The Real Reason Many Reject Penal Substitutionary Atonement

Ever since Bible College almost 20 years ago (gasp!), I have wondered why there is so much argument and furor over “theories of the atonement.” I remember seeing an essay in the student paper that questioned penal substitutionary atonement (hereafter PSA) and put forward an argument for Christus Victor. It revealed a clear aversion to PSA and this mystified me. Why, I wondered, would someone be so motivated to deny something which seems to be the plain teaching of the Bible?

Over the years I came to better understand the issues at stake, but I admit I still had trouble making it make sense. I could understand why some progressive Christians refused to believe in a God who poured out wrath and judgment (due to liberal theology’s allergy to descriptions of God that went against the grain of respectable modern moral sensibilities), but then what about those who had no problem with those parts of the Bible but who still seemed to have so much animus against PSA? I recently heard Derek Rishmawy make a comment on an episode of the Mere Fidelity podcast that struck me as an excellent answer to that question.

Here is the point he made: penal substitutionary atonement gets pulled out of shape and distorted when the categories of classical theism are not there. The prevalence of modernist metaphysics throughout the 20th century gave us a strange mix: conservatives held onto supernaturalism (like the virgin birth and the resurrection) but unwittingly lost the doctrinal substructure that served to keep PSA in its proper shape. Rishmawy observed that many conservatives in the 20th century (and into the 21st) were defending what they rightly thought of as a doctrinal core (PSA), but doing it in ways that would be contrary to earlier advocates in the tradition who had certain doctrines in place that protected them against the severe distortions. The most obvious stabilizing doctrine would be a classical view of the Trinity. He added that “substitution is an extraordinarily powerful doctrine that, without the right machinery around it, creates severe shearing forces in preaching that that can go wrong.”

This seems quite right to me, like a key piece of the puzzle going right into its place. This insight explains some of the dynamics at play in these discussions and debates. For instance, without a clear understanding of the inseparable operations of the one triune God, then there is no guardrail to keep a preacher from describing the cross as the Father over here pouring his wrath out on the innocent and reticent Son over there, introducing a firm separation between Father and Son, as if they were not together fulfilling the plan of redemption they drew up before the foundation of the world. And without divine impassibility—the idea the God is without passions—then any talk of the wrath or punishment of God conjures images of uncontrolled anger or passionate revenge. But this is not the way to understand the wrath of God.

Here is a possible sequence of steps to summarize this process:

Modern metaphysical assumptions seep into theology —> classical trinitarian theism is revised —> loss of doctrines like divine impassibility and inseparable operations —> PSA language gets pulled out of shape by many of its proponents —> people react against the distortions of PSA by energetically rejecting PSA and pursuing alternative understandings of the atonement.

This would explain the strong overlap between those who reject classical theism and those who reject PSA, of which John Mark Comer would be one obvious example. Without the former, the latter is too easily distorted into absurdity (”cosmic child abuse”). So a twofold dynamic happens: proponents of PSA who haven’t got a firm grasp on classical theism tend to present it in distorted ways since they lack that doctrinal framework, and those who have rejected classical theism have a hard time conceiving of PSA without it quickly devolving into something grotesque, making it easier for them to reject PSA.

The parallel track that runs alongside this, mentioned above, is the rejection of wrath and judgment as fitting for God, a hallmark of liberal theology. Even the great evangelical stalwart John Stott seemed to be affected by the sense that it was not respectable, and perhaps unthinkable, to claim that God would pour out his wrath in judgment for all eternity. Stott’s case was mild — preferring annihilationism to the idea of eternal judgment. But the same impulse has pulled many a Christian to rethink PSA on the grounds that the idea that God’s wrath against sin must be satisfied is beyond the pale.

Even without a thoroughgoing classical trinitarianism, the best exegetes throughout the 20th century always managed to avoid serious problems in their description of the atonement by sticking close to the text of the Bible and letting their preaching and teaching reflect the overall balanced emphasis of the Scriptures. This is a point that D.A. Carson has made repeatedly, and it is worth bearing in mind: it is not enough to find something true that the Bible affirms and then proclaim it from the rooftops. There is a matrix of truths that are all interconnected, and the careful student of the Scriptures pays attention to the relative emphasis and the context of those truths as found in the whole Bible.

Talk of the various theories of the atonement seems to me to start the whole conversation off on the wrong foot. Let us rather seek to understand and rightly represent the multifaceted glory of the atonement. Wonder of wonders—our God has reconciled us to himself through the cross! And how? Let me count the ways, for the Scriptures unfold and tease out multiple threads of wondrous truth about this singular moment in history. One of these, among others, is the idea that in our place condemned he stood, becoming sin for us, bearing the punishment our sins deserved, that in Him we might become the righteousness of God. Our triune God planned and accomplished this for the fame of his name among the nations, and because he loves us. He redeemed us from the curse of sin, becoming a curse for us; he ransomed us, buying us with a price; he defeated the powers of darkness, triumphing over them and disarming them. Yes and amen.

The insight from Rishmawy is helpful because it reminds us that our theology is a complex matrix of interrelated truths. And there are some, it must be said, that are foundational, load-bearing truths. They keep the whole superstructure balanced and strong in ways that are not immediately obvious. And once they are removed or compromised, the whole building may not immediately fall down, but it may sway and wobble and buckle in unhealthy ways. I think this is what we’ve seen with popular-level representations of PSA, with lamentable results in driving people away from any kind of penal substitutionary element in their understanding of the atonement. The answer to overcorrections and pendulum swings, however, is careful and loving attention to the holy Scriptures.

Two Types of Book Reviews

Writing a book review is a little bit like brushing my teeth at this point; I do it without thinking. Ever since I discovered the wonder that is goodreads.com and got a bit more serious about tracking my reading and setting reading goals, I’ve gotten into the habit of writing at least something about every book I read. And so whenever I read something particularly interesting or engaging, I tend to write a lengthier and more detailed review.

My approach to writing reviews is definitely more whimsical than a typical academic book review. I like to focus in on a few salient points that struck me particularly and then to engage the book via reflection, sometimes bringing in another conversation partner as well. The classic “summary plus evaluation” equation for book reviews has always been rather unsatisfying to me because I enjoy a writer who involves himself or herself more directly in the review. Context matters here. For some publications, such as academic journals or professional association publications, it makes sense for the reviewer to fade into the background. But frankly, the kind of depersonalized prose this approach produces is so stripped of human vitality that no one would ever be able to tell if it was written by ChatGPT or not.

In contrast to this, I prefer to read (and write) reviews that emphasize the reviewer’s encounter with the book. One label for this is the review essay: a piece of writing where the reviewer uses his or her encounter with the book as a launching point. This means the resulting piece has a lot more personality in it; more of the writer and slightly less of the book. Sometimes such an essay can actually take two books and put them in conversation with each other. When done well, this approach makes for a compelling piece of writing.

Lately I’ve had a couple of book reviews published. First, at Faith Today, I have a review of Harold Ristau’s book, Spiritual Warfare and Deliverance: How to Minister to the Demonically Oppressed and Possessed. Faith Today has a very limited word count for their reviews, so I wouldn’t say this piece manages to feel like the kind of review essay I prefer. Nevertheless, I’m always grateful for the chance to be published in a print magazine, and the book was very interesting. Second, at TGC Canada, I have a review of Brad Littlejohn’s book Called to Liberty: Retrieving Christian Liberty in an Age of License. My editor at TGC, Wyatt Graham, prefers the review essay, so I appreciate the freedom to do those.

In an earlier piece, I reflected on the contents of the opening chapter of Samuel G. Parkison’s book To Gaze upon God: The Beatific Vision in Doctrine, Tradition, and Practice. I have since finished that book, and I gave it 4.667 stars over at goodreads. Here is the brief review I left there:

This book is a great achievement. It succeeds in its mission, which is to retrieve the doctrine of the beatific vision for evangelicals, and in so doing, reintroducing new generations of Protestants to the riches of their own tradition. The introduction and opening chapters do a great job situating the modern reader in terms of where we are in late modernity and how that relates to the metaphysical foundations that undergirded earlier eras of Christian thought. The book self-consciously situates itself within the ‘Great Tradition’ and calls evangelicals back to classical Trinitarian theism from the barren wilds of modernist biblicism.

Having been thus oriented, Parkison takes the reader through a number of major figures from the early church, the middle ages, and the Reformation, and explores how the church’s view of the beatific vision has evolved over the centuries. The author then attempts to synthesize the best of these views into a coherent whole that is digestible for modern readers. His distinctive contribution seems to be a more thoroughly trinitarian formulation of the beatific vision, drawing on and continuing the work of Protestant giants such as John Owen and Jonathan Edwards.

One of the book’s strengths is the affective tone, the marriage of academic and spiritual concerns. In other words, the book is edifying and, when rightly read, is sure to bring the reader to worship. That being said, it is still quite dense, and some of the middle chapters felt like a bit of a slog at times. Perseverance, however, is richly rewarded. I recommend it most heartily.

A Double Dose of Psychedelics Content

I’m trying to balance my focus on the psychedelics movement with writing and content that covers a far broader array of topics (AKA my interests!). But this last week, the stars aligned for there to be a strong focus on the topic of psychedelics, with my first TGC (USA) article being released as well as a podcast conversation with the fine folks at What Would Jesus Tech (WWJT). Here’s a direct link to the YouTube version of the WWJT episode. I think they did a pretty good job with the podcast episode thumbnail image:

I wish I could say the same for the TGC article. The image they chose is a little creepy! Hah, oh well.

Many thanks to the hosts of WWJT for having me on and having such good questions. I really enjoyed our conversation. They are a legit podcast with some really legit and impressive guests. If you are a Christian interested in how technology (in all its manifestations) intersects with the faith, you need to check them out.

The TGC article, called “The Psychedelic Renaissance: A Story of Hype and Hubris,” is an “explainer” kind of essay where I try to inform the reader about this large and complex topic, but with an editorial twist where I render a verdict about the psychedelic movement in general. There is certainly some overlap with the article my late-2023 article at Mere Orthodoxy, but this recent one delves more deeply into the current state of the research and especially into the increasingly visible network of activists and funders who are pulling the strings behind the scenes of the public-facing pro-psychedelics movement. Here is how I conclude the first section of the article, which deals with this:

One thing ought to be clear: It simply isn’t the case that disinterested scientists have stumbled on surprising cures for mental health problems. Rather, advocates already committed to the promise of psychedelic therapies, usually bundled with New Age spiritual beliefs, have patiently pursued a strategy to build a veneer of scientific, medical respectability for their agenda.

This state of affairs makes it difficult for the public (and regulators) to parse the data and evaluate possible legitimate medical applications of these substances. It may be many years before those assessments can be made confidently, but that won’t stop a growing number of people from trying psychedelics for themselves.

One way I’ve started thinking about how Christians ought to respond to the psychedelics movement with with a dual response: one at low-resolution and a second one at higher-resolution. (I go into this idea a bit in response to some really thoughtful questions in the WWJT episode.) Here’s what I mean: the low Christian resolution response to the pro-psychedelics movement in general should be a giant waving red flag. In the article, I try to get this across with the following sentence: “The hype of healing will not ultimately deliver on its promises, and the hubris of spiritual exploration outside of Christ will expose many to unbiblical ideas and even demonic spiritual forces.”

That’s the first and most important thing for the church to get clear on, in my humble opinion. But there is a second, higher resolution response that is also legitimate. It has to do with a more narrow discussion about possible legitimate medical uses of psychedelic compounds for the treatment of specific issues such as PTSD, some forms of addiction, etc. This is separate from all discussion of spiritual or recreational uses, which are out of bounds if one takes the Scriptures as inerrant and authoritative.

I am still thinking through some of the nuances of this more narrow question about possible valid uses of these compounds in certain medical cases. The best treatment of the question I’ve come across so far is a journal article by Thomas Carroll, a Catholic medical doctor. He argues, convincingly in my view, that the specific problem with psychedelics is the mystical experience it generates for the user. This is what makes psychedelics unlike other substances, and why they rightly exist in a class of their own. Further, he argues that since Christians have a category for legitimate mystical experiences that are given by God, and since it has never been the teaching of the church that Christians ought to try and contrive these experiences themselves, that it is therefore illicit for Christians to intentionally take these substances for the purposes of some kind of therapy where the mechanism of healing is bound up with the mystical experience itself.

However, these substances have effects other than just the mystical experience. They make one more suggestible and they interrupt some of our deeply ingrained patterns of thinking; both of these effects have the potential to be powerful aids when coupled with wise counseling. There is indeed a little-known branch of psychedelic therapy known as psycholytic therapy (PLT) and it specifically focuses on using small doses in conjunction with talk therapy to work through problems. This approach has been eclipsed in recent years by the big push for and major coverage of psychedelic-assisted therapy (PAT).

Carroll’s article basically concludes that, since the mystical experience is the very mechanism by which psychedelic-assisted therapy functions, it should be considered illicit for Christians, but that participation in psycholytic therapy should be considered a question of personal conscience. This seems right to me, and it’s where I am landing at the moment.

A friend of mine sees this very similarly but takes a slightly different and more open position: he believes that a Christian could partake of psychedelic-assisted therapy as long as he regarded the mystical experience as a negative side-effect to be endured, a bug rather than a feature. This is very different from the general approach to psychedelic therapy, and although I’m not there myself, I don’t think it’s an unreasonable position for a Christian to take. My concern with it is how it actually plays out in practice. How do pastors counsel their church member to go through with this kind of therapy for their PTSD? How does one handle the possibility that despite going into it with the idea that I won’t place my hope in or even lend credence to this mystical experience, it ends up being so profound and powerful that I can’t help it? To me it seems to leave a door open that I think should remain shut.

That’s all for now. As always, thanks for reading and following.

Letter to a Brother Stuck in Pornography

The following is a letter I wrote to a brother some years ago. It has been anonymized and lightly edited.

Dear Brother,

You have been on my mind for a few days and so I have been praying for you. What prompted it was that I listened to an interview podcast episode with a pastor who struggled with porn for years while in ministry. It was really amazing, but it made me think of you. You were honest and open enough last year to let me into this area of your life. I don’t take that lightly, and I thank you for taking that important step. But unless there have been developments I don’t know about, it doesn’t seem like there has been much traction or forward progress in this area of your life.

Assuming things are more or less the same as they were when you shared this struggle with us, I have a few things I want to share with you.

1. I Am Not Better

I write to you as a fellow sin-struggler. I write to you as one who knows what it is like to be stuck in that cycle of sinning, repenting, self-loathing, promising God to do better, and falling again. I write to you as someone who spent years turning to broken cisterns filled with filthy stagnant water over and over. This is the language in Jeremiah 2:13-14 “Be appalled at this, you heavens, and shudder with great horror,” declares the Lord. “My people have committed two sins: They have forsaken me, the spring of living water, and have dug their own cisterns, broken cisterns that cannot hold water.”

This was my reality and (if you are still continually turning to pornography and sexual sin) it is yours as well. And with this intake of poison over a long period of time come serious effects and consequences. The most dangerous of them all is blindness. You are deceived, and cannot see, your real and true spiritual state. That is probably why your initial reaction to this letter may be negative. Sin and Satan have got a deep, deep hold on your heart by now. So I have been praying that you will have a few moments of clarity as I share some good but difficult truths with you.

2. You Can be Free

One of the worst deceptions you are believing is that you are going to be stuck here forever. If I was to boil down the Bible’s teaching on sin to a single truth, it would be: The gospel exists to defeat sin! Really, sin is nothing compared with the power of the gospel when it starts to work in a heart. Jesus came and died and rose again to deal with sin. Not just the guilt of it, but the power and grip of it in your life. Countless thousands have experienced true and lasting and supernatural freedom from the chains and slavery of habitual sin, and you can too. “For if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed” (John 8:36).

I believe that you have experienced the gift of forgiveness, but it seems to me that you have yet to really experience the joy, happiness, and delight, of walking in the light of the fellowship with God that your forgiveness is meant to lead to. I stress those three words: joy, happiness, delight. Listening to that interview with that pastor, I was reminded in fresh ways of just how delightful Jesus is to our souls compared to everything else we try and find satisfaction in. And it reminded me of how miserable it is to be a slave to sin.

Aren’t you just sick of it?

This misery is what those verses from Jeremiah are about – we compulsively dig our own filthy broken cisterns which end up just holding muddy rain water that tastes good only in the moment, while just behind us there is “the spring of living water” that we have forsaken and which truly satisfies the deepest longings of the soul. As C.S. Lewis wrote, “It would seem that our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased.”

3. Spiritual Power

One of the worst effects of giving in habitually to willful sin (making choices by habit or addiction that you know are sinful), is that it saps you of spiritual power. It is like a cup with a hole in the bottom. You never can stay full even when God’s Spirit moves in you and revives you because “the flesh desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the flesh.” Yes – “So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh” and “Since we live by the Spirit, let us keep in step with the Spirit” (Gal 5:16, 17, 25). How can I be filled with this Spirit when I am continually grieving it? “And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption” (Eph 4:30).

It is one thing if I mistakenly trip my friend. I can honestly apologize and be reconciled easily. The tripping was real but it wasn’t a personal rejection or attack. But it is another thing entirely if I slap my friend across the face and call him a pathetic loser. I cannot so easily apologize and be reconciled, since the sin was so personal. It is like that in our relationship with God too – how can I come to Him for the millionth time about the same sin and say I’m sorry? Am I really? I know I’m just going to do it again. My repentance feels shallow and fake, and perhaps it is. Intimacy with God is therefore impossible, and I would rather not face the pain of that distance, so I numb it with distractions.

In this state, I have almost no spiritual power. How can I genuinely share the hope and joy of the gospel when I am not able to enter into it myself? How can I lovingly rebuke my brother for sin when I am secretly indulging it in my own life? How can I look my son in the eye and promise him that virtue, integrity, honesty, and purity are so much better than vice and sin when I am not walking in those virtues myself? So I stay silent, and the voice of my conscience grows quieter and quieter, and in a thousand little ways I therefore fail to minister to those God has placed around me, and my spiritual impact is reduced to almost nothing. What a victory for Satan! Here is a soldier in God’s army that has been rendered almost completely ineffective. Brother, don’t let this be true of you.

4. Looking Ahead

I want you to think ahead with me. You have two paths set before you. You will definitely walk down one of these two paths. The first path is the one you’re currently on, and the second is quite different. You’ll have to forgive me for being very blunt here.

Let’s imagine the first. You get this letter, you give it a reading, but things don’t change. You’re middle-aged now, so in just a few years, you’re officially a dirty old man, still looking at pictures of much much younger naked women. Let’s be honest – it’s a pathetic picture of manhood that you would not wish for your sons. Hopefully the perversions of your lust haven’t taken you down any darker paths, but they very likely have since that is the law of diminishing returns.

I know it’s painful but follow this through with me. In a few short years, you are confronted with the devastating reality that you are lusting after women the same age as your daughter (who is by then a young woman). You are confronted with the devastating hypocrisy of your actions. Namely, you want men not to lust after your daughter, not to degrade her and fantasize sexually about her (the very thought of it enrages you – as it should), but you are doing that exact thing to other men’s daughters, some of whom are probably brothers in Christ who are heartbroken about what their daughters have gotten caught up in. What else? Your marriage will certainly not be any better, and you will not be any more satisfied, despite giving away more of yourself. You will continue reaping the fruit of the seeds you’re currently sowing, only with compound interest – the cost will continue to rise and you will continue to be more miserable.

The second path is, as I said, quite different. Maybe, in a sovereign act of divine mercy, as you read this you experience godly grief over your sin – the heinous filthiness of it in the eyes of God, the shame and betrayal of it in the heart of your marriage where you are called to imitate the self-giving and self-sacrificial love of Christ, the pattern of failure to set an example at home and in the church in resisting sin and repenting of it. Maybe God grants you this conviction and grief and a blessed repentance as you turn away from these broken cisterns and back to the spring of living water that is the Living God who redeemed you, who gladly laid down His life for someone like me, and someone like you.

This repentance would lead to a painful confession to your wife – there is no other way. “In the same way, the husband does not have authority over his own body but yields it to his wife” (1 Cor 7:4). Your body is not yours alone, so you don’t have the authority before God to keep this from the wife He has given you. Not that you must share every gory detail, but she needs to know the truth. This extremely scary and painful step is the very door through which healing will come into your marriage. Jesus holds out free and full forgiveness, but also a cleansing and purifying that you desperately need. He offers you true joy and satisfaction in place of the fleeting, defiling pleasure of sin.

If you do start walking down this new path, you need to know it will be extremely difficult. There are spiritual, emotional, and physiological realities that will push back hard. But you will not be alone. You have brothers here who are more than willing, more than ready to do battle with you, to be there to lean on when you’re weak, and celebrate every little step forward. In ten years, there is literally no telling where you might be in your walk with God, in your marriage, in your family. You could be reaping the fruit of grace and restoration and undeserved flourishing. By God’s grace that is how I feel today, and no words can describe how meaningful it is.

Make no mistake, you will reap what you sow. You already have been. The brokenness in your marriage is not all your fault, by any means, but it is largely your responsibility (don’t miss the difference). Perhaps you have used the brokenness and pain of your unfulfilling marriage as an excuse for your sin, but your Savior did not wait for you to make the first move – He initiated our incredible salvation while we were still enemies, rejecting and crucifying him. This is the pattern for husbands to follow, as Ephesians 5 makes so clear: “Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless.” This is something you can only do by God’s Spirit.

Brother, let’s sow something better from now on, for God’s glory, for your good, and for your joy.

Start by taking a long walk (or drive) and getting it all out with God. Pour out your heart. Allow yourself to get to that lowest place where you’re fully honest with yourself and Him just how messed up you are and how badly you need help. This is humility – God likes it. And devour some Scripture. Read Proverbs 5-7 (you’ll recognize yourself there!). Read Hosea. Read the Gospel of John and encounter again this Jesus who is so amazing. Read Galatians and get clarity on the gospel and walking in the Spirit.

I’m also including a passage from C.S. Lewis’ book The Great Divorce where he describes an incredible conversation with a man enslaved by lust.

I’ve shared this with our mutual friend and we are both praying for you. We love you.

Phil

Appendix: From The Great Divorce, by C.S. Lewis:

I saw coming towards us a Ghost who carried something on his shoulder. Like all the Ghosts, he was unsubstantial, but they differed from one another as smokes differ. Some had been whitish; this one was dark and oily. What sat on his shoulder was a little red lizard, and it was twitching its tail like a whip and whispering things in his ear. As we caught sight of him he turned his head to the reptile with a snarl of impatience. “Shut up, I tell you!” he said. It wagged its tail and continued to whisper to him. He ceased snarling, and presently began to smile. Then be turned and started to limp westward, away from the mountains.

“Off so soon?” said a voice.

The speaker was more or less human in shape but larger than a man, and so bright that I could hardly look at him. His presence smote on my eyes and on my body too (for there was heat coming from him as well as light) like the morning sun at the beginning of a tyrannous summer day.

“Yes. I’m off,” said the Ghost. “Thanks for all your hospitality. But it’s no good, you see. I told this little chap,” (here he indicated the lizard), “that he’d have to be quiet if he came—which he insisted on doing. Of course his stuff won’t do here: I realise that. But he won’t stop. I shall just have to go home.”

‘Would you like me to make him quiet?” said the flaming Spirit—an angel, as I now understood.

“Of course I would,” said the Ghost.

“Then I will kill him,” said the Angel, taking a step forward.

“Oh-ah-look out! You’re burning me. Keep away,” said the Ghost, retreating.

“Don’t you want him killed?”

“You didn’t say anything about killing him at first. I hardly meant to bother you with anything so drastic as that.”

“It’s the only way,” said the Angel, whose burning hands were now very close to the lizard. “Shall I kill it?”

“Well, that’s a further question. I’m quite open to consider it, but it’s a new point, isn’t it? I mean, for the moment I was only thinking about silencing it because up here—well, it’s so damned embarrassing.”

“May I kill it?”

“Well, there’s time to discuss that later.”

“There is no time. May I kill it?”

“Please, I never meant to be such a nuisance. Please—really—don’t bother. Look! It’s gone to sleep of its own accord. I’m sure it’ll be all right now. Thanks ever so much.”

“May I kill it?”

“Honestly, I don’t think there’s the slightest necessity for that. I’m sure I shall be able to keep it in order now. I think the gradual process would be far better than killing it.”

“The gradual process is of no use at all.”

“Don’t you think so? Well, I’ll think over what you’ve said very carefully. I honestly will. In fact I’d let you kill it now, but as a matter of fact I’m not feeling frightfully well today. It would be silly to do it now. I’d need to be in good health for the operation. Some other day, perhaps.”

“There is no other day. All days are present now.”

“Get back! You’re burning me. How can I tell you to kill it? You’d kill me if you did.”

“It is not so.”

“Why, you’re hurting me now.”

“I never said it wouldn’t hurt you. I said it wouldn’t kill you.”

“Oh, I know. You think I’m a coward. But it isn’t that. Really it isn’t. I say! Let me run back by tonight’s bus and get an opinion from my own doctor. I’ll come again the first moment I can.”

“This moment contains all moments.”

“Why are you torturing me? You are jeering at me. How can I let you tear me to pieces? If you wanted to help me, why didn’t you kill the damned thing without asking me—before I knew? It would be all over by now if you had.”

“I cannot kill it against your will. It is impossible. Have I your permission?”

The Angel’s hands were almost closed on the Lizard, but not quite. Then the Lizard began chattering to the Ghost so loud that even I could hear what it was saying.

“Be careful,” it said. “He can do what he says. He can kill me. One fatal word from you and he will! Then you’ll be without me for ever and ever. It’s not natural. How could you live? You’d be only a sort of ghost, not a real man as you are now. He doesn’t understand. He’s only a cold, bloodless abstract thing. It may be natural for him, but it isn’t for us. Yes, yes. I know there are no real pleasures now, only dreams. But aren’t they better than nothing? And I’ll be so good. I admit I’ve sometimes gone too far in the past, but I promise I won’t do it again. I’ll give you nothing but really nice dreams—all sweet and fresh and almost innocent. You might say, quite innocent . . .”

“Have I your permission?” said the Angel to the Ghost.

“I know it will kill me.”

“It won’t. But supposing it did?”

“You’re right. It would be better to be dead than to live with this creature.”

“Then I may?”

“Damn and blast you! Go on can’t you? Get it over. Do what you like,” bellowed the Ghost: but ended, whimpering, “God help me. God help me.”

Next moment the Ghost gave a scream of agony such as I never heard on Earth. The Burning One closed his crimson grip on the reptile: twisted it, while it bit and writhed, and then flung it, broken backed, on the turf.

“Ow! That’s done for me,” gasped the Ghost, reeling backwards.

For a moment I could make out nothing distinctly. Then I saw, between me and the nearest bush, unmistakably solid but growing every moment solider, the upper arm and the shoulder of a man. Then, brighter still and stronger, the legs and hands. The neck and golden head materialized while I watched, and if my attention had not wavered I should have seen the actual completing of a man—an immense man, naked, not much smaller than the Angel. What distracted me was the fact that at the same moment something seemed to be happening to the Lizard. At first I thought the operation had failed. So far from dying, the creature was still struggling and even growing bigger as it struggled. And as it grew it changed. Its hinder parts grew rounder. The tail, still flickering, became a tail of hair that flickered between huge and glossy buttocks. Suddenly I started back, rubbing my eyes. What stood before me was the greatest stallion I have ever seen, silvery white but with mane and tail of gold. It was smooth and shining, rippled with swells of flesh and muscle, whinnying and stamping with its hoofs. At each stamp the land shook and the trees dindled.

The new-made man turned and clapped the new horse’s neck. It nosed his bright body. Horse and master breathed each into the other’s nostrils. The man turned from it, flung himself at the feet of the Burning One, and embraced them. When he rose I thought his face shone with tears, but it may have been only the liquid love and brightness (one cannot distinguish them in that country) which flowed from him. I had not long to think about it. In joyous haste the young man leaped upon the horse’s back. Turning in his seat he waved a farewell, then nudged the stallion with his heels. They were off before I well knew what was happening. There was riding if you like! I came out as quickly as I could from among the bushes to follow them with my eyes; but already they were only like a shooting star far off on the green plain, and soon among the foothills of the mountains. Then, still like a star, I saw them winding up, scaling what seemed impossible steeps, and quicker every moment, till near the dim brow of the landscape, so high that I must strain my neck to see them, they vanished, bright themselves, into the rose-brightness of that everlasting morning.

A Review of Dr. Heiser’s ‘Demons’

For some reason I was expecting this to be a popular-level book on the topic. Instead, like Unseen Realm, it was a substantive work of scholarship that delved deeply into the academic literature. That’s fine with me, but it is good to know when considering recommending it to others. That being said, the audiobook version I listened to was very well done, with substantive footnotes being included while footnote citations were excluded. This approach came as close as it is possible to get to the experience of reading a physical copy.

I enjoyed the book, much as I enjoyed Unseen Realm. Indeed, there is a lot of overlap between the two books. He chronicles in detail his contention that there were three (instead of one) supernatural rebellions (Gen 3, Gen 6, and Gen 11), each of them by different sorts of beings and for different reasons, with different consequences that play out across the rest of Scripture’s narrative.

Heiser’s strength is also a cause for caution; he pays little heed to interpretive tradition after the NT era. Rather, he privileges Ancient Near Eastern and Second Temple Jewish understandings of these topics since he argues these were the formative influences guiding the thinking of the OT and NT writers. And he undoubtedly has a strong case. It’s undeniable that the NT writers were familiar with this material, like 1 Enoch (referenced in Jude and 2 Peter).

In Heiser’s telling, this 2nd Temple material synthesized the scattered and partial OT teaching on the powers of darkness into a more cohesive narrative. There is explanatory power in this since it’s obvious that when we turn from the OT to the first pages of the NT, a significant shift has occurred in the way these spiritual forces are described. And his framework makes sense of the fragmentary evidence in a way that the typical default framework of Christians does not.

But the concern this work raises is also worth considering. Heiser is perhaps too comfortable departing from the near-consensus of Christian thought throughout the centuries. His reliance on textual variants and extra-biblical sources to frame his narrative mean that we ought to be cautious about thinking we’re on very solid ground. The fact is, despite my desire to understand all this, the topic is shrouded in much mystery. The evidence is scattered and ambiguous–seemingly deliberately.

One strength of the book is what so many have found so helpful about Heiser’s work–he is not beholden to modernist anti-supernaturalism. Instead, he is refreshingly open to a thoroughly supernatural worldview all while being a careful scholar.

He has done much to chart a path forward for Christians to be unembarrassed in our affirmation of the supernatural while being intellectually rigorous. In other words, staying out of the ditch of kooky theories built on the flimsiest conjectures, a ditch with too many denizens already. For that, and for much else, I am thankful for Dr. Heiser’s work.

Escaping the Malaise of Modernity

The opening chapter of Samuel Parkison’s ‘To Gaze Upon God’ — a work of theological retrieval for evangelicals on the beatific vision — makes a striking argument.

Parkison states that all Christians throughout history have agreed that the beatific vision — seeing God face to face — is what makes heaven heaven, it is our blessed hope. But evangelicals in the last couple centuries have largely abandoned the term, though thankfully, many have not abandoned the idea. For example, John Piper’s ministry has hammered home the idea that seeing and savouring Christ is the chief delight of the soul; C.S. Lewis’ vision of “further up and further in” forever in Aslan’s country is similar, and so on.

But then Parkison takes aim at what he calls the “fundamentalist-biblicist” approach to the Bible as fatally compromised by the spirit of the Enlightenment. “Tradition, according to the Enlightenment, is a straight jacket, confining the would-be liberated intellect to immaturity.” Sola Scriptura, he argues, was never meant to be a rejection of the “confessional, catechetical, and liturgical life” that is shaped by the wisdom of past generations.

“The contemporary antipathy for tradition that often accompanies fundamentalism and a biblicist approach to theology did not come from sola Scriptura; modernity and the Enlightenment are to blame for this aberration form historic Christianity.”

This is a bold statement. And we are only at page 6. He goes on to argue that we have been largely cut off from our historical inheritance as Christians by this Enlightenment turn, this promise of intellectual maturity that turned out to be more like the journey of the prodigal son. Seeking self-fulfillment and freedom, we’ve ended up as a culture and in much of the evangelical church at a dead end, wondering what went wrong.

In this context of modern confusion, the idea of the beatific vision “touches a nerve within the soul; a nerve for which the post-Enlightenment imagination does not even have a category.”

And here is the conclusion he drives home to conclude the section:

“The way we escape the malaise of modernity is not by embracing individualistic biblicism, for individualistic biblicism is stuck in that very same malaise. The way forward is first the way backward. We must correct our course, and theological retrieval is the way to do this.”

I find myself resonating with this line of argument, though Parkison puts a very sharp point on the matter. One of the challenges here is that not every Christian or lay leader or pastor can be (or *should* be) doing this work of retrieval. There are SO many other good things to give ourselves to.

But I am convinced we do need a broad movement within evangelical Protestantism that consciously works to retrieve the best of the small-c catholic tradition, the ‘Great Tradition’ that forms the central core of Christian belief (including philosophical substructures) in such a way that is accessible and digestible for 21st-century believers of all kinds. Thankfully, there is such a movement already underway.

I’m looking forward to what I’ll find in pages 8-214 of this book, and maybe I’ll have more to share. I expect this book will be intellectually stimulating and, more importantly, spiritually edifying.

Healing the Gender War through Christian Marriage

“Marriage is a duel to the death which no man of honour should decline.” – G. K. Chesterton

There is something rotten in the state of the relation between the sexes. The statistics are consistently bleak. Young people are not getting married, or they are getting married much later; birth rates in the developed world are plummeting; a new political divergence between the sexes is emerging, with women predominantly leaning progressive and men increasingly drawn to the right; dating moved from the analog world to the internet, from the internet to dating apps, and now the conclusion seems to be that dating apps have made romance worst, not better.

Even the romantic comedy movie genre seems like an artifact from a previous, more innocent era. It feels like, as a society, we have quite forgotten how to fall in love. We have lost romance, and I almost feel nostalgic for the problems we had with the excess of romance. What killed romance? I don’t pretend to know the full answer to such a question, but clearly pornography has played a leading role. With young men (and women) typically being exposed to violent pornography in early adolescence, what chance does friendship really have to flower into attraction or romance?

Pornography takes the sacred consummation of covenantal love, the apogee of romance between two human persons, and desecrates it, reducing it to mere animal urges. By this defiling of the marriage bed the entire chain of romance is broken. If love is meant to grow organically and naturally between a young man and a young maiden, it’s difficult to come up with anything that could so deeply derail that enchanted procession as the mixture of dating apps and pornography that characterizes the modern mating market.

But there is good news, because I am convinced the church of Christ has an important role to play in preserving and modeling a healthy culture of romance and marriage for a watching world that has so completely lost its way. The culture is disillusioned and exhausted, tired of the cynicism and the failed promises of ever-more-freedom, one-more-hookup, the-transgression-of-one-more-sexual-taboo as the answer to all our problems. Into this dysfunction, the church has an opportunity to show a better way: marriages that reveal a complementarity in harmony with the created order and that manifest genuine friendship, romance, and selfless love.

It’s in Genesis that we find the original blueprint for the relations between the sexes as well as the defining characteristics of how sin has marred this blueprint ever since the fall. When I was a campus student leader at Bible College, I started to notice something troubling percolating among the student body. What I noticed was a spirit of division growing up between the young men and young women, fueled by a narrative of grievances between the two groups. It resembled the kinds of attitudes that are sadly all too common in the public square whenever discussion turns to the relations between the sexes. I also started noticing that the harmony that had existed between the men and women began to be frayed and strained as both sides were pressured to find solidarity primarily within their own gender grouping.

As a student leader this was very concerning to me because one of the most wholesome aspects to on-campus student life had been precisely the absence of these divisions. Indeed there was a healthy amount of brotherly and sisterly affection which was openly expressed between the hundred or so 18-25 year-olds who made up our little community.

It was to Genesis that we turned to find language to describe the problem we were facing. An honest reading of Genesis 3 made the nature of the perennial problem clear: men tended to be too passive or to dominate selfishly and women tended to usurp or undermine the men. Each side can always feel smug and satisfied by focusing on the sins and failures of the other group. And as long as this is what we do, we can be sure we’ll never get anywhere good. Part of the answer was just laying out this deep-rooted dynamic for all to see. These conversations were illuminating and convicting, and many humbled themselves in repentance when they identified how they had been contributing to the division.

The next step was giving them a vision of an alternative to the mutual suspicion and division that we see so much of. The New Testament provides the blueprint: that of the redeemed household, with brothers, sisters, aunts, and uncles. In a healthy family, siblings genuinely want the best for one another. I do think there are natural limits on what kinds of personal friendships can exist between men and women before the inevitable complications arise, but that’s a topic for another time. For now, we can simply assert that the brotherly love Christians are to have for one another includes everyone, male and female.

That addresses, if partially, the division and hostility between the sexes, but what about romance?

Here we find more to work with in the Old Testament than in the New. We have a number of narratives that seem to be more than merely descriptive, even if they are tainted by sin: Jacob and Leah, Ruth and Boaz, but especially the love poetry par excellence, the Song of Songs. Add to that this enigmatic Proverb:

“There are three things that are too amazing for me,

four that I do not understand:

the way of an eagle in the sky,

the way of a snake on a rock,

the way of a ship on the high seas,

and the way of a man with a young woman” (Prov 30:18-19).

Pondering these Scriptural depictions of romance will go a long way to correcting some of the worst confusions and distortions of our day. One of the things that becomes clear from these passages is that the experience of falling in love is a great good gift. Yes, it needs to be informed by wisdom and protected from the predations of sin, but it is good.

The relations between the sexes are fraught. In marriage, we find the reconciliation of the sexes that serves as a blueprint for peace. A happily married person, in view of their love and partnership with someone of the opposite sex, will necessarily be far slower to participate in broadsides against the other sex.

In Christian marriage, we find not only that, but a living picture of the gospel itself. Indeed, the Bible is clear that marriage, far from being an arbitrary arrangement that allows for the continuation of the species, is of cosmic significance, for it was designed from the very beginning to reveal something glorious about God: ”This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church” (Eph. 5:32).

In our day of relational carnage, a thriving marriage is a beacon of light, a promise that there is a better way than what the world offers. May the church be a place that welcomes the many wounded refugees from the gender war, a place where such people can learn God’s good design for men and women and even, perhaps, a place where they can do what men and women have always done: fall in love and get hitched.

(Happy 16th anniversary to my lovely wife, Kaitlyn, God’s great good gift to me).

Yes, Jesus was Crucified with Nails (and It’s Irresponsible to Suggest Otherwise)

A Response to Christianity Today’s recent article, which featured a subversive argument, a spirit of revisionist speculation, and evinced poor editorial stewardship.

Correction: In a previous version of this post I stated that Gordon College is associated with Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, but I was mistaken. Gordon-Conwell was formed in 1969 as a merger between Gordon College’s Divinity School and the Conwell School of Theology, so the two institutions (Gordon College and Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary) have been separate entities since 1969. I apologize for this error and any confusion it engendered.

Introduction

I do not make a habit of speaking to the latest furor or controversy. It’s not healthy to be fixated on such things, at least for me. Polemics is not my wheelhouse. But I read an article on Good Friday that I found frankly shocking, called ‘Was Jesus Crucified with Nails?’ with the subtitle being ‘Why one evangelical scholar thinks the answer might be no’. It was featured at Christianity Today, under their Church Life section, as a kind of report on the thought of this scholar, Jeffrey P. Arroyo García, from Gordon College.

So I’m breaking from my usual habit and I want to share a few thoughts about this article and the three problems I see in it. The first problem is the argument, which I think is very weak and contrary to the clear teaching of Scripture. The second problem is the spirit of revisionist speculation that motivates the argument in the first place; and the third problem is the editorial decision by CT to publish this and push it during Easter week.

I have already seen a number of responses to this ill-begotten article. And so probably my voice is not needed to push back on it, but this is one of those pieces that I felt compelled to write, if for no other reason than to get it out of my system.

*It’s never a good sign when a post has 25 times more comments than likes.*

The Argument: Nails or Ropes?

Dr. García’s argument boils down to this: Since the crucifixion narratives themselves don’t explicitly mention nails, and since it is well established that crucifixion during Roman times was often done using ropes instead of nails, then it is quite possible that Jesus was not actually nailed to the cross but only hung with ropes. I think I have represented the argument fairly, but you can read the article for yourself and make of it what you will.

In one sense I am grateful for this article because it sent me, like the Bereans, examining the Scriptures “to see if these things were so.” And lo, I beheld they were not so. The article itself admits this problem about three quarters of the way through, where García deals with John 20:25, which he says is the “one place in the New Testament that mentions nails.” That’s not quite true, as we’ll see, but even if all we had was John 20, it’s a slam dunk that puts this argument to bed.

In John 20:25, Thomas says “Unless I see in his hands the mark of the nails, and place my finger into the mark of the nails, and place my hand into his side, I will never believe.” Then, in verse 27, Jesus makes clear that Thomas was not mistaken in assuming nail holes in his hands, when he responds: “Put your finger here, and see my hands.” It’s hard to imagine how the text could be clearer about the fact that Jesus was crucified with nails. The only way around the clear meaning of John 20 is to undermine the truthfulness of John’s gospel itself. Sadly, that’s exactly what García does:

But he isn’t completely convinced. Jesus doesn’t explicitly say “nails,” and the Bible does not say Thomas touches Christ’s hands or his feet. Many scholars think John was written later—perhaps after crucifixion with nails had become more common, García said.

Come again? I had to read that paragraph over a few times to believe what I was seeing. What does the dating of John’s gospel have to do with the argument? How is this not just refusing to believe what the text clearly says? What does it matter whether Jesus says the word “nails” when he does say “put your finger here.” García seems to be more riddled with doubt than poor Thomas was.

There are a lot of other passages in the Bible that point firmly towards the crucifixion being done with nails, including Colossians 2, Psalm 22, and Luke 24. For an excellent overview of these passages and more, see Benjamin Gladd’s article over at The Gospel Coalition.

To summarize, the Bible clearly teaches that Jesus was nailed to a Roman cross. This was the fulfillment of Old Testament prophecies and served as a powerful symbolic image for Paul to use in Col. 2:14, where he explained that God took “the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands” and set it aside, “nailing it to the cross.”

It grieves me that this clear teaching was undermined in this subversive and speculative article that only serves to get Christians to question whether the text itself is trustworthy. But it raises the question of what exactly is driving this project? For lack of a better term, I’m calling it a spirit of revisionist speculation.

A Spirit of Revisionist Speculation

One of the few things I didn’t enjoy about my time living on a Bible College campus was the way in which some of the young men seemed to enjoy speculating about all kinds of biblical and theological matters. I hadn’t experienced that before and I wasn’t expecting it. My own formation had been towards seeing these things as weighty, consequential, eternal matters, so I was thrown off by the apparent enjoyment some guys took in questioning and speculating.

I was reminded of this experience as I read the article and came across the words “perhaps,” “unclear,” “maybe,” “not convinced,” and then language like this:

‘“We don’t really know,” García said. “We don’t really have a lot of evidence, and the evidence we do have, it involves interpretation.”’

This is the lexicon of speculation. I don’t mean to imply it’s wrong to ask questions and think through various sides of an issue. There is most certainly a place for that. But what I’m trying to put my finger on is this spirit of taking delight in calling into question things that normal Christians consider to be solid received truth. This is destabilizing for simple Christians, and it strikes me as a problem related to scholars who are divorced from the nitty-gritty sin and glory realities of church life among normal people.

Kevin Vanhoozer addresses this problem in his recent book, ‘Mere Christian Hermeneutics’, where he claims that this division between the academy and the church has led to a theological anemia in the church and an ecclesial anemia in the academy. That seems to apply here, for I cannot imagine how this line of speculation and subversive revisionism about the crucifixion could possibly be edifying for God’s people. As an intellectual exercise between historians and scholars, maybe, but not as a featured article for Easter week for a publication that claims to be the flagship magazine for evangelicals. And that brings me to the third problem.

Publishing as Editorial Stewardship

Christianity Today’s unfortunate trajectory of decline has been well documented. I subscribed to it a few years ago, while it was under the editorial leadership of Mark Galli. It was a mixed bag to be sure, but I found value in keeping abreast of the conversation in broad evangelicalism. But what became clear over time is that it was more reflective of an elite cadre of left-leaning evangelicals than actual normal evangelicals. Galli left his post and then converted to Catholicism, which is perhaps not the ideal trajectory we are looking for in the people who fill these very consequential editorial positions. He was replaced by Russell Moore, who has had his own troubling theological trajectory.

The magazine and website still publishes good straight news reporting on issues facing evangelicals around the world, and it also still publishes good, thoughtful writing, but it certainly does seem to suffer from what some have dubbed living under the progressive gaze. This latest article is sadly on brand for what CT has come to represent, though it is the most egregious I have seen because of its direct attack on the truthfulness of the Gospel of John.

Whether John’s gospel was written early or late makes no difference when we are talking about the canon of Holy Scripture. Consider the staggering hubris of the argument once again. Consider what John himself writes in verse 24 of chapter 21, “This is the disciple who is bearing witness about these things, and who has written these things, and we know that his testimony is true.” But here comes a scholar who, having studied extra-biblical sources, decides that they are a better guide to what really happened than the divinely inspired biblical author.

Should we also question wedding at Cana? The conversation with Nicodemus? The encounter with the woman at the well? The raising of Lazarus? After all, these stories only appear in the gospel of John, which “many scholars think was written later.” And if we shouldn’t question the truth of those stories, why not? On what basis are we deciding which parts of the gospel of John are trustworthy?

Whatever this is, it isn’t an evangelical view of the Bible.

Vanhoozer warns about the danger of allowing the world behind the text (historical context and research) to eclipse the text itself. I think that is what has happened here because it’s stated plainly in the article, here in the penultimate paragraph:

“The most important thing for me is that we read the text,” García said. “And then there is a world lying behind the text—but it takes some work for us as moderns to get to the point where we know something about that world, and for me, that deepens, that broadens and focuses how you read the text, how you understand it.” (emphasis mine).

Historical context is helpful, but it should not be used to contradict the plain meaning of the biblical text.

Any publishing outlet that puts content out has to decide what it will feature. These editorial decisions are what give each publication its own flavour and voice, and are therefore a stewardship of the trust and attention that readers grant. I think every publication has at times put out content that wasn’t so good in retrospect, but over time a publication does reveal what its agenda and priorities are—and readers will take note.

It strikes me as a staggeringly poor editorial choice to feature this article prominently on the week of Easter, and a poor stewardship of the trust and attention that regular churchgoers place in the masthead of Christianity Today.

I hope and pray that CT learns from this decision and recommits itself to building up the faith of its readers with robust, wholesome, edifying content. Especially during Easter, when the focus should be on the wonder and cosmic significance of the resurrection of the Son of God, as testified to by the trustworthy Scriptures.

Happy Easter, dear reader.

Update: The article’s author, Daniel Silliman, has since written an apology at the Christianity Today website, which is commendable and for which I am grateful. My critiques of the original article and of CT more generally remain the same, but good on them for course-correcting.

Philosophy for the People – A Review of Francis Schaeffer’s ‘He is There and He is Not Silent’

I haven’t read very much by Francis Schaeffer, so I was glad to come across this handsome reprint by Crossway, a publisher who continues to impress with the aesthetic and editorial quality of their books. And I came across it while browsing in a local library in Southwest Florida – something that I feel quite sure would never happen in Canada.

The book is short, moving along at a fine clip. And yet it is anything but simplistic. What it is is a readable popular-level work of Christian philosophy responding to the particular shape and blind spots of contemporary culture circa 1970. But despite the fifty-five years that have elapsed since its publishing, the insights are certainly still relevant.

I was impressed with Schaeffer’s use of simple language to cut through academic jargon and get at the nub of the issue. You can tell he cares little about academic respectability and a lot about the lives of regular people. He rightly identifies two areas of catastrophic error in the modern mind: metaphysics and epistemology. This comes back to the title of the book: He Is There (Metaphysics) and He Is Not Silent (Epistemology).

An alternative title might have been: “A Christian Response to Contemporary Metaphysical and Epistemological Thought.” And then we would never have heard of it because it would have been read by exactly seven people. So Schaeffer had a gift for boiling things down to their essentials. This comes across strongly in this brisk and fast-paced book, which leaves the reader with the impression that it might have been written in a week-end. The style of writing is conversational, and not especially eloquent. It’s a workmanlike prose that gets the job done.

The drawback of Schaeffer’s style is that he deals very briefly with those he disagrees with. He boils down their view to some essential points and then explains why he disagrees. This is actually quite helpful for the layman who is not and cannot be familiar with the finer points of, let’s say, logical positivism, but I am sure it would be objected to by a logical positivist, who might rightly point out that Schaeffer glossed over many important nuances. Be that as it may, for a work this brief, it manages to cover a lot of terrain in contemporary philosophy.

Schaeffer’s driving concern seems to be twofold: To speak to the seeker who is dismayed and confused by the spiritually devastating consequences of modern philosophical materialism; and to build up the believer in holding fast to a Biblical view of metaphysics and epistemology which is so out of step with the late 20th-century mind. When this is kept in mind, the pace and style of the book makes a lot of sense.

It is a work of evangelistic and pastoral philosophy. It’s central message is something like: “The world now says that ‘the material world is all there is and that the best we can say about God is that God-language is comforting to the mind’, but in reality, despite this modern hubris, there really is a God Who Is There. He is not just a projection of religious hopes, not just the composite picture of responses to religious experiences, but an eternal, self-existent, Triune Being who can and does reach down into the universe he made at His pleasure. And despite the claim that we can never truly know anything with certainty, the truth is that God Is Not Silent — He has chosen to reveal himself using human language. That revelation, it is true, cannot lead to exhaustive knowledge, but it is true revelation that does lead to true knowledge of God. Modern man is wrong. There *is* a God. He is There and He is Not Silent.”

While some of the references in Schaeffer’s book may be a bit dated, the central argument is fresh and relevant. It is a message that not only remains relevant, but may in fact receive a warmer response now than at any point since its original publication in 1972. I say this because of the massive shifts roiling the Western world in recent years. In God’s providence, people are open to reconsidering these most fundamental questions in a way they were not before. Call it the vibe-shift or the ‘Surprising Rebirth of Belief in God’ as Justin Brierley does, it is a real phenomenon.

I for one hope that this short and readable treatment finds its way into many more hands.

Review of ‘A priceless heritage’ – A History of Heritage College & Seminary

This book is a brief survey of the history of Heritage College & Seminary, with a chapter devoted to Central Baptist Seminary, another to London Baptist Bible College & Seminary, and then finally a chapter on the merged entity of Heritage College & Seminary (from 1993 to 2023 when the school celebrated its 30th anniversary and the book was published).

There is lots of very interesting and salient information to be gleaned in this book about the history of these three schools, even though it left me wishing it was longer. Despite being already somewhat familiar with the material, I learned lots from these essays. For example, I had not appreciated before just how central the topic of eschatology had been to the identity of the two schools (perhaps especially London) — which magnifies the accomplishment of finding a way to merge the schools together in 1993 to form Heritage. We too often hear about Christians splintering apart; it is good and right to celebrate when Christians find ways to come together without compromising on truth.

On a personal note, I was also surprised to hear about how truly dire the financial situation was even while I was living on campus and serving in student leadership from 2006-2009. Yet despite those challenges, the school was a buzzing hive of genuine spiritual transformation, regular deep immersion in the Scriptures, and warm Christian fellowship that has left a mark on me for life. As a student I had picked up on the fact that there were financial concerns, but it’s a credit to the leaders at the time that this did not put a damper on the spiritual and academic experience of students. I don’t deny that the school needed course correction and a way to achieve financial stability, but those were also great years of blessing under the leadership of Marvin Brubacher. If I have one minor criticism to make, it’s that this reality (admittedly based on my personal experience and bias) did not seem to come across in the way the story was told.

As a graduate of the college, a former staff member, and a continuing friend to the school and those who work there, I read the book with great personal interest. (And full disclosure: I also know and like the authors!) Despite whatever challenges it has faced and continues to face, Heritage remains a shining light of doctrinal fidelity and spiritual vitality among Bible Colleges and Seminaries in Canada. I pray that it grows and flourishes in the years to come.

I’m so very grateful for the work that went into researching and preparing this written history. I hope it spurs further writing on the history and leadership of what I consider to be the premier Bible College & Seminary option for broadly-reformed complementarian evangelicals in Canada.