[Christ-centered apologetics]

(Part two of a two-part series on Christ, the cross, and apologetics.)

Yesterday morning in my philosophy of religion class, we were studying a famous exchange between logical positivist A.J. Ayer and Jesuit philosopher Frederick Copleston. These two intellectual giants were tangling over the question of whether it was possible to have empirical knowledge of God. Copleston argued that one could, but the difficulty, Ayer maintained, was that intuitions or feelings of God’s presence were not quantifiable in terms of the five senses, and therefore not properly empirical.

“Because on Copleston’s view God doesn’t have a body, you can’t experience Him through the senses, although you may have a direct perception of Him with your mind,” my professor said. “Of course, you could experience Jesus empirically…”

I admit I kind of tuned out after this point in the lecture, because it set me off on a tangent resonating with my meditations on apologetics and the theology of the cross from this weekend. Paul says in 1 Timothy 2:5, “For there is one God, and there is one mediator between god and men, the man Christ Jesus.” Might it be the case that many of the “problems” in Christian apologetics and philosophy of religion come from trying to come to knowledge of God apart from His appointed Mediator? This was one of the prideful errors with which Luther indicted the theologians of glory. The thought stayed with me throughout the day.

How might this kind of Christ-centered approach to apologetics work in practice? Let’s consider the above problem of coming to knowledge of God’s existence and character. One might think, following Kant, that it is problematic or even impossible to know what God is like in Himself from our limited human perspective. It is not problematic, however, to believe that mere humans can come to the knowledge of an utterly transcendent God if that God Himself became a man. In fact it is utterly crucial that we have a God-Man Mediator in order to come to knowledge of God, as the context of 1 Timothy 2:5 is about coming to know the truth. Let us consider, too, the present tense of that verse: “There is one mediator.” Christ’s Incarnation is ongoing. As He sits at the right of His Father in Heaven right now, He is fully God and fully man. Is it strange to think, then, that He may reveal Himself to human beings? Christ’s Incarnation, Atonement, and ongoing Mediation mean that the epistemological and moral (because of the effects of sin on our minds) problems of coming to know God are not problems at all. Whenever God chooses to reveal Himself, He does. Scripture goes on to indicate that the way He does so is through His spoken word of the Gospel and His inscripturated word of the Bible, which includes the apostles’ testimony to their empirical experience of Jesus (Rom. 10:17, 1 Cor. 15:1-8, 2 Tim. 3:16, 2 Peter 1:16-21, 1 John 1:1-3).

Or take the problem of evil. A Christ-centered approach to evil would include some of the following points:

1. Jesus suffered for sin. If God Himself suffers evil in Christ, then our suffering is not meaningless.
2. The cross of Christ shows that God undermines the greatest evil for His good end.
3. The cross shows God defeating and destroying evil and bringing justice, inviting us into His Kingdom.

I believe these three points have been argued by Tim Keller, Carl Trueman, and N.T. Wright, respectively. None of them argue in an abstract and, what is in at least one sense of the term, sub-Christian way. Neither do they offer a clean syllogism for an answer. I think that is a good thing.

Well, this is just a thought, a starting point for further discussion. What do you think? Might a Christ-centered approach alleviate some of the perennial problems of Christian apologetics?

[an apologetic of the cross]

(Part one of a two-part series on Christ, the cross, and apologetics.)

The week of Easter is always a sweet time. With all of Christendom, we focus our hearts with rapt attention on those things that Paul said are of first importance, the heart of the Gospel: Christ’s death for our sins, His burial, and His resurrection, all according to the Scriptures (1 Cor. 15:1-4).

In my meditations this weekend, I came across this sentence from Martin Luther: Crux probat omnia. “The cross is the test of everything.”  That set me thinking on what an apologetic tested by the cross–a defense of the Christian faith that is true to the mysterious, humiliating, glorious first principle of that faith–would look like.

These thoughts led me to the first chapter of 1 Corinthians. Paul writes,

For the word of the cross is folly those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. For it is written, ‘I will destroy the wisdom of the wise, and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.’ Where is the one who is wise? Where is the scribe? Where is the debater of this age? Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world? For since, in the wisdom of God, the world did not know God through wisdom, it pleased God through the folly of what we preach to save those who believe. For Jews demand signs and Greeks seek wisdom, but we preach Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and folly to Gentiles, but to those who are called, both Jews and Greeks, Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God. For the foolishness of God is wiser than men, and the weakness of God is stronger than men. (vv.18-25)

The cross is a scandal, an offense to every human mind whether Jew or Gentile. What does this mean for the apologist? Do we then abandon the project of making a reasonable case for the Christian faith?

I don’t think so. In 2 Corinthians 10:3-6, Paul makes clear that God uses us as means in His destruction of worldly wisdom. I think the import of this text for those who would defend and commend the Gospel of the offensive cross is this: It is a critique of the motives of our own hearts. Do we study arguments and evidences for Christianity in order to make ourselves more respectable to the world? Are seeking to carve out a niche of comfort for ourselves in the face of skepticism? Are we capitulating to the City of Man instead of contending for the City of God? If this is what we expect from the apologetic project, we will be disappointed. Rather, as we soundly reason in support of the Gospel, we will only make clear that Christ claims the whole man–that the cross is indeed the test of everything, the mind as well as the heart. And though many will surrender to the claims of our King as we do so, the general opposition of the world will increase. Our folly and humiliation and weakness will increase. And so will the power of Christ upon us (2 Cor. 12:9-10).

In his Heidelberg Disputation, Luther famously contrasted the “theologian of the cross” with the “theologian of glory.”

19. That person does not deserve to be called a theologian who looks upon the invisible things of God as though they were clearly perceptible in those things which have actually happened [Rom. 1:20].
20. He deserves to be called a theologian, however, who comprehends the visible and manifest things of God seen through suffering and the cross.
21. A theologian of glory calls evil good and good evil. A theologian of the cross calls the thing what it actually is.
22. That wisdom which sees the invisible things of God in works as perceived by man is completely puffed up, blinded, and hardened.

Would we use apologetics to avoid suffering the shame and ignominy of the way of the cross? Then we are apologists of glory. Would we proclaim the Lordship of Christ over every area of thought and life, and so draw the ire of the City of Man? Then we are propounding an apologetic of the cross.

[reasonable faith]

Dr. William Lane Craig, a brilliant Christian philosopher and apologist, has some great resources at reasonablefaith.org. I don’t agree with him on all points, particularly the way he conceptualizes divine sovereignty, but these Q&A’s on the witness of the Holy Spirit I find extremely helpful.

The Witness of the Holy Spirit

Counterfeit Claims of the Spirit’s Witness

[total war]

So often I confute the Spirit/flesh conflict that Paul talks about with a Greek idea of spirit versus body. That was the error of the Gnostics in the first century church! (Think about this: If Spirit versus flesh means spirit versus body, then Paul is talking nonsense when he speaks of “spiritual bodies” in 1 Cor. 15.) I make sanctification into a process of my mind’s high reason mastering my body’s low passion… which is a deadly simplification. The reality is that the corruption of sin extends much deeper than just bodily desires. My reason, will, and affections are, apart from Christ, just as corrupt as my bodily senses. There are sanctified, “spiritual” bodily desires, like that of a husband for his wife, and there are fleshly desires, like lust for a woman not your wife. There are spiritual affections, like the “joy inexpressible and full of glory” that Peter talks about (see Jonathan Edwards for more on that), and there are fleshly ones like the anxiety against which Paul warns in Philippians 4. And there is godly reasoning that recognizes the fear of the Lord as the beginning of knowledge (Prov. 1:7), and there are “arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God” (2 Cor. 10:5).

And all of these reside in me. “Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God, through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Rom. 7:24-25)

Jesus paid the penalty for all my sins–sins of reason, emotion, and cupidity. And he broke the power of sin, even though it still abides in me in this life, so that my outer man, the fleshly man, is wasting away, and my inner man, quickened by the Holy Spirit, is being renewed day by day. So I can be confident to go after my sin in total war, on every front fighting in the power of the Spirit.

So with reference to this truth, I’m going to post a couple of things from my Art, Emotion, and Morality class on the blog–because Christian scholarship is spiritual warfare.

[every man a soldier, every life an epic]

I don’t normally watch a movie more than once in theaters. But today I saw Prince Caspian for the second time. I think it’s a fantastic flick, and what really gets me is the size of it. It’s a BIG movie: the armies, the battles, the minotaurs, the stakes… everything about it is huge. Musing on the film over the past few days, I found myself wishing I was part of some epic struggle, to be an honorable soldier in a noble cause. Then I realized how foolish this was… because every day, if seen rightly, we go to war:

1. Against indwelling sin that abides in our flesh.

For if you live according to the flesh you will die, but if by the Spirit you put to death the deeds of the body, you will live. Romans 8:13

John Owen writes,

The saints, whose souls breathe after deliverance from its [i.e., sin's] perplexing rebellion, know there is no safety against it but in a constant warfare.

2. Against philosophies, ideologies, worldviews, and heresies that are contrary to true knowledge of God.

For though we walk in the flesh, we are not waging war according to the flesh. For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ. 2 Corinthians 10:3-5

This is the task of apologetics, and it begins in our own hearts, taking every thought captive.

3. Against spiritual forces of evil.

Finally, be strong in the Lord and in the strength of his might. Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Ephesians 6:10-12

Paul identifies two great ends of the struggle which the forces of evil endeavor unceasingly to short-circuit: the believer’s endurance (6:13), and the bold proclamation of the Gospel (6:18-20).

4. Against complacency, to remain faithful to Christ in daily life.

Paul uses warfare language extensively in his two letters of encouragement and exhortation to the young preacher Timothy.

But as for you, O man of God, flee these things. Pursue righteousness, godliness, faith, love, steadfastness, gentleness. Fight the good fight of the faith. Take hold of the eternal life to which you were called and about which you made the good confession in the presence of many witnesses. 1 Timothy 6:11-12

C.S. Lewis has written that the Chronicles of Narnia are not intended as allegory in the same way as, say, Pilgrim’s Progress. But for the Christian reader, or viewer, the resonance of the stories’ characters and themes for the life of faith is undeniable. What I love about the Chronicles is not that they provide escape to a fantastic world so much as they remind us what is important in the actual world.

We live life every second coram Deo, ‘before the face of God’. Our every action, word, thought is endued with eternal consequences. Our lives matter; they are significant! When you read your Bible, or pray, or share the Gospel with a friend; when you write a poem, or critically analyze the worldview presented in a movie; when you relate differently to a parent or friend or boyfriend/girlfriend because of the principles of Scripture- you go to war, noble, broken Christian, with the power of the Holy Spirit, in the greatest cause of all: the Kingdom of Heaven. Jesus said,

From the days of John the Baptist, the kingdom of heaven has been coming violently, and the violent take it by force. Matthew 11:12

Who are these, the “violent”? John Gill comments,

[Those] being powerfully wrought upon under the ministry of the Gospel; who were under violent apprehensions of wrath and vengeance, of their lost and undone state and condition by nature; were violently in love with Christ, and eagerly desirous of salvation by him, and communion with him; and had their affections set upon the things of another world: these having the Gospel preached to them, which is a declaration of God’s love to sinners, a proclamation of peace and pardon, and a publication of righteousness and life by Christ, they greedily catched at it, and embraced it.

O that we would be violently in love with Christ, and wage the good warfare because of it!

[common grace]

“Chaos is dull.” -Chesterton

I slept and slept in fevered dreams
Of unmoored ships and wandering travelers,
Fierce seas and tangled roads,
Nights too black and days too grey,
Blizzards overwhelmingly white,
And felt the fallenness deep in my soul
Like a crack in the foundation of Self
Life, a slumping construction, rests on.

I woke to find the World instead infuriating order,
Lying down in a dampened meadow.
I found that though it drizzled,
The sun shone through a little,
Laid my hand upon a compass and a map.
On map the roads in grid arrayed,
Like engineering paper,
Indicated bridges out and blockage of the way.

Corruption could not undo Order;
Though all the marching feet of Time
Had trampled it for unknown years,
It, scarred, held fast and true.
Against all Sin and indication
Of thermodynamic law,
A Hand unseen upholds the World,
Or else a Word unheard.

[poetic apologetic]

I’m taking American Lit, 1860-present this semester, and lately we’ve been covering modernist poetry. It’s some of my favorite stuff because it deeply investigates the culture in which it was written. But it’s also generally anti-Christian, written in the aftermath of WWI when people thought the old philosophies and religions just didn’t make sense of reality anymore. One of the most fascinating modernists is Wallace Stevens. He worked a steady job as an insurance man and wrote on the side. He was obsessed with the impossibility of objective truth and instead stressed the importance of belief in story. Crazy how much of that viewpoint has worked its way into the church. His work is exactly the kind of stuff Francis Schaeffer was aiming at with The God Who Is There. Anyway, here’s a brief quote, a poem by Stevens, and a poem I wrote in response.

“The final belief is to believe in a fiction, which you know to be a
fiction, there being nothing else. The exquisite truth is to know that
it is a fiction and that you believe in it willingly.”

The Snow Man

by Wallace Stevens

One must have a mind of winter
To regard the frost and the boughs
Of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

And have been cold a long time
To behold the junipers shagged with ice,
The spruces rough in the distant glitter

Of the January sun; and not to think
Of any misery in the sound of the wind,
In the sound of a few leaves,

Which is the sound of the land
Full of the same wind
That is blowing in the same bare place

For the listener, who listens in the snow,
And, nothing himself, beholds
Nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

Snow Man Redux 10.23.07

by Jonathan McGregor

A snowman melts in Texas’ mild January,
And Wallace Stevens is trying to destroy me.
Here are the briquettes that were his eyes,
Trickling away in dirty little rivers
On the brittle lawn
The broom is slumped,
The carrot haphazard,
The water returns to the earth.
A brief glance of sunlight shimmers on the slushy surface,
Inviting me to stoop and see
The faintest pink reflection of my curious face,
And I know that I exist.
His images of irritum are themselves brought to nothing
By inexorable turnings
Of the Word-ruled world.
I kick the crumbling corpse
And a lump of watery snow
Falls harmlessly to the ground.

*irritum = Latin for ‘nothingness’