on intelligent design: first thoughts

The movie Expelled, released last week and featuring Ben Stein, is garnering a lot of attention for the intelligent design (ID) movement. At the core of ID seems to be the hypothesis known as irreducible complexity. Michael Behe -- professor of biochemistry at Lehigh University and a leading intelligent design advocate -- says that biological features such as the blood clotting cascade, the light sensitivity of photoreceptors in the eye, and the bacterial flagellum are examples of complex systems containing individual parts that could not function in isolation of each other.

Behe argues that the existence of irreducibly complex systems is evidence of fine-tuning by an outside agent, an "intelligent designer," who apparently is dissatisfied with the monotony of earth's life forms, and feels compelled to make inexplicable tweaks in obscure places. This designer might be a supernatural being, or it might be a space alien; the intelligent design hypothesis makes no claims about the nature of the designer.

Is intelligent design good science? Is it good theology? Based on my understanding to this point, I would have to answer no on both counts.

By setting up their hypothesis as a competitor to darwinian evolution, Behe and other ID advocates are trying to blur the line that marks the boundaries of scientific knowledge. Science is the study of the workings of the physical world. Science gives us explanations of natural phenomena. There are many areas of knowledge that are outside the scope of science: ethics, art, philosophy, and, of course, theology, to name a few. There's simply no way to squeeze God into the box of scientific inquiry.

What happens if we try to reduce the creator of the universe to a scientific hypothesis? We end up with the "god of the gaps." God is only useful when we need to explain something that we don't fully understand at the moment.

This is bad science because it can discourage further research. If we believe that increased human knowledge would decrease the power of God, we may turn a blind eye to the research into the evolution of the eye. It's bad science also because it accepts a non-conclusion as a conclusion. Merely because something is not understood scientifically does not automatically place it in the realm of external intelligent agents. There is a wide gulf between "We haven't found a natural explanation," and "We can't find a natural explanation." There is also a wide gulf between "We haven't found a natural explanation," and "An unknown intelligent being has been tinkering with life forms again." (And that's not even considering the fact that many of the "irreducibly complex systems" have been explained through natural processes, specifically through the process of exaptation. That's an issue for a separate post, which probably needs to be written by someone more able than I.)

ID is bad theology, too, as the implication of a god in the gaps theology is that God can only be seen in those things that can't be explained otherwise. So the birth of a baby, for example, could not be considered a miracle, because we understand the physical processes by which offspring are produced. But bacterial rotors... those are truly divine in origin! If intelligent design proponents took their own claims at face value, they would be followers of one strange cult.

They certainly wouldn't be followers of one Jesus of Nazareth, who said to a doubting Thomas, "You believe because you have seen my wounds," but did not add, "Blessed are those who understand the irreducible complexity of the blood clotting cascade." (Hey, that gives me an idea for my next Bible translations update...)

Anyway, thus far I've not been impressed with the intelligent design movement. Its major proponents seem to be trying to blend science with religion in a novel way, but the result is that they are making a mess of both.

both sides do it

In response to recent post a look at uncommon descent, commenter gleaner63 said:

A few months ago an interesting exchange took place on the Neil Cavuto Show (Fox News). The debate was between a Global Warming advocate and a skeptic. The advocate, a member of Greenpeace said (paraphrased); "...look, you *are not* a climatologist so no one should take what you say seriously...". Cavuto stepped in and asked the Greenpeace rep what his feild of study was; "...oh...by training I am an economist...".

Aside: What I find puzzling about this is why Fox News presented a debate about climate science without inviting a climatologist. But I guess there's more than one way be "fair and balanced".

gleaner63 continues:

The point is both sides engage in this. When Dawkins or Sagan or Asimov condemn Christianity, a lot of non-believers take their opinions as gospel, although none of the aforementioned have any credentials in theology or anything closely related.

I don't like the phrase "both sides," with its implication that there can be only two possible positions to take. Still, gleaner63 raises an important point about atheists and theology.

I've written repeatedly about Dawkins' failure to grasp even the basics of Christian theology. It's not just a matter of having no credentials -- I'm no theologian myself -- but of willfully ignoring the contributions of those who do know somthing about the subject.

When Richard Dawkins speaks about religion while dismissing the insights of theologians, and when William Dembski speaks about evolution while dismissing the research of biologists, they are being willfully ignorant. And when Fox News presents climate change as merely a debate between environmentalists and skeptics, it's being willfully ignorant.

Sadly, willful ignorance is currently in fashion in the United States. We see it in politics, where most people get their information second hand, from sources that pre-spin it into sound bites. We see it in television news, where the sound bites are welcomed because the half hour news format does not allow time for in depth analysis of any topic.

Laypeople can become knowledgeable about almost any subject, but it takes some effort. You won't learn annything by watching Fox News or reading a popular book by a pontificating expert-in-another-field. Go directly to the people who know the most about the subject, and you'll get the best information.

becoming a christian

Robin Russell at the UM Portal describes an article from the Baptist Standard,
explaining step-by-step instructions on how to become a Christian. (Hat tip to John Meunier) After listing them, she asks,

And I wondered if a United Methodist were asked, "How do I become a Christian?" what would be the response?

A colleague here in the newsroom only half-jokingly commented: "Perhaps that's why we have problems with evangelism."

Any fresh responses out there beyond: "Um, come to church with me?"

Part of the difficulty, I think, is in the question itself. I'm reminded of the old joke, where a visitor to New York asks a local, "How do I get to Carnegie Hall?" The local, who happens to be a professional musician, replies, "Practice, practice, practice."

Christianity is not like building a bookshelf from a kit. You can't just follow a short set of step-by-step instructions -- Insert tab A "grace" into slot B "guilt," and you're done! No, Christianity is a transformation of the whole self, a journey that lasts a lifetime (and beyond).

And the roads that lead us there may be different for different people. For myself, it was a sense of loneliness, not the "lostness" the Baptist Standard requires, that paved the way for me to first experience God. And it was a mystical experience, not an intellectual understanding about Jesus' sacrifice, that started me along the journey.

I find the journey metaphor helpful in another way, too: If you're giving someone directions to get to your house, the first step is to find their starting point. "Go south on I-35 to the 119th Street exit," might get some people started on the right road, but it is likely to get other people completely lost.

Likewise, "How do I become a Christian?" is a highly subjective question. How they will get there is going to depend largely on where they are right now.

When the rich young ruler asked Jesus how to inherit eternal life, Jesus answered, "One thing you lack: go and sell all you possess and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow Me." To the thief on the cross, Jesus simply said, "Truly I say to you, today you shall be with Me in Paradise."

So how do we answer someone who asks, "How do I become a Christian?" First, we get to know them, understand who they are and where they are. It is only as we build relationships with people that we can help them answer that question. Otherwise, we may unintentionally lead them away from where they need to go.

why i will not be raptured, part ii

In part i, four months ago, I erroneously said that rapture proponents claim Matthew 24:37-42 as support for the rapture doctrine. That was incorrect. Rapture proponents do not claim that Matthew 24:37-42 supports the rapture. They do, however, claim that Matthew 24:32-34 does. (This is just one of the reasons I can't buy into the whole rapture thing. What kind of theology builds doctrines on isolated snippets forcibly removed from their original context?)

Now learn this parable from the fig tree: When its branch has already become tender and puts forth leaves, you know that summer is near. So you also, when you see all these things, know that it is near--at the doors! Assuredly, I say to you, this generation will by no means pass away till all these things take place.

- Matthew 24:32-34

There are two sets of "these things" in Matthes 24:33-34. If you fail to distinguish between them, you will not understand what our Lord said. They are definitely not the same. The first "these things" in verse 33 refers to the tumultuous events begun by verses 7 and 8. The second "these things" refers to the prophetic future, including the Tribulation and the glorious appearing of Christ.

- Tim LaHaye, Are We Living in the End Times? p. 57

Why does LaHaye believe this?

The key is found in verse 34. Jesus said, "This generation will by no means pass away until all these things [the second "things"] are fulfilled." The crucial issue concerns the meaning of "this generation," for whatever generation He had in mind would not pass away until the Second Coming occurred.

In Greek, the demonstrative pronoun haute (this) always refers to the person or thing mentioned immediately before it. The thing mentioned just before "generation" involves those who see the sign of Israel as she either becomes a recognized nation or when she takes possession of most of Jerusalem.

- Tim LaHaye, Are We Living in the End Times? p. 58

How does LaHaye get all this from Matthew 24:32-34?

Many prophecy students interpret this passage to mean that when we see the rise of Israel as a nation (as we did in 1948), we will know that the time of the end is "near--at the doors." They reason that when a fig tree is used symbolically in Scripture, it usually refers to the nation Israel. If this is a valid assumption (and we believe it is), then when Israel officially became a nation in 1948, that was the "sign" of Matthew 24:1-8, the beginning "birth pains"--it means that the "end of the age" is "near."

- Tim LaHaye, Are We Living in the End Times? pp. 56-57

How does LaHaye extrapolate all this from "fig tree"?

chirp, chirp, chirp

- crickets

A quick Bible search on the phrase "fig tree" turns up a number of different symbolic uses, some of which clearly refer to Israel, and some of which just as clearly do not. But none of them, as far as I can tell, mention the modern secular Israel founded in 1948. So to recap, LaHaye is saying, essentially, that "these things" in Matthew 24:34 refers to a different "these things" than the same words in verse 33, and that the fig tree in verse 32 refers to Israel, but to a different Israel than the one of Jesus' day.

This is the same guy, recall, who has said, "When the plain sense of Scripture makes common sense, seek no other sense, but take every word at its primary literal meaning, unless the facts of the immediate context clearly indicate otherwise."

Common sense would tell me that the phrase "these things" used twice in consecutive sentences refers to the same things both times. Common sense also tells me that the words "fig tree," in a literal sense, refer to a fig tree. But I don't have LaHaye's sophisticated theological training.

So much for Matthew 24. On to the biggies.

Now I say this, brethren, that flesh and blood cannot inherit the kingdom of God; nor does the perishable inherit the imperishable. Behold, I tell you a mystery; we will not all sleep, but we will all be changed, in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trumpet; for the trumpet will sound, and the dead will be raised imperishable, and we will be changed.

- 1 Corinthians 15:50-52

Of all the verses we've looked at, this appears to be the most promising yet as support for the rapture doctrine. With its talk of the dead being raised and such, it sounds very much like an end times verse.

And indeed it is. The problem for LaHaye's theology is that this passage cannot refer to a secret rapture.

Recall LaHaye's rationale for splitting Christ's second coming into two events:

The first is the Rapture, when all living and dead Christians will be snatched up to be with Christ in the Father's house. The second is for all the people of the world, who will be judged for rejecting Christ. The first is secret, for a special group; the second is public, for everyone left on the earth. They are entirely distinct events!

- Tim LaHaye, Are We Living in the End Times? p. 104

LaHaye insists that the rapture is "secret, for a special group," yet 1 Corinthians 15:52 speaks of a trumpet -- twice. (Presumably in LaHaye's theology these are two distinct trumpets, but that's another issue for another time.) An event heralded by a trumpet blast is not a secret.

What's more, the larger passage clearly indicates (verse 42) that this is the resurrection of the dead -- not a secret snatching away of the faithful. The passage ends with the promise, "Death has been swallowed up in victory." In LaHaye's theology, the rapture marks the beginning of seven years of tribulation -- hardly a time for a victory celebration.

No rapture yet, and we've only got one verse left.

But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope. For since we believe that Jesus died and rose again, even so, through Jesus, God will bring with him those who have died. For this we declare to you by the word of the Lord, that we who are alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will by no means precede those who have died. For the Lord himself, with a cry of command, with the archangel's call and with the sound of God's trumpet, will descend from heaven, and the dead in Christ will rise first. Then we who are alive, who are left, will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air; and so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words.

- 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18

Surely, if the rapture is taught anywhere is scripture, it is taught in 1 Thessalonians 4:13-18. The very word rapture comes from the Latin translation of harpazo ("caught up") in verse 17.

Unfortunately for Tim LaHaye and other rapture proponents, this passage suffers from the same problems as 1 Corinthians 15:51-52. The phrase, "with a cry of command, with the archangel's call and with the sound of God's trumpet," hardly sounds like the way to keep a secret. But then there it is: "we... will be caught up in the clouds together with them to meet the Lord in the air, and so we will be with the Lord forever." So the Bible does teach the rapture after all.

Or does it?

If Christ is returning to earth, and believers meet him to "be with the Lord forever," then regardless of what it means to be caught up in the clouds, the believers must be planning to return to the earth with Christ.

There's more. Bible scholar Barbara Rossing puts it this way:

Paul's description of "meeting" the Lord in the air employs a very specific Greek word for greeting a visiting dignitary in ancient times: apantesis, a practice by which people went outside the city to greet the dignitary and then accompanied him into their city. The same word is used in Matthew 25:6 to describe the bridesmaids who go out to "meet" the bridegroom and then accompany him into the feast, and also in Acts 28:15 to describe the Romans who go out to "meet" Paul as he arrives in their city.

- Barbara Rossing, The Rapture Exposed p. 176

In both Matthew 25:6 and Acts 28:15, those who "meet" the arriving person then turn around and escort him to their home. So 1 Thessalonians 4:17 ought to be understood in the sense of believers leaping up into the clouds -- perhaps in ecstasy at his return -- to welcome Christ and accompany him back to earth.

Here's how Orthodox archbishop John Chrysostom put it:

If He is about to descend, on what account shall we be caught up? For the sake of honor. For when a king drives into a city, those who are in honor go out to meet him; but the condemned await the judge within. And upon the coming of an affectionate father, his children indeed, and those who are worthy to be his children, are taken out in a chariot, that they may see and kiss him; but those of the domestics who have offended remain within. We are carried upon the chariot of our Father. For He received Him up in the clouds, and “we shall be caught up in the clouds.” (Acts i. 9.) Seest thou how great is the honor? and as He descends, we go forth to meet Him, and, what is more blessed than all, so we shall be with Him.

- John Chrysostom, Homilies on 1 Thessalonians, Homily #8

Chrysostom clearly understood this passage to refer to a king returning to a city to pass judgment. To those "who are in honor," the king's visit is a happy occasion, but to those who are condemned, it is a somber one. There is no need to invent a second return of Christ: The same occasion can seem very different to people who have different perspectives.

John Chrysostom understood the New Testament in a way that Timothy LaHaye -- or you and I -- never could. LaHaye may have studied NT Greek in seminary, but Chrysostom learned it as an infant. As a native speaker of ancient Greek, Chrysostom -- like the other leaders of the early church -- was more in tune with the thought processes of the New Testament writers than we will ever be. And not one of the ancient Greek-speaking Christians ever suggested that there would be a secret rapture of the faithful before Christ's ultimate return. I'll take their word above a modern self-styled prophet any day.

The Left Behind series has proven to be wildly popular fiction. But personally, I'm not going to get caught up in all that hype.

international blog day

Today is the 3rd International Blog Day (hat tip: Richard at connexions), the purpose of which is to encourage bloggers to "post recommendations of 5 new Blogs, preferably Blogs that are different from their own culture, point of view and attitude."

As was the case with the "thinking blogger" meme, I had a hard time limiting myself to five blogs. I enjoy reading different points of view, and I read more blogs than I should. In keeping with the spirit of the event, I've excluded all bloggers living in my home country.

• Notes from Underground is the blog of Steve Hayes, an Orthodox deacon living in South Africa. For some good examples of how his perspective differs from a protestant in the United States, see Christianity North and South and Christianity: Inclusive or Exclusive? (this one is the first of a three-part series).


• A Load of Bright is written by "Tobe38", an atheist from Britain. In recent posts he has questioned the sincerity of the phrase Let's Just Agree to Disagree and issued the Tobe Challenge to creationists.


• Never Give Up is the blog of Sami Awad, a Palestinian Christian. His recent post ...then they fight you, then you win... attests to the power of nonviolent resistance in a violence world, from someone with direct experience.


• Today at the Mission is the blog of [rhymes with kerouac], a chef working in a Canadian homeless shelter. Recent posts like Take Me to the River and Staring into the Abyss... give a glimpse into the lives and struggles of homeless people.


• Kouya Chronicle is the blog of Eddie and Sue Arthur, Bible translators and missionaries who have worked in Ivory Coast and Madagascar, and are now back in the UK where they continue work on their Kouya Bible translation. Recent posts include Are All Christians Called to be Misionaries? which examines the meaning of mission, and two entries in the I Pray for the World series: Madagascar and Francophone Africa.

the radical center

Last month Andy Bryan wrote a post, Unclaiming the Center, in which he responds to a friend of his who thinks the solution to divisiveness in the church is for liberals and conservatives to look for common ground in the center.

Andy replies:

Sounds neat, but it doesn’t work for me; I am not in the center, I am liberal. I am an honest-to-God “progressive.” If you are going to label me, label me left wing.


...for me, the solution to the divisiveness in the church is not to artificially move to the center purely in order to find common ground. That would not be authentic to who I am, nor to whom any of us are.

Call him liberal, but don't even think about calling him wishy-washy.

He makes some good points in his post, and I urge you to read the whole thing if you haven't already.

Nevertheless, I tend to disagree with his main point. I think it is vitally important that we do look to reclaim the radical center. But perhaps this disagreement is more in perception than in fact. I may be using the word "center" differently than either Andy or his friend are using it.

As I understand them, "liberal" and "conservative" are political terms that have spilled over into other areas of our lives. In American presidential politics, it is customary for candidates to play up their "liberal" or "conservative" credentials during the primary season, to appeal to the party's "base," then to "move to the center" as the general election approaches, to try to appeal to a wider range of voters.

This can be represented by the following image:




The black part of the line represents the center, and the white parts represent the liberal and conservative wings. Under this paradigm, Andy is correct that liberals (or conservatives) are not being authentic if they try to "claim the center" as a common ground.

But it seems to me that this entire paradigm is missing something.

A few weeks ago my wife took our 4-year-old son to the farmer's market and let him buy something with his own money. He spent a quarter, and got a home-grown peach.

Normally, when he eats fruit from the grocery store, he will eat a little bit from one side and leave the rest. So when they were in the car, and Nicki heard, "I'm done," from the back seat, she didn't expect him to have eaten the whole peach. Yet when she reached back for the remains, he handed her just the pit.

A peach pit is a better metaphor than a political campaign, I believe, for the radical center of the Christian faith.




Here we don't have two fringes at opposite ends, just a solid inner layer with a protective outer layer. The outer, fleshy part of the peach actually provides the nutrients necessary for the seed to grow -- or for a four-year-old boy. One way or another, though, the flesh will be consumed, and only the core will remain.

The core of the Christian faith can be found in the gospels, throughout all of Scripture, and in the ancient creeds. That's not to say that there is nothing more to Christianity than this. The church is one body with many parts, and God calls each of us to fill different roles.

But whether you're anti-oil or anti-abortion, and regardless of how important you personally think those issues are, those are not the essentials of the faith. Likewise, Christianity is not primarily about creationism, fair trade, gay rights, or even a living wage. Our faith may inform us about those issues, but we are almost certain to find ourselves at some point fellowshipping with those who hold different views.

That's when we need to affirm the radical center -- the core -- of our faith. If we cannot fellowship with those who hold differing views on the peripheral issues, we've failed to understand what Christianity is all about.

Unless I'm misreading him, that's essentially what Andy is saying too. So perhaps I don't disagree with him after all.

they would not have crucified the lord of glory

The atonement has been a big topic of discussion lately among several blogs I read (I've trid to link to one sample post from each blog, but I'm sure I've missed at least one blog). I don't really have anything to add to the conversation; I'm still trying to absorb all the ideas and piece the puzzle together.

The fact that I've been thinking over all this is probably the reason the following passage jumped out at me in my daily Bible reading:

But we speak God's wisdom, secret and hidden, which God decreed before the ages for our glory. None of the rulers of this age understood this; for if they had, they would not have crucified the Lord of glory.

- 1 Corinthians 2:7-8

Let's suppose, hypothetically, that things had happened differently: Upon hearing Jesus' teaching, the high priest Caiaphas suddenly realized that he was in the very presence of God. Or Pilate, upon examining Jesus, decided that he should set Jesus free no matter the personal political cost to himself. What if they hadn't crucified the Lord of glory?

These two verses are just a side note in Paul's discussion of the wisdom of God, but he seems to have considered it a genuine possibility that the rulers of the age could have recognized Jesus for who he was, and changed the course of events on that fateful Passover week.

If Jesus hadn't been crucified, how much different would our theology be? Did God have an alternate plan for our atonement just in case Jesus failed to get himself killed?

Did the atonement really rest on the dicey possibility that those in power would not recognize Jesus? Or is there possibly something about power that it necessarily renders those who have it unable to see God at work?

Now I know even less than I did before.

in defense of arminianism

A blogger who uses the name "The Preacher" has an interesting post entitled Making Jehovah into a Lovesick Girl. He asks, "Can I submit to you, that this is exactly what we do when we preach an Arminian gospel?"

The answer is no. Perhaps that's how it appears to Calvinists. And, truth be told, I think I actually heard the gospel presented like this once or twice by well-intentioned but misguided youth leaders back in my teenage years. But to reduce God to a lovestruck girl hoping to be invited to prom, waiting for us to make the first move -- that's a distortion of genuine Arminian theology.

Part of the problem, I think, is that Arminianism is often defined in opposition to Calvinism. Calvinism, as I understand it, teaches that we have no say in our salvation, that it's completely God's decision. Perhaps a Calvinist might assume, by contrast, that Arminians believe that salvation is entirely in our own hands.

But defining any idea solely in relation to a competing idea is the easiest way to distort it. In fact, Arminianism shares with Calvinism the foundation that human nature is sinful, and that, left to our own devices, we could never achieve righteousness.

Arminians departs with Calvinists on the extent of God's grace. Calvinists believe that God's grace is limited to a predetermined group of people, the elect. Anyone not in this group is doomed.

Arminians believe, along with 1 Timothy 2:4, that God "desires everyone to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth." We believe, along with Titus 2:11, that "the grace of God has appeared to all." We believe, along with Romans 2:4, that "God's kindness is meant to lead [us] to repentance." We believe, along with Philippians 2:12-13 that as we "work out [our] own salvation with fear and trembling," we recognize that "it is God at work within [us]."

Arminianism is not the opposite of Calvinism. Arminians don't believe we are the authors of our own salvation. We don't believe God's love is merely a product of pubescent hormones running wild. We don't believe God is so helpless as to pine over unrequited love.

Instead, we see God's grace at work in the world. This grace that has appeared to all, not just to a select few, is known as prevenient grace. That's not the grace that saves us, but it does enable us to respond to God. So even though we don't have it within our nature to choose God, we have something within us that is not part of our own nature.

Our very ability to choose God is itself a gift from God.

my theological worldview

You scored as Emergent/Postmodern. You are Emergent/Postmodern in your theology. You feel alienated from older forms of church, you don't think they connect to modern culture very well. No one knows the whole truth about God, and we have much to learn from each other, and so learning takes place in dialogue. Evangelism should take place in relationships rather than through crusades and altar-calls. People are interested in spirituality and want to ask questions, so the church should help them to do this. Emergent/Postmodern 82% Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan 75% Classical Liberal 54% Neo orthodox 54% Roman Catholic 43% Charismatic/Pentecostal 39% Modern Liberal 36% Reformed Evangelical 14% Fundamentalist 4% What's your theological worldview? created with QuizFarm.com

At first glance, it looks like I haven't changed much in the 14 months since I first took this test. I'm still classified as Emergent/Postmodern, though I've never fully embraced that label. Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan is second on the list, followed by Classical Liberal.

But a closer look reveals significant change. My Emergent score has dropped by 11%, while Wesleyan has increased 14% since the first test. At this rate, in another four months I'll be a true Methodist.

Also increasing by double digits were Neo orthodox (15%) and Roman Catholic (11%).

I think two factors have grown in their influence in my life over the past year, and these have influenced the direction my journey has taken. First was my involvement with Advocates to End Chronic Homelessness before I left Wichita. Working with Christians from so many different denominations has helped me to have a greater respect for those with whom I disagree theologically.

The second factor has been a growing interest in practices of the ancient church. From Lectio Divina to labyrinths, the more I learn about the historic Christian faith, the less I want to forge a new Christianity for a new world. The more I read about the saints of old, the more I want them and not modern society to be my frame of reference.

growing in christ

There's quite a discussion going on in the Methodist blogosphere.

It all started nearly a month ago when fundamentalist megachurch pastor Mark Driscoll posted a rant about his perception of the mainline churches. In short, Driscoll thinks all mainline Christians are liberal pagan potheads who deny the deity of Christ, and even go so far as to (gasp!) ordain women to the ministry.

The discussion began when Beth Quick posted her thoughts about Driscoll's assumption that church success should be measured in terms of church growth. Jason Woolever objected to Driscoll's stereotyping of the mainline.

John Battern weighed in with his own assessment of Driscoll's post. Then John the Methodist added his thoughts about the decline of the mainline and the role of bad theology in that decline.

Then Joel at connexions offered a definition of liberal theology, so people on both sides of the discussion can use the same terms. PamBG added her voice, noting that it is possible to be "liberal in process and orthodox in doctrine."

But I want to touch on Beth Quick's original point: The church's success cannot be measured solely by the numbers. There's a danger in the 21st century USA to measure church by our culture's secular standards. Those standards, which include growth at any cost, are no doubt one of the factors that have led to the rise of the megachurches. But is this a biblical measure of success?

To be sure, we see in the beginning of Acts the nascent church of 120 adding 3000 members at Pentecost. But after that, what do we know about the church's growth? Certainly Acts describes a church that continues to grow as new congregations are added throughout the known world. But exact numbers aren't given again.

Paul's letters -- and the other NT letters, for that matter -- have a lot of advice for churches on resolving problems within the congregation, on settling doctrinal disputes, on Christology, on pastoral matters. But do they give a prescription for church growth?

Perhaps the size of the church should be considered less important than the commitment of church members. What if our churches did everything they could to get every member involved in ministry? It seems to me that if every church member were encouraged to put his or her spiritual gifts into practice, we'd be a lot closer to fulfulling Jesus's vision of the Kingdom of God on earth. As a byproduct, we'd probably see church growth, too.

But if numbers are the most important measure, the church will face the temptation to cut corners, water down the teachings, and ignore spiritual growth. Increased discipleship is not a natural byproduct of large congregations.

There's a story about an old abbey that had once had a thriving monastic community but had now been reduced to five monks. The abbot, seeking guidance, went to a rabbi to ask for advice. The rabbi didn't have any advice except for one cryptic sentence: "One of you is the Messiah." The five monks each pondered what this could mean, wondering which of them was the Messiah. Each faced the possibility that he himself might be the one. Without knowing which one the rabbi meant, the monks began giving each other extra respect. And as visitors came to the abbey, they saw the change in the community. Slowly, younger members began to join and the abbey was once again a thriving community.

Isn't that what the church ought to be?

moderate christians blogroll

Henry Neufeld of Threads from Henry's Web has started a Moderate Christian Blogroll, open to anyone who meets these qualifications:

• You identify yourself somewhere on the blog as a Christian blogger.


• You either self-identify as a moderate or your posts clearly demonstrate that you're moderate.


• You post predominantly on non-personal topics. These don't have to be religious, but purely personal logs don't fit the purpose of this aggregator.

If you think you might qualify, see his Standards page for a further definition of moderate. It's a rather inclusive definition, and a person can even be theologically liberal or conservative yet still qualify as moderate. The most important qualification is being open to those who disagree.


In some quarters, moderate is a dirty word, an implication that one is wishy-washy or has no convictions. In reality, it simply means one is not ideologically driven. How our society has managed to confuse conviction with ideology, I'll never understand.

Now I'm not a dead-center moderate. I do lean a little to the left both politically and theologically. Still, I could never be convinced that liberalism is the answer to all the world's problems. Honest dialogue and thoughtful discussion almost always yield better fruit than knee-jerk reaction. Granted, that means I sometimes don't form an opinion until I've heard a lot of discussion of the issue. But I'd rather admit I don't understand than take a firm stand that turns out to be wrong.

There are some who interpret this lack of dogmatic certainty as a belief that there are no absolutes -- a belief that everyone is entitled to their own truth. We're all right and nobody's ever wrong. In fact, I believe just the opposite: We're all wrong and nobody ever has all the truth. Applied personally, this belief can be humbling. I will never be completely right. I will always have a lot to learn. That in itself gives me a reason not to be dogmatic about my beliefs.

On the other hand, being moderate does not mean that I don't ever have strong opinions. Anyone who has read this blog for a while knows what I think about social injustice, for example. Or Bible literalism. After all, I'm not dogmatic about being uncertain.

Ultimately, the defining characteristic of moderates is the refusal to toe any ideological line. It's better to think for oneself than to blindly accept anyone else's ideas wholesale. And that's the absolute truth.

equal time

In my previous post, one commenter thought I was critiquing conservative Christianity. In truth, I was critiquing an assumption of our age, an assumption not limited to conservatives. Take, for example, this quote from a well-known liberal bishop:

Sometimes the dead wood of the past must be cleared out so that new life has a chance to grow. With regard to the Jesus story, that step becomes vital and urgent. Not every image used to explain Jesus is worthy of survival. The most obvious candidate for dismissal in my mind is also perhaps the oldest of all the interpretations of Jesus. I refer to that image of Jesus as "the divine rescuer."

- John Shelby Spong, Why Christianity Must Change or Die, Chapter 6

Though on the surface this has little to do with climbing mountains in Iran, Spong is commiting the same error as Bob Cornuke. Spong explains his provocative statement by noting that the Jesus as rescuer doctrine is rooted in the story of Adam, Eve, and the serpent -- commonly known as the fall. He then argues that modern science has disproved the idea of the fall:

To ascribe goodness to creation implies that the work of creation is complete. Darwin, however, made us aware that the creation even now is not finished. Galaxies are still being formed. Human life is also still evolving. Suddenly the whole mythological framework in which and by which the Christ figure had been captured came tumbling down. What is sin? It is not and never can be alienation from the perfection for which God in the act of creation had intended us, for there is no such thing as a perfect creation.

So Spong uses modern science to judge the truth of Genesis. This is a category mistake. It's also bad theology.

Despite Spong's claim elsewhere that "no modern person can accept the literal truth of the Bible," here Spong relies on a hyper-literal reading of Genesis 2:2, "And on the seventh day God finished the work that he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all the work that he had done," to oppose Gensis to Darwin. Then he uses a very loose interpretation of the word "good" which appears throughout Genesis 1, arguing that it means "perfect," to claim that it is no longer relevant because Darwin says otherwise.

We live in an age of science. Many people, with the best of intentions, fall into the trap of worshipping this god of our age. But whether it is by climbing mountains in Iran to prove the truth of Genesis, or by invoking Charles Darwin to deny the truth of Genesis, it still involves a distortion of faith. The modern mind wants to filter everything through the lens of science, which centers around cause and effect, observation and hypothesis.

The irony is that, though science might at first appear to be a more solid foundation than faith, science has its limits. There are some things we will never know through observation (ancient history, for example). What's more, the modernist framework that spawned the scientific method is itself on the way out, even now. We are entering what has been dubbed the postmodern era. A lot of ink has been spilled trying to define the new era, but the one thing everyone agrees on is that it will be different from what came before. So ultimately, there's nothing to gain by trying to squeeze God into a modern framework. Modernism, like all other -isms, is headed for the garbage dump of history. (For that matter, postmodernism will eventually follow it there, so there's nothing to gain by squeezing God into a postmodern framework either.)

So what are we left with? Perhaps just this: a God who is greater than all our attempts to define, systematize, shrink-wrap, or squeeze into a box. Now that is a God worthy of our faith.

whose god?

The web site adherents.com identifies twenty-two religions with at least half a million adherents. There are thousands of smaller religions throughout the world. Furthermore, many of the major religions are split into several factions. Christianity alone has hundreds of denominations.

To an outsider, the choices must be bewildering -- all the more so because many believers have simply followed in their parents' footsteps, or accepted the common beliefs of their communities. Is that any way to pick a religion? Is there an objective way to determine, from all the options, which one is the correct God? If not, is it perhaps better just to vote for none of the above?

That certainly seems like the rational way to approach the situation. Yet, that line of thinking suffers from a serious flaw. It assumes that God is a commodity, that we can evaluate God like we evaluate a new refrigerator. The truth is, we can't know God rationally, we can only know God relationally -- and that changes the equation significantly.

Understanding faith as a relationship changes the parameters. To draw one analogy: Out of the billions of people on the earth, which one would make the right spouse? If there were only one correct answer to that question, most of us would end up alone. Or: Who is the best friend? It depends on who you ask.

The analogy breaks down in the fact that we are not actually choosing among several competing gods. (If we were, we'd probably have a reality TV show about it... brings a whole new meaning to American Idol.)

But faith as relationship does suggest another analogy, one that might be more appropriate, and that is how people relate to us. My wife has one idea of what type of person I am; my two year old son has a different idea. Their perceptions of me are quite different, but that doesn't mean either one is wrong.

I'll take this analogy further. Many of the people who know me in real life think I'm shy. I'm not, but their perception is based on something very real. I often have trouble finding the words to say what I want to say. My brain simply does not supply the words when I need them. My thoughts more closely resemble abstract art. In order to communicate, I have to describe the picture that is in my head. I hesitate, I stutter, I fumble for the right words. In large groups, I usually don't have time to translate before the conversation has moved on to other subjects. Likely I have a mild form of Asperger Syndrome. It takes tremendous effort for me to interact with other people, although it does eventually get easier as I get to know people better.

If you only know me through this blog, you'd never know any of that. You can't see me struggling to find the right words; you only see the finished product. You probably have a much different image of me than my coworkers do.

There's more. Back in my sports-crazed small town hometown, I'm remembered mostly for having been on the track team. "Do you still run?" is the first question they ask when I go back. People from my church see me as one of the songleaders for the Saturday night worship. Some of them have commented that they are too shy to stand up in front of the crowd. Those who know of me only through my travel writing have a different picture entirely. And yet, none of these images is wrong -- just incomplete.

Our images of God are similarly incomplete, it seems to me. I'm nowhere nearly as complex as God, so I can only imagine how limited is my mental picture of God. (Yes, it's an abstract picture, in case you're wondering.) I'm sure other people see other sides of God, and as a result have different ideas about what God is like. Are we all wrong? Yes, in a sense, but we are also in some sense right as far as we understand God, even if we don't see eye to eye.

But, some may object, we can't all be right because we contradict each other. Perhaps, but then again, some of the contradictions may simply be a result of limited perspective. Again, using my own life as an analogy, it may seem like a contradiction that some people know me as someone who struggles to put together complete sentences, and others know me as a published author. Some think of me as an athlete, yet I don't pay attention to sports (except college basketball and the Olympics). Some people think I'm shy, while others see me performing in public. Do they all know the same person? Yes -- and no. I'm a multifaceted person, and most people will only see part of me. How much less do we see of God's multifaceted personality.

For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.

- 1 Corinthians 13:12-13

That's what it really boils down to. Our knowledge is limited. Our intellect won't lead us to God, but perhaps love will.