great deal about how we should approach those of other faiths. It’s something that interests me a great deal. Going way back to the early days of this blog, I find the post Witnessing without being a Pest.

    Let me note here, however, that I’m not calling on any of us, of any faith or none, to homogenize or compromise what we believe. I think it’s important to express one’s actual beliefs honestly and clearly. The trouble is, it’s often the behavior of the messenger much more than the honesty of the beliefs that often offends other people.

    Of course what I write is from a Christian perspective, and one may question whether I have a good idea how non-Christians may feel. Thus I think that three recent blog posts on the blog Caraleisa are quite useful. She has encountered Christians whose obvious goal is to convert her, and to do it as quickly as possible.

    The posts are:

    Check it out!

  • On Being a Liberal Charismatic Believer

    I found a new blog (for me) this week via John Meunier—To Him Which is Yes. I was particularly attracted by the post John linked to, Bringing back belief.

    Jack Burden, the blogger, tells the story of how he silenced a committee meeting, doubtless an extremely useful skill under any circumstances, but the point is much more important. In discussing who they thought would make the ideal member for their church, the committee members listed a number of things, all of them good, but the suggestion that the ideal member should be a believer silenced them.

    I think this should strike committed Christians as a problem, but I don’t think that those of us who deal with mainline congregations should be surprised by it. A friend of mine once commented to me that the main attack form of liberals is intellectual ridicule, while the main attack form of conservatives is moral condemnation. I’ve since had several conservative friends point out that many liberals are quite capable of moral condemnation, and I know the reverse to be true as well. Belief often does not stand up well to intellectual ridicule.

    But there is an entire category of Christian church members who are there because they ought to have a church to go to. It’s traditional in their family or community. They want to be known as “church going people.” Now I could expend many words on the notion that “church going” people are better than other categories of people. But there are certainly communities where “church going” is a helpful attribute to have in doing business. Being a true believer? Not so much!

    These people often will, out of duty, attend church fairly regularly, participate in activities, give to the church budget and special projects and many other things. Since I have already noted that I don’t think “church going” necessarily describes a better class of people, these folks may well be doing all of the good and moral things called for by discipleship.

    The open question is this: Why do they do these things in a church?

    I’m sure there are many answers to that question. Liberals are more frequently accused of being unbelievers in church, but I’m not sure this is a liberal/conservative thing. Amongst people that I know, there are very committed believers in both the conservative and liberal camps, but there are also people who are simply checking the right boxes on their checklist in both camps. I have no idea what the proportions are outside of my own experience.

    I’m going to be teaching a Sunday School class in less than two hours (the Tifounden Class at First UMC of Pensacola). I taught this class for a few weeks last year, and I was invited for a return engagement with the specific task of discussing the subtitle of one of my books: Not Ashamed of the Gospel: Confessions of a Liberal Charismatic. In particular they’re interested in the combination of “liberal” and “charismatic.”

    There are so many ways I could go in discussing this. The title “liberal charismatic” was bestowed on me by someone who didn’t like me at all and was looking for a good insult. When I floated it as a subtitle for my book, quite a number of people–friends–said, “That’s you!” Even my wife said it, so it must be true! I prefer “passionate moderate” myself, but one doesn’t always get to choose one’s labels. One should note, of course, that I didn’t fight this one all that much.

    So what, exactly, is a liberal charismatic? I was playing around with many ways of describing what I would mean by liberal, and what I meant by charismatic. The person who first used the phrase to describe me meant that I didn’t accept all orthodox doctrines, and also believed that all gifts of the Spirit were to continue in the church to the end. He was particularly offended by the idea of a prayer language, which is certainly a controversial topic all around.

    But when I read Jack Burden’s post, I realized something else. The label “believer” has never bothered me. In fact, I have insisted on it. I even occasionally use “true believer” of myself. Why? I confess that, unlike some Christian apologists, I cannot prove that God exists, that Jesus rose from the dead, or that God communicates to us through scripture. I can’t even match the gentler (and better, in my view) form of apologetics that claims that the evidence is sufficient to make this the best option.

    I’ve made the leap of faith. While I am quite unadventurous physically, in the spiritual sense I looked out over the chasm as did Indiana Jones in the Last Crusade, closed my eyes and put my foot down on empty space. I think my foot landed on that hidden bridge; others think they hear the echoes of my screams as I fall. Ah well, it’s my leap of faith, after all.

    I don’t mean that there is no evidence at all. It’s just that there wasn’t enough evidence to make me certain, intellectually, of the destination. At the same time my experience means that I believe in God because I experience him, in a way that differs fundamentally and completely from intellectual assent, I know that there is a God. If that means I’m less intellectually sound, then, well, I’m less intellectually sound.

    But I remain liberal in the sense that I don’t believe this means that I am somehow more right than others about the attributes about God or about a doctrinal system. It doesn’t mean I’m a better person than my friends who believe differently, or not at all. It is simply an honest statement of who I am.

    I was once asked by an agnostic if this meant that, in order to become a believer of my sort, he would have to have his own private hallucination. I told him that bar the slanted terminology (I don’t prefer “hallucination”!) that was pretty much where I was coming from.

    I’ve told the story on this blog before, but let me tell it again. When I joined my first United Methodist congregation, I was attending Bible classes at one church, and attending church at another. I had a hard time choosing. When I discussed membership with one pastor, he told me that he didn’t care what I believed. If I would enjoy their fellowship, feel free to join. What I believed didn’t matter to them. The other pastor asked me what I believed regarding Jesus and why. I joined his church. Belief is very important to me.

    So for me, the “liberal” in “liberal charismatic” means that I’m doctrinally open. I am skeptical of my own ability to know substantial amounts about God. At the same time, for reasons that have so far escaped my powers of rational explanation, I believe that when I know (1 Corinthians 13:12) I will be happy with that knowledge. I’m charismatic because I believe that God’s presence is not variable, but our awareness of it is. God is as present today as he was on the day of Pentecost. (Perhaps I should call myself pentecostal, but that would be much too confusing!)

    That’s it, not in a nutshell, but as close as I get to one–a bit over 1200 words. Is it any wonder I hear this or similar questions so frequently that I decided to write a book just so I could hand it out to those who ask?

  • What Have They Done with Jesus – Roundup

    I have delayed the final post in my notes on Ben Witherington’s book What Have They Done with Jesus? for quite some time. In the meantime I have read Backham’s book Jesus and the Eyewitnesses [my review].

    Bauckham provides a much more coherent account of the principles that it appears Witherington is using, partially because he writes for a somewhat more scholarly audience. His purpose is to lay out the nuts and bolts. As I read it, Witherington’s purpose is to use those principles to paint a portrait of Jesus. For an extended discussion of Bauckham, see my review above. In summary, however, while I believe there is some point to the method, I don’t think it accomplishes what Bauckham (or Witherington) think it does.

    Frequently when I’m discussing the historical Jesus I suggest that the best antidote to any portrait painted by a scholar is to read another scholar. They tend to do a pretty good job of critiquing one another. In general, however, someone else can do the same to them in turn. This has resulted in a certain amount of agnosticism on my part regarding our ability to perceive the historical Jesus, and I also question the need for any level of precision.

    Witherington is a good writer, and I confess to enjoying a great deal of this book even when I was disagreeing. He does not lay out the principles as clearly as does Bauckham, but that is not his purpose. There are elements of the book that I found very helpful, others not so convincing, and a few annoying.

    What is most helpful in the book is the very thorough examination of the evidence that we have regarding very early figures in the church. Whether one agrees with conclusions or not, the information is quite good for a book aimed at non-scholars (though at educated non-scholars!). I found the two chapters on Paul and those on James most helpful in their combined look at the major divisions (factions? groups?) in early Christianity. I found those chapters generally sensible and balanced, probably meaning no more than that they suited my prejudices.

    I do think that Witherington paints a more unified view of the early church than was most likely the case, and was more critical of those who date non-canonical gospels early than I would find justified. Nonetheless, most early dates for those gospels are unjustified in my view, and some serious critical examination is called for.

    The “not so convincing” part is what appears to be the intent of the book–presenting a historically probable picture of Jesus. The subtitle suggests the goal: “BEYOND STRANGE THEORIES AND BAD HISTORY–WHY WE CAN TRUST THE BIBLE.” As a matter of history, I remain unconvinced. I trust the Bible with my faith, but I question historical details. For more details on this, find the links to earlier posts at the end of this one.

    For what I find slightly annoying, let me simply quote a paragraph from the Appendix:

    It is not a good historical principle to rule out causes of events in advance of examining the evidence, especially when none of us has an exhaustive knowledge of either historical or natural causation. The proverbial anti-supernatural bias is no more a good historical presupposition than the naive assumption some people make that everything requires a miraculous explanation, as when someone talks about a demon or spirit causing him to catch a cold, and so on. All data needs to be critically analyzed, of course, but no one should rule out the miraculous from the outset.

    On its face this sounds so objective, but I believe it presents some grave difficulties. The first sentence reminds us that we do not know all natural causes. But that should suggest that we might hold out for a natural cause that we don’t know before we resort to a supernatural explanation. Witherington instead uses this excellent principle to suggest that we should be open to supernatural causes.

    Now I believe that we should leave open the possibility of supernatural occurrences, as long as we do not possess exhaustive knowledge of the natural world. But at the same time miraculous causes simply can never be the most probable explanation for an event. If a miracle were probable, it would cease to be a miracle.

    The assumption that no miracles are possible is not the equivalent of the reverse–the assumption that everything requires a miracle. We do know the causes of colds (Witherington’s example) and thus we know that no specific miracle is required. We know of many other things that are naturally caused (at least in a contingent sense, but that’s way beyond the scope of this post).

    But even if I do not rule out the miraculous from the outset, it seems difficult to make it the most probable explanation. I recall a conversation of the virgin birth in which one of the participants was a OB-GYN specialist. He made an off-hand remark that in his office there were a couple of virgin conceptions reported each week. The point here is that out of these many reports even those of us who are believing Christians would reject every one out of hand–except one.

    Would we suggest that the OB-GYN consider seriously the option of a miracle every time a pregnant young patient suggests she has never had sex? Probably not. But in one case we make an exception. And while I am willing as a matter of faith to make an exception, there is no way that I will claim that is either history or science. In fact, I see no merit in making such a claim.

    I believe that Jesus rose from the dead (to move on to another big one!) not because I believe that missing bodies are best explained miraculously, but rather because my prior faith and spiritual experience inclines me to that belief. I don’t call this rational. I’d prefer it not be called irrational, but rather non-rational, but I understand that many who don’t share my faith won’t be that kind!

    I think Witherington is doing much the same thing. I don’t think he would be as kind to claims of the miraculous in other ancient cultures. But in the case of Jesus, miracles get a higher probability rating.

    Irrespective of any other factor, this one fact would mean that I would find it difficult to produce a picture of Jesus that was both historically probably as a whole, and also in accord with orthodox Christology. Face it, the idea of God in the form of a human is inherently improbable, extremely improbable, and the orthodox picture of Jesus simply doesn’t make sense unless one believes that picture is true even though it is improbable.

    Thus from an historical perspective I remain skeptical, while at the same time remaining a believer. It is faith and the witness of the Holy Spirit, not any sort of historical reconstruction that convinces me. History convinces me that there is room for the physical events such miracles provide (the body of Jesus was not there, the disciples did indeed change their character as they might had they encountered the risen Jesus), but history cannot make the impossible probable.

    Previous posts on What Have They Done with Jesus? in reverse order:

  • Scientific Study of the Supernatural

    In a post a few weeks ago I commented that science could not study the supernatural. Regular commenter Lifewish, who blogs at Metasyntactic, brought up the expected and proper question in a comment:

    Please insert the usual question here about why precisely it is that “supernatural” effects wouldn’t be subject to science. Are we using a definition of “natural” that makes this tautological?

    Well, yes, it is. If we define science as a method of studying the natural world, and then we define supernatural as something other than part of the natural world, which seems a reasonable plan to me, then “science cannot (or does not) study the supernatural” would be tautological. But at the same time that means that to suggest scientific study of the supernatural, using those definitions, would be just a bit illogical.

    Now it would be possible to alter the definitions, though I think that would be a counterproductive plan, since any definition of science that would include study of the supernatural would make it less effective as what it is, while any definition of the supernatural that makes it more natural would, well, make it more natural, and less supernatural.

    But Lifewish includes an important word “effects” in his question that makes it more difficult to answer. Can we study the effects of the supernatural through science? To that I have to give a qualified “yes.”

    If it happens in the natural world, some method of scientific study should be able to observe it. Thus to take the classical Christian miracle story, the resurrection, were it to happen under the right circumstances, one should be able to observe that a corpse comes back to life (or not) or perhaps that it is eliminated and a new one produced as some interpret 1 Corinthians 15. If a person is healed, science should be able to determine whether they were, in fact, ill to begin with and whether they are now truly no longer ill.

    The problem comes in with studying the causes. If there “is” a supernatural, then things that were supernaturally caused outside of the natural order could be observed, but their natural causes couldn’t be discovered through science, even theoretically, because they would not be natural. If they are discovered through scientific processes, by definition they would have to be regarded as natural.

    To return to the example of healing, determining that the person was ill, but no longer is, would be quite simple. Determining why is a bit harder. That’s why we have terms such as “spontaneous remission.” But I know of nobody who would argue that all cases of spontaneous remission are divine healings. It is perfectly logical to say simply that this person became well through a process that is unknown. That is what I think science should say about such things. A scientist who is also a believer should be very clear what is science and what is faith. “This person is no longer ill,” can be a scientific statement. “God healed this person,” is not.

    This clearly paints an arrow in the direction of “god of the gaps” theology, suggesting that God might be the cause of things whose cause we do not know. And that far, god of the gaps is fine. God might be doing all kinds of things of which we have no knowledge, but lacking knowledge, we cannot be definitive about those things.

    I don’t build my theology there, however. My fundamental theological position is that everything that happens in the universe is ultimately an act of God, because God is the “uncaused cause” or the “ground of all being.” I prefer the latter phrase from Paul Tillich as more comprehensive. Now neither of those labels describes the Christian God. That is a limited subset. A deistic view of God fits the bill nicely. But that is nonetheless one jumping off point for my faith. If you convince me that God in no way and at no time intervenes in the universe outside of the course of natural law, I am still a believer in the sense I’ve just stated.

    Let’s try an example of a primitive tribe who discover that already prepared food appears at a certain point outside their village at irregular intervals. They don’t know how it gets there, but they make use of it. From our perspective there are many options. It could be a scientific study group providing this food to determine something about the tribe. One might theorize a random space warp connecting the village to someone’s pantry. Silly, I know, but do the villagers have any way to eliminate the option? Or one could imagine the ancestral gods supernaturally providing the food.

    Which has happened? Until the villagers have learned how to eliminate all natural options, they don’t know, but they can determine that the food appears. If we call the cause supernatural, we are stating that they can never truly discover the cause, because as far as they go in the natural world, no explanation will be adequate.

    It is a definition game. I believe that there is a supernatural, but I also belief that absolute proof is unavailable that the supernatural interferes. Even those things that appear to be miraculous from time to time may well simply have natural explanations so far beyond current science that we haven’t even imagined them.