That's how I would describe the third installment of Thomas Cahill's "Hinges of History" series entitled, Desire of the Everlasting Hills: The World Before and After Jesus. To complete the analogy; his first book, How the Irish Saved Civilization, was a home run in the 8th or 9th inning for a team down by a few runs but who ultimately wins, revitalized by the solo shot. I was not expecting that book to be as good as it is and dedicated myself to the whole series, after having read it. It enlightens us on an aspect of Western history that we know little about and gives me greater appreciation for Celtic Christianity's role in the history of the Church and Her development and influence in that particular period. Cahill's second book, The Gifts of the Jews: How a Tribe of Desert Nomads Changed the Way Everyone Thinks and Feels, is a flat out grand slam (read my views on it here). It is vital for every Christian to be intimately familiar with the Old Testament. Cahill makes the point that, in order to truly understand who we are and from whence we've come as a civilization, it is vital for every westerner, regardless of religion or lack thereof, to understand Jewish history and how they revolutionized the world.
So why is his latest book a three-run triple? I've scored this hit with particularity. First of all, I just can’t bring myself to call it a home run, due to that fact that Cahill would not allow himself to proclaim that Jesus is God or that the New Testament proclaims such a message. I John 5:12 states, "He who has the Son has the life." If you don’t believe that Jesus is God, you don’t "have the Son." While, refreshingly, Cahill often challenges some of the popular and ridiculous conclusions of the Jesus Seminar — and others of their ilk — regarding the historicity of the Gospels, at other times he follows the modern, antisupernaturalist scholarly line, proposing that the divinity of Jesus is a development of the later Church and not something that anyone who actually knew Jesus actually believed.
"In this dialogue [between Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well in John 4], as in the one with Nathaniel [in John 1], Jesus possesses some of the ease and humor of the Synoptic Jesus surely, but he is now all-knowing, which he is never shown to be in Mark and Matthew, and of which there are but occasional flashes in Luke." (p. 268)
"… never shown to be in …"?!?! A cursory reading of any Gospel reveals Jesus as divine and each clearly portrays Him as sharing in the Father's omniscience. To deny this is to be caught up in the criticism and skepticism of a New Testament scholarship that won’t let the Bible say what it actually and plainly says. For all of the wonderful truths that Cahill brings to light, I can’t call his book a home run because he won’t call Jesus God or let the early Christians believe that He was. The book has many such uncomfortable and ultimately disagreeable moments and it is clear that he did not even try to engage with any conservative New Testament scholarship that would challenge these critical/skeptical views.
But on to the three runs. As with his other books, Cahill writes compellingly and makes connections that aren't always made in Biblical/historical studies. The first chapter of the book is a 50-page account of Greco-Roman history and how that history involved and influenced the Jews. This introduction sets the stage for the kind of Savior that the people in the first century, of whatever persuasion, would have been expecting. The remaining chapters reveal how Jesus met all such expectations, no matter how unexpectedly He may have done so, and how His Person is interwoven into the fabric of our civilization in a way that we will never be able to get rid of, nor should we attempt to. Cahill talks about Jesus as a new believer might, with fresh insights that those of us who have walked with Jesus for some time may have forgotten or at least failed to reflect on recently. The book is not recommended for someone looking for Evangelical exposition or even broadly Christian theological reflection. It is recommended for someone who is looking for good writing and a perspective on Jesus that is unique and that will cause you to be that much more appreciative of your Christian heritage. I don’t intend for the three runs to correspond to three particular truths that I think Cahill poignantly illiterates. I do intend for the three runs to convey that, even though it's not a home run, Desire of the Everlasting Hills is worth reading and has whet my appetite for book four.
Sunday, December 30, 2007
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
A Quick Word About Character
Now that it's been a week since the Boston Red Sox destroyed my beloved Angels in the ALDS, and I've had a chance to calm down, I think I can write more reflectively and less reactionary on what I observed. I can't make any excuses for the Angels because the Red Sox beat them in every conceivable category. So, my comments are not so much about the details of the game as they are about how the game was played. My basic thoughts are the same as they were a week ago, I'm just less hot-headed about them. It does help my soul that the Red Sox are down two games to one in the ALCS. Go Cleveland!
I'll start off by saying that my observations don't have a lot of statistical verification. As I'll explain, I'm working from a very small sample and what I have to say may be contrary to reality. But all I have to go on, in this case, are my observations so, I'll speak my peace and let those of you who can refute me, do so in the comments.
Since 2002, I've been to approximately fifty Angel games and watched about as many on TV. I've listened to probably a hundred but, as you'll see, that doesn't help my case. I've also watched several hundred mlb.com video clips of game highlights. In that same time period, I've seen maybe five Boston Red Sox games that didn't involve the Angels, and none of them were live. Obviously, we're dealing with imbalanced research and substandard investigative reporting.
However, the imbalance highlights my point. You see, in all of my experience with the Angels, it isn't often that they show poor character. Back when Troy Glaus was an Angel, he would swear every few games after a strikeout, which is amazing considering how often he struck out. Jarrod Washburn had a tendency to swear every now and then when a batter would hit one out of the park — also amazing considering how often he gave up home runs. And our wonderful Texan, John Lackey, doesn't always display his best side when he has a bad outing. When things are going well for the Angels, there is relatively little showboating or grandstanding. No throwing of the bat or raised arms when it is clear that the ball is headed out of the park and definitely no "joyful swearing?" when a double play is turned. In general, I'm proud of how the Angels carry themselves as they play the game.
The Red Sox have a completely different field presence. During the last few weeks of the season, I saw Dustin Pedroia — likely this year's rookie of the year — turn a double play and let out an enthusiastic "f*@# yeah!" When Jonathan Papelbon struck out an Angel to end the inning in the second game of the ALDS, there was no mistaking that he felt it necessary to give us all a, "yeah, yeah, f*@# yeah!" This is what the Red Sox do when they do something good! Not to mention that David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez — in this year's ALDS, at least — couldn't hit one out without throwing the bat, admiring their performance for what seemed an eternity and walking half way to first with their hands raised in the air. Their showboating or grandstanding puts Barry Bonds to shame.
After realizing that the Red Sox are a team full of the kind of people that I don't want my son to grow up admiring , i.e. people with lots of talent but with egos and attitudes that render that talent morally worthless, and that the Angels are, for the most part, the kind of people I want my son admiring, I found myself actually believing the ol' cliché, "It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game." I would have loved to watch the Angels take the World Series this year, to see Vlad Guerrero finally get a ring, to see Garret Anderson prove himself in the latter part of his career. But if they'd have had to act like the Red Sox to do it, no thanks. I'll settle for the AL West Championship and proudly dress my kid in Angel gear, knowing that the character they exhibit is the kind I'd like him to exhibit as he grows up and learns to play sports, study in school and live life. Character does matter. Keep it up Angels.
I'll start off by saying that my observations don't have a lot of statistical verification. As I'll explain, I'm working from a very small sample and what I have to say may be contrary to reality. But all I have to go on, in this case, are my observations so, I'll speak my peace and let those of you who can refute me, do so in the comments.
Since 2002, I've been to approximately fifty Angel games and watched about as many on TV. I've listened to probably a hundred but, as you'll see, that doesn't help my case. I've also watched several hundred mlb.com video clips of game highlights. In that same time period, I've seen maybe five Boston Red Sox games that didn't involve the Angels, and none of them were live. Obviously, we're dealing with imbalanced research and substandard investigative reporting.
However, the imbalance highlights my point. You see, in all of my experience with the Angels, it isn't often that they show poor character. Back when Troy Glaus was an Angel, he would swear every few games after a strikeout, which is amazing considering how often he struck out. Jarrod Washburn had a tendency to swear every now and then when a batter would hit one out of the park — also amazing considering how often he gave up home runs. And our wonderful Texan, John Lackey, doesn't always display his best side when he has a bad outing. When things are going well for the Angels, there is relatively little showboating or grandstanding. No throwing of the bat or raised arms when it is clear that the ball is headed out of the park and definitely no "joyful swearing?" when a double play is turned. In general, I'm proud of how the Angels carry themselves as they play the game.
The Red Sox have a completely different field presence. During the last few weeks of the season, I saw Dustin Pedroia — likely this year's rookie of the year — turn a double play and let out an enthusiastic "f*@# yeah!" When Jonathan Papelbon struck out an Angel to end the inning in the second game of the ALDS, there was no mistaking that he felt it necessary to give us all a, "yeah, yeah, f*@# yeah!" This is what the Red Sox do when they do something good! Not to mention that David Ortiz and Manny Ramirez — in this year's ALDS, at least — couldn't hit one out without throwing the bat, admiring their performance for what seemed an eternity and walking half way to first with their hands raised in the air. Their showboating or grandstanding puts Barry Bonds to shame.
After realizing that the Red Sox are a team full of the kind of people that I don't want my son to grow up admiring , i.e. people with lots of talent but with egos and attitudes that render that talent morally worthless, and that the Angels are, for the most part, the kind of people I want my son admiring, I found myself actually believing the ol' cliché, "It's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game." I would have loved to watch the Angels take the World Series this year, to see Vlad Guerrero finally get a ring, to see Garret Anderson prove himself in the latter part of his career. But if they'd have had to act like the Red Sox to do it, no thanks. I'll settle for the AL West Championship and proudly dress my kid in Angel gear, knowing that the character they exhibit is the kind I'd like him to exhibit as he grows up and learns to play sports, study in school and live life. Character does matter. Keep it up Angels.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
"No Conflict Between Science and Religion" - What in the World Does that Mean?
On the recommendation of a family member, I started reading Jimmy Carter's 2005 book, Our Endangered Values. I've only read half of it, but I find myself pulled in 2 directions.
On the one hand, Carter seems undoubtedly Evangelical, having shared his faith in Jesus Christ with world leaders and dignitaries whose faiths are indifferent, if not hostile, to his own. He has studied and taught the Bible in a local Church setting for decades. I respect this about President Carter and am jealous of his zeal for evangelism.
On the other hand, while I agree with Carter that America's moral values are in serious trouble, I attribute the cause of moral decline to the exact opposite of whatever he attributes such decline. For example, he believes that the social conflict in America over Church-state relations is not due to the fact that the government (more specifically, the legislature) is taking a stronger stance against Christianity and Its values, but because religious fanatics (fundamentalists, the religious right, etc.) are pushing their morality on the public and forcing religion into politics. I find Carter's logic invalid, his examples circumstantial and his conclusions unsound.
Which brings me to the subject of this post. Chapter 5 of Carter's book is titled, "No Conflict Between Science and Religion." Before starting the book but having browsed the table of contents, I was intrigued and excited to read what he had to say. I also believe that there is no conflict between science and religion and thought that Carter and I would have something to agree on here. However, as I began to read the book and experience the discrepancy described above, I realized that it was highly likely that Carter meant something utterly different than I mean by that phrase. And sure enough, upon reading the chapter, I now know that I have a completely contrary understanding of the relationship between faith and science than does Carter.
At some point in the course of reading the chapter and realizing our disagreement, I recalled that Francis Schaeffer had written a piece about the relationship of science and religion with a similar title to Carter's chapter. I checked volume 2 of Schaeffer's complete works and there it was, No Final Conflict. I doubted highly that Schaeffer and Carter shared the same view but, due to my initial error in judgment about Carter, I wondered if even Schaeffer and I shared the same view. I imagined the 3 of us, all espousing that there is no conflict between science and religion, having three radically different relationships in mind. It's not the potential different perspectives on the relationship that troubles me but that the 3 of us could have different views and all call it the same thing. I have a book entitled, Science and Christianity: Four Views wherein, obviously, 4 different views about the relationship between science and faith are fleshed out. Needless to say, none of the views are called the same thing and the titles clearly describe the content of the perspective, without equivocation.
So I read Schaeffer as well and, thankfully, came to realize that his view of the relationship is quite similar to mine, and quite the contrary of Carter's. But I am still, a week later, working through the reality that "no conflict" can mean two different, and quite opposing things. Let me summarize the views and then let Carter and Schaeffer speak for themselves.
No Conflict: Carter Style - Science and religion do not conflict because the former deals with fact and the latter with faith. Science describes the physical world and how it works, while the Bible describes spiritual world and God's message to man. The conflict we experience is the result of trying to make the Bible relate to science or science to the Bible.
No Conflict: Schaeffer Style - Science and religion do not conflict because both general revelation, i.e. science and special revelation, i.e. the Bible both come from the same non-contradictory God. Whatever conflict we experience as fallible human beings is the result of our inability to rightly understand one or the other.
I believe that most of the supposed conflict between science and faith that we hear of today is the result of a Carter style worldview that is inherited from the Enlightenment. A foundation stone of current secular western thought is the independence of science from religion, a demarcation that says the two don't have anything to do with each another. When we try to mix them we get nothing but contradictions. The Bible says that God created man but science says that man is the result of a mindless evolutionary process. Christianity tells us that the universe has purpose and direction but science shows no sign of these things. Rather than try to wrestle with these problems, if we relegate the Bible to only being God's spiritual message and let science describe empirical reality, we avoid the conflict. Here's how Carter puts it:
1. "I had always understood that we didn't need scientific proof for the existence or character of God. In fact, whenever there was adequate physical evidence to prove any theory or proposition, then we didn't need faith as a basis for our belief."
2. "It seems obvious to me that, in its totality, the Bible presented God's spiritual message, but that the ancient authors of the Holy Scriptures were not experts on geology, biology, or cosmology …"
3. "Whenever there is a scientific discovery or a theory that is proven by the observation of facts, these are just additional revelations to fallible human beings of truths that have always existed. They cannot possibly have an adverse effect on the status of the omnipotent Creator of the entire universe."
4. "The existence of millions of distant galaxies, the evolution of species, and the big bang theory cannot be rejected because they are not described in the Bible, and neither does confidence in them cast doubt on the Creator of it all. God gave us this exciting opportunity for study and exploration, never expecting the Bible to encompass a description of the entire physical world or for scientific discoveries to be necessary as the foundation for our Christian faith."
Carter's position is clear – science and religion do not mix and were never meant to. Controversy arises when we try to cross the firmly established lines between them. If we let each speak only to its own appropriate sphere, all is well.
But do we live this way? Can we live this way? Did God intend for us to live this way? When we ask these questions, Carter style "no conflict" seems to present problems. We don't live as if the science and religion don’t relate. When I read the intricate details of Israel's history (including the miracles) in the Bible, I get the sense that I am supposed to believe both the history and the spiritual significance. In fact, the spiritual significance is deepened and strengthened because it is historical. Conversely, when science tells me that smoking destroys the body I, knowing that my body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, see smoking as a negative activity both physically and spiritually. Life doesn't allow us to slice it up and keep its spheres separate and neither does God want that. Of course we don't, "need scientific proof for the existence or character of God." God reveals Himself through many means other than the merely scientific. Nonetheless, He gave us proof, scientific proof (see the results of Intelligent Design research), and it would be foolish to ignore it. So, it seems, Carter's version of no conflict depends on an idealistic impossibility. In addition, Carter's position that faith is not necessary to believe something that has been empirically verified shows that he doesn't understand the Biblical idea of faith nor how much faith is required even in the scientific realm.
But where does that leave us? Science and religion often do seem to conflict. If we are going to propose that they don't, we have some explaining to do. Here's Schaeffer's view:
1. "And there is a reason for being shaken [if the Bible only addresses the spiritual], for there is no reason to keep what the Bible says religiously if we have put it in an upper story and thrown away that of which the Bible speaks when it touches history and the cosmos. God could have given us the religious truths which He sets forth in the Bible in a theological outline. … But instead of this, He gave us religious truths in a book of history and a book that touches on the cosmos as well. What sense does it make for God to give true religious truths and at the same time place them in a book that is wrong when it touches history and the cosmos?"
2. "The Bible is not a scientific textbook—in the sense that science is not its central theme, and we do not have a comprehensive statement about the cosmos. 'The Bible is not a scientific textbook' is true in the sense in which we have just spoken. But many people use the statement in a different way—that is, to say that the Bible does not affirm anything about that in which science has an interest. When the statement is used to mean this, it must be totally rejected. The Bible does give affirmations about that in which science has an interest."
3. "What the Bible teaches where it touches history and the cosmos, and what science teaches where it touches the same areas do not stand in a discontinuity. There must indeed be a place for the study of general revelation …—that is, a place for true science. But on the other side, it must be understood that there is no automatic need to accommodate the Bible to the statements of science. There may be a difference between the methodology by which we gain knowledge from what God tells us in the Bible and the methodology by which we gain it from scientific study, but this does not lead to a dichotomy as to the facts. In practice, it may not always be possible to correlate the two studies because of the special situation involved; yet if both studies can be adequately pursued, there will be no final conflict."
So, when it comes to science and religion, like with the rest of life, we have our work cut out for us. We know that God is one and that His truth is, therefore, unified. There is no real, ultimate conflict between science and religion, no matter how irreparable the breach might seem to us now. When science says one thing and the Bible says something else, we can't side step the issue by proposing a dysfunctionally compartmentalized perspective. Carter style "no conflict" will not work in the long run. Rather, we trust in our consistent God as we strive to integrate the truths of science and religion, understanding that there is, in fact, no final conflict but a beautiful, eternal harmony, even if we never grasp it on this side of Heaven.
On the one hand, Carter seems undoubtedly Evangelical, having shared his faith in Jesus Christ with world leaders and dignitaries whose faiths are indifferent, if not hostile, to his own. He has studied and taught the Bible in a local Church setting for decades. I respect this about President Carter and am jealous of his zeal for evangelism.
On the other hand, while I agree with Carter that America's moral values are in serious trouble, I attribute the cause of moral decline to the exact opposite of whatever he attributes such decline. For example, he believes that the social conflict in America over Church-state relations is not due to the fact that the government (more specifically, the legislature) is taking a stronger stance against Christianity and Its values, but because religious fanatics (fundamentalists, the religious right, etc.) are pushing their morality on the public and forcing religion into politics. I find Carter's logic invalid, his examples circumstantial and his conclusions unsound.
Which brings me to the subject of this post. Chapter 5 of Carter's book is titled, "No Conflict Between Science and Religion." Before starting the book but having browsed the table of contents, I was intrigued and excited to read what he had to say. I also believe that there is no conflict between science and religion and thought that Carter and I would have something to agree on here. However, as I began to read the book and experience the discrepancy described above, I realized that it was highly likely that Carter meant something utterly different than I mean by that phrase. And sure enough, upon reading the chapter, I now know that I have a completely contrary understanding of the relationship between faith and science than does Carter.
At some point in the course of reading the chapter and realizing our disagreement, I recalled that Francis Schaeffer had written a piece about the relationship of science and religion with a similar title to Carter's chapter. I checked volume 2 of Schaeffer's complete works and there it was, No Final Conflict. I doubted highly that Schaeffer and Carter shared the same view but, due to my initial error in judgment about Carter, I wondered if even Schaeffer and I shared the same view. I imagined the 3 of us, all espousing that there is no conflict between science and religion, having three radically different relationships in mind. It's not the potential different perspectives on the relationship that troubles me but that the 3 of us could have different views and all call it the same thing. I have a book entitled, Science and Christianity: Four Views wherein, obviously, 4 different views about the relationship between science and faith are fleshed out. Needless to say, none of the views are called the same thing and the titles clearly describe the content of the perspective, without equivocation.
So I read Schaeffer as well and, thankfully, came to realize that his view of the relationship is quite similar to mine, and quite the contrary of Carter's. But I am still, a week later, working through the reality that "no conflict" can mean two different, and quite opposing things. Let me summarize the views and then let Carter and Schaeffer speak for themselves.
No Conflict: Carter Style - Science and religion do not conflict because the former deals with fact and the latter with faith. Science describes the physical world and how it works, while the Bible describes spiritual world and God's message to man. The conflict we experience is the result of trying to make the Bible relate to science or science to the Bible.
No Conflict: Schaeffer Style - Science and religion do not conflict because both general revelation, i.e. science and special revelation, i.e. the Bible both come from the same non-contradictory God. Whatever conflict we experience as fallible human beings is the result of our inability to rightly understand one or the other.
I believe that most of the supposed conflict between science and faith that we hear of today is the result of a Carter style worldview that is inherited from the Enlightenment. A foundation stone of current secular western thought is the independence of science from religion, a demarcation that says the two don't have anything to do with each another. When we try to mix them we get nothing but contradictions. The Bible says that God created man but science says that man is the result of a mindless evolutionary process. Christianity tells us that the universe has purpose and direction but science shows no sign of these things. Rather than try to wrestle with these problems, if we relegate the Bible to only being God's spiritual message and let science describe empirical reality, we avoid the conflict. Here's how Carter puts it:
1. "I had always understood that we didn't need scientific proof for the existence or character of God. In fact, whenever there was adequate physical evidence to prove any theory or proposition, then we didn't need faith as a basis for our belief."
2. "It seems obvious to me that, in its totality, the Bible presented God's spiritual message, but that the ancient authors of the Holy Scriptures were not experts on geology, biology, or cosmology …"
3. "Whenever there is a scientific discovery or a theory that is proven by the observation of facts, these are just additional revelations to fallible human beings of truths that have always existed. They cannot possibly have an adverse effect on the status of the omnipotent Creator of the entire universe."
4. "The existence of millions of distant galaxies, the evolution of species, and the big bang theory cannot be rejected because they are not described in the Bible, and neither does confidence in them cast doubt on the Creator of it all. God gave us this exciting opportunity for study and exploration, never expecting the Bible to encompass a description of the entire physical world or for scientific discoveries to be necessary as the foundation for our Christian faith."
Carter's position is clear – science and religion do not mix and were never meant to. Controversy arises when we try to cross the firmly established lines between them. If we let each speak only to its own appropriate sphere, all is well.
But do we live this way? Can we live this way? Did God intend for us to live this way? When we ask these questions, Carter style "no conflict" seems to present problems. We don't live as if the science and religion don’t relate. When I read the intricate details of Israel's history (including the miracles) in the Bible, I get the sense that I am supposed to believe both the history and the spiritual significance. In fact, the spiritual significance is deepened and strengthened because it is historical. Conversely, when science tells me that smoking destroys the body I, knowing that my body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, see smoking as a negative activity both physically and spiritually. Life doesn't allow us to slice it up and keep its spheres separate and neither does God want that. Of course we don't, "need scientific proof for the existence or character of God." God reveals Himself through many means other than the merely scientific. Nonetheless, He gave us proof, scientific proof (see the results of Intelligent Design research), and it would be foolish to ignore it. So, it seems, Carter's version of no conflict depends on an idealistic impossibility. In addition, Carter's position that faith is not necessary to believe something that has been empirically verified shows that he doesn't understand the Biblical idea of faith nor how much faith is required even in the scientific realm.
But where does that leave us? Science and religion often do seem to conflict. If we are going to propose that they don't, we have some explaining to do. Here's Schaeffer's view:
1. "And there is a reason for being shaken [if the Bible only addresses the spiritual], for there is no reason to keep what the Bible says religiously if we have put it in an upper story and thrown away that of which the Bible speaks when it touches history and the cosmos. God could have given us the religious truths which He sets forth in the Bible in a theological outline. … But instead of this, He gave us religious truths in a book of history and a book that touches on the cosmos as well. What sense does it make for God to give true religious truths and at the same time place them in a book that is wrong when it touches history and the cosmos?"
2. "The Bible is not a scientific textbook—in the sense that science is not its central theme, and we do not have a comprehensive statement about the cosmos. 'The Bible is not a scientific textbook' is true in the sense in which we have just spoken. But many people use the statement in a different way—that is, to say that the Bible does not affirm anything about that in which science has an interest. When the statement is used to mean this, it must be totally rejected. The Bible does give affirmations about that in which science has an interest."
3. "What the Bible teaches where it touches history and the cosmos, and what science teaches where it touches the same areas do not stand in a discontinuity. There must indeed be a place for the study of general revelation …—that is, a place for true science. But on the other side, it must be understood that there is no automatic need to accommodate the Bible to the statements of science. There may be a difference between the methodology by which we gain knowledge from what God tells us in the Bible and the methodology by which we gain it from scientific study, but this does not lead to a dichotomy as to the facts. In practice, it may not always be possible to correlate the two studies because of the special situation involved; yet if both studies can be adequately pursued, there will be no final conflict."
So, when it comes to science and religion, like with the rest of life, we have our work cut out for us. We know that God is one and that His truth is, therefore, unified. There is no real, ultimate conflict between science and religion, no matter how irreparable the breach might seem to us now. When science says one thing and the Bible says something else, we can't side step the issue by proposing a dysfunctionally compartmentalized perspective. Carter style "no conflict" will not work in the long run. Rather, we trust in our consistent God as we strive to integrate the truths of science and religion, understanding that there is, in fact, no final conflict but a beautiful, eternal harmony, even if we never grasp it on this side of Heaven.
Sunday, August 19, 2007
Visit this Blog Forum ... Every Day
I'm ashamed that I haven't recommended this site before now. I check it every day and, even if I were able to read one post each visit, I still would not be able to keep up with all of the great stuff found here. The forum is Scriptorium Daily and features blogs by several professors, all of whom teach in or are affiliated with the Torrey Honors Institute at Biola University. I may be partial because I'm a Biola graduate and thoroughly enjoyed and had my life changed by the classes I had with several of these professors (though not, unfortunately, as a Torrey student). But even if I am biased, I think you'll find their posts encouraging, stimulating, humorous and insightful. Topics address everything from politics to art, cultural commentary to literature, theology to film. I especially recommend Fred Sanders' posts under the avant-garde category where he offers artistic, literary and theological criticism of his children's artwork. If it doesn't bring a smile to your face, you need to re-prioritize your life. Happy reading!
Thursday, July 19, 2007
More Theological Thoughts (mine and others')
On the 3rd Thursday night (approximately) of each month during the school year, a small group of American and Ukrainian Evangelicals get together to talk about the burning theological issues that we are wrestling with. One of our members started a blog for our group, which you can access here, or via my list of other blogs. It's summer, so there isn't a lot going on, but once the semester starts and we get to meeting again, I trust the blog discussion will increase.
Most recently, there, I posted my assessment of a debate between William Lane Craig and Bart Ehrman on the historical evidence for the resurrection of Jesus. I post on that blog even less frequently than I do on this one. Nonetheless, feel free to check it out. That post has a link to the debate, if your interested.
Most recently, there, I posted my assessment of a debate between William Lane Craig and Bart Ehrman on the historical evidence for the resurrection of Jesus. I post on that blog even less frequently than I do on this one. Nonetheless, feel free to check it out. That post has a link to the debate, if your interested.
Sunday, July 1, 2007
Determining Evangelcial Reality
I recently read two articles from different publications that, quite providentially (or quite coincidentally, depending on your point of view), discuss the same phenomenon but come to two radically divergent conclusions. They both discussed whether Evangelicalism in the mid to late 1900s fostered intellectual and cultural engagement with unbelieving society in order to effect change or whether its negative imagery and language of despair when talking about society hindered such engagement and the integration of faith and learning for Evangelicals. George M. Marsden argues the former in "The Born Again Mind" from issue 92 of Christian History & Biography (CHB), while James A. Patterson argues the latter in volume 49:4 of the Journal of the Evangelical Theological Society (JETS) in his article, "Cultural Pessimism in Modern Evangelical Thought: Francis Schaeffer, Carl Henry and Charles Colson." Had I not read the articles within mere days of each other, I would have found myself in agreement with both authors. However, since I did read them so close together, I am forced to process the seeming incompatibility. What better place to process than a blog? If my process is bad or my conclusions wrong, someone can let me know. After a few caveats and a presentation of Marsden's and Patterson's positions, I'll state my conclusion. After that, lemme have it!
Caveat 1: JETS is an academic journal, while CHB is a popular magazine. It may not seem fair to compare articles from such mismatched sources, but in this particular case, I think it’s permissible. Masden is not the kind of scholar who would play loose with the facts in order to get an article published. A large majority of his research and writing has been devoted to the history of Evangelicalism, making him qualified to write a popular article that is spot on regarding the facts and their interpretations. This is not to make less of Patterson, rather, it is to say that we can trust Marden's article regardless of CHB’s more popular focus.
Caveat 2: It took me quite a while to get my mind around the key difference(s) between Fundamentalism and Evangelicalism. In fact, knowing what I do, there are still times when it is difficult to distinguish between them. In my opinion, it may be better to divide between fundamentalist and non-fundamentalist forms of Evangelicalism, rather than between Fundamentalism and Evangelicalism. (I'm going to withhold a firm commitment until I finish reading Marsden's Understanding Fundamentalism and Evangelicalism.) In any case, the fact that "fundamentalism" is now primarily understood as a pejorative sociological/psychological term rather than a descriptive religious/denominational one means that a lot of defining is required before any significant progress is going to be made in this discussion. I mention it here simply because it directly relates to how I address the issue at hand. If you disagree with my understanding of this distinction, it may cause you to disagree with my conclusion.
After discussing the varied activities of key Evangelical leaders in the mid 1900s, which were attempts to initiate a revival in Evangelical scholarship and engagement with academia, Marsden has this to say:
"From these and other modest beginnings, a genuine renaissance in evangelical scholarship would grow geometrically throughout the next decades. By the 1970s and 1980s, not only were many evangelical colleges assembling excellent faculties, but increasing numbers of evangelicals were publishing in the academic mainstream and taking their places in the broader university culture. Today this growth continues and has burgeoned into a considerable force in American academia. All over the country, outstanding evangelical students are crowding into graduate programs …" (p. 38).
To Marsden's list can be added the continued growth and recognition of Evangelical colleges and universities as legitimate contributors to U.S. higher education in areas beyond the purely religious. Also, the public debate stirred up by the Intelligent Design movement — which contains no small number of Evangelicals — definitely reveals the attempt and success at engaging culture intellectually. And, as mentioned here, there are a growing number of excellent, big-budget, wide-release films being produced by Christians, some of whom are Evangelicals.
Patterson, on the other hand, paints a starker picture. He readily acknowledges that the desired goal of Evangelical leaders, namely, Schaeffer, Henry and Colson, was to positively influence academia and culture for the Kingdom of God. However, he proposes that the harshly critical expression and "us vs. them" mentality of these leaders actually hindered the accomplishment of their goal.
"While Schaeffer, Henry and Colson all made notable, albeit sometimes, indirect, contributions to the Christian higher educational enterprise, their cultural stridency may actually have been counterproductive for the challenge of integrating faith and scholarship. … The confrontational, attack-mode style that often accompanies ‘dark age’ rhetoric undercuts the mission of evangelical Christian higher education. First, it seems likely that some of those exposed to such language, especially students and their parents, will be more apt to dismiss the culture than to engage it seriously. … Second, hostile, combative, and even exaggerated descriptions of contemporary culture threaten efforts to integrate faith and scholarship by undercutting concepts of general revelation and common grace." (pp. 808, 819, 820)
So, who’s right? Did the Evangelicalism of the past half-century promote and inspire the intellectual and cultural engagement that we now see? Or does our current situation — which, while positive and encouraging, forever demands of us prayerful, prudent and persistent action — exist in spite of the well-intentioned but "counterproductive" and "undercutting" efforts of Evangelicals past?
I side with Marsden for four reasons:
1. Biblically: The New Testament is filled with language about "the Kingdom of light and the kingdom of darkness," "the Church and the world," "the people of God and the people of Satan," that Evangelicals use in their writings and speeches about secular culture. And yet, Christianity worldwide — which, knowingly or unknowingly, has as its authority New Testament teaching — is continuing to grow and flourish in spite of the fact that the Bible uses such rhetoric. Patterson's argument is weakened by saying that Evangelicals hurt the Church by doing something that the authoritative teachings of the Church do themselves.
2. Logically: If Evangelicals, using whatever language, constantly and consistently encouraged cultural and intellectual engagement and, decades later, Evangelicals are more engaged culturally and intellectually, it seems logical that their tactics were effective in accomplishing their goal. For Patterson to say that some people would hear or read Evangelicals and respond with a Fundamentalist attitude toward culture and academia — Fundamentalists encourage separation from culture and approach a separatist form of academics — doesn't seem to logically follow.
3. Common Sensically: Social and religious developments and movements almost always are associated with lots of intentional and passionate activity on the part of those effecting change. Newton's First Law of Motion, "objects at rest tend to stay at rest," seems to apply here. How can we explain the current state of Evangelical engagement if, on Patterson's appraisal, the Evangelical attempts to encourage such engagement were discouraging, even damaging, to what they were trying to accomplish? It makes much more sense to interpret the situation as Marsden does. After World War II, Evangelicals began to advance cultural and intellectual engagement, they were successful at this, and now Evangelicals are more culturally and intellectually engaged. It seems that their harsh descriptions of culture and the bleak future they envisioned without an Evangelical renewal inspired the change that they sought.
4. Personally: Having graduated from an Evangelical institution — one that, oddly enough, has Fundamentalist roots but which, years ago, took an aggressive and exciting Evangelical turn — and now working with an Evangelical mission, I can say that all of the doomsday language about culture and academia do, in fact, inspire rather than discourage engagement with culture. I am surrounded by Evangelicals who have been, directly or indirectly, affected by Schaeffer, Henry and Colson, and we all want to see our culture and society won for Christ. In fact, I can't say that I personally know anyone who holds a strict Fundamentalist attitude toward culture.
For these reasons, I consider the work of Evangelicals since the mid 1900s to have been unbelievably positive in spurring the Church on to engage the culture. One can find Evangelical influence in almost every sphere of life. This couldn't have happened by accident. I also consider it a privilege to be part of Evangelicalism and the work that is going on worldwide. The Evangelical Church in Eurasia is in the midst of the Fundamentalist controversy but, as happened in the west in decades ago, the Church is moving toward a more aggressive and active program of cultural engagement. This is a lot of fun to watch, even if it at times it feels like a one step forward, two steps back situation. And, above all, I consider all of this to be part of God's sovereign plan to expand His Kingdom, save the perishing and glorify Himself. To watch the Church take the light of Christ to the world and to see the world transformed as a result is exactly what the Holy Spirit wants, and it makes Satan cringe and cower. May the spirit of Evangelicalism continue to carry out the task God has entrusted to it, even if that includes being a prophetic voice in a culture that is still a far cry from what it could and should be.
Caveat 1: JETS is an academic journal, while CHB is a popular magazine. It may not seem fair to compare articles from such mismatched sources, but in this particular case, I think it’s permissible. Masden is not the kind of scholar who would play loose with the facts in order to get an article published. A large majority of his research and writing has been devoted to the history of Evangelicalism, making him qualified to write a popular article that is spot on regarding the facts and their interpretations. This is not to make less of Patterson, rather, it is to say that we can trust Marden's article regardless of CHB’s more popular focus.
Caveat 2: It took me quite a while to get my mind around the key difference(s) between Fundamentalism and Evangelicalism. In fact, knowing what I do, there are still times when it is difficult to distinguish between them. In my opinion, it may be better to divide between fundamentalist and non-fundamentalist forms of Evangelicalism, rather than between Fundamentalism and Evangelicalism. (I'm going to withhold a firm commitment until I finish reading Marsden's Understanding Fundamentalism and Evangelicalism.) In any case, the fact that "fundamentalism" is now primarily understood as a pejorative sociological/psychological term rather than a descriptive religious/denominational one means that a lot of defining is required before any significant progress is going to be made in this discussion. I mention it here simply because it directly relates to how I address the issue at hand. If you disagree with my understanding of this distinction, it may cause you to disagree with my conclusion.
After discussing the varied activities of key Evangelical leaders in the mid 1900s, which were attempts to initiate a revival in Evangelical scholarship and engagement with academia, Marsden has this to say:
"From these and other modest beginnings, a genuine renaissance in evangelical scholarship would grow geometrically throughout the next decades. By the 1970s and 1980s, not only were many evangelical colleges assembling excellent faculties, but increasing numbers of evangelicals were publishing in the academic mainstream and taking their places in the broader university culture. Today this growth continues and has burgeoned into a considerable force in American academia. All over the country, outstanding evangelical students are crowding into graduate programs …" (p. 38).
To Marsden's list can be added the continued growth and recognition of Evangelical colleges and universities as legitimate contributors to U.S. higher education in areas beyond the purely religious. Also, the public debate stirred up by the Intelligent Design movement — which contains no small number of Evangelicals — definitely reveals the attempt and success at engaging culture intellectually. And, as mentioned here, there are a growing number of excellent, big-budget, wide-release films being produced by Christians, some of whom are Evangelicals.
Patterson, on the other hand, paints a starker picture. He readily acknowledges that the desired goal of Evangelical leaders, namely, Schaeffer, Henry and Colson, was to positively influence academia and culture for the Kingdom of God. However, he proposes that the harshly critical expression and "us vs. them" mentality of these leaders actually hindered the accomplishment of their goal.
"While Schaeffer, Henry and Colson all made notable, albeit sometimes, indirect, contributions to the Christian higher educational enterprise, their cultural stridency may actually have been counterproductive for the challenge of integrating faith and scholarship. … The confrontational, attack-mode style that often accompanies ‘dark age’ rhetoric undercuts the mission of evangelical Christian higher education. First, it seems likely that some of those exposed to such language, especially students and their parents, will be more apt to dismiss the culture than to engage it seriously. … Second, hostile, combative, and even exaggerated descriptions of contemporary culture threaten efforts to integrate faith and scholarship by undercutting concepts of general revelation and common grace." (pp. 808, 819, 820)
So, who’s right? Did the Evangelicalism of the past half-century promote and inspire the intellectual and cultural engagement that we now see? Or does our current situation — which, while positive and encouraging, forever demands of us prayerful, prudent and persistent action — exist in spite of the well-intentioned but "counterproductive" and "undercutting" efforts of Evangelicals past?
I side with Marsden for four reasons:
1. Biblically: The New Testament is filled with language about "the Kingdom of light and the kingdom of darkness," "the Church and the world," "the people of God and the people of Satan," that Evangelicals use in their writings and speeches about secular culture. And yet, Christianity worldwide — which, knowingly or unknowingly, has as its authority New Testament teaching — is continuing to grow and flourish in spite of the fact that the Bible uses such rhetoric. Patterson's argument is weakened by saying that Evangelicals hurt the Church by doing something that the authoritative teachings of the Church do themselves.
2. Logically: If Evangelicals, using whatever language, constantly and consistently encouraged cultural and intellectual engagement and, decades later, Evangelicals are more engaged culturally and intellectually, it seems logical that their tactics were effective in accomplishing their goal. For Patterson to say that some people would hear or read Evangelicals and respond with a Fundamentalist attitude toward culture and academia — Fundamentalists encourage separation from culture and approach a separatist form of academics — doesn't seem to logically follow.
3. Common Sensically: Social and religious developments and movements almost always are associated with lots of intentional and passionate activity on the part of those effecting change. Newton's First Law of Motion, "objects at rest tend to stay at rest," seems to apply here. How can we explain the current state of Evangelical engagement if, on Patterson's appraisal, the Evangelical attempts to encourage such engagement were discouraging, even damaging, to what they were trying to accomplish? It makes much more sense to interpret the situation as Marsden does. After World War II, Evangelicals began to advance cultural and intellectual engagement, they were successful at this, and now Evangelicals are more culturally and intellectually engaged. It seems that their harsh descriptions of culture and the bleak future they envisioned without an Evangelical renewal inspired the change that they sought.
4. Personally: Having graduated from an Evangelical institution — one that, oddly enough, has Fundamentalist roots but which, years ago, took an aggressive and exciting Evangelical turn — and now working with an Evangelical mission, I can say that all of the doomsday language about culture and academia do, in fact, inspire rather than discourage engagement with culture. I am surrounded by Evangelicals who have been, directly or indirectly, affected by Schaeffer, Henry and Colson, and we all want to see our culture and society won for Christ. In fact, I can't say that I personally know anyone who holds a strict Fundamentalist attitude toward culture.
For these reasons, I consider the work of Evangelicals since the mid 1900s to have been unbelievably positive in spurring the Church on to engage the culture. One can find Evangelical influence in almost every sphere of life. This couldn't have happened by accident. I also consider it a privilege to be part of Evangelicalism and the work that is going on worldwide. The Evangelical Church in Eurasia is in the midst of the Fundamentalist controversy but, as happened in the west in decades ago, the Church is moving toward a more aggressive and active program of cultural engagement. This is a lot of fun to watch, even if it at times it feels like a one step forward, two steps back situation. And, above all, I consider all of this to be part of God's sovereign plan to expand His Kingdom, save the perishing and glorify Himself. To watch the Church take the light of Christ to the world and to see the world transformed as a result is exactly what the Holy Spirit wants, and it makes Satan cringe and cower. May the spirit of Evangelicalism continue to carry out the task God has entrusted to it, even if that includes being a prophetic voice in a culture that is still a far cry from what it could and should be.
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
I Finally Finished College
I officially received my bachelor's degree in 1995 and have even received a couple of master's degrees since then, but it wasn't until a few days ago that I really finished college. Allow me to explain …
During my junior year, I took a class on C.S. Lewis taught by Lewis scholar Jerry Root. Back then, professor Root lived in Santa Barbara and commuted to Los Angeles every Thursday to teach the class. His was one of the most — if not the most — popular courses to take so, as is common in a big lecture class, you didn't get a lot of one-on-one time with the professor, especially considering he was only on campus once a week. Consequently, in order to calculate final grades for students, he had us turn in a reading report that specified how much of the required reading we had done. He combined this with the grade for our research papers to determine our final grade. Actually, he had us do the calculating on our reading report and so, if we'd done our calculations correctly, we knew the grade we were getting for the course. If we were right, he'd give us what we had calculated and it would show up on our report cards at the end of summer. Those who were too anal/obsessive-compulsive and couldn't wait until the end of summer for their report cards could give him a self-addressed, stamped postcard and he would send them their grade in late June. I was one of those who just couldn’t wait.
I had received an "A" on my research paper and, desiring to do just enough work to get a 90 percent for my final grade, I figured that if I read 7.2 of the 8 books required for the class, that's what I would get. There was only one or two required books for the course; the rest of Lewis' books were divided up by genre/theme/category, and we had to read one from each genre/theme/category. One of the categories was a list of books by authors who influenced C.S. Lewis. When I got around to reading one of those books, I was almost out of steam for the semester. So, I picked the shortest book on the list and read one-fifth of it. I calculated my 7.2 books read and my 100 percent on the paper, turned in my reading report with final grade calculation and ended the semester content in my soon-to-be-confirmed-by-postcard "A-".
A few weeks later, I received the postcard in the mail and immediately noticed that it had an awful lot of writing on it for something that only needed an "A-" inscribed on it. I proceeded to read something along these lines:
"Eric, You read 7.2 books and got an ‘A’ on your research paper, expecting to get an ‘A-’ for the course. You valued your ‘A’ at 100 percent when, in fact, an ‘A’ is only 95 percent. You would have had to receive an ‘A+’ on your paper in order to read 7.2 books and get an ‘A-’. As it stands, you should receive a ‘B+’ for the course. However, I've given you an ‘A-’. READ THE REST OF WILLIAMS THIS SUMMER!!!"
The book professor Root referred to is The Descent of the Dove: A Short History of the Holy Spirit in the Church by Charles Williams. I was grateful for professor Root's overwhelming grace and favor and had every intention of reading the book.
Fast forward to May 2007. I was preparing a sermon on Matthew 6:33-37, Jesus' words on taking oaths and fulfilling vows. My study revealed that Jesus wants us to avoid the way of the world and the sinful habit of making all manner of oaths and vows in an attempt to appear trustworthy and honest when, in fact, we have no intention of carrying out the oaths or vows made. Jesus wants us to be so trustworthy and honest that our word is enough. If it turns out that an oath or vow is necessary to uphold the truth, then it is not wrong to make one (just as Paul did several times in his letters). But by no means should we be making oaths or vows that we don't fulfill or that we make for manipulative purposes. As I thought about an example to use for this sermon, I could think of a good number of cases when someone didn't fulfill their oath or vow to me, but I didn't think that a very appropriate way to communicate the message. I continued to ponder as I studied the passage.
And, as you most assuredly have guessed by now, as I studied it came to mind that I still had never read The Descent of the Dove. If anything qualifies as being an unfulfilled oath/vow, that does, even if the circumstances are a tad unusual. Professor Root gave me a better grade than I deserved in faith that I would finish reading a book over the course of a few months and I, 13 years later, still hadn't read it? Ouch! It's actually quite embarrassing, but it served as the perfect example for my sermon. Of course, the thrust of the message was to be trustworthy and honest, and if I was going to admit that for 13 years I'd been walking around with an as-of-yet uncompleted B.A., I had to close the sermon with a commitment to read the book. I did just that and told the congregation to give me a few months to get and read the book before checking up on me and keeping me accountable on the matter.
I Amazoned the book and my parents passed it along to a team from our home Church that we met up with in Germany for a conference. I started reading it there just over two weeks ago. My wife, on Father's Day, gave me a few uninterrupted hours to finish the last chapter of the book. Now I can tell people that I finally fulfilled my vow, and that I finally finished college, over a decade after receiving my diploma.
I wish I could finish this entry by praising it as the best book I have ever read or by saying that it changed my life in some way. Actually, I found Williams' thick British English distracting and his liberal amalgamation of Church history (labeled "unconventional" by his admirers) unhelpful in conveying his point. Rather, I finish this entry with a simple sigh of relief and a prayer of thankfulness that God continues to change me for the better, even if it involves a bit of shame at times.
During my junior year, I took a class on C.S. Lewis taught by Lewis scholar Jerry Root. Back then, professor Root lived in Santa Barbara and commuted to Los Angeles every Thursday to teach the class. His was one of the most — if not the most — popular courses to take so, as is common in a big lecture class, you didn't get a lot of one-on-one time with the professor, especially considering he was only on campus once a week. Consequently, in order to calculate final grades for students, he had us turn in a reading report that specified how much of the required reading we had done. He combined this with the grade for our research papers to determine our final grade. Actually, he had us do the calculating on our reading report and so, if we'd done our calculations correctly, we knew the grade we were getting for the course. If we were right, he'd give us what we had calculated and it would show up on our report cards at the end of summer. Those who were too anal/obsessive-compulsive and couldn't wait until the end of summer for their report cards could give him a self-addressed, stamped postcard and he would send them their grade in late June. I was one of those who just couldn’t wait.
I had received an "A" on my research paper and, desiring to do just enough work to get a 90 percent for my final grade, I figured that if I read 7.2 of the 8 books required for the class, that's what I would get. There was only one or two required books for the course; the rest of Lewis' books were divided up by genre/theme/category, and we had to read one from each genre/theme/category. One of the categories was a list of books by authors who influenced C.S. Lewis. When I got around to reading one of those books, I was almost out of steam for the semester. So, I picked the shortest book on the list and read one-fifth of it. I calculated my 7.2 books read and my 100 percent on the paper, turned in my reading report with final grade calculation and ended the semester content in my soon-to-be-confirmed-by-postcard "A-".
A few weeks later, I received the postcard in the mail and immediately noticed that it had an awful lot of writing on it for something that only needed an "A-" inscribed on it. I proceeded to read something along these lines:
"Eric, You read 7.2 books and got an ‘A’ on your research paper, expecting to get an ‘A-’ for the course. You valued your ‘A’ at 100 percent when, in fact, an ‘A’ is only 95 percent. You would have had to receive an ‘A+’ on your paper in order to read 7.2 books and get an ‘A-’. As it stands, you should receive a ‘B+’ for the course. However, I've given you an ‘A-’. READ THE REST OF WILLIAMS THIS SUMMER!!!"
The book professor Root referred to is The Descent of the Dove: A Short History of the Holy Spirit in the Church by Charles Williams. I was grateful for professor Root's overwhelming grace and favor and had every intention of reading the book.
Fast forward to May 2007. I was preparing a sermon on Matthew 6:33-37, Jesus' words on taking oaths and fulfilling vows. My study revealed that Jesus wants us to avoid the way of the world and the sinful habit of making all manner of oaths and vows in an attempt to appear trustworthy and honest when, in fact, we have no intention of carrying out the oaths or vows made. Jesus wants us to be so trustworthy and honest that our word is enough. If it turns out that an oath or vow is necessary to uphold the truth, then it is not wrong to make one (just as Paul did several times in his letters). But by no means should we be making oaths or vows that we don't fulfill or that we make for manipulative purposes. As I thought about an example to use for this sermon, I could think of a good number of cases when someone didn't fulfill their oath or vow to me, but I didn't think that a very appropriate way to communicate the message. I continued to ponder as I studied the passage.
And, as you most assuredly have guessed by now, as I studied it came to mind that I still had never read The Descent of the Dove. If anything qualifies as being an unfulfilled oath/vow, that does, even if the circumstances are a tad unusual. Professor Root gave me a better grade than I deserved in faith that I would finish reading a book over the course of a few months and I, 13 years later, still hadn't read it? Ouch! It's actually quite embarrassing, but it served as the perfect example for my sermon. Of course, the thrust of the message was to be trustworthy and honest, and if I was going to admit that for 13 years I'd been walking around with an as-of-yet uncompleted B.A., I had to close the sermon with a commitment to read the book. I did just that and told the congregation to give me a few months to get and read the book before checking up on me and keeping me accountable on the matter.
I Amazoned the book and my parents passed it along to a team from our home Church that we met up with in Germany for a conference. I started reading it there just over two weeks ago. My wife, on Father's Day, gave me a few uninterrupted hours to finish the last chapter of the book. Now I can tell people that I finally fulfilled my vow, and that I finally finished college, over a decade after receiving my diploma.
I wish I could finish this entry by praising it as the best book I have ever read or by saying that it changed my life in some way. Actually, I found Williams' thick British English distracting and his liberal amalgamation of Church history (labeled "unconventional" by his admirers) unhelpful in conveying his point. Rather, I finish this entry with a simple sigh of relief and a prayer of thankfulness that God continues to change me for the better, even if it involves a bit of shame at times.
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