C.F.H. Henry: Unbelief Is Not Modern

With all the attention and adulation that I've given David Wells' thesis (that modernity has made the gospel implausible), the late Carl F.H. Henry has some comments that have given me pause and that I think have begun to clarify what the root of unbelief is and modernity's challenge to biblical faith.

The crisis of word and truth is not, however, in all respects peculiar to contemporary technocratic civilization. Its backdrop is not to be found in the mass media per se, as if these sophisticated mechanical instruments of modern communication were uniquely and inherently evil.

Why is it that the magnificent civilizations fashioned by human endeavor throughout history have tumbled and collapsed one after another with apocalyptic suddenness? Is it not because, ever since man's original fall...sin has plummeted human existence into an unbroken crisis of word and truth? A cosmic struggle between truth and falsehood, between good and evil, shadows the whole history of mankind. The Bible depicts it as a conflict between the authority of God and the claims of the Evil One.

We need therefore to abandon the notion that modern science and its discoveries are the major obstacles to a living faith in the God of revelation and redemption. In earlier prescientific times, men negotiated their spiritual revolt just as vigorously and did so without invoking science and technology as a pretext.

[quoting Oscar Cullman, he continues:] "We must see clearly ... that the most recent discoveries ... in no way make faith in salvation history more difficult than it was for men during the days of early Christianity." (God, Revelation and Authority, Volume 1: God Who Speaks and Shows, p. 21)

This last statement is what caught my attention, and I had to ask myself if that is what I had heard Wells arguing: Does modernity make the gospel more difficult to believe? Then I recalled that Wells himself chose his words carefully when he wrote that "divine Providence was much easier to assert [not necessarily "to believe"] when Western culture still believed in progress." (p. 160, God in the Wasteland). Among other things, modernity has helped break down the Enlightenment assumption of human progress, which is closely linked with (though not identical to) the Christian doctrine of Providence. This is significant because, in saying this, Wells can still affirm that while the gospel may be less plausible in the modern world (over against the pre-modern and/or ancient worlds), it is nonetheless still just as repugnant to those who do understand it intellectually (whether ancient, pre-modern, modern, or postmodern) and still refuse to embrace it as true and beautiful.

It is one thing for a message to be hard to communicate, and another thing for that message to be joyfully embraced once it is understood. Stripping the modern canvass off the world may make the gospel more plausible, but it won't do anything to soften the unrepentant hearts of a fallen humanity, nor will it make the gospel any more attractive to such blinded souls, though it stood before them in the everlasting light of the Son.

BHT

John Calvin for Postmoderns: citation

In my first post on Calvin, I cited his Institutes of the Christian Religion without giving the title. I suppose the few who read my posts probably knew what I was citing, but since this the web I can never be sure who's reading.

John Calvin for Postmoderns: Follow Up

My aim in the previous post was to point out that God's self-authenticating presence and revelation of himself, through the Bible, by means of the Spirit's illuminating work in that Word is a good thing for believers to know and believe, even though it may sound subjective (and, therefore, threatening). But that's the point: hearing is subjective, in that you can't prove you heard the birds sing, or the horn honk, or the kid laugh. It's possible to marshall evidence that such things have happened, could happen, and even did happen the morning or day you claim that they did, but how can you prove infallibly that your ears heard them?

If proving the truth of Scripture were possible by some test completely apart from God's authority, the authority of that revelation would no longer reside in God but in the credibility of the means that were employed. If I were to prove to you that I am 6'5" tall, I would need an accurate tape measure. But once we both agree that the tape is "objective" (i.e. that it measures accurately), you are no longer believing my claim based on my testimony but on the tape's. This removes any authority that my testimony might have carried. The same is true of God. If we expect some other means of discerning the truthfulness of his revelation to come in and bear witness for him, his testimony is no longer authoritative, and we have robbed God of his authoritative self-revelation. How could we possibly expect something outside God to be more truthful than God himself?

This is not to knock evidential arguments, or reasoned discussions, or biblical exegesis: we do well to show evidences of God's Word being verified as true and corroborating what even unbelievers can discern through natural means. However, if we think that such evidences, or even our own eloquent reason, are enough for people to "see" the beauty of the gospel and embrace it, we (as Calvin said) "mock the Holy Spirit", in that we leave no room for him to work in, through, above, or even in spite of our work. He has, in essence, no work left to perform when we try to remove all subjective aspects from seeing the truthfulness of Scripture: the Spirit has, then, no need to "bear witness with our spirit that we are sons of God", and we would be poor indeed if such work was left undone. We also, in neglecting the Spirit's subjective work of bearing witness to the truthfulness of Scripture, forget that everything we do - as either believer or unbeliever - is done as a result of the sustaining power and presence of the Spirit, whether by common or saving grace.

BHT

John Calvin for Postmoderns

Our day is one in which people tend to believe only those things that can be demonstrated, proved, or shown by some empirical method; we have become a "Show Me" culture. Long before such proofs became popular, the 16th century reformer, John Calvin, recognized some of the problems with people subjecting Truth to such tests (even if it remains a valid method for scientific discovery). The other day I came across some of what he had to say and was encouraged to find that the nature of Christian faith hasn't changed much. In fact, it's as relevant as ever (all excerpts are from Book 1, chapters 7 & 8).

To ask for proofs other than God's personal testimony is to "mock the Holy Spirit", as though some other method or person could better persuade us of God's truth; it is to expect God to speak without being present:

They mock the Holy Spirit when they ask: Who can convince us that these writings came from God? Who can assure us that Scripture has come down whole and intact even to our very day?

"But how does one know when it is God who speaks?" the critic/cynic may ask. To this Calvin responds,

Whence will we learn to distinguish light from darkness, white from black, sweet from bitter? Indeed Scripture exhibits fully as clear evidence of its own truth as white and black things do of their color, or sweet and bitter things do of their taste.

He even names this quality of Scripture, and shows why it is good, both for us and for God, that his Word be "self-authenticating":

Scripture indeed is self-authenticated; hence, it is not right to subject it
to proof and reasoning. And the certainty it deserves with us, it attains by the
testimony of the Spirit. By this power [of the Spirit's witness to Scripture's
self-authenticating authority and truthfulness] we are drawn and inflamed,
knowingly and willingly, to obey him, [and, in fact,] more vitally and more
effectively than [we could ever be drawn] by mere human willing or knowing!

Truth is cleared of all doubt when, not sustained by external props, it serves as its own support.

And those who persist in seeking after incontrovertible proof (in contrast to particular evidences) of Scripture's truth and authority simply don't have a taste for truth:

Consequently, those for whom prophetic doctrine is tasteless ought to be thought of as lacking taste buds.

As Jesus put it, "I am he who bears witness of myself, and the Father who sent me bears witness of me," and "You know neither me, nor my Father; if you knew me, youwould now my Father also." (John 8:18, 19) And perhaps most difficult of all to hear, "He who is of God hears the words of God; for this reason you do not hear, because you are not of God." (John 8:47) Ironically, this is merely the negative way of saying, as he did in John 10, that the sheep of the shepherd recognize their shepherd - and ignore a stranger - by his voice, and not some external, objective testimony apart from the shepherd himself. For this would detract from the shepherd's authority and truthfulness and place it in the evidence itself, rather than the shepherd.

No wonder Jesus said repeatedly, "He who has ears to hear, let him hear."

BHT

Resolutions: Best If Served With Zeal

I've never thought highly of resolutions (I'm thinking New Year's mainly). It always seemed to me strange that just because the calendar changed, so many people (inexplicably and all of a sudden) have epiphanies of what's wrong in their life and how to fix it. I always wondered, "If a new date was all you needed, why wait till Jan. 1?"

Needless to say, then, is how un-resolved my own life has been over the years. I've usually stuck to either implementing any improvement-changes "now" instead of trying to make them coincide with New Year's, or watching everyone else's resolutions slowly descend like a day-old helium balloon. This year is no different, but for one thing. I realized how essential that new-found enthusiasm is, whether it comes at year's end or not.

What has always frustrated me about my own resolutions is how quickly my resolve disolves and becomes diluted, not like sugar in coffee, but like strength in the body: rather than have it in the one muscle that needs it, it seems to spread throughout my whole person, leaving the particular "resolution muscle" in question weak and impotent. Knowing that this happens to everyone making resolutions, I've just never got excited about them; getting hyped up before a game that I know I'm going to lose never made sense.

Then it hit me. If it weren't for those enthusiastic times of clear-headed thinking (that usually come with time off around Christmas), we'd never get around to making resolutions in the first place. We'd be just as tired and foggy-headed as we are in March or November. The vigor and zeal of resolutions (whether New Year's or others) are important, not because we find ways to sustain them throughout the year (we don't), but because without them we'd never have the energy or gumption to make daring and far-fetched plans in the first place. We'd never dream to be better people or do greater things.

Yes, our resolve in the midst of life dwindles; no, we won't implement our resolutions without mistakes. But unflagging resolve and perfect execution are never the goal. Then what's the goal? That depends on the resolution. And "thar's the rub". There's a difference between the goal that the resolution is meant to help you attain and the resolution itself. If the execution isn't what you expected, that's not necessarily a bad thing; keep the goal before you. If you're closer to your goal, odds are you're doing fine, and that not adhering to your specific plan to get there need not vex you.

I've got some resolutions this year, and I've actually been excited about beginning. We'll see how well I do. But I'm more comfortable knowing that my resolve will dwindle this time. It's not that I'll find a way to keep it going; it's that the plans I made are worth the effort, no matter how poorly I execute them.

BHT