By John Frye

I heard an illustration when I was in seminary from Dr. Howard Hendricks. He said that when water flows through a pipe, the pipe is not affected. There’s no change in the pipe. However, when water works its way through the fine vessels of a tree, the tree grows and produces good fruit. Preachers can be either pipes or trees. What is a pipe preacher?

Good commentaries, other preachers’ stories, bits and pieces picked up from National Geographic, Reader’s Digest, People Magazine, and the local newspaper—all these provide “water” to flow through the pipe, the preacher. He or she is simply a conduit for biblical and illustrative information. Sadly, his or her heart is unmoved, the inner life unchanged, and the preaching mission is reduced to transmission, not to personal transformation. Again, I confess that I am not throwing stones. I’ve transmitted excellent commentary ideas, appearing to be so erudite and profound. It was another’s work and sweat; not my own. I am not saying that preachers should not find biblical and theological help from good commentaries or seek to find relevant material from multiple sources. We preachers must do that. What I am saying is that there must be time for the truth to marinate our own lives before we present a meal to the congregation.

I remember preaching about the love of God the Father for people. I was fascinated by what I was learning. Folks in the congregation would reflect that the sermon meant so much to them. God met them in deep and life-changing ways. I, on the other hand, would think, “What’s going on here, God?! I am untouched. I am still the same.” I was longing for what these folks reported. That is the sad experience of pipe preachers. So many preachers, like I was at the time, are preaching way beyond their own encounters with God. All of us do that; it’s dangerous.

I know so much more of the Bible than I am practicing. Most preachers and teachers do. We forget James’ timely word: “Be doers of the word and not hearers only…[what?] …deceiving yourselves!” The ultimate Christian irony is being so adept at transmitting truth that we end up in sheer spiritual deception and don’t know how to get out. “Lord, Lord, didn’t we do this, say that in your Name?”

How do we avoid being pipes (conduits) and become trees (beings who grow and produce fruit)?

First, practice examen. This is the spiritual discipline based on Psalm 139:1, 23-24 where we take time to be quiet before God and ask, “How does this truth/sermon apply to me?” Let the God in whom there is no darkness at all start shining in every nook and cranny of your soul. If the sermon doesn’t address you personally, why would you preach it to anyone else?

Second, with community-sensitive discernment, let the congregation know how God is speaking to you. You, too, are on the journey with them as followers of Jesus. The spin off of this honesty diffuses the temptation to micromanage the congregation’s Christian growth without addressing your own.

Third, joyfully report how a James D. G. Dunn or N. T. Wright, Scot McKnight, Joyce Baldwin, Eugene Peterson, William Lane, Teresa of Avila, Darrell Bock, etc. shed light on the text that fairly lit up your soul.

Fourth and finally, be serious with God about your own propensity to be a hearer and not a doer of the word. “God, I know more than I am living. Show me, heavenly Father, specifically where I am to be trusting you to transform my life. For apart from you, I can do nothing.”

In his exceptional new study, Endangered Gospel: How Fixing the World is Killing the Church, John Nugent speaks of God’s design as the “better place.” Nugent’s approach is a full biblical narrative of the new heavens and the new earth (the final Better Place) and in a series of post we have examined almost all of Nugent’s narrative. There are some unique and important contributions in his narrative (e.g., an early focus on the Powers) and some other elements that join with other narrative approaches (Wright, Bartholomew-Goheen, and yours truly), but what makes Nugent’s book special is that he knows the difference between the “world” and the “church.”

Most political Christians today do not make sufficient distinction between the world and the church. Most think what the Bible says to Israel or to the church is for the nation (hence, they ask if America is a Christian nation?) — is the ape a polar bear? This is a fundamental mistake of the highest order and leads to all sorts of attempts to Christianize the nation through the coercion of the majority (which is what voting is). But the world is not the church and the church is not the world, and Nugent knows it.

So, he summarizes four approaches to the Better Place:

1. Heaven centered: salvation is in heaven, there will be a future interruption, and God replaces the fallen order. BUT there is little to no emphasis on salvation on earth, there is little concern with the restoration that begins with Jesus, and also no emphasis on Christians beginning to fix the fallen order to make the world a better place.
2. Human centered: salvation is on earth and the Christians are called to make the fallen order into a better place in the here and now; BUT there is little emphasis on salvation in heaven, the restoration that began with Jesus is minimized, there is little belief in a future interruption, and no emphasis on God replacing the fallen order.
3. World centered: again, salvation is on earth, a restoration has begun with Jesus, and there is a belief in a future interruption along with a belief that Christians are to begin fixing the fallen order in the here and now; BUT again little emphasis on salvation in heaven and God replacing the fallen order.

Nugent proposes what he calls Kingdom centered. Yes, nearly all of the proponents of the first three think they are also the kingdom centered approach — kingdom after all is the word du jour today. But how does Nugent see it?

4. Kingdom centered: salvation is on earth and the restoration began with Jesus and there will be a future restoration and most importantly God will replace the fallen order. That is, there is no emphasis on going to heaven when we die for the salvation of God will the flourishing of the created order as the new creation in the new heavens and the new earth. What distinguishes this view from the world centered view (Nugent sees the world centered view in NT Wright) is it is not the design of God for Christians to make this world into a Better Place for that is God’s call.

The call of the Christians is to BE the Better Place in the here and now.

The first three views nearly always minimize the church. This is why in my Kingdom Conspiracy I emphasized that the kingdom is not simply a “rule, reign” but a “realm” and a people. Much kingdom talk today has little concern for the church, either universal and especially local. So I showed that the OT evidence clearly and uniformly equates the word “kingdom” with a “people.” It is a people governed by the king (YHWH, Jesus) by listening to and obeying that king’s law for living in the land.

Nugent does much the same here with the mission of God: it is the mission of the church to BE the Better Place, not to make the world into that better place. The disciples of Jesus already wanted to replace evil rulers with one of themselves and Jesus gave to them what still works today: he rebuked them for arrogance and impatience.

Jesus’ disciples needed no power over the kingdoms of this world because God had given them a different kingdom with a different view of power. They already occupied important posts in Jesus’ kingdom and, in time, they would serve as judges among God’s people. Presiding over rival human kingdoms was not their place. That would actually be a demotion! (113)

Friends, if Christians of the Left and Right today would use the same energies they have for this election for the work of God’s kingdom in Christ — evangelism, mission, disciple-making, church-building — this nation would be changed. Not by the coercion of majority voting but by the embodiment of a whole new way of life.

It’s not that the kingdom-centered view wants the world to get worse. Rather, it is not interested in dressing up the old order in new clothes (114).

To extend the words of Nugent: it wants to undo the old order not by putting on new clothing but by calling the old order out of the old order into the new order.

By Sara Barton. Sara is the University Chaplain at Pepperdine University, where she pastors, preaches, and leads a delightful and capable staff of ministers. She and her husband, John, live in an empty nest these days while their daughter Brynn is a college student and their son Nate is newly married to Falon. Sara’s book, A Woman Called, is available at Amazon.com.

We’ve heard a lot of public language about sex this week. In rushed conversations before going to print, journalists have made decisions about what words are appropriate for the front page of our newspapers. And around dinner tables, parents have explained such things as “the p-word” to their children, hoping and praying that their explanations are developmentally appropriate. I’ve heard expressions of disbelief, outrage, even lament at the state of sexual activity and language in our culture. And there are some good reasons for that. I’ve been sick at my stomach since I heard the recording of a presidential candidate glibly using the language he did to describe assaulting a woman who had to fight off his advances. And I’ve mourned how this circus is re-traumatizing women and men who have been sexually assaulted.

But in addition to outrage and lament, faithful people must also turn inward and examine ourselves for where we’ve been complicit, where our language and actions about sex have contributed positively or negatively to the culture of sex in our communities. Salt. Light. Yeast. These are images Jesus gave Christian communities regarding our role in our wider communities. And I think it’s a good time to ask what kind of witness we are when it comes to human sexuality.

We are actually quite practiced when it comes to outrage, condemnation, and drawing lines in the sand concerning sex. Tragically, our communities are crystal clear regarding what Christians are against when it comes to sex: same-sex sex. In recent years, we’ve so reduced conversations about sexuality to homosexuality that there’s been little time or effort given to what Christians are for when it comes to sex, or if we are for anything. Whether we like it or not, that is the cultural perception of Christians in regard to human sexuality.

As one who pastors a community, my pastoral impulse this week is to proclaim the message of the Song of Songs. And here’s why: We desperately need public, communal language about sex, and we have an oft-overlooked resource in the Bible.

Found, between Ecclesiastes and Isaiah, Song of Songs is unique in several ways, one of which is the fact that it’s the only place in Scripture where a woman’s voice leads the conversation (the woman speaks 61 of 117 verses). In light of what we’ve heard lately, it seems like a good time to let a wise woman speak about sexual activity that’s right and good, a woman who not only speaks but sings and shouts about intimate, sensual, erotic passion. And in all her talk about kissing, touching, tasting, and smelling, she does not offend with crass or vulgar language. She exemplifies how it’s possible to speak about sex and intimacy appropriately. We might do well to let her teach us a thing or two.

I regularly read Song of Songs with college students in a Bible course I teach. And in that conversation, I own up to the fact that I like sex, that twenty-five plus years into marriage, my husband and I are still into each other, still engage in pillow talk with each other, and that we are learning with each passing year how to be more intimate with each other – sexually, emotionally, and spiritually.

Despite my insistence that the Song is spiritually significant, a few of my students insist that sex is not an appropriate subject for Bible class or even for the Bible. Some even vote for removing it from the canon. I often overhear at least one side conversation as my students leave, “That was awkward.” I find it ironic that “locker-room talk” is forgiven in our sex-saturated society, but talking about sex becomes awkward in Bible class. This tells me we are doing something wrong in the church.

I like to think that the Song of Songs teaches us the most when we simply let the poem do what it does, and the poem celebrates sexuality in a spiritual context. It teaches us about God and Israel, about Christ and the church. And, it teaches us about two people who help us imagine a full definition of intimacy – sexual, emotional, spiritual intimacy. That’s why the Song is in the Bible. That’s why it’s read in Jewish communities at the celebration of Passover every year. It proclaims that the celebration of sexual intimacy, a central human experience, is appropriate religious conversation for God’s people.

So, here are a couple of the spiritual lessons I’ve gleaned from the lovers in the Song and from my relationship with my husband, John through the years. I look forward to learning even more.

• The Song of Songs doesn’t allow us to make objects of one another or let us imagine we are mere objects to God. The Song reminds us that any song of objectification is off key. It’s a broken sexuality that makes dull objects of life-filled humans created in the image of God. That’s how women become objects through pornography and trophies acquired through male “grabbing” and conquest rather than real, breathing human partners. That’s how men are objectified too. In a broken view of relationships, men exist in the minds of some women as objects of lust, or perhaps as breadwinners, providers who bring home not only the bread but also the required expensive clothes, furniture, and cars. This Song won’t allow us to beat the objectification drum. It celebrates a relationship in which both partners know and are known. It’s a world in which neither partner dominates or dictates. It’s a world where both partners provide for the other. Read the poem: the shepherd initiates, but so does the maiden. He is vulnerable; so is she. She becomes insecure; so does he. And through it all, lovers are not objects to each other but real, live, breathing people who mutually give and take in an erotic relationship celebrated in a holy collection of Wisdom.

• The Song of Songs teaches us what it means to belong to someone else, not in a relationship that wields power in one direction, but in a relationship that is mutual. I love the section of the Song in chapter 5 in which he initiates intimacy, but she initially hesitates. I have taken off my robe and must I put it on again? ¨I have washed my feet; must I soil them again? She’s tired, she has already settled in for the night. She isn’t really in the mood. A moment later, however, she regrets her hesitation and runs after him. And in chapter 7, she is the one who invites him to the garden to see if the blossoms on the vine are open (wink. wink). Sex can become about abuse of power when one partner must always initiate and the other partner holds the sex key. Both partners should initiate sometimes. Both should have the freedom to decline sometimes. Both should have moments of running after the other, not only sexually but emotionally and spiritually as well.

So, in the face of crass language about sex in our culture, what might happen if we responded with healthy alternatives? Weddings in the Orthodox Church include a practice that can ignite our imagination for healthy public language and ceremony about intimacy. In marriage ceremonies, the bride and the groom are crowned in a rite that is not about declaring a king or queen in order to exercise authority over another. Instead, the crowns proclaim a marriage that is the beginning of a little kingdom that can be like the true, grand kingdom. In their unity and love for one another, the partners covenant with God to proclaim the love of God’s kingdom through each other. The crowns the spouses wear remind them to identify with a crown of thorns, choosing a marriage that constantly crucifies its own selfishness in order to grow in intimate unity and oneness with God and each other.

The Orthodox practice and the relationship we encounter in the Song of Songs remind us as Paul did: It’s a mystery, but when we talk about marriage, we are talking about Christ and the church. Marriage based on the Kingdom view of power, holistic intimacy based on the Kingdom view of power is, well . . . powerful.
May this be our sexual witness.

By Leslie Leyland Fields

This is not the worst lie I ever told, but it’s the most memorable. I had just turned twelve. I was going to a movie theatre with my best friend. I had only been to two other movies in my life, so this was a big deal. And it was costing all the money I had in the world—-a dollar I held excitedly in my pocket. But there was a problem. As I stood in line, my heart sank. The placard read, “11 and under: 1$. 12 and up: $2.” I had a moral dilemma. I couldn’t ask my friend for more money; she didn’t have any. There was only one way out of this. I stood in front of the glass window and squeaked out “One ticket, under 12.” My face burned red, my hands shook as I handed her the dollar. She glanced at me, unseeing. I took the ticket and walked through the door, expecting the earth to swallow me up. What was the movie I HAD to see? What movie did I lie to get into? Cecile B. DeMille’s “The Ten Commandments,” with Charlton Heston. For real. In the moment of that lie, something within me hardened. Look at how I can manipulate people, rules, truth to get what I want! I learned that day.

I thought of this moment this week when Trump defended his language about sexual assaulting women as simply “locker room talk.” I thought of it again when friends wrote to me explaining, “those are just words.”

After reading the transcript from Sunday night’s debate (I couldn’t bear to watch it) I am adding one more thing to grieve in this election season. Let us grieve for language.

I don’t mean “Let us grieve over childish vocabulary.” I don’t mean “let us mourn nonsequitous sentences,” which have become the norm. I don’t even mean, let us grieve for the loss of civil language which is certainly the case and is itself worthy of lament.

And in this post I don’t even mean, “Let us grieve the victims of such vile language, the many women—and I am among them—who have been sexually exploited and assaulted by predatory men.“

I mean something even more primary and essential. I mean, “Let us grieve for Language itself, God’s great gift to humankind.”

You know how it began, how God chose words to birth everything good and beautiful. Jesus, himself the logos, the Word, “created all things.” God’s own words after creation. “It is VERY good!” confirmed the rightness and perfection of this world. Word and world were gloriously and perfectly united. God brought Adam in on it too, asking him to name the creatures of the world.

But that covenant, that perfect correspondence between name and object, between words spoken and the reality they reflected, was broken. The evil one twisted God’s loving words into accusations. Words became a weapon, spoken to destroy rather than create. The covenant between word and deed, between word and reality had been severed.

Since then, we have blithely used language to recreate reality in our own image rather than in God’s. Its been going on a long time. But it’s increasingly acceptable and increasingly alarming, even to those not professing Christian faith. Neil Postman, in his prescient book The End of Education recognized twenty years ago the unraveling our public speech.

The profligate use of language is not merely a social offence, but a threat to the ways in which we have constructed our notions of good and bad, permissible and impermissible. To use language to defend the indefensible . . . to use language to transform certain human beings into nonpersons, to use language to lie and to blur distinctions, to say more than you know or can know, to take the name of the truth in vain—these are offences against a moral order, and they can, incidentally, be committed with excellent pronunciation or with impeccable grammar and spelling. Our engagement with language almost always has a moral dimension, a point that has been emphasized by every great philosopher from Confucius and Socrates to Bertrand Russell and John Dewey. 

Everyone reading this believes that words matter. Else you wouldn’t be here. We know that our words have the power to unleash into the world goodness or wickedness, truth or falsehood, life or death. Frederick Buechner writes

“In Hebrew the term dabar means both “word” and “deed.” Thus to say something is to do something. “I love you.” “I hate you.” “I forgive you.” “I am afraid of you.” Who knows what such words do, but whatever it is, it can never be undone. Something that lay hidden in the heart is irrevocably released through speech into time, is given substance and tossed like a stone into the pool of history, where the concentric rings lap out endlessly. —Wishful Thinking

We’re all experiencing the chaos and destruction from both candidates’ “stones.”

But this last week, with the airing of the video, the concentric rings turned into cyclonic waves. One friend, a stalwart supporter who will not change her vote, confessed to me, “I don’t like this side of him. ”

I don’t like this side of him. How have we done this? Do we see what we’re doing to language? Somehow, even as Christians, we have so rent and parsed ourselves as human beings that our words no longer measure our character. Degrading words are merely distasteful distractions. Somehow we have so riven and compartmentalized the world that violent words are allowed in certain settings. We’ve wrongly distinguished between private and public, creating separate moralities for each. The crime is only being caught. Somehow we have so degraded language itself that we require mostly that it feeds our vision of the world and that it entertains us.

We believe differently. We know better.

I knew better when I lied to get into that movie. I repented in my 12 year old heart, sitting in the dark theatre, hearing God’s own words to me, “Thou shalt not bear false witness” booming out in Heston’s magnificent voice. We must repent as well, requiring that language bear true witness to the world. And that our own language speaks life to all. In Eugene Peterson’s words, “Our relationship to the Word requires us to use words. Our vocation is not only to do what the Word told us to do but also to say what the Word told us to say, until the whole world is transformed by the news.”

This is what language is for.

By Mallory Wyckoff (DMin, MTS). She lives in Nashville, TN with her husband Tim and daughter Olive. Mallory spent 5 years working with young women who have survived various forms of sexual trauma, and now teaches Bible and theology courses at Lipscomb University. Mallory also serves as a spiritual director in Nashville. Her fundamental convictions are that human dignity is the answer to every question, and that never again will there be a band as brilliant as NSYNC. Connect with her at mallorywyckoff.com.

I am a woman.

I am a woman who preaches.

Though we are not many, one of the greatest gifts of knowing other women called to preach is when we are able to sit together, share a meal or a drink, and talk about the complex and difficult realities of being a woman in a world/field/church wherein men have ruled for centuries.

When I’m alone, it’s too easy to question the anger that surfaces when men consistently cut me off or (consciously or otherwise) insist their voices have a louder hearing. When it’s just me in the room, I too quickly reject the painful emotions of not feeling heard or seen, or I suppress the frustration of having to jump through yet another hoop in order to secure a seat at the table. But when I’m with my sisters, when I’m surrounded by other women whose reality mirrors mine, I am free. I can shed the felt-need to hold it together or represent all women or not show too much emotion, and I can simply feel all that I feel and name all that I experience and find it/myself validated.

There is nothing like it.

The reason I desperately need community with fellow women preachers is because they see through a similar lens. They encounter similar experiences. They hear what I hear, and none of us has to convince the other that any of it is real. This is not the case outside such a circle. As a woman who preaches, I hear and see and experience life in a particular way. I notice and observe certain realities—both subtle and over—that others simply don’t. This is not a critique; it is simply true.

We are called “speakers” instead of “preachers.” Our “sermons” are sometimes labeled “lessons” or “presentations.” We are allowed to speak, but only if a man remains on the platform with us. We’re asked to sit as we teach in order to show deference to male authority. We are given the title “coordinator” when men performing the same tasks are referred to as “pastor.” We are allowed to teach on certain topics but not others, irrespective of our training and education.

And on, and on, and on.

The intent here is neither to drum up sympathy for myself nor to lay blame at the feet of others. My sole intent is to say that I experience reality in a particular way because of who I am (i.e. a woman preacher), a reality largely missed or ignored by others who do not claim this identifier. But for those of us who spend countless hours pouring into a sermon, only for it to be called a “lesson,” for those of us who have spent years of our lives studying and earning degrees in preparation for ministry only to find our presence must still be validated by male authority, you damn well better believe we notice.

We cannot help but notice.

It affects us.

It shapes how we think and feel about ourselves. And quietly but powerfully, it ensures that unjust power structures and church practices are able to remain in tact all the while pretending to be more equitable.

And ultimately, here is my point: just because you do not see or hear or experience something does not mean it doesn’t exist. Because I have known this to be so undeniably true for me, I have become convinced it is true for my black and brown brothers and sisters who claim experiences that I have not had. They decry a reality that is not readily visible to me in my white-skinned existence. The stories they tell are not the stories I tell. And far too easily, I can dismiss them because it does not comport with my own reality. I can reject their cries as an attempt to stir up discord and disrupt order, and entirely miss the fact that what I perceive as order is in fact utter chaos for those who live it in different skin.

I know what it feels like to champion gender justice in religious communities, only to encounter those who claim our cause as seeking to divide our churches, those who insist we are making a big issue out of what is not, those who witness our anger and hurt and passion and label it dangerous, disruptive.

And because I know what this feels like, I will continue to insist that we open our ears to hear what our black and brown brothers and sisters are saying. I will insist that when they describe their interactions with persons in authority, or lament the subtle ways they are dismissed and marginalized, or articulate the realities of embodied existence as persons of color in a world that claims to be post-racial but is in fact anything but, I will insist that we listen. I will insist that we stop talking, that we reject the felt-need to counter their story or share our own opinion, and just listen. I want so desperately to have a posture of humility, to place myself as a listener at the table where others share their stories, because I so desperately need others to do that for me and for the women with whom I am called to preach.

And when we do finally listen and seek to understand, when we stop outright rejecting another’s claim because it does not immediately mirror our own experience, when we ask questions instead of demanding our opinion be heard, we begin to discover a reality that was true all the while but escaped us entirely until we had eyes to see it.

This is true for gender justice, and it is true for racial justice.

I am a woman. I am a woman called to preach. And while at times my sermon might be labeled something else or my power attempted to be restrained by men in authority, I will use all of my energy and my abilities and my voice to speak what is true, to peel back the curtain and cast light on reality, to pursue God’s intended shalom in every corner of this world—for women, for black and brown bodies, for the kingdom of God.

(Image from Wikipedia: credit)

The final section of the new book The Grand Canyon, Monument to an Ancient Earth: Can Noah’s Flood Explain the Grand Canyon? summarizes the evidence for the Grand Canyon as a monument to an ancient earth and asks if the differing conclusions reached by mainstream geologists and flood geologists is just a matter of worldview.  Starting at the bottom of the canyon and hiking up one of the routes to the rim (the authors use the South Kaibab trail) is a trek through time. On top of the lowest igneous and metamorphic rock are multiple layers of sedimentary rock testifying to periods where the land was well underwater, under a shallow sea, dry land with rivers cut into the ground, underwater again, and sand desert. The fossils and trace fossils are in a progression from simpler to more complex life forms (not smaller to larger). Marine and terrestrial fossils are segregated into layers . “The fact that terrestrial and marine fossils are not found intermingled within the same layers is clear evidence of distinct intervals of time when the region was sometimes above seal level and other times below it.” (p. 200-201)  This is not consistent with a flood model that requires all layers to be deposited in the waters of the flood.

Gregg Davidson and Wayne Ranney sum up:

The canyons many layers, structures, and faults certainly represent powerful forces at work, but each is easily accounted for by normal earth processes – some slow and some fast – but all normal. More importantly, the explanations for each individual layer or feature fit together into a larger story of rising and falling sea levels, and of slowly shifting tectonic plates lifting and lowering the crust. Fossils encountered along the trail in the canyon, and found around the world, communicate a consistent story as well – a story that makes sense only if the types of organisms present varied considerably at different times in the Earth’s history. The fact that not a single fossil bird, dinosaur, mammal, or flowering plant can be found anywhere along this 7-mile hike is of great significance.

Flood geology arguments often have a ring of plausibility to them when they are applied to one layer or feature in isolation, but there is no way to piece together all the individual explanations into a coherent whole.

…

The immense record of fossil life is said to be evidence of a global flood that swept across entire continents, yet that flood somehow failed to capture a single mouse, seagull, whale, frog, tulip, or lobster in the entire Grand Canyon sequence.

The conventional geologic understanding of the Grand Canyon is not just better than the flood geology view. The conventional model works; the flood model does not. (p. 204-205)

This book is a labor of love from a number of geologists, paleontologists, and biologists. Most of them Christians, including professors from both Wheaton College and Calvin College. They are responding to a need in the church to explain why it is simply unreasonable to view the Grand Canyon layers as deposited in a single global flood of approximately one year duration, or even in a few thousand years from creation week to the appearance of human settlements on the rim.  This book is intended as a gift for the church.

Does it matter? It is important that Christians, and especially church leaders and teachers, realize that the evidence for an ancient earth is impressive and persuasive. In the final chapter the authors (and the chapter is attributed to all of them) address the claim that the difference between the Young Earth flood geology view and the conventional old earth view is “because of the biblical or humanistic “glasses” each person wears.” (p. 207)  Both are doing good “science” but conclusions are driven by worldview.  But this isn’t true. Most of the authors of this book are strong Christians who take the Bible very seriously.  I have had the opportunity to meet and talk with a number of them (Gregg Davidson, Joel Duff, Stephen Moshier, Ralph Stearley, and Ken Wolgemuth). These men are not lukewarm Christians dedicated to a humanistic approach to life or the world around us.

Contrary to the doctrine of flood geologists, the worldview of flood geology is not distinguished from other worldviews by its adherence to the scriptures found in the Bible. Rather, its distinguishing characteristic is adherence to a particular way of interpreting select passages within the Bible – accepted as fact, without considering any conflicting evidence within or outside the Bible. As a result, all data from nature must be force-fit into the accepted-truth model, no matter how convoluted the resulting story may become. (p. 208)

In fact, it is necessary to postulate all kinds of phenomena that are not testified to in the Bible in any way, shape, or form. The Bible gives the impression that the land was largely the same both before and after the flood, that the kinds of plants and animals present were the same both before and after the flood, that the laws of nature (although the ancient audience would have seen them as laws of God) were the same both before and after the flood.  The claim that the flood accounts for plate tectonics, the fossil record, and the Grand Canyon can only be supported by surmising massive changes in physical laws.

Scientific young earth creationism, and especially flood geology, simply cannot account for the evidence. Claiming that it does, that science (done properly) supports a young earth and making this a cornerstone of Christian faith will (and does) drive many people away from the faith altogether … if they already know, or when they dig into the science for one reason or another.

One can postulate a mature creation some 6000 years ago, with the evidence for great age a part of the original creation for reasons known only to God. I think there are theological problems with this view, but it sidesteps most of the scientific problems (human population remains a problem).  Flood geology and scientific creationism go nowhere.

This is a fascinating book, with marvelous illustrations. I recommend it to anyone who wishes to dig deeper into the evidence for an ancient earth. It matters because, as the authors conclude their book: “Truth always matters.” (p. 209)

I pray for the day when this book is unnecessary, and the authors can write a second edition providing the scientific description of the Grand Canyon as a monument to an ancient earth and an awesome God without the need to discuss flood geology.

If you wish to contact me directly you may do so at rjs4mail[at]att.net

If interested you can subscribe to a full text feed of my posts at Musings on Science and Theology.

Before the apostles, during the period of the apostles, and before there were written records, before the Gospels were written, during the time of the apostles writing and yet before there was anything like a canon or what we now call the New Testament … before this and during this… the gospel was alive and well, and the gospel was being preached and taught, and people were being saved. Salvation depends entirely on the truth of the gospel.

What made that gospel the means of redemption was the truth of the gospel, not the written record of it. Because Jesus was God’s Son, because Jesus died for our redemption, because Jesus was raised from the dead, and because he was raised to rule over all creation, the gospel is true. To be saved in the Christian sense is to affirm the truth of who Jesus is, to engage with him from the heart, and to accept what he has accomplished.

I say these things because of the scuffle the Southern Baptist dignitaries seem to want to find with Andy Stanley. Andy Stanley put the emphasis on the truth of the gospel, not the records of that truth. Which is to say, he believes we do not first affirm Scripture in its totality but instead we first affirm the truth of Jesus and his resurrection. Andy questions the theological priority of saying Jesus loves me because the Bible tells me so. He seems (to me at least) to want to say God loves us, Jesus loves us, and that is why the Bible tells us so.

This is what Andy believes in his own words (in response to Mohler’s response), and his entire essay is an exceptional piece:

Years ago our organization made several decisions to better position us to minister to and recapture the attention of post-Christian people. We adjusted our sails. We cast our nets on the other side. We … you get the picture. And why wouldn’t we? The data Barna and others have collected should cause all of us to stop and rethink what we’re doing. Al Mohler’s statement should cause our hearts to skip a beat. As I mentioned earlier, it was about eight years ago that I adjusted my preaching to compensate for an increasingly post-Christian audience. I adapted my approach. An adaptation that, as we’ve seen, left some of my conservative Christian brothers and sisters wondering about my orthodoxy. I get that. I just wish they would ask more questions and make fewer accusations. I’m easy to find.

As part of my shift, I stopped leveraging the authority of Scripture and began leveraging the authorityand stories of the people behind the Scripture. To be clear, I don’t believe “the Bible says,” “Scripture teaches,” and “the Word of God commands” are incorrect approaches. But they are ineffective approaches for post-Christian people. I don’t regret teaching my children that the Bible is God’s Word. But my grown-up kids understand their confidence in the Bible is rooted in their confidence in who Jesus is based on the testimonies of Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Peter, James and the apostle Paul.

Shifting the conversation away from the authority of Scripture to the authority, courage and faithfulness of the men and women behind our Scriptures has not only enabled me to better connect with post-Christians, it’s done wonders for the faith of the faithful. The stories of the men and women behind the Scriptures are rich, inspiring and, unfortunately, not as well-known as you might think. For my latest example, go to WhoNeedsGod.com and watch the last 10 minutes of part six. To wrap the series, I leveraged the story of James to encourage nones to reconsider the claims of Christ, just as James the Just had to do after the resurrection of his brother. As you’ll see, this in no way undermines the authority of the Bible. It actually underscores the historical roots of our Bible. You’d be shocked by how many students and adults in your church view the Bible as a spiritual book that says true things to live by as opposed to an inspired collection of documents documenting eventsthat actually happened. This is why I will continue to insist the foundation of our faith is not an inspired book but the events that inspired the book; events that inspired writers, born along by the Holy Spirit, to document conversations, insights and events—the pivotal event being the resurrection. While it’s true we would not know these events occurred had they not been documented, two other things are equally true. First, they were documented years before there was a Bible (i.e., New Testament bound together with the Jewish Scriptures). Second, it is the events, not the record of the events that birthed the “church.” The Bible did not create Christianity. Christianity is the reason the Bible was created. The reason many Christians struggle with statements like these is they grew up on “The Bible says” preaching. And that’s fine as long as one first believes the Bible is inspired.

Notice I said first.

Al Mohler has come back at Andy, which seems to be a Southern Baptist sport for some, and has affirmed that we need to believe …. essentially in inerrancy to believe in Jesus. Yes, he believes in Jesus but the prior affirmation is Scripture because without Scripture we couldn’t believe in Jesus. The issue is order. A few more observations.

Connecting Andy to Schleiermacher is libelous and uncharitable since it relies entirely on a long slide on a slippery slope. Andy Stanley is not a German Protestant Pietistic-raised German liberal. I’ve read enough Schleiermacher to know he would himself not like being connected to Andy Stanley. Furthermore, Schleiermacher’s project is less apologetics than it is revisionism. Nor does Andy undercut reliance upon Scripture: he want to reorder things from the truth of gospel as recorded in inspired Scripture. Yes, Andy needed a more nuanced statement about the process of getting our New Testament canon; it did not happen all at once but grew from the days of the apostles. But once again let’s talk order here: the apostles didn’t preach the Bible but the truth of the gospel that becomes the inspired Scripture.

I believe it is false dichotomy to demand one or the other but instead we should affirm the reality: first Jesus and the gospel as a truth, then apostolic witnessing and writing leading to apostolic authoritative witness and writing, and then eventually a canonized Scripture. But canon itself is the recognition that these writings affirm the one true gospel. The gospel gave rise to the Scriptures. In the beginning, the gospel.

I don’t know why Mohler presses against Stanley’s argument that the sources of the Gospels witness to the resurrection and the truth about Jesus for this has been done for a long, long time among apologists, including folks like William Lane Craig. Mohler’s point that Andy thinks we should affirm Jesus and therefore OT, leads Mohler to a critique: that Jesus believed — this is how I read Mohler — the very point Stanley was denying. No, Al Mohler, he didn’t. You can’t argue that Jesus affirmed what conservative evangelicals today teach about Scripture when it comes to the very issues over which many today struggle with the doctrine of Scripture as taught about such things as science and faith.  Yes, Jesus believe in the Bible and used it to bolster Who he was and what he taught, but that is not the same thing as how the doctrine of Scripture is being taught today. We are back to the same problem: Did Jesus believe he was Messiah because he read the Bible that way or because he knew — in himself — who he was? What is the order. We need both, but in which order?

Mohler’s point is about apologetics, but he’s mistaken here. As many people reject Christianity because of what they were taught about the Bible — like young earth creationism and the necessity of believing in two and only two original human beings called Adam and Eve — when they encounter the sciences as who reject the Bible because of a loose view of Scripture. The #1 reason people leave the faith, according to my own studies of hundreds of apostasy stories, is the conflict of science and how the Bible is talked about in Christian circles.  (I wrote about this in a chp in my co-authored book Finding Faith, Losing Faith.) Yes, it is true that in some circles where a looser view of Scripture is affirmed many come to the conclusion that they can’t trust it that deeply. So, Mohler’s apologetics here are worthy of serious consideration, but his more either-or approach is mistaken.

Oddly enough I like these words of Mohler’s, which I think undercuts some of what he’s been saying about Stanley:

In the end, we simply have no place to go other than the Bible as God’s authoritative revelation. Christ, not the Bible, is the foundation of our faith — but our only authoritative and infallible source of knowledge about Christ is the Bible.

Well, “In the end” I’m not so sure about. The Spirit of God anoints preaching and witnessing about the truth of the gospel in the face of Jesus and millions have believed without reading a word in the Bible. Yes, “Christ, not the Bible, is the foundation of our faith.” That’s Stanley’s very point. Yes, “our only authoritative and infallible source… is the Bible.” At the link above to the long quote from Stanley, Andy affirms inerrancy. It’s the ordering that is the issue, no? Some people seem to think the only way to proceed is the order of prolegomena in theology. I’d agree that order in theology is very useful but the order in theology needs to recognize that before there was that theology and before there was a New Testament there was the gospel. The order of theology is not the order of gospeling or of conversion.

In the beginning was the gospel, and the New Testament comes into existence because of that gospel. Yes, we know that gospel through the New Testament.

Who is wise and understanding among you? Let them show it by their good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom. James 3:13

The second section of A Little Book for New Scientists: Why and How to Study Science by Josh Reeves and Steve Donaldson looks at characteristics of a faithful scientist. Faithful is a two-pronged concept in this context. We should be faithful as Christians and as scientists – (1) faithful to live as Christians in this world with all that entails and (2) faithful to science as professionals in a discipline. The section is divided into three chapters. The third, The Known Unknowns, will be discussed at length below. The first two, Hope in the Face of Adversity and Life Together, provide some important insights that many prospective scientists will find useful, and the pastors or other advisors might find enlightening.  A couple of the issues that Reeves and Donaldson raise are worth highlighting – but there is much more in the chapters.

Adversity takes many forms. Life as a successful scientist – especially at the highest levels – is a demanding vocation. There are definite rewards, but one is expected contribute in a number of ways. “Depending on place and type of employment, those demands could involve any or all of the following: research, teaching, administration, reading, writing, presentations and travel.” p. 58  To this list you can eventually add mentoring both students and junior colleagues, pursuit of funding to support a research program,  leadership in a variety of professional roles (professional societies, journals and conferences), and reviewing the funding proposals and papers submitted by others. The time commitment can be overwhelming at times – and they are all (most of the time) intellectually challenging and rewarding activities.  The time demands are not unique to scientists – but found in many competitive professions.

Christians are called to all kinds of vocational pursuits. It is important to approach any career with both a sense of calling and a sense of restraint. A career is not an end in and of itself. The goal isn’t simply the pursuit of knowledge, success, prestige, or acclaim. (I would recommend Tim Keller’s book with Katherine Leary Alsdorf  Every Good Endeavor as a source to dig deeper into the relationship between vocation and Christian life. The focus is more toward business than science or academia, but it is still useful.)

Standing on the shoulders of giants. Reeves and Donaldson also dig into the importance of community in science. Reeves and Donaldson point out that productivity in the sciences is always a community endeavor. New ideas and insights seldom, if ever, arise in isolation. Solo papers are relatively rare. Many projects require dozens of participants. Any idea or result, even those that may come from an individual, must be defended to the full community.

It can also be important to make connections with fellow Christians in the sciences (something I have often found easier said than done). The internet helps, but can’t completely replace the importance of face-to-face interactions.

Cultivate Humility. The last chapter of this section The Known Unknowns is worth digging into in more depth. This section isn’t (or shouldn’t be) directed solely at scientists. Scholars of all sorts, including theologians and pastors or any Christian teacher, would benefit. This post led off with a text from James on humility. Many other passages come to mind as well.

All of you, clothe yourselves with humility toward one another, because, “God opposes the proud but shows favor to the humble.” 1 Peter 5:5

Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit. Rather, in humility value others above yourselves, not looking to your own interests but each of you to the interests of the others. Philippians 2:3-4

And several from Proverbs.

When pride comes, then comes disgrace, but with humility comes wisdom. 11:2

Wisdom’s instruction is to fear the Lord, and humility comes before honor. 15:33

Humility is the fear of the Lord; its wages are riches and honor and life. 22:4

 What is humility? The most common definition I’ve found is “the quality or condition of being humble,” not a particularly useful definition. Somewhat better is the definition from the Cambridge Dictionary “the feeling or attitude that you have no special importance that makes you better than others; lack of pride.“This is a little better, but doesn’t quite get it. Humility brings wisdom and comes from wisdom when it is an intellectual humility, a humility that realizes that we are finite in our understanding. In the context of science, or theology for that matter, intellectual humility is the realization that one almost certainly has some misconceptions and wrong ideas and should be open-minded enough to accept input and consider new ideas. This doesn’t mean lack of confidence or a wishy-washy uncertainty, but a willingness to be continually learning. Intellectual humility is generally thought to be a virtue in scholarship and in science – although it far too often isn’t. Scientists regularly over step reasonable bounds, and sometimes defend a view with the same kind of dogmatic certainty found in other arenas.

Intellectual humility should also be a virtue in the church – although far too often it isn’t.

The air of finality that accompanies so much religious posturing, for example, is based on the faulty (but prevalent) notion that everything of importance one needs to know is already known. … This is something of a paradox, for one would think that religious people who believe in a transcendent deity would have the most expansive outlook of all. But strangely the notion of an infinitely capable God, rather than exposing one’s rational frailties, often manifests itself  in a parochial notion of infallibility of personal discernment. Somehow the facts that God’s chosen people (Israel in the Old Testament) were regularly mistaken (e.g., “I desire mercy, not sacrifice,” Hos 6:6) and that Jesus’ own disciples frequently got it wrong (“Are you still so dull?” Mt 15:16) seems to be lost on each new generation, which acts as though it has finally reached an indisputable answer.” (pp. 82-83)

Intellectual humility does not prevent one from coming to conclusions and arguing for a specific view.  Intellectual humility requires a willingness to listen and to learn. I’ve listened to a number of talks by N.T. Wright and he will sometimes make a comment such as: 20% (or some other percentage higher or lower) of what I’m about to tell you is wrong;  the problem is, I don’t know what 20% it is. This certainly doesn’t keep him from making the argument or teaching the class, but it does cultivate intellectual humility to keep it in mind, both in the speaker and in the listener. This is what makes us teachable and allows us to grow.

Reeves and Donaldson have more to say on the topic of intellectual humility and the potential pitfalls for the Christian and for the scientist. But perhaps it is best to wrap up with their conclusion.

As the Apostle Paul put it, “Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out! ‘Who has known the mind of the Lord? Or who has been his counselor?”‘ (Romans 11:33-34). To acknowledge that one might be wrong, and to admit it when one is wrong, is the gateway to greater discovery. Thus the route to deeper insight – be it scientific, theological, or the intersection of the two – begins with intellectual humility. p. 89

What is intellectually humility?

Is this a virtue we should cultivate?

What role might it play in the church?

If you wish to contact me directly you may do so at rjs4mail[at]att.net

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In N.T. Wright’s newest book, The Day the Revolution Began, to be available in about a month and one can find a course being developed about it here, is setting the cross in the Bible’s narrative or story line (about which Wright has some refined remarks). But he knows that cross and atonement resolve a problem, and that problem is often defined as the sin problem. So, one must know the problem to make sense of the resolution, or at least once one knows the resolution then one can discern the problem.

In addition, one has to know the creation story and the consummation story to know the sin story. God’s mission then is central to understanding human sin. Or is it sin? Remember CS Lewis once said the essential sin is Pride. What then of Wright?

But what is sin? I believe NT Wright’s statements in DRB will become both a central point of affirmation as well as something that will garner some pushback. What is sin? Is it missing the mark? is it violating the law of God? is it besmirching the honor of God? is it failing to love God, self, others and the world properly? I want to collect here today a few important observations by Wright about the nature of sin.

For many there is a “covenant of works” upon which humans are measured by a perfect God; Wright calls this the “contract of works” (the term “contract” — at least to me — evokes the schemes at work in the studies of Douglas Campbell). But…

What the Bible offers is not a “works contract,” but a covenant of vocation. 76

If the mission of God for humans is to be image bearers, if the mission is to worship and serve God, then the fundamental sin is about allegiance – that is, it is idolatry.

Humans are called not just to keep certain moral standards in the present and to enjoy God’s presence here and hereafter, but to celebrate, worship, procreate, and take responsibility within the rich, vivid developing life of creation. According to Genesis, that is what humans were made for.

The diagnosis of the human plight is then not simply that humans have broken God’s moral law, offending and insulting the Creator, whose image they bear—though that is true as well. This lawbreaking is a symptom of a much more serious disease. Morality is important, but it isn’t the whole story. Called to responsibility and authority within and over the creation, humans have turned their vocation upside down, giving worship and allegiance to forces and powers within creation itself. The name for this is idolatry. The result is slavery and finally death. It isn’t just that humans do wrong things and so incur punishment. This is one element of the larger problem, which isn’t so much about a punishment that might seem almost arbitrary, perhaps even draconian; it is, rather, about direct consequences. When we worship and serve forces within the creation (the creation for which we were supposed to be responsible!), we hand over our power to other forces only too happy to usurp our position. We humans have thus, by abrogating our own vocation, handed our power and authority to nondivine and nonhuman forces, which have then run rampant, spoiling human lives, ravaging the beautiful creation, and doing their best to turn God’s world into a hell (and hence into a place from which people might want to escape). As I indicated earlier, some of these “forces” are familiar (money, sex, power). Some are less familiar in the popular mind, not least the sense of a dark, accusing “power” standing behind all the rest. 76-77

Some of Wright’s critics will mistakenly jump on this next sentence or two for failing to set idolatry in his more robust context.

Over the last generation or so, therefore, the Western world, including the church, has found the language of “sin” sorely inadequate, not least because, as Jesus said about the Pharisees, it often cleans up things on the surface while hiding a deep rottenness within. But we haven’t yet decided what to put in its place. 98

Actually, the Bible has several different words for sin: “wickedness,” “transgression,’ and other terms for inappropriate or illegal behavior. These words) all converge on the idea we sketched in the previous chapter: that humans were made for a purpose, that Israel was made for a purpose, and that humans and Israel alike have turned aside from that purpose, distorted the vision, and abused their vocation. 99

In the Bible, “sin”—for which there are various words in Hebrew—is the outworking of a prior disease, a prior disobedience: a failure of worship. 100

When humans sin, they hand to nondivine forces a power and authority that those forces were never supposed to have. And that is why, if God’s plan is to rescue and restore his whole creation, with humans as the active agents in the middle of it, “sins” have to be dealt with. That is the only way by which the nondivine forces that usurp the human role in the world will lose their power. They will be starved of the oxygen that keeps them alive, that turns them from ordinary parts of God’s creation into distorted and dangerous monsters. 101

What do you think? What is the essential sin? How to relate your view of the “essential sin” with the Bible’s story line?