In the day of the coming Kingdom, it will not be necessary to write endless volumes on Christian “evidences” and “apologetics.” Debates on the existence of God will become absurd and obsolete, suited only to be classed with arguments over the existence of sunlight.
Alva J. McClain, The Greatness of the Kingdom, 176.
To the best of my knowledge, I’ve never engaged KJV-onlyism on this blog, and I don’t intend to make it anything like a regular topic. However, I recently stumbled upon this article from Sam Gipp, and decided that it was interesting enough to merit a remark or two.
If you didn’t click the link, the gist of Gipp’s claim is this: if all KJV-only proponents were to announce that they had become NIV-only, those who object to KJV-onlyism would still be unsatisfied. This dissatisfaction indicates (to Gipp) that his opponents object not merely the supposed perfection of the King James, but are inclined to reject any book as God’s revealed, unquestionable authority.
But, don’t believe me! Go ask one. Say to an opponent of the King James Bible, “If tomorrow all the King James Bible believers recanted their belief and said it wasn’t perfect, would that be good?” See what they say. Then add, “They all said they threw out their King James Bibles because they had come to realize that it’s actually the New International Version that is the perfect Word of God without error. What do you think of that?” See what they say!
Their hatred isn’t for us. It’s for the One who put a perfect Bible on this earth and forced them into such a tight spot!
In reply, this is nothing like a good argument, but it’s a new one (at least to me), and so has that going for it. I’ve heard opponents of KJV-onlyism joke about becoming NIV-only, but I’ve never heard a KJV-only proponent suggest it as a basis for his defense of the King James.
It seems to me that Gipp’s claim is very similar to those who insist that doctors really aren’t interested in a cure for cancer, because should such a cure be found, the medical industry would lose so much money (in research funding, current extensive treatments, etc.). While one could make this case sound plausible economically, it is only believable if you are convinced that a good majority of doctors are truly sub-human, merciless creatures. Even the most robust belief in total depravity hardly underwrites such cynicism.
A similar maliciousness is necessary to believe that all of those doing textual criticism are not really interested in determining the original readings at all, but are instead interested only in preserving doubt about the text (presumably for the sake of employment, book deals, etc.). Perhaps such folks do exist; Bart Ehrman comes to mind in this regard. But, then, no one is suggesting that Ehrman’s pursuit of textual criticism (at least on the popular level) has anything to do with finding the original text in the first place.
So Gipp has offered us a question: “What if we became NIV-only?” I’m offering a counter-question: “What (non-question-begging) reason do have for thinking that those studying textual criticism have no real interest in finding the original, authoritative text?”
Our cultural distance from the biblical authors often complicates our full appreciation of their message. For example, because we have essentially no experience of what it is like to have a king, the biblical claim that Christ is a king is one that fails to fully register with us. Only when we come to realize how deeply we (I speak here primarily of Americans) hate kings can we begin to consider the radical authority of Jesus, and how counter-cultural the Christian message is at this point.
Sometimes, however, cultural shifts may make certain biblical images more accessible; the recent debacle involving Rep. Anthony Weiner, I suggest, signals one such shift.
Revelation 20:12
And I saw the dead, great and small, standing before the throne, and books were opened. Another book was opened, which is the book of life. The dead were judged according to what they had done as recorded in the books.
The pervasiveness/invasiveness of electronic media is, to a great degree, creating a society in which, if not every idle word, at least a great many of our idle words are recorded and can be opened in judgment against us.
At this year’s Conference on Conservative Christianity (which concluded yesterday), Steve Thomas of Huron Baptist Church made a point in one of his sessions that I found remarkably insightful. Most of those attending the conference would either embrace the regulative principle of worship outright, or would advocate something very much like the regulative principle. The contrasting position (the normative principle) would be viewed by most conservatives with some suspicion, as it is typically defended as the basis for allowing innovation in the church.
And yet, as Pastor Thomas observed, the original impetus for Luther’s advocacy of the normative principle was actually a conserving, traditional impulse. Luther did not endorse the normative principle because he wanted to innovate; he endorsed it because he saw wisdom in maintaining the not-specifically-authorized-in-Scripture worship practices that had become common in the Roman church. Because such practices were not forbidden in Scripture, Luther did not see the need to terminate them immediately and risk alienating those for whom such practices had become normal.
Thus, modern advocates of the normative principle, who find in it license to add elements to the liturgy and task of the church that are not authorized in Scripture, still violate the spirit of the normative principle.
I am among those convinced that every media shapes its message; further, when employed extensively, the media shapes the messenger.
For the first claim: when you choose to blog, or tweet, or make a phone call, or put up a billboard, the medium that you employ constrains your message; if constrain is too strong a term, the medium at least presses your message to fit certain parameters. Thus, you could tweet the next great American novel, 140 characters at a time. But you’d be fighting the medium. Or you could put up a billboard with a 10,000 word refutation of Harold Camping; there’s certainly enough space on a billboard, right? But, again, you’d be fighting the medium.
This much oughtn’t be tremendously controversial. But taking this one step further, I believe that the medium of communication that we employ not only molds what we express, but, when such a medium becomes our primary mode of expression, it also pushes us to certain patterns of thought. Twitter is a great example here: if you’re an active user of Twitter, you start to become aware of items in your daily experience that would make great tweets. I assume photographers experience a similar phenomenon: they see pictures in their ordinary experience that the rest of us miss, because we are not accustomed to express ourselves in that medium.
All that to set up my point: I think that Christian blogging, tweeting, and Facebooking incline us to look at things a certain way, and I’m not convinced that this is good for us. Let me cite two examples.
First example: I must confess that I found the Facebook brouhaha that erupted after the killing of Osama bin Laden amusing. Essentially, the matter became an occasion for tossing verses back and forth; some favored the verses which speak of exulting when justice is done, others the verses which warn us against rejoicing in the misfortune of our enemies. It is not my intent to offer any evaluation of the merits of these positions; I’m merely observing the phenomenon.
Second example: I noted that, on Mother’s Day, several people (some notable Christian spokesmen) offered thoughts to this effect: “Let’s consider, on Mother’s Day, those without mothers, those barren, etc.” Again, I do not in any way wish to make light of this admonition; I’m drawing attention to it to make a broader point.
And that point is this: I believe that for many of us, social media tools press us (especially those believers who have some influence) to publish an insightful angle our topics, preferably before anyone beats us to it. And as Christians, that “insightful angle” tends to be accompanied with a (variably) subtle message: “you really should have thought of this, if you were really spiritual/gospel-centered/etc.,” and “aren’t you glad I noticed it?”
The upshot of this is not that we should refrain from posting insightful, contrarian bits of wisdom. The point is that we must be aware of the truly egomaniacal tendencies that these media foster.
And I must add the obvious disclaimer: I’m well aware of the self-refuting nature of a post like this, delivered by this medium.
With respect to this matter of non-existence, it would seem then that four theoretical possibilities are open. There may be those (a) who think it reasonable to doubt the existence of God but unreasonable to think of the non-existence of the universe. There may be those (b) who think it possible to think intelligibly of the non-existence of both God and the universe. There may be those (c) who think it impossible to think intelligibly of the non-existence of either the universe or of God. Finally, there may be those (d) who think it possible to think intelligibly of the nonexistence of the universe but impossible to think intelligibly of the nonexistence of God.
Of these various possibilities it will at once be observed that the acceptance of any of the first three positions puts one on the antitheistic side of the argument. Only the last position is consistent with theism. But it will also be observed that in many instances any one of the first three positions is taken for granted at the beginning of an argument without awareness of the fact that those holding the position have therewith foreclosed to themselves the possibility of arriving at a theistic conclusion. In other words, any one of these three positions is thought to be consistent with the application of a strictly empirical method of research which, it is thought, may lead to any conclusion whatsoever.
Cornelius Van Til, A Survey of Christian Epistemology.
About a month ago now, Mike Cosper wrote a post for the Gospel Coalition blog asking us to consider what we can learn from the band Radiohead. In particular, he highlights the increased electronic element in their sound, drowning out anything human. Cosper informs us that Thom Yorke’s lyrics point out the bleakness and despair of world increasingly dominated by the machine, by the computer. Understood in this way, Radiohead’s music is an exercise in irony.
Such a message, no matter how insightful, seems fatally undermined when we consider the degree to which Radiohead has profited by their contribution to the very problem they lament. To offer a parallel: there is no small element of irony in Neil Postman’s appearing on a television interview to discuss the ways in which television undermines serious discourse. But who could take Postman seriously if he had a nightly television program dedicated to that topic, if he were a celebrity for being exactly the sort of talking head he impugns? This, to me, seems to be Radiohead’s position, and for that reason, to attribute to them some kind of knowing social critique is far more generous than they merit.
But what does it mean to show us what the metaphysical traits of “being” really are, when, admittedly, nothing can be said about these traits? And are we not supposed to be done with metaphysical traits and with a “being” of which no one can say anything? It were better if Wittgenstein had included science as well as metaphysics when he said, “Wovon man nicht kann sprechen, daruber soll man schweigen.” Modern science has imposed silence upon God but in doing so, it was compelled to impose silence on itself. Modern science boldly asks for a criterion of meaning when one speaks to him of Christ. He assumes that he himself has a criterion, a principle of verification and of falsification, by which he can establish for himself a self-supporting island floating on a shoreless sea. But when he is asked to show his criterion as it functions in experience, every fact is indeterminate, lost in darkness; no one can identify a single fact, and all logic is like a sun that is always behind the clouds.
Cornelius Van Til, Christian Theistic Evidences
Last year, I posted about a small booklet Scott Aniol and I assembled for use as a Good Friday meditation. The booklet includes several hymns about Christ’s passion, as well as poems by George Herbert and John Donne. We used this last year for the Good Friday service at Huron Baptist Church. I believe it would be suitable for family or small group use as well.
The temptation to cover ecclesiastical scandal ensnares us only when we have already succumbed to an even more insidious temptation, to believe that this ministry or (worse) this man is indispensable to God’s work. If we hope to overcome the temptation to cover scandal when (Lord, help us!) it arises, we must be relentless in our always-present battle with pride.
Diakrisis 