19 July 2010

Desert-Island Exegesis

by Phil Johnson

he following post from yesteryear came to mind recently when someone approached me wanting to quibble about a fairly basic point of Christology. I had been teaching on the humanity of Christ and had stressed the importance of being precise in how we frame our understanding of Christ's two natures.

My interlocutor objected, saying he doesn't think doctrine is an exacting science. He told me, "I always ask, 'If an unbeliever stranded on a desert island with nothing but a Bible read this text, what would he get from it?' I think that's the best test of one's interpretation."

I replied that an unbeliever stranded on an island with nothing but a Bible is no standard by which to measure the accuracy of one's hermeneutics. In the first place, even if he had a full library and research team, an unbeliever is incapable of receiving the things of the Spirit of God: "They are foolishness unto him: neither can he know them, because they are spiritually discerned" (1 Corinthians 2:14).

In the second place, the desert island exegete—even if he became a Christian—would simply not be able to decipher several common expressions of Scripture on his own. There are plenty of times when even the most devoted believer absolutely needs to rely on study aids and the scholarship and insight of godly men who have gone before.

There's simply no real virtue in the sort of desert island approach that says we should never look at commentaries or study helps in our quest to understand and interpret Scripture. We can't always get the full meaning of a verse from a simple face-value interpretation.

So here's a post where we dealt with that same issue a few years ago:

Sola Scriptura and the role of teachers in our spiritual growth
Do commentaries and study aids violate the principle of 1 John 2:27?

(First posted 19 January 2007.)

A less-than-admiring reader writes:

Your identity as a "Baptist"; your endless quotations from Charles Spurgeon; your faithful devotion to John MacArthur; and especially your willingness to call yourself a "Calvinist" are all huge red flags that tell me something is seriously wrong with your theology. Why do you teach a system of doctrine that is named after a mere man? Why are you following human teachers instead of going to the Bible alone? After all, 1 John 2:27 says, "The anointing which ye have received of him abideth in you, and ye need not that any man teach you."

We ought to go to Scripture alone to establish our doctrine! The truth is in God's Holy word, not in any theological system or theology textbook developed by mere men.

Isn't that principle what the Reformation was originally about? Sola Scriptura? Didn't even Calvin himself go to Scripture for the truth instead of reading other men? I believe that if Calvin himself wrote for this blog, he would point people to the truth in God's Holy word, not to a theology developed by some other man.
My reply:

ou have seriously misunderstood sola Sriptura if you really imagine that it rules out human teachers or eliminates systematic theology. The Reformers (including Calvin) often cited the works of Augustine, Tertullian, Jerome, Cyprian, Ambrose, and others—ranging from the early church fathers through Aquinas. They didn't follow any of them slavishly, of course, but they certainly took them seriously. Not one of the major Reformers would have tolerated the claim that because the Church Fathers were mere men they were therefore irrelevant or incapable of shedding any helpful light on tough theological questions.

Sola Scriptura means that Scripture alone is the final court of appeal in all matters of faith and practice. It is an affirmation that "the whole counsel of God, concerning all things necessary for his own glory, man's salvation, faith, and life, is either expressly set down in scripture, or by good and necessary consequence may be deduced from scripture" and that "nothing at any time is to be added [to the Bible], whether by new revelations of the Spirit, or traditions of men." It recognizes that there is ultimately no higher spiritual authority than God's Word, so "the infallible rule of interpretation of Scripture is the Scripture itself; and therefore, when there is a question about the true and full sense of any Scripture . . . it must be searched and known by other places that speak more clearly."

But none of that means we're obliged to discard the wisdom of godly men from ages past and require each man to try to discern truth from scratch by reading nothing but Scripture by himself.

As for Calvin, he certainly did "point people to the truth in God's Holy Word"—but one thing he did not do was steer people away from the important theologians of the past. In fact, Calvin's works are filled with references to the Church Fathers—Augustine in particular. Calvin knew it was important to demonstrate that he was proposing nothing wholly novel and that his theology was in the doctrinal lineage of the greatest theologians of the church. He regarded himself as Augustinian, in precisely the same way many today think of themselves as "Calvinists."

If Calvin wrote for this blog and someone responded to one of his posts by refusing to read what Augustine wrote, Calvin would probably write that person off as arrogant and unteachable.

Incidentally, 1 John 2:20, 27 is the apostle John's response to an early outbreak of gnostic-flavored spiritual elitism. He was refuting some false teachers (he called them "antichrists") who insisted that real truth is a deep secret, different from the apostolic message, into which people must be initiated by some anointed swami. The Holy Spirit indwells and anoints each believer, and He is the One who truly enlightens and enables us to understand truth. But He also gifts certain people with a particular ability to teach others (Romans 12:6-7; Ephesians 4:11). So while John was condemning the notion of enlightened masters in the style of Freemasonry and gnosticism, he was not making a blanket condemnation of teachers. He himself was a teacher.

Bonus:

A follow-up message asks me if I am suggesting it's wrong for someone to abandon all books and human teachers and rely only on what he can glean from the Bible for himself. Answer: yes, I think that's wrong because it's arrogant and reflects a sinful kind of unteachability. This is my whole point: sola Scriptura doesn't rule out the valid role of teaching in the church.

Furthermore, it is simply not the case that any common, unskilled, unschooled individual, sitting down with his Bible and no other tools, can expect to come to a full and mature understanding of Scripture without any help from godly teachers who understand some things better than he will ever get it on his own. Here's Bernard Ramm's famous response to the arrogance reflected in such a perversion of sola Scriptura:

It is often asserted by devout people that they can know the Bible completely without helps. They preface their interpretations with a remark like this: "Dear friends, I have read no man's book. I have consulted no man-made commentaries. I have gone right to the Bible to see what it had to say for itself." This sounds very spiritual, and usually is seconded with amens from the audience.
     But is this the pathway of wisdom? Does any man have either the right or the learning to by-pass all the godly learning of the church? We think not.
     First, although the claim to by-pass mere human books and go right to the Bible itself sounds devout and spiritual it is a veiled egotism. It is a subtle affirmation that a man can adequately know the Bible apart from the untiring, godly, consecrated scholarship of men like [Athanasius,] Calvin, Bengel, Alford, Lange, Ellicott, or Moule. . . .
     Secondly, such a claim is the old confusion of the inspiration of the Spirit with the illumination of the Spirit. The function of the Spirit is not to communicate new truth or to instruct in matters unknown, but to illuminate what is revealed in Scripture. Suppose we select a list of words from Isaiah and ask a man who claims he can by-pass the godly learning of Christian scholarship if he can out of his own soul or prayer give their meaning or significance: Tyre, Zidon, Chittim, Sihor, Moab, Mahershalalhashbas, Calno, Carchemish, Hamath, Aiath, Migron, Michmash, Geba, Anathoth, Laish, Nob, and Gallim. He will find the only light he can get on these words is from a commentary or a Bible dictionary.
[from Bernard Ramm, Protestant Biblical Interpretation (Grand Rapids: Baker, 1970), pp. 17-18 (emphasis in original).]

So it is no test of the soundness of an interpretation to ask what a novice with access to nothing but Scripture itself would make of a particular verse. It would be safer to assume that the desert island guy's interpretation will probably fall short of the mark.

Phil's signature

18 July 2010

Plain Truth vs. Knowledge Falsely So-Called

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 "Forts Demolished and Prisoners Taken," Spurgeon's sermon on 2 Corinthians 10:5, preached Sunday morning, 11 May 1879 at the Met Tab.


lain truth is in this wonderful century of small account; men crave to be mystified by their own cogitations. Many glory in being too intellectual to receive anything as absolute certainty: they are not at all inclined to submit to the authority of a positive revelation. God's word is not accepted by them as final, but they judge it and believe what they like of it.

This is madness. I speak to those who believe in the Scriptures, and I say if, indeed, there be a revelation, it becomes us to be silent before it, and accept it without dispute. The Lord knows what he is better than we can ever know, and if he has been pleased to speak in his Word plainly and solemnly, it is ours to believe what he says, because he says it.

It may be all very well to prove that such and such a revelation of God is consistent with reason, consistent with analogy, consistent with a thousand things; but the spirit which needs such argument is a spirit of rebellion against God. If there be a revelation, every part of it is of authority, and must be believed. Human thought is not the arbiter of truth, but the infallible Word is the end of all strife.

It is not ours to say what the truth must be, or what we think it should be, or what we would like it to be, but reverently to sit down with open ear and willing heart to receive what God has spoken.

If an astronomer were to forbear to examine the stars, and teach an astronomy invented in his own brain, he would be an idiot: and those who treat theology in like fashion are not much better.

"Surely," saith one, "we ought to modify our beliefs by public opinion, and the current of thought."

I say "no" a thousand times. The incorruptible word of God liveth and abideth forever, and is incapable of modification. To modify is to adulterate and nullify it, and render it of none effect, so that it becomes another gospel, and, indeed, no gospel.

The thought of tampering with revealed truth is vicious, and ought not to be tolerated by any Christian for a second. The gospel of Jesus Christ is not a thing which is to be moulded according to the fashion of the period: it is "Jesus Christ the same yesterday, today, and for ever."

Whether the Greek philosophy rules or is exploded, whether some more modern theory blazes up or smoulders down, is small concern of ours, for we are set to preach the one unvarying gospel of Jesus Christ, with the Holy Ghost sent down from heaven.

No man was ever led to a saving faith by our meeting him halfway and consenting to his unbelief. No real faith was ever wrought in man by his own thoughts and imaginations; he must receive the gospel as a revelation from God, or he cannot receive it at all.

Faith is a supernatural work wherever it is found, and if we think that we can beget faith in ourselves or others by the use of the fleshly weapons of philosophy we shall certainly be foiled. The Scriptures pressed home by the Holy Ghost are God's power unto salvation, and not men's cogitation's and imaginations.

There is the revealed gospel, reject it at your peril; there is Jehovah's revelation of himself to men, receive it or be lost; this is the ground to go upon if we would speak as the oracles of God. God grant that proud thinkers may come upon this ground and become believers.

C. H. Spurgeon


15 July 2010

Two radically different ways of thinking, and their cause

by Dan Phillips


Albert Mohler wrote yesterday about a lady (Anne Eggebroten) who contributed a piece for Sojourner (a magazine for liberals who still want to call themselves "evangelicals"). Mrs. Eggebroten was shocked! shocked! to find men leading at John MacArthur's Grace Community Church.

(I know what you're thinking: "Alert the media!")

Eggebroten provides a horror-struck narrative, in an alien-sociologist tone, about this odd group of pre-Pleistocene throwbacks who think (in agreement with God) that men should lead in the home and in the church. Then, as if thousands of devastating responses hadn't already been launched against Paul Jewett's lame reach for Galatians 3:28 in the last 30+ years, and as if it has anything whatever to do with function, Eggebroten trots it out again. We are all one in Christ. Therefore women can be pastors and needn't subordinate themselves to their husbands.

What of the Pastorals? No problem; they have to be recategorized as sub-Pauline. Other passages? They don't mean what they say, or they're interpolations. Galatians 3:28 — out of context — is Eggebroten's canon. In fact, you could call it The Eggebrotenian Canon.

(Eggebroten doesn't actually cite Jewett, by the way; instead, she reaches for lesbian "Christian" feminist Virginia Mollenkott and a few other Usual Suspects instead. None of which is actually an upgrade.)

What comes through loud and clear is that Eggebroten reveals no doubts that she should be allowed to do what she wants. Eggebroten is insistent on her rights, getting her way; appalled at any talk of submission, subordination, or even "helping." No actual on-the-scene authorities should stand over Eggebroten's wants, her wishes, her desires.  They are all presumed to be holy and good. She is sure of them. So sure, in fact, that she is willing actually to snip out part of the Word of God to accommodate them. Her desires, and her judgment, are superior to the Word of God.

Then comes Professor of Biblical Studies and BioLogos blogger Kenton Sparks, who writes: "I have no interest in preserving Christianity . . . I believe because, as I understand it, it makes sense of human experience. But if it turns out that Christianity fails to do that, I’ll simply turn elsewhere."

Like Ms. Eggebroten, you see that Professor Sparks has absolute confidence in his moral judgment, his personal powers of reason, his spiritual acumen. He announces that Scripture "stands in need of redemption"; and apparently Sparks himself will step in to do the job.

In the words quoted above, Sparks betrays no doubt whatever that he is up to the task. He seems himself as able to judge rightly; in fact, is in no doubt that his judgment potentially superior both to the Bible and thus to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus. The Bible (and Christ) may well be wrong. But Sparks? Never! If the Bible offends Sparks, he'll simply walk away, no big deal. Sparks will follow his own judgment wherever it takes him. It is adequate, sound, whole, sufficient.

It is as Gleason Archer and others warned decades ago: abandon the inerrancy of Scripture, and God's supremacy is replaced by the supremacy of personal human judgment.

In these comments, Mrs. Eggebroten and Professor Sparks together stand over the Word. The Word is in the dock, they are the judges. They will massage, manipulate, torture the parts they don't like (creation, created order). If those parts will not subject themselves to EggeSparks' will, they'll either relegate it to sub-Canonical status (Eggebroten) or call it "broken," and perhaps move on in search of something better (Sparks).

As I have argued elsewhere, the point at which the heart shows itself is that point at which God's will and His truth cross our wills and our biases.

Contrast both of these attitudes with that of men and women on whom the Holy Spirit has effectually done the work of conviction of sin, who have had a glimpse of the living God.

Recall Isaiah 6, the throne room vision. How did the sight of the thrice-holy Yahweh affect Isaiah? Remember: Isaiah was a good man: a holy man, a godly man, an incredibly eloquent man. What did he think of himself, after he saw God?

Did Isaiah say, "Now I really feel empowered! I really have to get after asserting my rights"? Did Isaiah say, "You know, that really wasn't bad — for now. You know, until something better comes along"?

Not so much.

When the Holy Spirit deals with a man, a woman, that person is brought face to face with certain game-changing truths. He sees God in His limitless, vast wisdom and purity, His immensity and holiness, His absoluteness and majesty. And in that same glimpse, he sees himself as he has never before appeared. He feels the depth of the depravity of his own deceptive heart (Jeremiah 17:9). He is overwhelmed with his own puniness and impurity (Isaiah 6:5). He cannot escape the sense of his own inexcusable sin (Luke 5:8), and he repudiates it like a foul and filthy thing (Job 42:5-6). His knowledge no longer looks so impressive (Proverbs 30:1-4). Now, it is God's Word alone that stands out as sure and certain (Proverbs 30:5-6).

This is what the fear of Yahweh means, that fear which is the beginning and sine qua non of knowledge (Proverbs 1:7) and of wisdom (9:10). It is the proper view of God, and of my position before Him.

This is the point at which a man throws himself at Jesus' feet, imploring Him for mercy and life and salvation and forgiveness. This is the point at which a man takes Jesus' yoke on himself (Matthew 11:29-30), counting himself a fool, so that he may become (for the first time) genuinely wise (1 Corinthians 3:18). This is the point at which a man embraces Jesus as Savior and - not partner, not advisor, not sounding-board, but - Lord. It is the issue he settles in principle at conversion, or arguably there has been no conversion.

Make no mistake: sin is not only a moral and spiritual blight. It is a noetic blight, a perversion that effects the way we think and process data (Romans 1:18ff.; Ephesians 4:17-19). That is why we don't need a mere pointer here and there, a bit of advice, and an hour or two with a tutor. No, we need to be done with ourselves and our way of processing information as we were outside of Christ (Ephesians 4:22-24), and become renewed in the spirit of our minds (Romans 12:2).

This is a very different spirit than one sees in the wannabe world-friends, the various compromised "-ists" (evolutionists, feminists). This is the spirit that says something like this:
"Left to my own reasoning and judgment, I will surely go horribly, damnably wrong. I already did! My way of thinking headed me straight away from God and towards Hell. It would do it again in a heartbeat, given the chance. I do not know how to think rightly about anything until God teaches me how to think about it, and He does so through His word alone."
I suggest that it is this realization which utterly parts the two schools of thought. They proceed along lines drawn by two markedly different views of God and of self: that I surely can be wrong, but the God of Scripture cannot; or that the God of Scripture can be wrong, but I surely cannot.

The two views cannot be harmonized.

Don't even try.

Postscript: am I judging the writers' hearts? Of course not. How could I (1 Corinthians 2:11)? All of us say and do things from time to time that do not represent our truest beliefs (Romans 7:14-25). I can only see what they write - and that is what they present to the world for evaluation. Yet these are arguments the writers are making which reveal ways of thinking that, if they are Christians, need to be reconsidered, and repented of. I offer them as cautionary examples.

Dan Phillips's signature

14 July 2010

Small Handles for the Kids

by Frank Turk

Here's a little passage from Mark 4 (ESV), with the verse numbers left in to keep us all on the same sheet of music:
30 And he said, "With what can we compare the kingdom of God, or what parable shall we use for it? 31It is like a grain of mustard seed, which, when sown on the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth, 32yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes larger than all the garden plants and puts out large branches, so that the birds of the air can make nests in its shade."

33 With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it. 34He did not speak to them without a parable, but privately to his own disciples he explained everything.

35 On that day, when evening had come, he said to them, "Let us go across to the other side." 36And leaving the crowd, they took him with them in the boat, just as he was. And other boats were with him. 37And a great windstorm arose, and the waves were breaking into the boat, so that the boat was already filling. 38But he was in the stern, asleep on the cushion. And they woke him and said to him, "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" 39And he awoke and rebuked the wind and said to the sea, "Peace! Be still!" And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm. 40He said to them, "Why are you so afraid? Have you still no faith?" 41And they were filled with great fear and said to one another, "Who then is this, that even the wind and the sea obey him?"

And any person you meet except the really militantly self-absorbed would agree with the following statement:
The Gospel of Mark is a historical account of Jesus' life, and as such, this passage of Mark reports historical events in the life and ministry of Jesus.
Now, here's where many people will bail out of the discussion: How much time elapses between v. 32 and v. 35 in Mark 4?

I mean, this is a historical account, right? So it doesn’t seem very problematic to say, without being very cheeky, "The rest of the day, cent. Pay attention."

That's fine, I guess – no reason to argue about that. But what did Jesus say during the rest of the day? We know in general what Jesus said – Mark says, "With many such parables he spoke the word to them, as they were able to hear it. He did not speak to them without a parable, but privately to his own disciples he explained everything" – but we don't have any kind of a record of what Jesus said in the rest of the day.

Now, that's pretty much undeniable – we don't have any way to tell what Jesus said specifically the rest of that day. And worse still, when v. 35 begins, "on that day, when evening had come," Mark may also be saying "on that day when this next stuff happened", so it's another day entirely.

And I bring this up not to impugn the clarity of Scripture, but to instead ask what it means to have a class of literature which conveys historical facts. In the first place, we can see that not every minute detail has been included in Scripture – how often Jesus drank water, for example, is not included in the holy writ. In the second place, there are massive omissions of dates and time – so much so that there's no way to say that the "synoptic" Gospels actually list the events of Christ's life as if they were a travelogue.

But if this is so, how does the good Christian say that the Bible says things which are true, let alone that the Bible is truth? How do we trust them, for example, as history when these texts are practically date-free?

Well: we have to be better readers than my first-grader. We have to be somewhat literate readers who understand things like genre and type and authorial intent. Because it turns out that Scripture is clear, and is truth, but not in some wooden sense where words don’t do what they do in every other place we use them.

So on the one hand, to stick with my example of Mark, we can say that Mark wrote a historical account of the life of Christ. But on the other hand, he wasn't transcribing Jesus' diary of his 3-year ministry: Mark was ordering the events, or grouping them, or relating them, to underscore specific truths about the life of Christ – building contrasts and comparisons in the events in order to make what we can call expositional points.

That's going to rub a lot of people the wrong way, but who asked them? Here's what you can't do with the Bible: you can't demand that it be "narrative" and not define what kind of "narrative" it is, especially in its diversity of text types. But once you define its genre – its type by book and author – you then have the broad opportunity to read and receive what's written as it was intended to be received.

And I say all that to say this: we can't get all broken up when somebody comes to us and wants to tell us that the Bible is a shaky foundation for faith. For centuries – millennia almost – the Bible has been recognized as one of the great sets of literature man has available to read. And in that, we can’t read it like it's simple hack writing; we can't receive it as great literature but expect it to be easier to read than Milton or Shakespeare or Spencer. The Bible is a beautiful thing, and in that it has all the attributes of beauty: simplicity and complexity, accessibility and incomprehensibility, small handles that even a kid can grasp but massive weight that grown men will strain at to carry.

We have a beautiful thing in the Bible and we can't let someone scare us off that just because they don’t really understand how beauty works. There's more to be said about this, but I have run out of daylight today, so think about that and we'll come back to it eventually.






13 July 2010

Everyone is an inerrantist

by Dan Phillips

Phil's recent (terrific) posts on BioLogos tangentially raise the issue of inerrancy once again. Many lodge the charge that some or all of the contributors at BioLogos either weaken or deny inerrancy, either openly or tacitly.

My contention is that they affirm inerrancy, every one of them. As surely as Phil does, as surely as I do, as surely as you do.

As surely as Christopher Hitchens does, as surely as Richard Dawkins does, as surely as Paris Hilton (or Perez Hilton, for that matter) does, as surely as the Pope does, as surely as Lindsey Lohan does.

Everyone is an inerrantist.

The only question is where we locate inerrancy.


The glandolatrous hedonist locates inerrancy in his senses; the Papist (and the, er, Pape-er himself) locates it in the teaching office of The Church™.

What of the BioLogos types? One might argue that they locate inerrancy in the scientistic fad du jour, the fad of uniformitarian macroevolutionism with a light dusting of God-talk on the top.

At this juncture, the retort might come "Oh no! All we care about is Science™ and The Evidence. If the Facts led elsewhere, we'd change in a heartbeat."

About that. Is Science a person, a monolith, a thing that speaks or writes? Or is it (as the word is popularly used) actually a particular philosophy? Are there other competing philosophies? Is there only one school of thought?

Are facts self-interpreting? How long has the current fad held the day? How long did previous fads dominate? Did previous generations say they were probably wrong and would likely be undone by the next generation — or did they all lay out their positions in just as absolute and self-assured terms as the current lot is doing?

Yet with all that, let us grant for the sake of argument that the BioLogos types really are sincere in their insistence that they'll go wherever the evidence drives them.  Then we must make three observations:
  1. Given their eagerness to throw out the plain reading of Scripture in Genesis 1-3, they obviously do not locate inerrancy in the text of Scripture.
  2. Given their eagerness to throw out the plain reading of Scripture in Genesis 1-3, they obviously are in fact provisionally locating inerrancy in today's scientistic consensus, over against Scripture. (That is to say: given that there is a push and shove between the majority view created on the assumption that Scripture is untrue on the one hand, and Scripture itself on the other, they are siding with the former against the latter. It is Scripture that must yield, to them.)
  3. Given their eagerness to throw out the plain reading of Scripture in Genesis 1-3, they obviously locate inerrancy in their own personal reason, their own ability to sort things out, their own (if you will) autonomous knowledge of good and evil.
The Christian position is radically different, by definition. It is a chastened epistemology specifically in that it is the way a man will think when God has broken his pride through conviction of sin, through a vision of the massive holiness and rightness and wisdom of God, over against the pervasive moral, spiritual, and noetic effects of human sin. It is the thinking of a man who has come to see that Jesus is Lord, and he isn't; who has come to the cross for life and light and wisdom; who has yoked himself to Jesus and confessed, "I can't see anything rightly unless I see it as You see it, which I learn from Your Word alone."

Creation is a classic He-said/they-said. Listen:
  • We begin our thinking with the premise that God the eyewitness cannot err in His revelation of what happened, or ...
  • We begin our thinking with the premise that man the non-eyewitness cannot err in his reconstruction of what happened.
Because everyone believes in inerrancy.

It's just a matter of where he locates the final authority.

Dan Phillips's signature

12 July 2010

Socinianism in Lab Coats

by Phil Johnson

Scripture has been the first casualty of BioLogos's efforts to "reconcile" science and Christianity. Precisely what kind of Christianity are they selling? And how much more are they willing to sell out to scientism?



et me say this as emphatically as possible: My main objection to the BioLogos agenda is theological, not scientific.

Evidently I need to underscore that point, because every time the subject comes up here, our comment-threads swarm with zealots who are keen to debate about geology, paleontology, astronomy, the fossil record, the age of the earth, or whatever—as if my criticisms of BioLogos were scientific rather than biblical and doctrinal. To date, not one person who supports the BioLogos agenda has even acknowledged (much less replied to) the real point we've been making.

So I'll say this once more: What concerns me most about BioLogos is not merely the enthusiasm with which they champion theistic evolution (bad as that is). I haven't complained about their baffling opposition to the simple, obvious teleological arguments of the "intelligent design" community. And what spurred my objections to their campaign has nothing to do with the old-earth/young-earth conflict per se.

But my greatest concern—by far—is the blithe willingness with which they are prepared to trivialize, disregard, discard, or denounce the foundational doctrines of Christianity.

In every post I have made about BioLogos, I've been critical of two things in particular: 1) their relentless assault against the authority of Scripture, and 2) an attitude toward the doctrine of original sin that ranges from utter indifference to condescending dismissal.

The authority of Scripture and the doctrine of original sin are, of course, bedrock truths of all historic Christianity; they are not merely Reformed or evangelical distinctives. (Nor are they trifling "exegetical molehill[s]," as Peter Enns suggested in his reply to Al Mohler.)

The serious doctrinal problems raised by the BioLogos campaign don't end with those two issues, either. As I pointed out in an earlier post, if the BioLogos team applied their Genesis hermeneutic consistently to the gospel accounts and the resurrection narratives, they would soon relinquish every essential element of the Christian faith.

Of course, they haven't gone there. I don't expect they will. Demythologizing Scripture to that degree would utterly discredit them among whatever constituency they have cultivated on the "faith" side of the science/faith divide. But issues like those certainly deserve more attention (and more input from truly conservative theologians) than BioLogos has yet allocated space for.

Incidentally, BioLogos's notion of "leading evangelical theologians" is revealing. Their theological headliners are men like Peter Enns, Greg Boyd, and N. T. Wright, not one of whom is truly evangelical in the historic sense of that term. Enns was dismissed from Westminster Seminary in August 2008 for his low view of Scripture. He and most of his supporters protested at the time that his views had been misrepresented and that he had been treated unfairly. But his contributions to BioLogos furnish ample proof that he did not, in fact, agree with Westminster's doctrinal standards. Boyd, of course, is well known as a cheerleader for Open Theism, which denies both the true omniscience and the immutability (not to mention the sovereignty) of God.

Having blended a low view of Scripture with an implicit denial of original sin, with a humanized view of God, and with a skeptical stance toward the miraculous elements of Scripture, BioLogos is actually peddling a brand of religion that has much more in common with Socinianism than with biblical and historic Christianity.

Some of the scientific specialists at BioLogos make no profession of faith at all, as far as I can determine. I'm thinking, for one, about "Francisco Ayala, the former Dominican priest who went on to become one of the world’s leading evolutionary biologists." I wonder: did he leave the priesthood because he lost his "faith" completely? According to the New York Times, "Dr. Ayala will not say whether he remains a religious believer."

“I don’t want to be tagged,” he said. “By one side or the other.”

Let's face it: statements of faith aren't really a BioLogos "thing." The organization has no formal doctrinal standard and (as far as I can tell) no real theological boundaries at all. Everything is negotiable. Scripture is rarely if ever defended. Evangelical truth is not proclaimed at BioLogos. What does get aggressive promotion and a vigorous defense is anything that undermines a high view of Scripture. And why not? Open Theism, Sadduceeism, and neoorthodox notions about inspiration and inerrancy are rooted in the same kind of skepticism that underlies BioLogos's treatment of the early chapters of Genesis.

Here is the closest thing to an official statement of faith you'll find on the BioLogos website: "We believe that the Bible is the inspired Word of God." Really? Perhaps if we posit an infinitely flexible definition of the word inspired, a claim like that might have a some thin thread of credibility. But search and see for yourself: BioLogos's website is full of articles attacking the accuracy, believability, authority, and verbal inspiration of Scripture. I can't find a single article where any of the contested claims of Scripture are defended against the attacks of secular materialists.

But here is what "faith" really looks like in practice at BioLogos: "I have no interest in preserving Christianity . . . I believe because, as I understand it, it makes sense of human experience. But if it turns out that Christianity fails to do that, I’ll simply turn elsewhere"—Kenton Sparks, BioLogos blogger.

BioLogos says their goal is to integrate the findings of science with Christian Faith. But let's face it: on the "faith" side of the chasm, BioLogos is almost entirely bankrupt. Whatever BioLogos is peddling, it isn't Christianity. It isn't faith of any kind. It's scientism masquerading as faith—but lacking in spiritual, philosophical, and intellectual integrity.

To be more precise, it's a sterile hybrid of scientism and Socinianism. That's why the BioLogos crew frankly aren't interested in defending what the church has affirmed for 2000 years. Their real goal is to marginalize key features of Christian belief and biblical truth that scientists have disputed for the past 200 years. On close examination, BioLogos looks very much like a campaign against Christianity, funded by a hefty Templeton grant. In effect, that's precisely what it is.

I'm not suggesting that's the conscious intent of all BioLogos's key participants. While I despise what they are doing, I'm willing to give them the benefit of the doubt when it comes to motive. Still, whatever their motives, what they are actually doing is destructive to genuine faith and subversive of the authority of Scripture. It is not something that deserves the support of faithful Christians.

And this is the key point: You can't legitimately claim to be trying to reconcile science and the Christian faith if your methodology entails systematically dismantling the very foundations of Christianity.

Phil's signature



PS: BioLogos's ambivalence toward original sin is curious, because there's no doctrine in all the Bible that comes replete with more empirical evidence. Not that I recomend the methodology, but if someone wanted to subject a Christian doctrine to scientific analysis, it would be hard to think of a better place to start. To quote Chesterton:
Modern masters of science are much impressed with the need of beginning all inquiry with a fact. The ancient masters of religion were quite equally impressed with that necessity. They began with the fact of sin—a fact as practical as potatoes. Whether or no man could be washed in miraculous waters, there was no doubt at any rate that he wanted washing. But certain religious leaders in London, not mere materialists, have begun in our day not to deny the highly disputable water, but to deny the indisputable dirt. Certain new theologians dispute original sin, which is the only part of Christian theology which can really be proved. Some followers of the Reverend R. J. Campbell, in their almost too fastidious spirituality, admit divine sinlessness, which they cannot see even in their dreams. But they essentially deny human sin, which they can see in the street.

11 July 2010

Why the unregenerate (no matter how smart or how benevolent) just don't get it

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 "Natural or Spiritual?"—a sermon preached on Sunday morning 1 September 1861, at the Met Tab in London.




t is a well-known fact, and one which can be proved by the observation of every day, that the natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God. Mark, we lay this down as a rule.

We do not say that the drunken or debauched natural man receives not the things of God. That is true; but we also insist upon it that the delicate and the refined natural man receives not the things of the Spirit of God. I do not pick out some one case, and say the uneducated, illiterate, coarse, low-minded natural man cannot comprehend spiritual things; but all alike, the most intelligent, enlightened, and trained natural men, equally, do not, and cannot, and will not comprehend the things of the Spirit of God. Like our apostle, we take a wide range, and do not leave out one.

However amiable in natural temperament, however well trained by the best parental associations, however kept in check by the most excellent position in providence, however patriotic, however self-denying, however benevolent, however estimable in any other respects, the natural man does not and cannot receive the things of the Spirit of God.

Now—look around and search for the facts which prove the truth of this. How many natural men there are, and such as you would call good men too in some ways, who oppose violently the things of the Spirit of God? They do not believe them; nay, they say they are a lie. They cannot understand how men should be simpletons enough to believe such ridiculous things. Honestly do they imagine that they shall be snapping the chains of priestcraft and unrivetting the fetters of superstition, if they should come forward and attempt to prove that these spiritual things are a mere delusion.

There, gentlemen, we have lived to see you, under a profession of religion, actually oppose those spiritual things which this religion teaches. We have lived to see what we scarcely ever dreamed to be possible—clergymen of the Church of England themselves denying the truths which they swore they would defend, and in their "Essays and Reviews" seeking to cast down those spiritual things which once they professed to have understood when they claimed to have received the Holy Spirit by the laying on of the hands of their bishop.

We have not only in these times opened and avowed infidel lecturers who, like honest men deny everything openly, but we have the hypocritical Christian infidel who, like a dishonest thief and wolf in sheep's clothing, willing always to take the gain of godliness, denies godliness itself. Perhaps it was left for this age to permit wickedness to culminate to the highest, and to see the growth of the vilest hypocrisy that ever appeared among the sons of men.

We have had abundant proof that men of the most scientific minds, persons who have been exceedingly inquiring, men who have trod the realms of knowledge, and gone even to the seventh heaven of wisdom, that these have nevertheless proved that they could not receive the things of the kingdom of God, by their determined opposition and enmity against anything like the truth as it is in Jesus. When you hear them blaspheming the holy name of Christ, when you hear them bringing what they call "scientific facts" against the truth of revelation, be not amazed as though it were some new thing, but write this down in your memorandum book—the Holy Ghost said of old, "The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God," and these men live to prove that what the Spirit of God said was very truth.

A greater proportion of persons there are who do not so much oppose violently as more secretly despise and condemn. Well, they tell us, they dare say that the Christian religion is a very good thing for some people, and especially for old women and for persons that are on the borders of the grave, but still no rational being would endorse full all the doctrines of the gospel, and especially that particular form of them which John Calvin taught; for if there be any doctrines that excite more the spleen of the wise men than any other, it is the doctrines of grace, the doctrine of discriminating, distinguishing love, the doctrine of divine sovereignty, the doctrine of God, being really God, and not man.

Against these they have no words too bitter. "Oh," they say, "it is an exploded theory; it has had its day, and it has become effete," and so, without actually persecuting those who hold the truth, or without even setting themselves up by active efforts to put it down they do secretly with a sneer and with a jest, pass it by as a thing utterly unworthy of a rational person, a thing that is not for a moment to be thought of as being one half so important as the wing of a beetle, or as the particular flight of a sparrow, or the period of the migration of a swallow.

All the facts of natural history they think valuable and important, but these grander truths which have to do with the kingdom of God they despise utterly, and think they are but the dream of simpletons.

Again, I say, my brethren, marvel not at this. Let this be to you another argument that the Spirit of God knew what was in man, and rightly judged of the human heart when he said, "The natural man receiveth not the things of the Spirit of God."

C. H. Spurgeon


09 July 2010

Evangelical Bunko Artists

How I Learned the Hard Way that Pious Gullibility Is No Virtue
by Phil Johnson



y last temporary part-time job in college was proofreading at Moody Press. I was hired to work twelve hours a week for about four weeks in the summer of '76. I was getting my B. A. at the end of the short summer term, and after that I hoped to find work in some kind of local-church ministry for a year; then my plan was to enroll at Dallas Seminary the following fall.

But I loved the work at Moody Press so much that on the day before graduation I signed on to work there full time as an editorial assistant. That simple, unplanned, last-minute decision was the pivot on which my entire life and career have turned.

(Someday I'll blog a full account of how I was hired by Moody Press in the most unlikely of circumstances. I also have a hundred vivid memories of that summer and the following one that would make excellent blog-fodder. I lived in a brownstone walk-up two blocks from Wrigley, worked most nights in a downtown funeral home, ran the first Chicago marathon, sang in the Moody Church choir, and met and married Darlene. Those were the best of times.)


nyway, one of the first books I proofread for Moody was a biographical account of a young woman who said she had lived through a tragedy-filled childhood in utter poverty on a Kickapoo reservation, found Christ through a remarkable turn of providence, endured all kinds of persecution, but persevered to become a motivational speaker for evangelical women's groups.

Crying Wind was the name of both the book and the author. Within a year of its release, Crying Wind became Moody Press's best-selling book ever. It was an extremely well-told story, and a real tear-jerker. To read it was to establish a deeply sympathetic personal connection with the author.

I loved the book. Everyone did.

Crying Wind herself spent a day in the Moody Press office shortly after I finished checking her page proofs. She was there mainly to meet with our sales and marketing staff, but she went to lunch with the editorial team. In her book she had portrayed herself as shy and emotionally tender—easily intimidated. Our editorial staff was a sizable group of very strong personalities and sticklers for grammatical precision, not necessarily an easy group to warm up to all at once. Crying Wind had expressed misgivings about the unfamiliar big-city features of Chicago. So we were all keen to put her at ease.

At the time, she lived near Tulsa, literally in the neighborhood I came from. Growing up in Oklahoma, I had several Native-American friends and relatives, so I knew that she and I had a few things in common we could talk about. I had looked forward to meeting her.

Right away, many things about her surprised me. One was that I never would have guessed she had experienced all she described in her book. Nothing about her features, her verbal skills, or her mannerisms suggested that she was Native American or that she had grown up in abject poverty. For someone as deprived of education and as utterly isolated from Main-Street America as her book claimed, she was also amazingly conversant with pop culture. She looked and talked like a Wheaton College alum, which is not at all what I expected from her own description of life among the Kickapoo.

Having read her book, I was not surprised that she was a compelling story-teller. But what did surprise me about that was how many of the stories she told during lunch that day had the ring of familiarity. I had heard slightly different versions of at least three of her tales. For instance, she regaled us with the dead-cat-in-a-shopping bag story. I'd heard that story (with some slight differences) about a year earlier, but in Crying Wind's version it happened to someone she knew. That didn't trouble me a great deal, because I figured if it happened in Tulsa, I might have simply heard a third- or fourth-hand version. If Crying Wind personally knew the woman with the cat-in-the-bag, hers must be the canonical version of the tale.

I don't think the expression "urban myth" had been coined yet in 1977, but if I were going to describe her repertoire of stories today, I'd say it seemed like she culled them all from the pages of Snopes.com.

At the time I merely thought it a mind-blowing quirk of cosmic destiny that Crying Wind had so much personal involvement in so many amazing stories I'd already heard. At the time, I was young, naive, and no doubt willingly over-gullible. I wanted to believe her, and the almost supernatural serendipity of her tales merely increased the mystique of this amazing person.

Crying Wind—the book—became a runaway best seller. In fact, in less than two years it became (by far) the best-selling book Moody Press had ever published. Crying Wind wrote a sequel and by 1979 she was working on a third book. On the strength of her stories she had developed a thriving public ministry, speaking to large women's groups and churches. She always dressed in an authentic-looking native-American costume.

But by early 1979 a number of people were questioning Crying Wind's claims, including people from her own family. Moody Press investigated and soon learned that her entire story was fabricated. Crying Wind had no Native American ancestors. Her real name was Linda Davison Stafford. She had grown up and gone to high school in Woodland Park, Colorado, where she earned awards in creative writing.

Furthermore, many of the major plot points in her story bore an uncanny resemblance to another author's phony life story. If I recall correctly, in a 1979 Christianity Today article about the fraud, they published her photo from a high-school yearbook. She was clearly a product of white middle-class American culture, not at all what she had claimed.



To Moody Press's credit, they were the first to expose the fraud, and they immediately dropped Mrs. Stafford's books from their line, even though both volumes were still (at the time) atop the Christian best-seller lists. Warren Wiersbe (my pastor in those days and a good friend to me) wryly told me he thought Moody Press should simply change the book's title to Shooting Bull and keep it in their line as a fiction book.

He was joking, of course, but a few years later, Harvest House did virtually that. They picked up the book without changing a thing (not even the cover art), called it a "biographical novel," and re-released it. Crying Wind herself continued speaking to women's groups in her Indian costume. Most of them had heard all about the scandal, of course, but they wanted to believe her story. They wanted it to be true so badly that many of them convinced themselves that Moody Press (and others who had merely told the truth) were the real villains in the whole ordeal.

Crying Wind is not so well known today, but she is still speaking to evangelical groups under the pretense that her books tell "her life story as she remembers it."

Several Native American groups even list her books as valuable resources. The fraud she perpetrated, though definitively exposed and debunked more than thirty-one years ago, still lives on.

She's not alone. Over the past 40 years, the evangelical movement has given birth to dozens of flash-in-the-pan phonies, frauds, and bunko artists. John Todd, Mike Warnke, Alberto Rivera, Bob Larson, and Ted Haggard are a few names that come to mind. Todd and Rivera are both dead, but Jack Chick continues to publish their fraudulent claims as true. All the others, though now out of the mainstream, are still engaged in some form of public "ministry" today—still profiting off reputations woven with webs of lies.

This is relevant, of course, to the case of Ergun Caner, erstwhile Dean of Liberty Baptist Theological Seminary. For most of the past decade, Caner has been making demonstrably false claims exaggerating his childhood involvement in Islamic fundamentalism, his early indoctrination in the politics of Jihad, and his post-conversion "debates" with Islamic clerics.

Liberty University investigated his claims, acknowledged that he had made "factual statements that are self-contradictory," demoted him from the presidency of their seminary, and issued a statement announcing that Caner has "apologized for the discrepancies and misstatements." But they kept him on their faculty, and the Liberty party-line seems to be that the investigation actually "exonerated" Caner.

Those who questioned Caner's honesty in the first place are clamoring for more precise answers to some very specific questions. Caner himself is saying nothing, and no less than Norman Geisler has issued a series of statements more or less in defense of Caner—basically suggesting that the whole controversy in the first place was a Muslim-Calvinist conspiracy to discredit Caner.

When I read Dr. Geisler's articles on the Caner scandal, it brought to mind a meeting I had with Dr. Geisler during the big Council on Biblical Inerrancy convention in San Diego in 1982. I was still working for Moody Press at the time, and Dr. Geisler was one of our authors. I needed to meet with him to discuss the cover design for Moody's re-release of A General Introduction to the Bible. That question was settled fairly quickly, and then we had a long discussion over dinner about the state of evangelicalism. The Crying Wind scandal came up in our conversation that evening, and Dr. Geisler expressed his dismay over the pious gullibility of evangelicals.

He was exactly right about that.

For the very same reason he is wrong about the Caner situation today.

However, the pathetic track record of evangelicals' consistent failure in dealing with frauds and bunko artists in our midst leads me to be pessimistic about any real resolution in the Caner scandal. The Liberty investigation most definitely did not "exonerate" Caner, but he remains on the Liberty faculty. Caner himself is stonewalling while a handful of his most outspoken supporters are doing their best to demonize his critics. If Liberty continues officially to offer sanctuary to Caner, he will eventually be able to weather the controversy without ever actually admitting any specific wrongdoing. Evangelicals—who have no stomach for protracted controversies and a 40-year habit of offering unconditional restoration to fallen leaders whether they truly repent or not—will soon turn against Caner's critics.

Of course, by this approach Caner, Liberty, and the little cadre of Arminian bloggers who are determined no-matter-what to defend Caner have already lost all credibility with those who love truth. That loss will most likely be permanent. Sadly, it is another major loss for American-style Evangelicalism, which has already made itself a laughingstock for all the wrong reasons.

Phil's signature

08 July 2010

Book impressions — Zondervan Encyclopedia of the Bible, edited by Moisés Silva

by Dan Phillips

Zondervan Encyclopedia of the Bible, ed. by Moisés Silva
(Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 2009; 5 volumes)

The 1975 edition of the Zondervan Pictorial Encyclopedia of the Bible (ZPEB) was an interesting creature. It was filled with line-drawings, charts, and B/W photos. Additionally, there were sections of color photographs, and maps. The contributors were a constellation of leading conservative scholars of that generation, including such luminaries as Oswald T. Allis, E. M. Blaiklock, James O. Buswell, III, Gordon H. Clark, John Murray, J. Barton Payne, Charles L. Feinberg, Carl F. H.. Henry, and many others. (There were giants in the land in those days; who are their like, today?) The editors themselves were leading conservative scholars: Merrill C. Tenney (General Editor), Gleason L. Archer, Jr. and R. Laird Harris (Old Testament). Renowned scholars a bit more to the left also featured, such as F. F. Bruce, Robert H. Gundry, H. L. Ellison, and Paul J. Jewett.

What of the content? It was very solid, though one occasionally had the feel of some haste, that the whole would have benefited from more editing. There were some errors, and there was the DOG.  "What dog?",  you ask. In the first printing, the article on DOG had this as the illustration:


As you might imagine, this caused some merriment. What did that line-drawing add to the article? Did they envision a reader saying to himself, "'Dog'...'dog'... hm, if only I had some idea of what a 'dog' looked like..."?

Subsequent printings quietly replaced the drawing with a picture of some bas-relief dog, as I recall.

The ZPEB was probably surpassed in use by the new edition of Eerdmans' International Standard Bible Encyclopedia, which also had a constellation of contributors, and was well-edited and laid out. Over the years, I came to depend more on the ISBE than on the ZPEB.

I imagine someone saying at this point, "Uh, dude? This is a review of the revision? Can you maybe join us in the present, stop rattling on about the 1975 edition?"

I'd love to, but the question is the degree to which the Zondervan Encyclopedia of the Bible (ZEB) has done so. I will 'splain.

But first, my initial impressions. The ZEB, of which I was graciously provided a review set, is quite a bit smaller than the ZPEB.


This has been achieved, however, at the expense of much thinner pages. If you are a fellow highlighter (Sharpie Accent marker, yellow [never fluorescent], #27005), there is a slight bleed-factor in the ZEB, whereas the ZPEB had none. On the other hand, the pages are now filled with nice-quality color pictures. However, due to the thin pages, you can see text through the pictures. But the ZEB has a generous margin of 1 5/16" by the text, over against 7/16" in the ZPEB. That is triple the margin, and it's a very nice improvement.



The font ratio of the article titles to the headings is odd. They both seem to bold, same type, same size, so as to compete with one another. Indeed, when the article heading is lower-case, one has the unusual impression that the headings out-size the article titles.


What of the contents? See, that's where it gets still odder. I'm not absolutely certain what is the point of the ZEB, exactly.

In his introduction, Silva basically says that he left most of the 34-year-old articles as-is. Plus, none of the original contributors was allowed to revise his articles. Huh? Silva does say he made some changes and updates, but not all of these changes are noted in the articles, and none is specified in the foreword — with the exception of the fact that he updated the Bibliographies.

There are new contributors, but not many. By my count, there are 255 total contributors (plus Silva, whose contributions are not detailed). Of those 255, only 15 are new, meaning that 240 contributors (and their articles) remain as-is. The newcomers are either not as famous as their predecessors, or I've lost touch. Of the fifteen new contributors, I only readily recognize Richard Gaffin, John Frame (1 article), and Grant Osborne. Maybe that's a negative comment on me, but there it is.

So, does it matter? Of course, I've not read all the ZEB, but one can envision some issues and persons who have become hot points in the last 30+ years. For instance, N. T. Wright. Could an article be published today on, say, justification, or righteousness, or Paul, without interacting with Wright, or at least noticing him?

Evidently it could. In fact, the article on Justification is just sort of odd to read today. It's written by Lutheran pastor L.M. Peterson and, while there's good content, it is written as if for Lutherans, citing Lutheran works and creeds. Same outline as in the 1975 edition, only change to the contents I see easily being removal of the Greek words from the beginning. None of the wealth of literature post-1975 (some of it in response to Wright) is noted, much less interacted with. Wright doesn't even show up in the Bibliography of this article, surely a major omission. Carson's Variegated Nomism, a response to Wright, does appear. Odd, eh?

I seem to keep using that word.

Similarly the article on Righteousness by Addison H. Leitch (who died in 1973) is 18 pages, yet contains no mention of Wright, nor interaction with recent literature. Ditto Atonement, by Paul K. Jewett (died 1991). In Pauline Theology (Richard Longenecker, still living but not allowed to revise article), Wright appears — but only in the Bibliography.

How else to check for timeliness? I found no article on Wisdom Literature per se, so can't measure if the last three decades' work is reflected. A. K. Helmbold's article on Proverbs does not interact with the rich crop of literature dating from after the 1960s, let alone the commentaries of Fox, Waltke, or Garrett. The article on Hebrew poetry by R. K. Harrison (died 1993) is solid and thorough, but does not reflect the work of Kugel (1981), Watson (1984), or other more recent writers. The article on the life of Jesus seems to be Donald Guthrie's original article (later made into a standalone book), with no updates for the last 30+ years of Jesus-studies.

So what is new? Well, instead of using KJV-RSV-ASV, the new version uses NIV-TNIV-NRSV. In "going there" rather than using (say) the ESV, there is not only a change of translation, but of translation-philosophy. Odd? Readers will vary in their estimation as to whether the NIV/TNIV is a step up.

Additionally, we are told that "hundreds of brief new articles have been added, making it easer for the user now to obtain quick information on a broad range of relevant topics" (1:v). Such as? "Akiba, rabbi" (unsigned, about 160 words), "Aleppo" (unsigned, about 45 words), "amanuensis" (unsigned, about 125 words), and "rhetorical criticism" (unsigned, about 180 words).

But there are about 20 new major articles. Are they by leading authorities? Here are some of them:
  • "Apologetics," by William Edgar
  • "Cartography, Biblical," by Barry Beitzel
  • "Deuteronomic History," by J. Alan Groves
  • "Ebla," by Richard S. Hess
  • "Ethics in the Old Testament," by Esteban Voth
  • "Ethics of Paul," by Alexander Cheung
  • "God, Biblical Doctrine of," by John M. Frame
  • "Pseudonimity," by Stanley Porter
  • "Type, Typology," by Grant R. Osborne
  • "Union with Christ," by Richard B. Gaffin, Jr.
  • "Warrior, Divine," by Tremper Longman III
Other articles ("various"; "others") have been totally rewritten, such as those on "Greek," "Septuagint"; or updated, such as "Archaeology," "Biblical Criticism," "Dead Sea Scrolls," or "Versions of the Bible." To single out one, the "Archaeology" article has an appended entry titled "Biblical archaeology since 1975," adding about 1736 words to the article.

Yet here's another... wait for it... odd thing. The ZPEB article on the Flood (Genesis) was by local-flood proponent W. U. Ault. Ditto ZEB. The outline is the same. The article references articles and books from 1951, 1937, 1946, 1964... I saw no recent addition until the very end. The revised actually has fewer illustrations than the original. But here's the really odd thing: the ZPEB article ends with thirty-five lines of bibliographical entries... and they're all gone in the ZEB revision. Instead, the article now ends with a single inserted reference to a D. A. Young book from 1995! This is an odd exception to the other articles, where the original bibliographies are supplemented with more recent entries.

Odd, eh?

Upshot. So, what do I think? I'm puzzled. I am, as I said, unsure as to why the project was undertaken. It isn't even close to a full revision, nor even a full updating. It's basically the 1975 encyclopedia on thinner pages, with wider margins, a lot more color pictures, updated bibliographies, less than two dozen major new signed articles, hundreds of minor unsigned articles, and an unspecified number of updates.

So in sum: it is graphically an improvement over the 1975 edition (apart from the font issue), but not a whole lot more up to date, as far as I could tell. For personal or family use, and as a reference for Bible studies this may matter little. The absolutely stellar quality of the original contributors means that their work will have lasting value. For pastors and seminarians, the dated nature of some of the articles will matter more.

Dan Phillips's signature

07 July 2010

The Portrait

by Frank Turk

All this thinking about how to love people reminds me of a story. I heard it in church about a year and a half ago, so it shouldn't offend too many people.



There was a young man -- a doctor -- who was sent off to war, and he left behind a young wife and a 7-month-old baby girl. He was away at the war for two years, and was faithful to his wife. In writing to her frequently, he sent back a portrait of himself to her and the baby as a promise that he would return home soon.

He returned two years later, and the baby was now a toddler who didn't know him. In fact, in some ways she didn't want him in their house. He was a stranger, and he didn't belong. She only knew the portrait.

One Saturday the young doctor was sitting on the couch reading the paper when the toddler got up from her bed and slowly came down the stairs. He didn't want to antagonize her, so he just sat and read, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

She started in the kitchen, then the dining room, then came into the living room sort of watching him, sizing him up. She came to the other end of the sofa, and then pointed at the portrait.

"That's my daddy. Some day he's coming home," she said, looking at the portrait.

He lowered the paper, and looked at her -- both bursting with pride at her confidence and aching on the inside from her ignorance.

She looked at him again, and pointed at the portrait. "That's my daddy," she said certainly, and looked straight at the young doctor.

Then there was a curious silence as her face changed.

"You're my daddy," she said breathlessly.






06 July 2010

Don't waste your feeling-really-yucky

by Dan Phillips

John Piper's Don't Waste Your Cancer is solid, thought-provoking, and challenging. But most of us don't have cancer, just now. In fact, most of us are probably in pretty good health, except for occasional bouts of yuckiness.

I'm coming off of such a bout. My youngest boys just returned from a week at Boy Scouts' camp, the last full day of which they spent with what seems to have been a touch of stomach flu. Theirs was evidently a hungry and ambitious bug, because it made a lightning-like leap to me (and possibly now my dear wife). The boys got home Saturday; by Sunday night, I was coming down with it; my Monday morning, I was laid low with it.

I'll spare you the gross details. (The boys didn't, however, bringing home photographic evidence.  Boys; gotta love 'em.)



Worse than the dramatic eruptions (impressive enough to spark a nosebleed at one point) was this horrid pall of malaise, of just lacking the energy or drive to do anything but lie there and feel sorry for myself. My dear wife did what she could, but mostly I just needed to wait it out, get some liquid to stay in my stomach.

On the scale of human misery, it was a blip, not even a needle-mover. But it pretty much stopped me for a day.

Wish I could tell you I took the time to write a new improved Institutes, but I didn't, and that's the point. It's hard to rally yourself to do much when all your "rally" is languishing in the sewer. So here's what I was able to muster, which I share for any good it might do you when you get a dose of the yuckies:
  1. I did my Bible reading as devotedly as I could.
  2. I thanked God that I was spared until after I'd preached Sunday morning.
  3. I thanked God that I was spared until after I'd been able to enjoy family-time, barbecuing and blowing things up on the evening of the Fourth.
  4. I prayed for everyone else who was there, that they'd not get it.
  5. I thanked God that I am usually in relatively excellent health, and can't even remember for sure the last time I felt this bad.
  6. I thought of the people I know who are being treated for cancer; thought of how they probably usually feel this bad, and renewed my prayers for them.
  7. I thought of the sure reality that I'm living in a clay pot and that, if the Lord doesn't catch me to Himself first, one day it will fail and fall.
  8. I took joy in the truth and hope that one day I will be like Him, because I will see Him as He is, and He will transform my body to be like His — and then all "yuckies," and even all threat or possibility of "yuckies," will be forever a thing of the past (Philippians 3:20-21; 1 John 3:2; Revelation 21:4).
It's not Piper, I know that. But I'm not 100% yet, and it's what I've got.

Dan Phillips's signature