Comedy Tragedy of Errors

by Phil Johnson

Warning: This is a long story, and it doesn't even have an ending yet. Settle in.

ongtime readers may recall that I managed to destroy my main desktop PC in May of 2007 when I used a vacuum cleaner hose to get dust out of its case without turning it off first.

Based on much welcome advice from you, dear readers, I replaced that clunker with an iMac and I haven't looked back. In the intervening months, I've become one of Apple's best customers, replacing Darlene's laptop, my laptop at the office, my home network server, and even the network router with Apple hardware. Exclusively. The only piece of HP equipment left in the house is the printer (and it's a workhorse).

After two-and-a-half years, however, that original iMac has become maddeningly sluggish. Well, in all honesty, it's the Windows virtual machine I run on the iMac that I've been having the most trouble with. It used to be lightning-fast. Now it takes almost 15 minutes to load completely. Once it loads, it runs fine, but when it's running, it's useless to try to run anything else other than small utilities on the iMac.

I began to notice this problem in March, immediately after the Foxmarks (bookmark-synchronization software) add-on was renamed to Xmarks and came out with a major new version. At first I thought it was a glitch in Xmarks—but at the time it was only mildly annoying, so rather than uninstall Xmarks completely, I waited for another Xmarks update and hoped that would fix my computer's performance problems. It didn't. In fact, the sluggishness grew ten times worse in June when Firefox came out with their 3.5 update. And then last month when VMWare updated to 3.0, the loading of my VM became slow as molasses in winter.

I tried everything; downsizing the VM; eliminating VMWare's "snapshots" (which are automatic backups of the Windows machine); and running every registry-fixer and optimization program available for Windows. On the Mac side I freed up as much hard-disk space as possible; cleaned the caches; repaired file permissions; and ran every maintenance script and optimization routine I could find.

So I'm pretty sure the real problem is that I've maxed out and overtaxed the 2 gigs of RAM that came with the iMac. I suspect the main culprits are a flood of Windows security patches, combined with the Firefox 3.5+ "upgrades" (which have also made Firefox take forever to load and shut down). The reason I concluded I need more RAM is that the only computer giving me problems is that original iMac, with 2 gigs of RAM. Both my laptop and the Mac Mini upstairs (the hub of my home network, used nearly full time by other people in my household) each have 4 gigs of RAM, and they still run everything like a breeze.

So at the beginning of October I decided to order a new iMac. Apple was running a promo with BarclayCards, so that if you signed up for a BarclayCard and ordered a Mac straightaway, you could charge the computer and have a year to pay it off interest-free. That payment plan worked for me, so I was set.

Of course, I knew the rumors that Apple was preparing a new generation of iMacs, so I had to wait until Apple announced their new machines. They finally did so on October 20, and I ordered my new iMac that very day. With 8 gigs of RAM. And the monster 27-inch monitor.

After I ordered the machine, however, I learned the computer I wanted wouldn't ship until "November." They didn't say whether that meant November 1 or mid-November. I took it gracefully as an opportunity to learn patience.

On November 12, I finally got a notice by e-mail that the new computer had shipped. It had a Fedex tracking number, and when I checked it, it said the computer would be shipping from China, but the shipment had just missed the Friday cutoff, so it was still in Shanghai.

I watched the tracking number for several days as the computer made its way to Anchorage, from there to Memphis, and from there to Santa Clarita. Don't ask me to explain the circuitous route. I was just happy to see it making progress. In my head, I was expecting a Wednesday delivery but hoping for Tuesday. I was therefore thrilled when it was delivered on Monday—yesterday.

Well, not technically "delivered." The Fedex guy mistakenly took it to my next-door neighbor (even though it was correctly addressed), and when the neighbor didn't answer the door, he left it on the neighbor's front porch!

Fortunately, I have honest neighbors, and the neighbor, emerging from the shower, came to see why his doorbell had been rung and discovered this heavy box addressed to me. He was understandably irritated. He came over and rang the doorbell about five times in rapid succession. Fortunately for all, I was home (I'm having a relapse of the flu). He explained that Fedex had left this heavy box on his porch and it wasn't even for him, plus it was too heavy for him to carry up the steep incline to my house (We're on a hill.) Of course, I was thrilled and told him I'd be over immediately to get my computer. I wasn't even annoyed at the Fedex guy; I was just glad the computer had arrived early, and on a day when I was home and with enough time to get it out and set it up. It all seemed so wonderfully providential! The box was in pristine condition, without so much as a scratch after the long journey from Shanghai.

So I lugged the box over from the neighbors' and happily began unpacking it. Mac designs are wonderful—right down to the way products are packaged. One of the true delights in this otherwise hazy postmodern society is unpacking a fresh piece of Apple hardware.

And everyone knows Macs "can do it all, right out of the box," right? So I was stoked with expectation and delight.

The new iMacs have an edge-to-edge glass screen, and they come with an ingenious sticky-but-not-too-sticky protective film. The last thing I did was peel off that plastic film and step back to admire the 27-inch monitor.



That's when I saw that the glass was broken. Not chipped or scratched, but the whole lower left corner of the screen was shattered. It must have been broken before the film was applied and the machine boxed up, because there was no damage to the box and no sign of impact on the protective film. Some assembly-line inspector in Shanghai seems to have missed this ginormous divot in the glass screen.

So I groaned. (Darlene says it was more like a deep growl of profound agony: "Arrgh!") Then I called Apple support.

I have to say Apple's support people are among the most polite and pleasant customer-relations people in the world. And I ought to know; I talked to at least seven of them in an hour-and-a-half on that first phone call. I'm not sure why I needed to be transferred so many times, but obviously, they needed to get some kind of verification that the computer arrived DOA and that I didn't drop it while lugging it up the hill from my neighbor's.

After a recorded intro, the first live rep I spoke to asked me what the issue was, and then immediately transferred me to a representative who asked me all the numerical data about the original order. Then that guy transferred me to someone asked a list of detailed questions about the damage. He asked me to hold while he connected me with someone who could authorize the return. After that, I was transferred to someone who ordered a replacement computer; and then I talked to a completely different guy who made the arrangements for me to return the damaged computer. There may have been a couple of other people along the way; I lost track. I suppose that's an efficient system, but they actually put you on hold to make the transfer, and the on-hold times between reps were each at least 5 minutes. Furthermore (if I can say this kindly) whoever chooses the holding music for Apple has really lousy taste. It was after noon before I got off the phone, and I had a headache.

But anyway, everything was taken care of in one long phone call—except for one detail. Just before I hung up, the rep I was talking to explained that a hold would be put on my replacement computer until I shipped the damaged one back.

So I packed it up and shipped it back right away. Never even plugged it in and turned it on.

After dropping it off at the local Fedex Kinko's, I rang Apple support again and gave them the tracking number so that they would be able to release my replacement. That's when they told me the replacement isn't scheduled to ship until December. The rep was as polite as all the others, but assured me that lots of people have ordered these computers, and everyone is having to wait. There was simply no way to expedite my replacement computer.

Of course, the clock is already ticking on my one-year no-interest deal with BarclayCards, and by the time I actually receive the computer, one-sixth of that year-of-grace will be gone already. In fact, if I stick to the payment schedule I originally made, and if the computer takes as long to deliver as they are saying it might, I'll have made three of eleven payments before I even see the computer.

Meanwhile, I've been reading the early rumors and reviews of the new iMacs. The thought occurred to me that perhaps this is all a providential opportunity to cancel my order, save some headaches, and wait until Apple gets some stuff sorted out. I could probably make do with my laptop alone for a few months.

So I'm interested in your feedback, especially if you are an IT-support type who has had experience with the new iMacs. Any advice? Am I going to think all this hassle was worth it when I finally get the new iMac, or is this one of those "upgrades" I'm going to regret for a long time?

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Thanks for the universe (Thanks from Genesis 1:1, part one)

by Dan Phillips

[Not sure why the title reformatted itself; nothing I did. I think it's the RefTagger program, that automatically identifies all Bible references - even in titles, evidently.]

Preface. It seems as if, with each passing year, I see more significance in Genesis 1—3 generally, and Genesis 1:1 specifically. It has been well said that anyone who accepts Genesis 1:1 as true is prepared to understand and believe the rest of the Bible. Deny it, and all falls apart.


So when I introduced this Valerie-inspired series on thankfulness, my mind turned first to Genesis 1:1. I just may not have to go anywhere else, by Thursday the 26th (Thanksgiving Day in America).

Basic assumptions. Genesis 1:1 is probably the best-known verse in the Bible: In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth. For this series, I am going to assume without debate that this is the sense of the verse:

• Genesis 1:1 points to the first and only beginning of all things
• Genesis 1:1 is not a summary-statement nor a title
  
• Genesis 1:1 relates God's first act, followed immediately by the seven days narrated in 1:2—2:4
  
• Genesis 1:1 describes ex nihilo creation
  

Today's item for thanks. The Hebrew phrase "the heavens and the earth" form a merism. In a merism, one names two poles, thereby including everything in-between. For instance "young and old" means all ages. Other merisms might include "root and branch," "here and there," and "night and day."

Thus in Genesis 1:1, "the heavens and the earth" means the universe (cf. Genesis 2:4; 14:19; Psalm 69:34; 148:13, etc.). In the beginning, this one true and living God created the universe in an unformed and undeveloped state, then set about to order and define it.

This verse, then, asserts that one God is responsible for the creation of all things. There is no created thing that did not come from His hand; all created things trace their origin to that one, original burst of command. The infinite-personal God of Scripture had conceived of a "plan of the ages," which He made in Christ (Ephesians 3:11, Greek), and now He began its execution with the creation of everything from nothing.

What this means, then, is that we live in a universe, not a multiverse. There are not many realities competing with each other, vying for dominance. It is one universe, from the hand of one God. It is all defined and ruled over by Him.

Ironically, atheists — who have made "doing Science" their sacrament — depend on this truth, even as they deny it. Repetition only has meaning in a universe. Generalization from particulars only has meaning in a universe. If we can't proceed from the premise that everything is united by a common origin, we can neither predict nor generalize. In that existence, even if a series played out identically a hundred times, a thousand times, a million times, we would have no basis for predicting that it would proceed the same the next time. And even if it proceeded identically with our test subjects, no matter how large the sample, we could never justifiably assert that it would proceed the same with any untested subject.

Put it another way. Last Thanksgiving, you fed your family untainted, normal turkey (or pizza). They lived and thrived. How do you know that, if you feed them untainted, normal turkey this year, they won't die, or explode, or burst into flames because of it? How do you know that, when you poke your fork into some pumpkin pie, your house won't fly out into space as a result? How do you know that, when you click in the "Leave your comment" box, so that you can argue with me, your face won't be torn off and your veins filled with acid as a result? In fact, how could you even form an argument, attempting to arrange reasons in any logical or compelling form, with any thought that shapes on a page would even appear the same to each viewer, and convey meaning to rational readers?

Because of Genesis 1:1.


So there's the irony of the atheist. If Genesis 1:1 were not true, he could never deny that Genesis 1:1 is true.

So back to us. As you live your life in this one universe, with its designed predictability and order; and as you pursue your life confident that it is even possible to find meaning and live meaningfully — thank God for it. Thank Him for making a universe for you to live in. Thank Him that, because of Him, even the bare concepts of meaning and purpose and cohesion are not only intelligible and possible, but discoverable.

Discoverable, that is, if we proceed on the premise that "in the beginning God created the heavens and the earth."

Which, thank God, we can.

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Is Gambling OK? Don't Bet on It

by Phil Johnson

I posted this series of articles on the original Pulpit blog several years ago and it generated a lot of discussion. Somehow in the many URL-changes and format redesigns over there, these articles went missing from the Pulpit archives, so I am recreating the series here at PyroManiacs. Be advised: If you are someone who loves gambling and are convinced there's no principle of Scripture that forbids it, you might want to wait until the series is complete before posting an angry note of disagreement. No pun intended, but I'll bet I'm going to anticipate and answer most of your arguments before the series is over. Here is a list of all the posts in the series: Is Gambling OK? Don't Bet on It Gambling: Some Definitions and Distinctions Answering a couple of objections Oh, and one more thing . . . Gambling vs. Faithful Stewardship Does 'Mutual Consent' Eliminate the Evil in Gambling? A good question The Sin of Putting God to the Test Gambling: The Moral Antithesis of Charity      While we're on the subject, see this.

s it a sin to gamble? There's not an easy or instantly-obvious prooftext answer to that question. If you are looking for a "Thus saith the Lord: Thou shalt not gamble," you won't find it anywhere. Nothing expressly forbids gambling anywhere in Scripture.

Does that automatically put gambling into the realm of adiaphora, or indifferent matters? I don't think so. I would argue that gambling is a sin, full stop.

A Sin? Are you Serious? Why Would Anyone Believe that in this Enlightened Age?

Here are three reasons that instantly come to mind:

1. The absence of a single commandment or proof-text against gambling ultimately proves nothing.There are lots of things that are not explicitly mentioned in the Bible that we would probably agree are clearly sinful.
        There isn't anything in Scripture that forbids arson, for example. But we know arson is wrong because it violates other biblical principles. It's a violation of the commandment in Leviticus 19:18: "Thou shalt not avenge, nor bear any grudge against the children of thy people, but thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself."
        As a matter of fact, even thinking about burning down your neighbor's property violates Zechariah 8:17: "Let none of you imagine evil in your hearts against his neighbour . . . [for] these are things that I hate, saith the Lord." So I don't think anyone would seriously argue that arson is OK, just because it isn't named in the Bible as a sin. Ditto with recreational drug use, graffiti-vandalism, and a host of other societal evils.
   
2. Gambling is inconsistent with biblical virtue. It is fueled by—and it fuels—covetousness, greed, and materialism. It is associated with crime, vice and corruption, so that wherever gambling exists, crime rates rise. And it is contrary to the biblical work ethic, because it is an attempt to gain wealth without working for it.
   
3. Our possessions are not our own to squander. They are given to us as a stewardship, and we will be accountable to God for how we use them. To put God-given resources at risk is to fail in the faithfulness required of stewards.

I once gave that answer to a college student who asked me about gambling in a public Q&A session in GraceLife. He stayed at the microphone while I gave my answer, and I could see he was not satisfied with it. When I finished, he asked if he could respond.

"By all means," I told him. "If that doesn't answer your question, ask a follow-up, and I'll expand on my answer.

Can't You Make a Better Case Than That?

"Well," he said, "I still don't think you have shown that gambling is a sin. Let me reply to your arguments one by one.

"First," he said, "take the example of arson. It is wrong to burn down your neighbor's field or his house only when there is no mutual consent. But suppose he wanted your help burning his field because he wanted to clear the land. Then it would not be a sin for you to set fire to his property.

"As a matter of fact," he continued, "My neighbors had an abandoned building they were going to demolish for a new commercial development. So they allowed some fire department trainees to set fire to the building and practice putting it out. It wasn't a sin for the rookie fireman to set fire to that house, because the owner had given his consent.

"And gambling is always by mutual consent," he said. So it cannot be wrong done against your neighbor, because you have his concurrence before the game of chance begins."

He wasn't finished.

"Second," he said, "gambling isn't necessarily motivated only by covetousness and greed. I like to gamble for recreation and sheer entertainment."

Looking at me, he asked, "What is your favorite form of entertainment?"

"I like to take my sons to a baseball game," I said.

"Fine," he answered. "If you take your family to a baseball game, by the time you bought tickets, paid for parking, and got some food or drinks, you would probably have spent $100 to $150. All that money to watch an athletic contest! You get nothing tangible for your money except maybe a Coke and a large pretzel. The whole game is over in two and a half hours, and you go back home, with nothing to show for the money you spent. It is just entertainment; sheer recreation.

"Now, the form of recreation I prefer is gambling. I can take the same $100 and go to a casino, where I might spend the entire evening playing Blackjack. I get all the Cokes and pretzels I want for free. And if I have a good night, I can play for four or five hours with my $100—twice as long as you spent at your two-and-a-half-hour ball game.

"Furthermore," he said, "I might win, and then I will go home with even more money than I came with. But I don't do it because of greed. I do it because that is what I enjoy, just like you enjoy baseball."

I started to respond, but he held up a finger to signal that he wasn't through yet.

"Now," he said, "Let's talk about the stewardship issue. You went to an athletic event and have nothing permanent to show for the money you spent. I might have more money coming out than I had going into the casino.

"But even if I lose," he said, "I am a disciplined loser, and I always set a specific amount I am willing to lose—never more than about 100 dollars. And if I lose that much, I quit and walk away. That is still less money than you spent on your baseball outing, and it usually buys me several hours of exciting entertainment. Sometimes I even win, so I can even make money through my form of entertainment. Now I ask you, which is better stewardship?"

I took a deep breath and pondered the best way to reply.

But before I could answer, he continued. "There are risks involved in gambling," he said. "But the farmer who spends money to buy seed and plant a field also takes a huge gamble every year. If the weather destroys his crop, he will lose far more than I ever risk. Risk is a normal part of all our lives."

And then he asked me, "Do you have any of your retirement savings in mutual funds?" As a matter of fact, I do, so I acknowledged that fact.

"Well," he said, "you are taking a risk with that money. You yourself are gambling that the market will rise. What if it goes down? You will lose money. So you are gambling that it will go up. Meanwhile, you have put your savings at risk. How in the world can you tell me you think gambling is sinful? You aren't even practicing what you preach. If it is wrong to gamble, it is wrong for you to put your retirement savings in the stock market. And if it is unwise stewardship for me to gamble at cards, then it is also bad stewardship for you to invest money in mutual funds.

"And finally," he said, "My enjoyment of gambling has got nothing to do with my work ethic. In addition to my student class load, I work a full time job during the week and make good money. For me to spend $100 on Friday night at the casino is no more a reflection on my work ethic than for you to spend $150 on Friday evening at a baseball game.

"Gambling is just entertainment for me, and unless you are prepared to argue that all forms of entertainment are sinful, give me better arguments to show that gambling violates the Bible's moral standards, or show me where the Bible says gambling is a sin, I am going to keep visiting the casino."

That's a pretty thorough off-the-cuff reply to my off the-cuff answer to his original question, isn't it? It was obvious that he had spent a great deal of time thinking through these issues. He had heard the standard arguments, and he believed he could answer them all.

Well, OK. Let's Think This Through More Carefully . . .

By then, unfortunately, we were running short on time, and I only had enough time left to give him a quick reply.

I told him first of all that I still believe a sinister principle underlies all gambling, and it is this: for every winner, there are losers. And the winners' gains come at the losers' expense. There is no other way to gain money through gambling. When you win, you are taking that which belongs to another. The winners' profit always comes directly from the losers' pocket. There's something more sinister about that than merely winning an athletic competition, which involves no material loss for the loser.

In other words, gambling is the moral equivalent of stealing. His argument about mutual consent between the players didn't seem to make it OK, because in real life many gambling losses lead to ruin for the loser. Prior consent doesn't eliminate the evil in that.

I also told him I did not completely buy his rationale that gambling might be just a form of pure entertainment—something better by which to pass the time than watching television. While the argument has some appeal at first glance, I pointed out that if there is an immoral principle that underlies all gambling—if gambling per se violates any clear principle of Scripture—then it is wrong on any grounds. To say that you gamble only for entertainment is not really a good defense against the argument that gambling is rooted in greed and covetousness.

For example, what if someone tried to claim it was OK to fornicate because he was doing it only as a form of entertainment? My point was this: if it's wrong to gamble on matters of biblical principle, then it is wrong to gamble in any circumstance, and it is wrong to gamble in any amount. If there are principles that make gambling a sinful activity, then it is wrong to gamble for "entertainment," and it is wrong whether you are gambling 50 cents or gambling your whole paycheck.

I regretted that we had to end our Q&A session at that point. He went away unsatisfied with my reply, and so did I.

While I still felt all my arguments were biblically sound, I didn't feel I had done enough to highlight the real heart of the matter. And that prompted me to give more thought to the issue of gambling so that I would be better prepared to give an answer if the question ever came up again.

Since then, I have thought through the issues more carefully than ever. I've considered the arguments further. I've taken an even closer look at the biblical data. And I hasten to say that I am even more convinced than ever that gambling is a sinful activity. It is not a valid form of entertainment, and it is not a harmless matter of indifference. It violates a number of biblical principles and therefore ought to be avoided in all its forms.

Hold on; I'm Not Finished Yet

A blog is a great medium for exploring such a questions in careful detail. So in a couple of follow-up posts, I plan to give you a series of biblical arguments showing in further detail exactly why I still believe gambling is a sin.

Stay tuned for more . . .

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On Keeping in Step with the Zeitgeist

Your weekly dose of Spurgeon
posted by Phil Johnson

The PyroManiacs devote some space each weekend to highlights from The Spurgeon Archive. The following excerpt comes from a sermon titled "To the Saddest of the Sad," first published in June of 1888.



    often wonder what those preachers do who feel called to make up their message as they go on; for if they fail, their failure must be attributed in great measure to their want of ability to make up a moving tale.

They have to spread their sails to the breeze of the age, and to pick up a gospel that comes floating down to them on the stream of time, altering every week in the year; and they must have an endless task to catch this new idea, or, as they put it, to keep abreast of the age. Unless, indeed, like chameleons, they have a natural aptitude to change colour, they must have a worrying time of it, and a horrible amount of shifting to get through. When they have done their best to preach this gospel of their own, then they are accountable for having made that gospel. For every bit of its teaching they are accountable, because they were the manufacturers of it, and it came forth from their foundry, bearing their stamp.

If they take this yoke upon them, and so refuse to learn of Christ, they will find no rest to their souls. To me the preaching of the Lord's own gospel is a joy and a privilege; for notwithstanding that concern for your souls loads me with the burden of the Lord, it is his burden, and not one which I have selected for myself. I often feel on a Sabbath night when I go home weary: "I know that I have preached what I believe to be God's gospel." I have not said anything—I have not intended to say anything that was my own.

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Thanks a lot

by Frank Turk

So in light of Dan's suggestion, here's my first post on being thankful, which is really written by my wife, who is the greatest blogger never once to blog. I'll take the "as told to" credit.

For those who don't follow me on Twitter or FB, my kids have been sick all week -- the big one since Saturday, and the little one since about Wednesday after AWANA. Same stuff. Blech. And of course Mrs. Cent and I are now not feeling so hot ourselves, but I'm optmistic it's just the lack of sleep and not the other stuff.

But last night my wife said to me, "I'm grateful that our kids are sick." And since I am the Drunken Master®, she can't trick me like that, so I said, "Tell me more."

"I'm in there, cleaning [graphic detail omitted], and every time there's a [graphic detail omitted], I know that the child is alive, and that God has given this child to me as a gift, and that He knows what's best for both of us. And I'm glad I can do something about this which the child understands. So I'm grateful."

Many of you do not have a spouse like this (she does not have a spouse like this), so you may admire her from a distance.

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Thinking about thanking

by Dan Phillips

When I told my dear wife I lacked specific inspiration for today's post, Valerie suggested I write about reasons to be thankful. Since "a wise man listens to advice" (Proverbs 12:15), and since I do want to be a wise man, and since some of the best advice I ever get comes from Valerie....

Lord knows we have enough reasons for being unhappy, on the horizontal plane. Whether we're talking about American politics (don't get me started), or evangelicalism in general, or even some trends within the Reformed community... there are solid reasons for concern, grief, even anger.

However, I don't think it's being-in-denial to remind ourselves that believers, on the worst days of our lives, have more to be thankful for than the richest lost soul has on the best day of his life.

Plus, as I once developed at some length, ingratitude and discontentment create massive spiritual vulnerability.

What is the best antidote? Surely it is knowledge and understanding of, and robust thankfulness for, all God is in Himself, and all God is to us through Christ, as brought home by  His Spirit applying His word.

So I mean to start a little series of posts along those themes, at least leading up to Thanksgiving. I'll even be corny enough to invite Phil and Frank to throw in, if they're so moved.

Just to prime the pump, I'll let you know where I'm thinking of starting, next time: Genesis 1:1.

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Worthless

by Frank Turk

When Paul said this to Titus:

The saying is trustworthy, and I want you to insist on these things, so that those who have believed in God may be careful to devote themselves to good works. These things are excellent and profitable for people. But avoid foolish controversies, genealogies, dissensions, and quarrels about the law, for they are unprofitable and worthless.

I think he knew something about the Blogosphere.

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Harvey Cox's breathless announcement: Fundamentalism (i.e. Christian faith) is doomed!!!

by Dan Phillips

[Normally, triple-exclamation-points would be a stylistic faux pas... but in this case, they're essential!!!]

If you have absolutely nothing better to do with your time, read this 2000+ word essay by Harvard professor Harvey Cox (retired), and tell me one thing new that he says. Find me something, anything, that hasn't basically been said since at least Machen's day.

(To be clear: by "nothing better to do," I mean nothing more important than finding out who the "Grip" was for "Plan 9 from Outer Space.") (It was Art Mankin, by the way)

Cox attempts several trendy things. After a sneering nod to the historical genesis of the term "Fundamentalism," he does his best to trash it by lumping Christian fundamentalism in with the fundamentalism of Christianoid cults such as Islam and Roman Catholicism, and with some sects within apostate Judaism. (It will surprise none to note that Cox displays no awareness of Darwinian fundamentalism, materialistic fundamentalism, modernist fundamentalism, nor tweed-coated Harvard professor fundamentalism.)

It goes like this. Here is Cox' disdainful opening paragraph:

In 1910, a cohort of ultra-conservative [!!!] American Protestants drew up a list of non-negotiable beliefs they insisted [!!!] any genuine Christian must subscribe to. They published these “fundamentals” in a series of widely distributed pamphlets over the next five years. Their catalog featured doctrines such as the virgin birth, the physical resurrection of Christ, and his imminent second coming [—er, and...?]. The cornerstone, though, was a belief in the literal inerrancy of every syllable of the Bible, including in matters of geology, paleontology, and secular history. They called these beliefs fundamentals, and proudly [!!!] styled themselves “fundamentalists” - true believers who feared that liberal movements like the social gospel and openness to other faiths were eroding the foundation of their religion.

So far, in spite of his open contempt, Cox is historically at least close enough for government work. Enjoy it, because Cox seems to forget this definition almost immediately, in his rush to relativize, trivialize, and (to use a word I learned from a student at Talbot) funeralize Fundamentalism.

If nothing else is clear, one does understand that Cox thinks Fundamentalism is a bad thing, and that he wishes it "to the cornfield," where all bad things and people belong. Never mind that this has been done from the very start, and that each and every obituary thus far has been premature; never mind that this has been done to Christianity itself from the very start, leaving many generations of similarly-disappointed ill-wishers.

What Cox hopes will kill Fundamentalism is the mixing of cultures, the Intrawebs, Charismaticism, and the like. All these fundamentalisms are born of fear, ignorance, and resistance to change. This time, Cox tells us, it really really really will die. Promise! And that, to Cox, is a very good thing.

Why? Because "For plenty of thoughtful people [like, you know, Cox], fundamentalism has come to represent the most dangerous threat to open societies since the fall of communism [which these same sorts of "thoughtful people" people said wasn't all that bad, at the time... but never mind that]."

I want to go back to the premise. Cox is not taking aim at polyester suits, KJV-onlyism, the elevation of tee-totalling, anti-tobacco, anti-{insert-music-style-here}, book-and-CD-burning, opposition to lipstick and nylons, and other silliness. That may be dying, and I'd not miss it. However, for Cox, the name on the tombstone is not Cultural Fundamentalism.

According to the first paragraph, Cox is heralding the death of the insistent affirmation of "non-negotiable beliefs" definitive of Christianity, such as "the virgin birth, the physical resurrection of Christ, ...his imminent second coming[, and] belief in the literal inerrancy of every syllable of the Bible...."

With those gone, what will be left? Cox doesn't really say. Cox's only unyielding principle is that unyielding principles are bad. Well, they're bad when Christian fundamentalists hold them. What is "good," then? One has the impression of a muzzy, smeary, foggy ecumenical bonhomie, bereft of culturally-unpopular edges.

And what will be the authority of this new religion? Where will its limits be marked? By whom?

What, in other words, will be its fundamentals?

You see, the problem isn't really with "fundamentalism." That's a red herring. The problem is with Christ, with (to be specific) the only actual Jesus Christ who ever lived — the one whom we can know with certainty through Scripture.

The problem is with the Christ who calls Harvey Cox and Dan Phillips to repent of their pride and self-will, and follow Him; the Christ who calls Harvey Cox and Dan Phillips to turn their backs on the failed pursuit of the "you shall be as God" debacle; the Christ who tells Harvey Cox and Dan Phillips — and you! — that He is the way, and the truth, and the life, and that no one comes to the Father except through Him.

The problem is with the Christ who says that His words will never pass away, that they are spirit and life, that they are binding on the life and conscience, and that continuance in them is the mark of His disciples. The problem is with the Christ who teaches that God is angry with men because of our sin, and that our only hope is in His penal, substitutionary death on the shameful and despised Cross.

The problem is with the Christ who insists that He is Lord, that He must be worshiped as God, and that we must believe Him, or suffer forever for our sins.

The problem is with that Christ who says such unpopular, untrendy things — and only secondarily with people who still believe and follow Him.

I think it isn't Fundamentalism that people want to see vanish. On such sneering lips, "fundamentalist" is a polite swear-word, a contemptuous and dismissive stand-in for Christian. And what is a "Christian"? A student of, slave of, believer in Christ Jesus.

And there's the real problem for the fundamentalist modernist. The problem isn't fundamentalism.

The problem is Jesus. What they really want to wish to the cornfield is Jesus.

And that's never going to happen.

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Settled Certainty

by Phil Johnson



f our postmodern friends are correct and all certainty is arrogance, wouldn't personal assurance of one's own salvation be just about the ultimate conceit?

Many post-evangelicals avoid that uncomfortable question by backing into some form of universalism—because, you know, the only way it doesn't seem arrogant to be certain I'm saved is if I'm pretty sure everyone is ultimately going to be saved.

Others avoid the issue altogether because, after all, that's a doctrinal conundrum and post-evangelicals aren't really into doctrine.

Of course, the correct answer to the question is succinctly distilled a familiar statement the apostle Paul made in a context where he was encouraging Timothy not to be timid. "I am not ashamed," Paul wrote; "for I know whom I have believed and I am convinced that He is able to guard what I have entrusted to Him until that day" (2 Timothy 1:12).

I love that statement. It is an absolute manifesto of settled certainty—with a note of holy triumph that, frankly, I find contagious. And I hope you do, too.

Certitude. It probably wasn't popular in Paul's time, either. But frankly it's never been more out of vogue than it is today. The fashionable thing today is to question everything. The visible church is overrun with bad preachers and weak-willed people who are convinced that the very epitome of humility is never to state anything with too much conviction.

Everything nowadays is supposed to be carefully qualified with lots of ambiguous expressions and weasel-words like "perhaps," or "possibly," or "It seems to me . . . " or "maybe." Everything (including the gospel itself) gets prefaced with, "I could be wrong, but to the best of my knowledge this seems reasonable—although I know other people see it differently, so I don't want to be dogmatic."

Doubt has been canonized as a virtue and renamed "epistemological humility"—as if doubting what God says could be excused by labeling it "humility."

Personal assurance is an inevitable casualty of that value system.

Paul's statement of assurance is deliberately of the opposite style: "I know," he says, and then he strengthens it even more by a second expression of firm conviction: "I am convinced." He emphatically eliminates every hint of doubt or uncertainty.

Notice: Paul is not the least bit concerned about how that might sound to someone who holds a different opinion. He doesn't preface it with any apology for his "tone." He doesn't soften it in case someone who is more timid or less certain than Paul might think he sounds arrogant. He doesn't qualify it with a lot of self-effacing disclaimers about how he might be wrong because he is, after all, merely human and therefore incapable of fully comprehending everything perfectly. There's nothing like that anywhere in Paul's epistles. Why?

Because Paul really was that certain. And he wanted Timothy to have a the same kind of settled assurance—absolute conviction; a bold heart that refused to waver from the truth.

The further implication is that you and I are supposed to have the same kind of assurance. Certainty is not something to be ashamed of—no matter how loudly the voices of postmodern skepticism squeal.

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"New Doctrine"

Your weekly dose of Spurgeon
posted by Phil Johnson

The PyroManiacs devote some space each weekend to highlights from The Spurgeon Archive. The Following excerpt is from "Christ’s Servant—His Duty, and Reward," preached 3 August 1862 at the Metropolitan Tabernacle.

     know the proud flesh wants to serve Christ, by striking out new paths. Proud man has a desire to preach new doctrine, to set up a new Church; to be an original thinker, to judge, and consider, and do anything but obey. This is no service to Christ. He that would serve Christ must follow him; he must be content to tread only in the old footsteps, and go only where Christ has led the way. It is not for you and me to be originals; we must be humble copies of Christ. There must be nothing about our religion of our own inventing; it is for us to lay thought, and judgment, and opinion at the feet of Christ, and do what he bids us, simply because he gives the command.

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Weekend Bonus: a response to John Mark Reynolds

by Frank Turk

Welcome readers from First Things: Evangel. This may look like a ploy to draw readers from there over here in order to troll for hits, but since we don't do any advertising here I think that's not a very charitable thing to say.

Full-blown, full-contact, full-body Catholic apologetics have broken out in the comments of one of my posts (it was inevitable, I am sure), and what I have to say in response to John Mark Reynolds' defense of Indulgentiarum Doctrina as not a deal-breaker toward true faith in Christ will, frankly, not be suitable for a Catholic-run web site. This is the real thing in terms of exploring the Gospel, and in terms of why to reject Catholicism not only as a "choice" or "denomination" but as an actually-false church. So I have posted the response here where Dan and Phil and I are all in agreement on this matter.

Also of note: we commonly decorate the blog to keep it from being a massive and impenetrable wall of text. No offense is meant by any of the graphics you'll see below -- they are merely visual aids. This is the internet after all and not a meager newsgroup list.

For those of you who read here but not over there, here's the post which has spawned this extra-long response. All I ask from the regular readers here is that we refrain from the high-decibel thunder-clap of sound-byte apologetics which this discussion usually brings out. Avoid saying things you cannot cite from its original source. And do not engage people who want to call you bigots or other morally-biting remarks -- those are not arguments but insults, and there's no reason to do anything but to let them speak for themselves.

Welcome. Nice to see you. Pack a lunch.

JMR gave a hero's effort to responding so far, so big credit to him. And for the record, I mean that sincerely -- because I think his goal, which I read to be "including all who are rightly called brothers in Christ at the round-table of our faith" a wholly-commendable objective, especially regarding the question of whether any Catholics are in that number.

So before we follow his defense here, let me say it plainly again: I think that the problem is with what Roman Catholicism formally teaches, and that many Catholics rightly do not believe this stuff; many believe their own reinterpretation of this stuff to guard their own faith from superstition and folly. If they believed what JMR has expounded here, there would be no reason to object. But the places where Catholicism deviates from Scripture and from the historical proclamation of the faith (which I would contend is not the same as the "unanimous declaration of the fathers") are fatal errors.

That said, Quoth he:

It is a big cosmos and there are many jobs in it.

Only Jesus can do the saving job from hell-fire and nothing, nothing, nothing can add to the great work He has done. However, humans have problem other than the fact they are going to hell and there are consequences I have called “b-problems” that are not directly against His Majesty, but He allows others to cooperate with Him in doing other jobs (like saving babies from burning buildings or taking down the Taliban).

Why not allow that there are spiritual problems of this sort as well?

I'd put the brakes on there -- because I think you're mixing up your own metaphor for the document we are referencing. The fact of the declaration regarding Indulgences is that man has two problems: judicial-eternal and judicial-temporal. The judicial-eternal ('a' problems) are resolved by Christ -- as Jugulum and others have noted, it can be interpreted as the only "serious" problem as anyone on the other side of Christ is headed toward the Father, no matter how long it thereafter takes. It's sort of a statistical game -- even if you spend a billion years in Purgatory, 1000000000/eternity is still infinitesimal. It's only a temporal consequence.

The strange thing is that this argument really overlooks the fact that it is in fact due punishment for sin, and that somehow we ought to want to escape it.

You know: as we read the New Testament, we find a couple of signposts that are really helpful in understanding the problematic nature of this proposition. The first is that it is appointed for man to die once, and after that comes judgment (Heb 9). That is, the writer of Hebrews thinks that Christ doesn't have to suffer over and over again for man's sinning over and over again because there is only one judgment, not a temporal and then an eternal judgment. And it is John the Baptist who tells us that Jesus is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world (John 2). The sin is not taken away if there is still some sort of purgation due to those who made it, is there? And in the resurrection when we are given our bodies back, it's odd that the state of those who are dead in Christ is seen throughout that book as not is a state of purgation or temporal payment for their own misdeeds but before the throne of God, speaking to Him and in worship before Him.

I appreciate the generousity JMR is presenting toward the doctrines and views in this matter. However, if we have an obligation to let the promulgators of this doctrinal statement speak for themselves, we also have an obligation to read them as they present themselves and not to reinterpret them so that we find what they are saying more or less acceptable. It's just as erroneous to read excessively-generous interpretations into this stuff as it is to simply reduce it to some stupid idea that salvation is like a paycheck at the end of life.

Restoring my relationship with God does not (the way He has designed things) restore my relationship to the state, the community, the church, the individual, or the cosmos.

Unquestionably true. However, the problem being addressed is the problem of Purgatory and not the problem of prison time or tort compensation.

Listen: it's a foundational fact of the faith that someone who is guilty of theft (for example, the thief on the cross -- which is a great example for this matter) may be forgiven in full of his sin against God, but may and in fact ought to serve his full sentence in this world regarding the civil/political consequences of his actions. No one is denying that on either side.

But to equivocate on this point and say that there is temporal punishment still due the magistrate in the next life is to overlook the problem that the magistrate has no authority there. We shouldn't fear the one who can only destroy the body, but rather the one who can destroy both body and soul, yes? The implication there is that the (God-established) power of the Magistrate doesn't reach into the next life.

So as we consider the question of problems 'a' and 'b', we have to see the 'b' problem for what it is, and what it cannot be is some sort of carry-over from secular, temporal justice.

He gives humans and their institutions a great gift: the right to be offended! (Remarkable really how awesome the gift of personhood to mankind was!)

The saving problem is our offense against the King of Kings, but the Great King allows us to also offend against His minister our local king. If I read the document correctly, the Blessed Virgin can add nothing in dealing with our attempted Regicide, but she might be part of the comfort God allows as we face hanging for attempted regicide.

I would agree that the document says, effectively, that Christ's merit has an infinite value in solving the problem of man's sin against God, but it is of limited value in resolving the problem of man's sin against his fellow man.

That's another way of saying what you have said here, and I wonder how that affects your defense of this document. You see: the farther we detail this doctrine out, the more like a works added to Christ's work it is going to look.

One consequence of my sin has been continued personal pain, but God has used wise ministers to help bring wholeness to that pain. They did not “forgive my sin” against God, but they did help me process the vestiges and the OTHER consequences of my sin.

See: I don't find any therapeutic language in the document. A sin of the contemporary "evangelical" church is to replace the judicial and sovereign language of our faith with the language of diagnosis and recovery. One good attribute of the document we have in front of us is that it avoids this sin.

The problem, as you rightly stated above, is the problem of "offense" and not of "wellness". If we stick to that category, the problems of this doctrine become transparently clear.

Let me try a simple example. When I call you a name (say “Regicide Puritan”), I have sinned against God and against you. God may forgive me, but I still should ask for your forgiveness. When you forgive me, something good happens. Yes?

Yeah, hang on a second. Be careful that you don't confuse my right-minded forgiveness of your error in the light of your repentance for the blood of the martyrs and the prayers of the saints -- which are specifically the activities this document mentions as part of the "treasury of the church".

Yes: that is a good thing -- both your repentance and my forgiveness of you. That's not really what this document is talking about.

I have not added to God’s forgiveness, which is so awesome that next to it your forgiveness is trivial, but God has set up the cosmos such that I still have to ask for it.

He allows for you to have a real offense requiring relational healing between us.

There are hurts He has chosen to allow to be healed in no other way. God is sovereign!

What I find ironic here is that the example -- a person offending another person -- is exactly the kind of offense that your type 'b' offenses should be, but that you don't see that the remedy for type 'b' offenses (as promulgated in Indulgentiarum Doctrina -- which, I have to note, is a 20th century document and not an old form of a doctrine which has since developed into something more therapeutic and conciliatory) is instead Purgatory, and not "healing between us".


Here's what the document says:

In purgatory, in fact, the souls of those "who died in the charity of God and truly repentant, but before satisfying with worthy fruits of penance for sins committed and for omissions are cleansed after death with purgatorial punishments." This is also clearly evidenced in the liturgical prayers with which the Christian community admitted to Holy Communion has addressed God since most ancient times: "that we, who are justly subjected to afflictions because of our sins, may be mercifully set free from them for the glory of thy name."

The problem is not whether it's right or wrong to do unto others as you would have them do unto you: it is whether or not Christ covers these things for us before God and whether or not we must paid for them in full before we are justified before God.

Having lived a long and icky life, I have (at times) sinned against the Church. I did not just ask God’s pardon, but my community. I got it.

We are guilty of many things and all that guilt is (of course) before God, but it does not seem to me that the document (to which you refer) adds another ground to the salvation from damnation to which the gospel refers. It tries (however successfully) to deal with other guilt where the immediate offense is against cosmic order or the Church.

I wouldn't say otherwise. The problem is that this document is transparently clear that unless those temporal punishments are all completed, you cannot stand before God, except as one being punished.

I go back to my example of the guy who needs a billion years in Purgatory. That is truly an infinitesimal period of time on the scale of all eternity. But here's the thing: the document says this --

... there certainly exists between the faithful who have already reached their heavenly home, those who are expiating their sins in purgatory and those who are still pilgrims on earth a perennial link of charity and an abundant exchange of all the goods by which, with the expiation of all the sins of the entire Mystical Body, divine justice is placated. God's mercy is thus led to forgiveness, so that sincerely repentant sinners may participate as soon as possible in the full enjoyment of the benefits of the family of God.

So in the first place, let's dispose of the idea that the document does not refer to the "Mystical Body" of Christ -- here the Church is called that explicitly. But second, note it clearly: it is an act of charity to placate God's wrath against those who still have temporal consequences for their sins, and we do it (through the Church, of course) by the exchange of some virtue overlaid on the penal consequences, mitigating the consequences.

It's the idea that this is an "act of charity" that intrigues me here and which I want to point you to. What is happening (allegedly) in Purgatory is an act of temporal punishment which those there deserve, and while it is for their own good, it is also a penal requirement. (see Chap. 1 part 2)

It may be good for them, but it is not good to them -- it is punishment on the scale of the wrath of God. So let's please dispense with the idea that what is being described and what it being mitigated is not something which the church has always believed is the work of Christ. Making it a short-term sentence rather than an eternal sentence doesn't make the problem go away: it makes it more glaring.

Here is how I read it:

The Blessed Virgin and Lady Theotokos cannot add a single thing to my salvation from the second death. Her merits are of no use there. However, like any mother (if I am reading the document correctly) correctly she can comfort me in the first death, which I will still face and in any post-death schooling in sanctification I still face.

That may not be right, but it is not a “different gospel.”

When you say it that way, it just sounds so much nicer. I'd almost be willing to go through it myself. The problem is that the document doesn't say that at all.

What it says instead is that there is punishment due to sinners who have either omitted penance or have incomplete penance. And as punishment goes, this is necessary payment for what one has done wrong as a recompense to those who were wronged. However, some have done a good job (through Christ, of course) of being fully sanctified, and they have something of value which can help those who are under this punishment in Purgatory. This "treasury of the church" is thereby able to be dispensed by the Church (specifically, the bishops) not to make the time in Purgatory more comforting, but to reduce or remove it entirely.

That's not hardly anything like Mary comforting you when you struggle through your sanctification. It is pretty clear that this is a power of the Church "by an authoritative intervention [to dispense] to the faithful suitably disposed the treasury of satisfaction which Christ and the saints won for the remission of temporal punishment."

The document accepts that though the Christian is no longer guilty and will not pay the price of sin (the death of damnation) there are still secondary consequences to that sin.

Being declared not guilty, does not make the shame (for example) vanish just the guilt.

Yes, I am sure that's true. The problem is that this document is not either about "daily life" as you will reference below. This is about something which stands in the gaps between the moment of death and the moment of glorification and welcome into the presence of God.

Good news: you're not in Hell. Bad news: you still have something which you personally must pay out before you can see God. You have work (in the form of punishment) to do.

The other good news, though, is that the Church can take the credits some have gathered up by prayer and personal holiness and apply them to you so your sentence is reduced.

And before anyone gets distracted by this, it's not about money or any other such thing -- anyone who makes this about the Catholic Church being a shill for phony forgiveness for the sake of a few bucks like some kind of prosperity gospel fakir is an ignoramous. This is about the teaching that your penalty for sin is not paid in full in Christ.

There is no question that this document asserts and requires that this is the case -- and that is an offense to the Gospel, a deal-breaker in the same vein as having to be circumcised in order to be a true follower of Christ or that there is no resurrection from the dead.

This happens all the time in daily life. Let me try another example. I am forgiven by you for calling you a Regicide Puritan, but the boo-boo I put on Russell Moore’s heart will have to heal as he witnessed my unfair attacks on his pal.

Our relationship (Moore and Reynolds) will be strained and to help restore community I will have to do acts befitting my repentance. (For example, I might put a picture of Al Mohler up in my office.) In this way, the secondary results of my sin in calling you a sin, the scandal caused to Moore ( the primary offense was against Turk by Reynolds) are healed. It is possible that Al Mohler, chock full of earned respect in the Reformed community, could intervene and speed up the process by telling Moore that really I am sorry and that he, Dr. Mohler, will vouch for me.

First of all, putting me in the company of Mohler and Moore is extraordinarily humbling, so thank you for that -- even in an example of people who ought to know each other and have a relational bond.

But your example simply doesn't take into account the basis for the doctrine explicitly spelled out in Chapter 1 of this document. The matter is the question of purgation of and reparations for sin and punishment in the life after death.

Though this is a bit tongue in cheek, it gets to the issue.

As for the “body of Christ,” I really think contextually it is an image. We are Christ’s body in one mystical sense (which is “real” though not material!), but not in the sense that I am literally an arm of Christ (material sense of body).

You have missed the point of the statement in context entirely, Dr. Reynolds. Here's the passage where it comes up:

Following in the footsteps of Christ, the Christian faithful have always endeavored to help one another on the path leading to the heavenly Father through prayer, the exchange of spiritual goods and penitential expiation. The more they have been immersed in the fervor of charity, the more they have imitated Christ in his sufferings, carrying their crosses in expiation for their own sins and those of others, certain that they could help their brothers to obtain salvation from God the Father of mercies. This is the very ancient dogma of the Communion of the Saints, whereby the life of each individual son of God in Christ and through Christ is joined by a wonderful link to the life of all his other Christian brothers in the supernatural unity of the Mystical Body of Christ till, as it were, a single mystical person is formed.

Thus is explained the "treasury of the Church" which should certainly not be imagined as the sum total of material goods accumulated in the course of the centuries, but the infinite and inexhaustible value the expiation and the merits of Christ Our Lord have before God, offered as they were so that all of mankind could be set free from sin and attain communion with the Father. It is Christ the Redeemer himself in whom the satisfactions and merits of his redemption exist and find their force. This treasury also includes the truly immense, unfathomable and ever pristine value before God of the prayers and good works of the Blessed Virgin Mary and all the saints, who following in the footsteps of Christ the Lord and by his grace have sanctified their lives and fulfilled the mission entrusted to them by the Father. Thus while attaining their own salvation, they have also cooperated in the salvation of their brothers in the unity of the Mystical Body..

The point of saying that the Church is "one mystical body" is so that one can say in some sensible (!) way that the spiritual goods of one can be transferred to another in order to save them from purgatorial punishment. It is to find a way to call the merits of the saints necessarily the merits of Christ, except in a way that makes them more or of another type.

I just think that you have misread the Papal piece which has problems (from my point of view), but not the one you suggest. I really wish a local Catholic would take up this argument and let us know if we are both misreading this complex and interesting piece!

I welcome anyone to link us to an authoritative document which decodes Indulgentiarum Doctrina to say either what you have said, or that says something else which would contradict what I have here exposited.

You're simply mistaken, Dr. Reynolds, in your reading. You have interposed a clinical/therapeutic grid where the document has plainly laid our a judicial/penal system in which there are kinds of remittence to be paid.

This is where I usually grand-stand for the Gospel, but let it be enough to say this: while we were still weak, at the right time Christ died for the ungodly. For one will scarcely die for a righteous person—though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die— but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us. Since, therefore, we have now been justified by his blood, so much more shall we be saved by him from the wrath of God. For if while we were enemies we were reconciled to God by the death of his Son, so much more, now that we are reconciled, shall we be saved by his life. More than that, we also rejoice in God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have now received reconciliation.

It's a done deal -- and to say otherwise overturns the true goodness of the Good News.

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Ironic mis-prioritizing

by Dan Phillips

Many prepare assiduously for what may never happen,
But not at all for what will surely happen.

Come now!

Live now!

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A Most Ingenious Paradox

by Phil Johnson



ears ago I discovered (the hard way) that the Internet is not the friendliest place for anyone who wants to stand up for logic or defend the coherence of truth.

I've long been concerned about the erosion of rationality in postmodern culture. I've always known there are naive Christians who mindlessly parrot worldly values, and I've been concerned for years about the potential for mischief when spiritual-sounding Christian terminology gets blended with worldly irrationalism. But I had no clue how much and how far irrationalism had already infected the visible church when I posted this article on my website back in 1995.

The article is a defense of the principium contradictionis, or "the law of contradiction"—which says truth is by definition non-contradictory: "A is not non-A." (Some people prefer to speak of it as "the law of non-contradiction." Whatever.)

The law of contradiction is one of three principles classical logicians universally regard as foundational to all human thought. The other two are the law of identity, which states that an object is the same as itself: "A is A." Then there's the law of the excluded middle, meaning that when two propositions directly negate one another, one must be true and the other false; there is no third alternative: "Either A or non-A, but not both A and non-A."

The codification of those three principles is usually attributed to Aristotle. Most philosophers have regarded them as self-evident. (There have been exceptions. Hegel hated classical logic.) But those rather simple principles are the basis of formal logic and rational thought. Without them, rational discourse is simply not possible. In fact, to deny any of those principles is (by definition) irrational.

Anyway, almost 15 years ago I wrote this little essay on the law of contradiction, and it unleashed the fury of several hordes of budding "postmodern Christians." They filled my in-box with protests, solemnly assuring me that human logic is just that: "human," and therefore ungodly. To acknowledge the incomprehensibility of God is to embrace the incoherence of truth, they (illogically) insisted. Illogic? Who cares? They proudly and steadfastly embraced several contradictions in their own worldview. Their theology (early Emergent nonsense) seemed deliberately muddled. Contradictions in one's doctrine are more to be desired than gold, they seemed to be saying. Their whole idea of "faith" was a Kierkegaardian leap into dark nothingness, where (apparently) any and all biblical propositions are fair game for quacks and amateurs to question or contradict, depending on their personal whims.

But the principium contradictionis they could not tolerate, because it contradicted ideas that were frankly more basic to their worldview than the plain statements of Scripture.

So one of these guys—let's call him Daryl—was especially persistent. He e-mailed me again and again, and promised to supply me with "incontrovertible proof that the law of contradiction is false." The irony of his own boast escaped him, and it was clear from the start that his mouth was writing a check his mind could never cash. But he "stayed up half the night" noodling on the problem, then wrote me to say he had two propositions that debunked the principium contradictionis. Here's the salient part of his e-mail:

1. "This sentence is false." 2. And here's one I got from Bertrand Russell: Suppose X is the set of all sets that are not members of themselves. Is the following proposition, "X is a member of itself." true, or false? If it's true, then it's also false. (I hope I'm saying that correctly. I got it from a book about logic.) Anyway, there are two propositions that are both true and false.

My reply:

Daryl, I'm disappointed. This is old stuff. Let's start with Bertrand Russell's "Set of all sets" paradox. You did state it correctly. It is a classic mathematical paradox (one of several.) Those not acquainted with it may have to think a few minutes to see the subtlety of this paradox: Some sets are members of themselves (e.g., the set of all abstract concepts is itself an abstract concept. Therefore it is a member of the set of all abstract concepts.) Some sets are not members of themselves. (e.g., the set of all colors is not itself a color.) Think about the set of all sets that are not members of themselves. Is it a member of itself, or not? If yes, the answer is no, and vice versa. But it reflects a very naive view of logic and math to assert that such paradoxes debunk the law of contradiction. Most of them actually involve the fallacy of equivocation and can be resolved by careful definition. Search and see. The Russell paradox is based on incomplete and outdated set theory. Zermelo-Fraenkel (ZFC) set theory is a system of axioms that avoids the Russell paradox. Jensen, Quine, Hilbert, Frege, and even Russell himself all proposed other more or less successful theories to resolve the "set of all sets" paradox. I'm not much of a mathematician, so I won't attempt to explain all those theories. (But you can Google them.) They all attack the problem by restricting or stratifying the way sets are constructed. They suggest there is a logical gap that must be bridged between the definition of a set and the set's actual construction. In layman's terms: "The set of all sets that are not members of themselves" does not exist. In the real world it reduces to nonsense. The fact that we can define a set does not mean it actually exists. So this involves no actual contradiction and therefore can't be used to disprove the law of contradiction. Here: I'll give you a tougher puzzle. Think about the set of all things that have never been contemplated as a set. The moment you attempt to think of it, it disappears. So technically, you can't even think about such a set, and it can't possibly exist. (But, hey! weren't you in fact thinking about it when it went 'poof'?) Like Russell's "set of all sets" it is an absurdity that can be defined but cannot exist. Such absurdities pose no threat whatsoever to the law of contradiction. Your other paradox, "This statement is false," is a classic conundrum on the order of God and the rock that's too big for him to lift. It doesn't disprove the law of contradiction for three reasons: Statements with self-referent truth assertions are the only kind of statements that lead to such contradictions, because they involve a kind of recursive "logic" that is inherently absurd. Again, the statement commits the fallacy of equivocation. The paradox in "This statement is false" hinges on an ambiguity that can be eliminated with a precise definition of false. The law of the excluded middle means every proposition must be either true or false. That disqualifies "This statement is false" as a valid proposition, because it can't be either true or false. It is an absurd statement, not a real proposition. So the bottom line is that both of your challenges to the law of contradiction boil down to sheer nonsense. And if I may make a friendly observation, Daryl, you are all too prone to assert that nonsense is truth and vice versa. This is a mystery to me, by the way. In [another online forum] you doggedly defended Søren Kierkegaard against the charge that he is irrational. And yet you attack rationality. If you think logic is invalid anyway, why do you object to the assertion that Kierkegaard (or you) are irrational? Far from debunking the law of contradiction, paradoxes such as "This statement is false" have actually elevated the status of the law of contradiction in the study of formal logic and math. Computer scientists, for example, have been forced to grapple with and resolve the absurdity of self-referent truth assertions. Metalanguage is employed precisely to avoid that problem in logic, linguistics and computer programming. Here are a couple of Web sites that have interesting discussions of mathematical paradoxes and computer programming: http://logic.stanford.edu/kif/metaknowledge.html http://logic.stanford.edu/kif/Hypertext/node25.html (The latter has to do specifically with set theory and its relationship to Russell's paradox.) It is perhaps necessary to point out that all true paradoxes can be resolved. If they couldn't be, they would stand as contradictions, and truth itself would be an absurd concept. (That, sadly, is precisely the conclusion some have drawn, both in the secular world and in the visible church.) But while paradoxes are interesting logic puzzles, they do not negate the law of contradiction. Christians would do well to remember this. Too many Christians have fallen into the habit of using the word "paradox" in the neo-orthodox and Kierkegaardian sense of "a flat-out contradiction that we're going to affirm anyway, thus embracing nonsense as truth." But Scripture teaches that God is truth, and He cannot deny himself. So the law of contradiction is established on biblical authority. Yet mathematicians and computer scientists put most theologians to shame when it comes to resolving paradoxes like these. Russell first proposed his set theory paradox in 1901. Mathematicians worldwide—including Russell himself—immediately scrambled to find a way to resolve it. Why? Because they knew if it were irresolvable—if it really debunked the law of contradiction—then it would not only nullify all mathematical knowledge; it would also render truth itself moot. Indeed, overthrow the law of contradiction and everything can be both true and false, thus demolishing the whole concept of truth. In effect, this is precisely what the blending of postmodernism and theology is all about. But it's foolish in the extreme to use the language of "paradox" to make truth itself seem absurd. I'm concerned about Christians who blithely say they are happy to "live with paradox," when what they really mean is that it's OK to have an irrational worldview. Gordon Clark used to define paradox as "a charlie horse between the ears." I don't agree with Clark about everything, but he was right to defend the coherence of truth. When faced with two difficult truths we find hard to reconcile, we ought to view it as an opportunity to work out the kinks in our thinking and try to gain a better understanding of truth. If two biblical truths seem to contradict, we need to take another look and be humble enough to acknowledge that perhaps we have misunderstood one or the other (or both) of the seemingly contradictory ideas. We need to understand—like those mathematicians did at the start of the 20th century—that if "truth" really contradicted itself, the very concept of truth would be moot. Christians of all people ought to stand firmly against every charge that truth is inherently self-contradictory.

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