Megan Basham has written a deeply sourced book about how the political left has been pouring money and influence into evangelicalism for decades. There are initiatives, political action groups, conferences, books, and celebrity pastors that have introduced leftist political policies into the church. Rank and file evangelicals first exposure to the politicization of their church is usually through a sloganeering campaign: Supporting environmentalism is “loving the least of these”; supporting BLM is a “gospel issue”; wearing a mask is “love of neighbor”; supporting open borders is “practicing hospitality,” Love requires “pronoun hospitality”[1] towards transgender people.

For several years, evangelicals have witnessed their church leaders wield this new jargon and wondered if there is a substratum influence in the church. Basham’s thesis is that many church leaders are letting the culture rather than Scripture dictate the content of their teaching. There has been a well-funded and intentional effort to influence Christian churches, pastors, and institutions to support Democratic party politics. Many aspects of the evangelical order—denominations, churches, pastors, coalitions, seminaries, networks, publishers, journals—have been reduced to a program that confuses the Kingdom of God with socialistic progress.

Basham’s book has garnered strong reactions that roughly fit into three camps. First, there are those flummoxed by Basham’s research because they support, in part or in full, the “leftist agenda.” In the worst case, it is those who have received money from George Soros or Pierre Omidyar and never intended it to be common knowledge and they have a great deal to lose. Second, some are hostile to Basham’s book who have not themselves received money, but have been steered, at least in part, toward the “leftist agenda.”[2] Third, there are those bothered by Basham’s thesis because their church, their favorite celebrity preacher, or their seminary, has been compromised. These are the regular church members who grieve to see the church influenced by atheistic politics.

As riveting and needed as Basham’s book is, we have to acknowledge the pitfalls associated with both the one who writes and the one who reads such a book. We must be careful with other people’s reputations. We must not claim more about people than we know. We must not impute motives beyond the evidence. In the introduction, Basham acknowledges that the several categories of Shepherds aren’t equal. There are dupes and deceivers. There is organic influence and orchestrated influence. There are wolves, cowards, mercenaries, and fools. Many people are listed in the book along with many institutions.[3] Perhaps the book’s biggest weakness is it could have been more scrupulous and careful about the definitions of these categories and who belongs to which label. There is a big difference between a wolf and a dupe. They don’t deserve the same estimation. Yet, Basham’s book on the whole is a responsible handling of a difficult topic. The strength of the book is that Basham has done her homework.

Basham’s point isn’t that Christians should rabidly support Republicans. Rather, she is revealing how progressive priorities have bullied their way into the church. The claim that shepherds are for sale has a spectrum of meanings. In some cases, it is the case that left-wing foundations create evangelical front groups that get their hooks on church leaders. In other cases, shepherds are enticed to support leftist politics because of the positive media attention, the rewards of a think tank, or cultural adulation.

Chapter One is about how left-wing think tanks influenced Christians to support the environmentalism movement. The Clinton Foundation and The Rockefeller Foundation funneled money into evangelical front groups with names like Evangelical Environmental Network (EEN). The hope was to entice high-profile evangelical leaders to talk about these issues and convince legislators that evangelicals support green initiatives. Rick Warren and Richard Sterns signed on to green initiatives, as well as institutions such as the National Association of Evangelicals (NAE), Christianity Today, and the Council for Christian Colleges and Universities, which represents over 180 Christian colleges.[4]

Chapter Two is about the Gang of 8 immigration legislation that wanted open borders. This bill would have given 11 million illegal immigrants legal status and further incentivized illegal immigration. The National Immigration Forum (NIF), which is a well-funded NGO that receives financial support from George Soros, partnered with the NAE to create a shell group, the Evangelical Immigration Table (EIT), that’s explicit purpose was to pass legislation, especially the Gang of 8 legislation. More recently it lobbied against Trump’s “Remain in Mexico” policy that was continued by the Biden administration. They backed the Senator Langford bill, which was similar to the Gang of 8 bill. The goal is to create the allusion that evangelicals support these measures, thus convincing lawmakers that their evangelical constituents want these laws. The immigration issue reveals that for some of the shepherds for sale, it's not just about policy. It’s about partisan politics. Russell Moore and J.D. Greear repeatedly and publicly cast Trump’s border policies as wicked and un-Christian. But when the Obama and Biden administrations used similar tactics, they kept silent.[5]

These examples are just the tip of the iceberg. You will have to read the book to get the rest. But be warned, if you are looking for a book that merely tosses around vague political sentiments to satisfy a pre-determined emotional feeling, then this isn’t the book for you. Be prepared for details, examples, and citations. And that leads us to consider two other books arguing with a very different method and from a very different perspective.

Books by Russell Moore and Tim Alberta
Basham’s Shepherds for Sale makes the recent books of Tim Alberta and Russell Moore not just beside the point but almost as though they were never the point at all. Tim Alberta and Russell Moore write with a particularly pointy political emphasis that resembles the condescending and divisive tone common in the secular academy.[6] The Moore and Alberta books function as an updated version of Kristin Du Mez’s 2020 book, Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation.[7] Du Mez’s book is written from a progressive, feminist perspective and condemns Billy Graham as guilty of the heinous sins of Christian Nationalism and patriarchy. She argues that these cultural shifts within evangelicalism helped pave the way for the widespread evangelical support for Donald Trump. Moore and Alberta are running a similar political play that treats haters of Donald Trump with deference, even adoration.[8] They argue that professing Christians should disentangle their faith from partisan politics, especially from Donald Trump because of his hateful rhetoric.[9]

There is inherent instability in an argument condemning others for political machinations that itself is standing knee-deep in the very same machinations.[10] For example, when Russell Moore’s Christianity Today receives funding from the Lilly Endowment[11] he regards that as a pure transaction of trade. When a blue-collar, churchgoing, lower-middle-class person is drawn to Trump’s policy to cut government regulations, that is a selfish quest for political power. Moore’s book is just another stale maneuver of the cultural wasteland, the sort of power play that seeks power by saying no one else should have it.[12] It's cunning and ruthless. Even when warnings against lust for power are obviously applicable, it isn’t particularly cogent in the hands of Alberta and Moore, who ignore a large number of Christians to whom their squabbles do not in the least apply.

Alberta and Moore’s tired tropes of never-Trumpism are merely braying back the hee-haw of the donkey, a very political and well-funded donkey. Specifically, Moore and Alberta make three heuristic mistakes.

First, they misunderstand the battlefield
According to their moral calculation, those who reluctantly vote for Trump are impure. Those, like Russell Moore, who proudly attended Barack Obama’s White House Christmas party, are pure. Obama is granted an intrinsic integrity that contributes to human flourishing—but those who oppose Democratic policies are imputed with vile motives. The assumption is that Trump is a moral monster because he uses hateful and immature rhetoric, in contrast to Obama who is dignified, nuanced, and academic. Alberta is impressed with Barack Obama's intellectual background and his reputation as an academic. Obama is regarded as a highly intellectual and introspective figure, whose academic credentials and thoughtful approach to politics set him apart from Trump.

Many evangelicals are noticing the corrosive political dynamics in evangelical churches, especially since COVID. Basham has written a book that proves this influence is coming from the Left. Shepherds for Sale offers a meaningful contribution to evangelical debates about political influence in the church. Moore and Alberta’s books, in contrast, have attempted to redefine evangelical political action so that it excludes support for Trump. They are further evidence of how political and feverish those debates have become. This is why Moore and Alberta’s books are unconvincing. These books are marked by the very same politicization that they accuse evangelicals of having. Are we supposed to take seriously the people who embody all the blots they criticize? Their books are a display of political allegiance framed primarily not of what they are for—but what they are against. The implicit aspects, however, are clear.

Moore and Alberta write with contempt and offer vague solutions. Moore says the issues compromising the witness of the evangelical church are “Political fusion with Trumpism, Christian nationalism, white-identity backlash, the dismissing of issues such as abuse as ‘social justice’ secularism, and several others.”[13] It doesn’t take a proponent of Christian Nationalism to see that Moore’s chapter on the subject reads like he has not engaged any of the books defending it. The problem with the picture Moore paints is that he never attempts to understand those who think differently than he does. This is how you get rhetoric that says when evangelicals vote for Democrats they selflessly promote social justice; when they vote for Republicans they selfishly promote cultural wars with an untoward interest in political power.[14]

Moore concludes that the reason young evangelicals are leaving the church is because the church no longer believes in its own moral teachings. This is a dangerous claim if the reason young evangelicals leave the church is something entirely different, namely, the church looks just like the world. For example, Basham documents how the pro-life movement has been redefined. Brett McCracken is pro-life because he opposes the second amendment. Russell Moore is pro-life because he lobbies for illegal immigrants to get amnesty. Karen Swallow Prior is pro-life because she wears a mask. Ben Low is pro-life because he supported Obama. Beth Moore is pro-life because she opposes Donald Trump.[15]

Second, they misunderstand where on the battlefield they are standing
Much of these books are spent on a sweeping, straw-manned account of those evangelicals who “celebrate” the hateful rhetoric of Donald Trump. Moore says the sundry evangelicals who, for varying reasons, vote for Donald Trump, have compromised their ability to be “prophetic voices of truth and justice.”[16] Alberta and Moore tend to condense the diverse “supporters” of Trump into one amalgamated archfoe, a hideous chimera rather like Bunyon’s Apollyon with scales like fish, wings like a dragon, feet like a bear, and fire and smoke out of his belly.

The Moore/Alberta slant is that republican politicians are leveraging the church for political aims. There is a sinister scheme driving evangelicals to prefer Republican candidates. Alberta claims that going back to the late twentieth century, Christians opposed pornography, homosexuality, and abortion, not for biblical reasons but to “satisfy the lowest common denominator of their socially conservative constituency.”[17] It’s jaw-dropping to read Moore and Alberta when there is a verifiable history that demonstrates the exact opposite of what they claim. Moore and Alberta are blinkered by their political ideology.

It is the Communist Party that has intentionally infiltrated the church for political reasons for over one hundred years, a history that is not dependent on speculation.[18] W. Cleon Skousen’s painstakingly researched book, The Naked Communist: Exposing Communism and Restoring Freedom (1958) outlines the patient strategies of the Communists to remake the world by taking control of schools and churches. Paul Kengor’s book, The Devil and Karl Marx, documents with real research—not speculation—how the Communist Party USA duped the mainline Protestant churches. Herb Romerstein, who died in 2013, was America’s foremost living expert on Communism. He scripted many of the Venona Papers. Romerstein was asked which particular group the Communists had the most success duping in the United States. He answered that it was the religious left. They were the biggest suckers of them all. There is a real, historically documented attempt of the Left to co-op evangelicals for political purposes. Moore and Alberta’s tribalism displays no awareness of this history. They don’t factor into their analysis that evangelicals are going to react to these real threats.

Whatever one’s opinion of the character and rhetoric of Donald Trump, the never-Trumper arguments are not responding to a meaningful threat. The country has never been at less threat for a President to become a tyrant than if Donald Trump were re-elected. Trump can’t cross the street without being indicted. He can’t go to a rally without being shot. He can’t deregulate Health and Human Services without being stonewalled by the bureaucrats who might deregulate. A person doesn’t have to love Donald Trump to see that Moore and Alberta have created a fantasy nemesis as the composite for collective fears and anxieties with little connection to reality. They dismiss opposing viewpoints as the manifestation of an irrational phobia when their own position against Donald Trump is an irrational phobia.

There is where Megan Basham’s book stands in stark contrast to Moore and Alberta. She documents “the manipulation of Church leaders who claim that to stand where the Bible stands is ‘political,’ yet not accepting their view on some issue where biblical application is disputable is somehow—even when they’re pressing you to lobby for legislative remedies—paradoxically not political. Republicans who speak of how their faith prompts them to vote for a certain candidate are grasping for power. Democrats who do the same are illustrating faithfulness in the public sphere.”[19]

Part of the misunderstanding is that of unfairly applied weights and measures on the standards used to judge the character of public officials. The argument from Moore and Alberta is that Christians can’t vote for Donald Trump because he is a moral monster. What are we to make of this claim? What would it look like to be morally and politically consistent with this claim?

Answering that question requires answering another. What is character? A politician’s character is determined by their personal behavior, their moral principles, and their political actions. One must first evaluate a politician’s character along these lines. Second, they must ask, “Compared to what?” The Christians who voted for Trump understand his moral defects. But are voters really to assume that Trump’s character, as salacious as it is, is worse than, say, Barack Obama or Joseph Biden? Biden has been accused of sexual assault,[20] protects abortion access, expands LGBTQ power, and reduces religious liberty protections.[21] Obama used the IRS to target political opponents,[22] supported sodomite marriage, allowed the Muslim Brotherhood input into foreign policy,[23] enabled the persecution of Christians,[24] and was the most pro-abortion president in U.S. history until Biden.

Basham explains, “Let’s be clear, no one cast a ballot for Trump because he committed adultery or because he bragged in 2005 about grabbing women’s private parts. Nor was the legal protection of adultery or lechery a feature of the Trump campaign’s platform. In contrast, Clinton and Biden did promise voters that electing them would allow the butchery to continue. They did make it part of their platforms, and a significant number of voters cast ballots for them based on those promises. Given this, which vote is more morally compromising for the Christian—the one that places power in the hands of those who promise to allow the innocent to be put to death or the one that vests power in those who promise to make a way to rescue the innocent.”[25]

Here is the point. It is a plausible Christian position to be cautious about voting for a man with Donald Trump’s moral record but only if those cautioning against Trump are even more cautious about voting for people with the character of Barack Obama, Hilary Clinton, and Joseph Biden. Moore and Alberta’s lack of moral and political consistency reveals it’s not really about character. It’s about partisan politics. Moore and Alberta promote a political agenda that is intolerant of Christians who reject it. Moore, for example, lobbied for open borders, among other Democratic policies. He is also the editor of evangelicalism’s flagship magazine where “100% of the political donations from 2015-2022 by staff members at Christianity Today… went to Democrats.”[26] Basham writes of Tim Keller, who made similar never-Trumper arguments as Moore and Alberta, “Though only a handful of staffers at Keller’s church network and preacher-training ministry have donated to political campaigns since 2015, those who did, donated frequently, and according to Federal Election Commission records, gave exclusively to Democrats.”[27]

Third, they mis-divide the battlefield 
They make the Bazian error when they propagate what they claim to oppose, namely a Trump-centric view of the world. They are contributing to a Trump-centric view of the world by sorting evangelicals into camps for or against Trump. It’s almost like they’ve forgotten that God rather than Trump is at the center of meaning.

The cultural divide today isn’t really about Donald Trump. It is between those who grasp for unreality and those searching for reality. Even outside the church, there are unbelievers thirsty for moral sanity. Ayaan Hirsi Ali’s Christian conversion encourages glimpses and visions of the opportunity for gospel witness among those who seek what C.S. Lewis calls, “the Normal.” Some oppose the deconstruction of family, life, and law. They regard the stable, objective realities of God’s world and stand ready to learn the Transcendent framework for distinguishing moral ideas from immoral ones.

The sociological divide is between those who see, agree with, and love the world as God made it versus those who can’t see, agree with, or love the world as God made it. It is between those who reinforce reality and those redefining it, which raises a question for Moore and Alberta: Since reality is not as secularists tell us it is, how can Christians compromise with, let alone join them? The effect of these books is to open evangelicals up to the possibility of voting for Democratic politicians, which places Moore and Alberta as further evidence of the Basham thesis.

None of this is to excuse a lust for power if it has manifested in evangelical support of Trump. But if support for Trump is as bad as Russell and Alberta claim, then how much worse is evangelical support for the Democratic Party, which is as radically pro-abortion as it can possibly be?[28] Hating Donald Trump can’t explain everything, especially for Christians. Basham‘s book, though not a direct interaction with Moore‘s and Alberta’s books, highlights that not only are the books by Moore and Alberta self-refuting, but those Christians tempted to affirm the Moore/Alberta arguments need to first understand how hypocrisy undermines an argument. For example, Moore approvingly quotes Robert P. Jones, who claims, “white Christian churches” are “responsible for constructing and sustaining a project to protect white supremacy.” Readers are left wondering why they are supposed to oppose the rhetoric of Donald Trump and approve of the slander of Robert Jones.[29]

Now What?
Moore concludes each chapter with advice on how to counter the described problem. For example, chapter two is called, “Losing our Authority.” Moore, without any hint of irony, claims the church has surrendered its authority by aspiring to political power. The chapter ends with the following suggestions for action: Maintain Attention, Tell the Truth, Avoid Foolish Controversies, Don’t Self-Censor, Question Authority, and Inhabit the Bible. It is not the fundamental meaning of these vague statements that are false. But there is a particular falsification of the statements themselves arising from the slant of regarding everything only in relation to the progressive political perspective. It’s a tactic that crowds out the Truth.

If we need a political theology sensitive to the variations of change in the world, we also need one that can transcend the myopic politics of the next election. Thus, the primary political platform of all Christians is “Christ is King!” Earthly politics is in its nature a secondary and dependent thing. But Moore and Alberta treat politics as the primary and independent thing, as if Democratic policies are absolute. Such a conception of what is primary lacks the metaphysical finality that is proper in the church.

All three books—Basham’s, Moore’s, and Alberta’s—embody the problems that result when politics becomes a person’s totalizing reality. Each book has a deeply personal, professional, and political investment in exposing the other side as wayward and no investment in finding what makes the two sides alike. There is a natural tendency in books like these to obscure common beliefs, convictions, and concerns. Yet the sweeping assertions of Moore and Alberta’s books leave readers asking different questions than the copiously researched book by Basham. To Moore and Alberta, the discerning reader asks “Why should I believe what you say?” To Basham, the reader asks, “What should I faithfully do with this well-researched information?”

G.K. Chesterton said that only by explaining things in their simplicity can we correct their complexity.[30] There is no way out of the political tangle without increasing the proportion of Christians who are curious about why so many evangelical institutions are taking money from secular political groups—groups that hate the Christian’s summa political principle, “Christ is King!” That’s why Basham’s book matters. If Moore and Alberta take readers into the abyss of irony and contradiction, Basham takes the reader out by shining light on the echopractic paradox of Christian institutions becoming like the secularists that fund them.

Conclusion
On the whole, Shepherds for Sale is an original, yet disheartening read. It answers a lot of questions and raises others. The broader question that is beyond the scope of Basham’s book is this: Why are evangelical institutions so susceptible to being manipulated by ideologies that hate Christ?

The answer is knotty, but it starts with the history of American Christianity. The one binding integration point of evangelicalism is subjectivism.[31] The integration of conversionism, “God spoke to me” spirituality, anti-clericalism, anti-creedalism, and the so-called gospel-centered culture, is a porous foundation to defend against an intentional, well-funded, devilish, and politically obsessed ideology.

<sub>Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.

  [1] This phrase was used by J.D. Greer.
   [2] Basham’s book describes, rather than creates, a divide in evangelicalism. Gavin Ortlund is a pastor named in the book who has resisted Basham’s claims in a spicy back and forth. Basham’s point of referencing Ortlund was that he used his large platform to convince Christians to support environmentalism. Ortlund claims he was misrepresented. All the back and forth between the two, when combined with Ortlund’s original climate change video promoting “unity” on the scientific consensus of climate change, vindicates Basham’s modest point regarding Ortlund, which is that he is an example of someone who promotes climate change. Disagreement is not slander and Ortlund’s alleged example of being misunderstood by Basham does not discredit the rest of the book. Bethel McGrew points out that Basham has a few “lapses in rigor” that “provide unnecessary excuses for bad-faith critics to miss the forest while fixating on a few leaves of one tree.” McGrew says that the bad faith critics operate with a “double standard is undeniable when reviewers obsessively pick apart these sorts of imprecisions while turning a blind eye to truly egregious misrepresentations by an ‘approved’ figure such as Russell Moore.” https://www.firstthings.com/web-exclusives/2024/08/how-the-evangelical-elite-failed-their-flock
[3] Megan Basham, Shepherds for Sale: How Evangelical Leaders Traded the Truth for a Leftist Agenda (Broadside, 2024), xxi-xxvi.
   [4] Megan Basham, Shepherds for Sale: How Evangelical Leaders Traded the Truth for a Leftist Agenda (Broadside, 2024), 1-30.
   [5] Megan Basham, Shepherds for Sale: How Evangelical Leaders Traded the Truth for a Leftist Agenda (Broadside, 2024), 31-50.
   [6] Russell Moore writes, “Many evangelicals have traded the Sermon on the Mount for the sloganeering of political tribalism, and nowhere is this more evident than in the embrace of Donald Trump. The cost of this exchange is a crisis of credibility that has undermined our witness to the world” (54). He also says, “It's not just a matter of political differences; it's a matter of whether we are willing to be prophetic voices of truth and justice, even when it costs us something. Supporting a leader who embodies the antithesis of Christ-like humility and compassion is a betrayal of our mission” (78). Russell Moore, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America (B&H Publishing Group, 2023).
   [7] Kristin Du Mez, Jesus and John Wayne: How White Evangelicals Corrupted a Faith and Fractured a Nation (Liveright, an imprint of W.W. Norton, 2020).
   [8] For a refutation of the most stubbornly persistent cultural unreality of the last four years, click here.
[9] Russell Moore writes, “The hateful and immature rhetoric that has become a hallmark of Trump's public persona is not just a political problem; it is a spiritual crisis. When evangelicals excuse or even celebrate such behavior, we betray the very message of love and grace that we are called to embody” (91). He also says, “By aligning ourselves with a leader whose words are often cruel and divisive, we risk becoming desensitized to the destructive power of such language. The normalization of hateful rhetoric among evangelicals is a grave danger to our witness and to the health of our communities” (104). Russell Moore, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America (B&H Publishing Group, 2023).
   [10] https://claremontreviewofbooks.com/protestant-deformation/
[11] Megan Basham, Shepherds for Sale: How Evangelical Leaders Traded the Truth for a Leftist Agenda (Broadside, 2024), 73-79.
   [12] Tim Alberta has written, in the words of Aaron Renn, “a deeply hostile book.” Alberta fights the culture war by decrying those of different political opinions fighting the culture war. Tim Alberta, The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism. New York: HarperCollins, 2023.
   [13] Russell Moore, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America (B&H Publishing Group, 2023), 11.
   [14] Megan Basham, Shepherds for Sale: How Evangelical Leaders Traded the Truth for a Leftist Agenda (Broadside, 2024), 62, 71.
   [15] Megan Basham, Shepherds for Sale: How Evangelical Leaders Traded the Truth for a Leftist Agenda (Broadside, 2024), 68-71.
   [16] Russell Moore, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America (B&H Publishing Group, 2023), 78.
   [17] Tim Alberta, The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory: American Evangelicals in an Age of Extremism (New York: HarperCollins, 2023), 66.
   [18] The Communist International was established in Moscow in March of 1919. In America, in September of 1919, in Chicago, the American Communist Party began. From the outset, the  American Communist Party was taking orders from the Soviet Union. The original dispatch that was sent from Chicago to Moscow reports as follows: “Comrades, we did it. Long live the Great Soviet Republic. Long live the Comintern.”  The goal was for a Soviet American Republic to exist under the Soviet Constitution. So the American Communist Party, even their newspaper the Daily Worker, are all creatures of the Soviet Union. They answer to the Soviet Union. The people who ran the day-to-day business of the party were hired, fired, and approved by the Soviet Union. They received subsides from the Soviet Union throughout the entirety of the Cold War until the 1980’s.
   [19] Megan Basham, Shepherds for Sale: How Evangelical Leaders Traded the Truth for a Leftist Agenda (Broadside, 2024), xxv-xxvi.
   [20] https://www.businessinsider.com/joe-biden-allegations-women-2020-campaign-2019-6?op=1#at-a-may-2019-campaign-event-biden-told-a-10-year-old-girl-i-bet-youre-as-bright-as-you-are-good-looking-10
[21] Megan Basham, Shepherds for Sale: How Evangelical Leaders Traded the Truth for a Leftist Agenda (Broadside, 2024), 61.
   [22] http://freebeacon.com/blog/obamas-scandals-didnt-embarrass/
[23] Glazov, Jamie, ed. Barack Obama's True Legacy: How He Transformed America (Republic Book Publishers, 2023), 31-49.
   [24] Glazov, Jamie, ed. Barack Obama's True Legacy: How He Transformed America (Republic Book Publishers, 2023), 50-64.
   [25] Megan Basham, Shepherds for Sale: How Evangelical Leaders Traded the Truth for a Leftist Agenda (Broadside, 2024), 71.
   [26] https://claremontreviewofbooks.com/protestant-deformation/
[27] Megan Basham, Shepherds for Sale: How Evangelical Leaders Traded the Truth for a Leftist Agenda (Broadside, 2024), 62, 85.
   [28] https://www.firstthings.com/web-exclusives/2024/08/kamalas-abortion-extremism
[29] Russell Moore, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America (B&H Publishing Group, 2023), 213.
   [30] G.K. Chesterton, In Defense of Sanity (Ignatius, 2011), 267.
   [31] Russell Moore’s understanding of the history of evangelicalism is that it is “built from the beginning on nationalism, racism, militarism, misogyny, populism, or right-wing politics.” Russell Moore, Losing Our Religion: An Altar Call for Evangelical America (B&H Publishing Group, 2023), 14.</sub>

Introduction
Among evangelicals, there has long existed a vague unanimity that polygamy was wrong. There was a hazy notion of the varied examples of it in Scripture, but it was nothing more than a preposterous proposition. If one wife is a tantalizing riddle, what must 1000 wives be?

In Scripture, polygamy is more than an accidental misfortune of exceptional times. It’s more than solemn foolery. It’s more than mere dregs of melodramatic or connubial visions. The polygamy of one kind was a type of another kind, and in this way, it’s a bigger part of the story than one would think. It was Israel’s growing and ongoing practice of polygamy that beggared and enslaved them to the high places of the gods. But we are running ahead. We’ll demonstrate these conclusions in due course.

Before exploring what the Bible says about the subject, we must establish the standard against which everything is measured. This takes us to a time before Sinai, to a time before the Fall. Genesis 2:24 says, “Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and they shall become one flesh.” The grammar is singular throughout. “A man,” not men. “His wife,” not wives. Interestingly, the Hebrew word echad, translated as one, is also part of the Shema. Just like “the Lord our God, the Lord is one” (Dt. 6:4), so too is marriage where two become one. The oneness of marriage relates to the oneness of God, and as we will see, it points forward to the exclusive covenant between Christ and the Church (Eph. 5:31-32). With that baseline, we are prepared to conduct a biblical survey of polygamy.

Old Testament Survey of Polygamy
The first reference to polygamy is when Lamech, the descendant of Cain, takes two wives, Adah and Zillah. Lamech is a man of violence (Gen. 4:23) who intentionally takes after his ancestor, Cain (Gen. 4:24). So, polygamy enters the biblical story through the chronicle of a killer. There is no moral footnote that spells it out: “Lamech’s polygamy was wrong.” That would be too obvious. The embedded actions of a wicked loggerhead in a narrative context point to a leitmotif that polygamy is always a miasmic event.

The narrative of the Patriarchs is more complicated. Abraham took a wife named Sarai, who then proceeded to give her Egyptian servant, Hagar, to Abraham “as a wife” (Gen. 16:3). One would hope that was the end of the flummery. But, alas, Abraham’s grandson, Jacob, was deceived into marrying the wrong woman, Leah. So he works another seven years to marry the right woman, Rachel (Gen. 29:15-30). Troubles mount in the household of multiple wives. Leah gives birth, but Jacob’s beloved, Rachel, is barren. So, Rachel gives her servant Bilhah to Jacob as a wife, and she bears Dan and Naphtali (Gen. 30:1-8) on Rachel’s behalf. Not to be one-upped, Leah gives her servant Zilpah to Jacob, and she bears Gad and Asher (Gen. 30:9-13) on Leah’s behalf.

Abraham’s other grandson, Esau, takes multiple wives, Judith and Basemath, both Hittites (Gen. 26:34), and Mahalath, the daughter of Ishmael (Gen. 28:9). Esau’s other wives are mentioned in Genesis 36:1-5. They are named Adah, a Hittite, and Oholibamah, a Hivite.

Here we have Abraham and Jacob, the heroes of the faith, practicing polygamy. God blessed the Patriarchs throughout their lives. Does that mean God was blessing polygamy? Reflecting on the Patriarchal narratives, polygamy does not emerge as the happy bliss of moral purity. Abraham’s marriage of Hagar is about rivalry (Gen. 21:9), expulsion (Gen. 21:10), displeasure (Gen. 21:11), and tears (Gen. 21:16). Jacob’s marriage to two sisters, and then the sister’s servants, is marked by envy (Gen. 29:26, 30; Gen. 30:1), hatred (Ge. 29:31), rivalry (Gen. 29:34; 30:8), anger (Gen. 30:2), and manipulation (Gen. 30:14-17). And all this strife carried into the relationship of Jacob’s children. Remember that Joseph was nearly murdered by his brothers. This is a dysfunctional polygamous household. The lesson is plain: When the creational norm is violated, sin is multiplied.

Then comes the Mosaic Law. Deuteronomy 17:17 restricts kings from having multiple wives. Deuteronomy 21:15-17 regulates a situation where a man finds himself married to two women, one he loves and one he doesn’t love. If the unloved wife bears his firstborn son, he may not deprive the firstborn son of his inheritance. This law assumes polygamy has been occurring and sets out to govern it, without explicitly endorsing it. In Deuteronomy 25:5-10, a man must marry his dead brother’s wife if they all dwelled together. The regulation is silent on whether this applies even if the brother was already married. Leviticus 18:18 says, “And you shall not take a woman as a rival wife to her sister, uncovering her nakedness while her sister is still alive.” Notice the problem with polygamy. It invites rivalry into the household, something that is true whether the wives are sisters or not, as 1 Samuel 1:1-8 illustrates. In other words, a bad wife is better than a good haraam.

It wouldn’t be right to conclude that the Mosaic law approves of polygamy. God’s law regulates it, which is different from supporting it. Just like God regulates divorce without approving of it (Dt. 24; Mt. 19:8), God establishes guardrails to protect the vulnerable within the pestiferous situation of polygamy. Providing merciful protections within the muddle is hardly a blueprint for a faultless design. It’s revealing that the king is forbidden from marrying multiple wives (Dt. 17:17). He is supposed to be the leader, the model that the people follow.

The historical books provide several more examples of polygamy. In Judges 8:29-32, Gideon has two names and many wives. When he is called Jerubbaal, the son of Joash, in Judges 8:29, he lives in his own house rather than a palace. He is resisting Baal by resisting the tendency to become a totalitarian king. But when he is called Gideon in Judges 8:30, he has 70 sons. In Scripture, the number 70 points to the nations of the world (Genesis 10; Judges 1:7), and Gideon’s 70 sons come from his many wives.

In Judges 10 – 12, polygamy is implied by the description of fecundity attributed to Jair the Gileadite (Judges 10:3f); Ibzan of Bethlehem (Judges 12:8f), and Abdon (Judges 12:13f). These leaders of Israel operated above the law, ignoring God’s disapproval of polygamy. It’s after the failure of the Judges that God’s people wish for a king. But their first monarch, Saul, takes a concubine (2 Sam. 3:7) and foreshadows the royal polygamy that plagues Israel’s future.

The royal history of Israel is where polygamy reaches catastrophic levels. David accumulates many wives and concubines (1 Sam. 18:27; 25:42f; 2 Sam. 3:2-5; 5:13; 11-12). David also receives Saul’s wives. Second Samuel 12:7-8 explains, “Nathan said to David, ‘You are the man! Thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, ‘I anointed you king over Israel, and I delivered you out of the hand of Saul. 8 And I gave you your master's house and your master's wives into your arms and gave you the house of Israel and of Judah. And if this were too little, I would add to you as much more.’” Nathan goes on to prophesy that these wives would be the source of David’s humiliation (2 Sam. 12:11f).  Indeed, David’s polygamous household is an unhappy disaster followed by Amnon’s rape of Tamar (2 Sam. 13:1-22), Absalom’s murder of Amnon (2 Sam. 13:23-33), Absalom’s rebellion (2 Sam. 15:1-18:33), and the violation of the ten concubines on the rooftop (1 Sam. 16:21f).

The apex of royal polygamy is Solomon, taking 700 wives and 300 concubines. His wives turn his heart to other gods (1 Kings 11:1-8), just like Deuteronomy 17:17 predicted. This is the part of the story where polygamy is directly linked to apostasy and the destruction of Israel. Here is a man who seemed to have it all: A Temple that was the wonder of the ancient world, the inherited promises of David, and legendary wisdom. But his sublime life is brought to ruin by multiplying wives.

Solomon, like Adam, failed in his marriage duties. Adam failed in the garden when he listened to his wife rather than God. Solomon failed in the palace when he listened to his many wives rather than God. And not just many wives. 700 plus 300. 1000 represents totality and completeness. God’s promises were to a thousand generations (Dt. 7:9), his blessings were the cattle on a thousand hills (Ps. 50:10), and divine time means one thousand years are but as a day (Ps. 90:4). God’s total covenant fulfillment comes by the thousands. Solomon’s complete covenant corruption, likewise, came by the thousands.

But the pattern continues. Rehoboam had eighteen wives and sixty concubines (2 Chron. 11:18-23), Abijah took fourteen wives (2 Chron. 13:21), and Jehoram had multiple wives (2 Chron. 21:14, 17). Jehoida the priest, the guy who should know better, arranged Joash’s polygamy (2 Chron. 24:3). Caleb (1 Chron. 2:18f, 46ff), Shaharaim (1 Chron. 8:8-11), and Jerahmeel (1 Chron. 2:26) also had multiple wives.

The polygamy of Saul, then David, then Solomon, then all the rest of the kings, was in direct violation of God’s law forbidding kings from marrying multiple wives (Dt. 17:17). This is the story of the fracture of the kingdom. When the United Monarchy was shattered like a windshield, polygamy was the little rock that turned a little indention into a series of cracks.

The wisdom and prophetic books imply that monogamy is normative. Proverbs 5 and 31 don’t explicitly mention polygamy, but set forth the vision for the ideal wife and the faithful husband. The Song of Solomon, in an irony worthy only of Solomon, elevates the singular bride above the attractions of sixty queens and eighty concubines (Song of Solomon 6:8-9). That is the Solomon way, to say things that incriminate your own life, but advocate God’s wisdom. Ezekiel 23 is an allegory in which two sisters, Oholah and Oholibah, are portrayed as the two wives of God, Samaria and Jerusalem. Ezekiel uses polygamy not as a model, but to illustrate the unfaithfulness of God’s people, in that both wives are unfaithful. Even in metaphor, polygamy leads to condemnation.

How will Israel heal from their disobedient history of polygamy? Malachi 2:14-15 calls for fidelity in marriage, emphasizing the oneness of marriage, “The Lord was witness between you and the wife of your youth, to whom you have been faithless, though she is your companion and your wife by covenant. 15 Did he not make them one, with a portion of the Spirit in their union? And what was the one God seeking? Godly offspring. So guard yourselves in your spirit, and let none of you be faithless to the wife of your youth.” The prophet is calling Israel back to the creational norm. In all the Old Testament examples, polygamy never works out to a happy conclusion.

New Testament Survey of Polygamy
The New Testament provides sweeping clarification on God’s expectations for monogamous marriage. This starts in Matthew 19:3-12, when the Pharisees ask Jesus about divorce. Jesus answers, “Have you not read that he who created them from the beginning made them male and female, and said, ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh’? So they are no longer two but one flesh. What therefore God has joined together, let not man separate” (Mt. 19:4-6). Jesus is saying that the foundational understanding of marriage predates the Mosaic law. Two become one. It’s not that three or four become one. For two to become one means that no third party can enter the marriage. This is God’s design “from the beginning.” Jesus’ hermeneutics clarifies that the creation order for marriage supersedes any accommodation that might be derived from the Old Testament.

Elsewhere, Jesus further clarifies that God’s intention for marriage is one man and one woman for one lifetime. To marry another is to commit adultery (Lk. 16:18). The marriage covenant requires exclusive devotion, so much so that if a husband even looks at another woman with lustful intent, he has committed adultery in his heart (Mt. 5:27-32).

The Apostle Paul teaches that “Each man should have his own wife and each woman her own husband” (1 Cor. 7:2). “Wife,” not wives. “His own wife,” not a wife among others. The husband “gives his wife her conjugal rights” (1 Cor. 7:3). The husband doesn’t have authority over his own body any more than the wife does (1 Cor. 7:4). This mutual conjugal duty is incompatible with polygamy. The binding between the husband and wife is singular and exclusive until death (1 Cor. 7:39). All of Paul’s teachings on marriage are an extension of Jesus’ teaching on the subject (1 Cor. 7:10f).

In Romans 7:1-3, Paul uses marriage to illustrate the gospel principle of freedom from the law. At the center of this illustration are two remarriage scenarios, both found in Romans 7:3. The first scenario is that if a married woman goes on to live with another man while her first husband still lives, she is called an adulteress. The second scenario is that if a married woman’s husband dies and she marries another man, she is not called an adulteress. How is it that one remarriage would make her an adulteress while the other would not? What has made the difference? In the first scenario, the married woman goes on to live with another man while her first husband is still living. In this scenario, she is called an adulteress. Why? Because she is still bound by law to her husband. In the second scenario, the married woman’s husband dies, and she marries another man. In this scenario, she is not called an adulteress. Why? Because she is released from the law of marriage that bound her to her husband, who is now dead. Paul’s teaching only makes sense if marriage is exclusively singular.

In Ephesians 5:22-33, we learn the penultimate reason God designed marriage as a monogamous institution. “Husbands, love your wives, as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her... ‘Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.’ This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church” (Eph. 5:25, 31-32). Notice two things. First, like Christ, Paul roots marriage in Genesis 2:24, where two become one. Second, the mystery of the one-flesh union refers to Christ and the church. So, why did God make monogamous marriage an essential civilizational institution? It is a parable pointing to the exclusive, self-giving, singular love of Christ for his Bride. Indeed, the new creation is structured as a marriage (Rev. 21:2,9). For the bride’s part, she must not have relationships with the other gods (2 Cor. 11:2). For Christ’s part, he does not have multiple brides. There is one Lamb and one Bride (Rev. 19:6-9; 21:2, 9). The sign of marriage must correspond to the reality it signifies.

In Galatians 4:21-31, Paul uses Abraham’s two wives, Hagar and Sarah, as an allegory of two covenants. Hagar, the slave wife, represents flesh (Gal. 4:23), Mount Sinai (Gal. 4:25), and slavery (Gal 4:25). Sarah, the free wife, represents “the Jerusalem above” (Gal. 4:26), promise (Gal. 4:23, 28), and freedom (Gal. 4:26, 30f). Paul is not endorsing polygamy. He is using it typologically, deriving theological lessons to persuade God’s people to leave behind the slave wife.

In 1 Timothy, Paul requires an elder to be “the husband of one wife” (1 Tim. 3:2). He must be a one-woman man, not a polygamist, among other things. Deacons must likewise “be the husband of one wife” (1 Tim. 3:12). The pattern for leaders in the church is that they practice monogamy (Titus 1:6). This reflects the creational norm. The people of the church are expected to follow the example of their leaders. In 1 Timothy 5:9, it’s not just elders and deacons that should practice monogamy, but also widows. Only if she were a one-man woman could she enroll in the church’s care.

In sum, the New Testament is consistent. Monogamy is God’s norm for marriage. Polygamy is never treated neutrally, it is never endorsed, and it is never accommodated. When the Westminster Confession of Faith (24.1) states that marriage is to be “between one man and one woman,” it reflects the Bible’s rejection of polygamy and the church’s conviction on the subject for two thousand years.

Spiritual Polygamy
The Bible’s distinction between marital and spiritual polygamy reveals that they are quite the same, even when they are assumed to be different. When Solomon accumulated wives, he accumulated gods. The body trains the soul, and in Solomon’s case, his marital polygamy trained his soul for spiritual polygamy. But it’s not that the two phenomena are analogous. It’s that marital polygamy is a mechanism that generates spiritual polygamy (1 Kings 11:1-8). This is seen, first, not with Solomon, but with Jacob, whose polygamous household included foreign gods (Gen. 31:19) that needed to be purified (Gen. 35:2-4). Surely it’s no coincidence that the word that is used for sexual unfaithfulness in Genesis 38:24 is also the word used for spiritual idolatry in Exodus 34:15-16.  

This would then mean that marital monogamy as the norm of society is supposed to train people to spiritual monogamy to the One True God. God’s marriage to Israel is that of exclusive devotion (Ex. 34:14-16). The warning against idolatry is that Israel must not “whore after their gods.” So, it’s not just that God is jealous, it’s that God, as Israel’s husband (Jer. 3:14), has spousal jealousy for Israel.

God commands Hosea to marry a promiscuous woman, Gomer. Why? To provide a living lesson of Israel’s spiritual condition (Hos. 1:2; 2:5, 13). It’s not just Solomon now who is compromised. It’s all of Israel. Israel had taken spiritual lovers when they worshipped the gods at the high places. Gomer’s serial unfaithfulness effectively multiplies her husbands, and this mirrors Israel’s actions. Jeremiah warned Israel to no longer play the whore (Jer. 3:6-10). The creational norm of one man, one woman, one flesh, for one lifetime, is not just a pattern for human marriage. It is the pattern for God’s covenant relationship with his people.

The good news is that there is hope for the unfaithful bride. Hosea 2:16, 20 says, “And in that day, declares the LORD, you will call me ‘My Husband’... I will betroth you to me forever. I will betroth you to me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy.” Even after indicting Jerusalem’s whoredom, God says, “I will remember my covenant with you in the days of your youth, and I will establish for you an everlasting covenant …. That you may remember and be confounded, and never open your mouth against because of your shame, when I atone for all that you have done” (Ez. 16:60, 63).

Israel’s kings were unfaithful and polygamous. Israel needed the One True King. Jesus Christ is the one faithful husband Israel never had in their kings. The church is the singular bride, a new nation drawn from every nation (1 Pt. 2:9; Rev. 5:9). They used to sleep with the harlot in search of a god (1 Cor. 6:12-20). But they repented of their false gods (Ezek. 14:6; 1 Thess. 1:9) and underwent the purifying fire of Christ’s holiness (1 Pt. 1:7), reconciled to Christ by his death (Col. 1:22), made ready for the wedding feast (Rev. 19:7f).  

Conclusion
Why does this matter? It’s not only that the church’s marital practices train their spiritual ones. It’s also that polygamy may be the next cultural move to outflank and destroy God’s design for marriage.  Finding biblical clarity on the subject of polygamy is far more relevant than it appears on the surface.

The 2015 Obergefell decision redefined marriage. Each individual, wholly apart from all others, was declared free and equal, independent and separate, each with his own right, irrespective of the Bible, the city, the society, the common concern, or the needs of children. The right is concentrated on personal desire as both the means and the end of marriage. This new right redefines marriage in the name of adult equality and pleasure. In other words, Obergefell transformed marriage into a vehicle for adult fulfillment. If marriage is about individual sexual desire, no matter how perverted, then marriage is fundamentally about what makes individuals happy. If this is the ground of marriage, not only will they remove the complementarity of marriage, but they will also remove the monogamy requirement of marriage as superannuated thinking. The church must be theologically clear-headed to face down the oncoming challenges.  

_{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the book The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and the book The Making of Evangelical Spirituality (Wipf and Stock).}

The Sanhedrin had been crowned, anointed, and named the official power brokers of Israel. When the rogue rabbi from Nazareth showed up, they claimed the right to kill him, as much as a Scot has a right to Scotch. Jesus’ ministry threatens the political arrangement between the Pharisees and Rome. Jerusalem thrives on economic exploitation. It serves as the capital city, the seat of power, and the base of Herod’s operations. The Temple operates as a den of thieves, built on this corrupt relationship. The money changers at the temple only accept the regular half-shekel, which weighs double. As a result, worshipers pay twice the amount. As often happens with a strong centralized government, the nation’s people face heavy taxation, while the ruling class benefits the most.

Jesus’ ministry endangers the fragile alliance between Pilate and Caiaphas. The Sanhedrin wants to protect its position, so they come after Jesus like a pack of howling savages. Caiaphas explains that if the people believe in Jesus, “the Romans will come and take away both our place and our nation” (Jn. 11:48). The Jewish leaders aim to maintain their wealth by staying in Rome’s good graces. As Jesus’ popularity grows, the likelihood increases that the people will try to make him king by force (Jn. 6:15), which could lead to the collapse of the lucrative Jewish temple complex and bring ruin to the nation. The Romans demand compliance from the Jews—no riots, no disruptions, and no repeat of the Maccabean revolution.

What will satisfy both parties? Caiaphas suggests, “You know nothing at all. Nor do you understand that it is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish” (Jn. 11:50). They find a single victim, a scapegoat that allows the cronyism to continue (from the Sanhedrin’s perspective) and keeps the peace (from Rome’s perspective). With the right victim, the Pharisees remove the threat of Jesus while letting the Jews release their pent-up violence in a way that doesn’t threaten Rome. The solution is simple: kill Jesus so the nation won’t be destroyed. If Jesus dies, Israel survives. The Council kills Jesus to prevent Rome from killing Israel. They substitute Jesus for the Sanhedrin. To an external observer, the high priest condemns a blasphemer, and the Roman governor Pilate maintains the peace. Place the blame on one man. Punish the one man. His guilt doesn’t matter; it’s for the greater good.

Jesus has a history of scrapes with the Scribes but arranging for Jesus’ execution is a question of proportion. When Jesus enters Jerusalem that fateful week, his reputation is the perfect ruse for a common cause among the leaders of the Temple Industrial Complex (Jn. 12:19). Jesus is a troublemaker. The large crowds that follow him create chaos compared to the ordinary foot traffic the Romans prefer. That’s why they can’t arrest Jesus during the day; they must do it at night to avoid an uproar among the people (Mt. 26:4-5) Jesus blasphemes on the level of robe tearing (Mt. 26:65). He eats on the Sabbath (Mt. 12:1), heals on the Sabbath (Mt. 12:10), and instructs people to work on the Sabbath (Jn. 5:9-18). He dines with disreputable people (Mt. 9:10f) and openly challenges the authority of the temple leaders (Mk. 11:27-33). He claims to be the Temple incarnate (Mt. 26:61).

The Jewish Council fears that if Jesus grows in popularity, the Romans will take away their place and their nation (Jn. 11:48). The term “place” refers to the temple (Acts 6:13f; 21:28). Given the Jewish history of repeated and traumatic loss of land, including the sacking of the temple, they have every reason to doubt the stability of their positions. The fear of losing the “nation” refers to the semi-autonomous status the Romans grant the Jews. The Sanhedrin works hard to appease Rome and avoid armed revolt. They believe killing Jesus will end the threat of messianic expectations. Yet the temple falls anyway because they put Jesus to death in a desperate search for political solutions.

The entire episode demonstrates the wickedness that results from unity with the wrong people, for the wrong reasons. It’s no surprise that the High Priest Caiaphas would stoop to Satanic oneness with Rome. The Sanhedrin possesses the hubristic quality of believing in their own power as the salvation of Israel. All teaching, all miracles, all ideas, and all creations have to survive the intoxication of this bald, unvarnished commitment. There are rumors that Caiaphas purchased the high priesthood from Herod. Caiaphas, the son-in-law of Annas, who serves as the high priest for twenty-three years, becomes part of a dynasty. Five of Annas’ sons and his son-in-law, Caiaphas, serve as high priests after Annas leaves office, making Annas a sort of perpetual high priest. John’s gospel says that after Jesus’ arrest, he first meets with Annas, “for he was the father-in-law of Caiaphas, who was high priest that year” (Jn. 18:13). This suggests that Caiaphas’ authority exists in a stratified form, with Annas pulling the strings behind the scenes (Jn. 18:19-24; Lk. 3:2).

The Roman governors can remove the high priest for any reason, and they often do. Some high priests serve only one year before Rome replaces them. Caiaphas remains the high priest for eighteen years (AD 18 – 36), a feat only possible if he is a child of the appetites of the Romans. But Caiaphas’s shady politics are not the only factor behind the death of Jesus. His prophecy about Jesus carries a political meaning with a sacrificial nuance. Where does Caiaphas’s prophecy come from? Is this a genuine prophecy?

In Israel’s history, the high priest hears from God through the oracle of Urim and Thummim. The high priest wears a breastpiece on his robe, containing Urim and Thummim, the shining precious stones (Ex. 28:30; Lev. 8:8; Num. 27:21). God uses this oracle to direct his people throughout their history, going back to the days of Moses and Joshua. When Saul becomes king, he rejects God's commands (1 Sam. 14:3, 18–19, 36–37), and the oracle shifts from Saul to David. Even after God rejects Saul, he tries to return to the oracle, but God does not answer him (1 Sam. 28:6). In contrast, David frequently consults God, hears God’s Word, and obeys the divine directions (14:35-41; 15:26; 22:13, 15; 23:9–10; 30:7–8, 18; 2 Sam. 2:1; 5:19, 23; 21:1; 23:14; 1 Chr. 10:14; 13:31; 14:10, 14).[1]

David’s successors do not consistently consult God through this oracle. When the two tribes returned from exile, the right to the oracle was not immediately restored (Neh. 7:61-65).[2] Josephus wrote that the oracle had been silent for two hundred years before he wrote his Antiquities. According to Josephus, the oracle is temporarily restored during the days of the high priest John Hyrcanus (134 BC – 104 BC), an excellent king, priest, and prophet. Hyrcanus foretells several things that come to pass, but the oracle ceases when he dies.

That doesn’t stop the high priests from wearing the diadems and attempting to hear the will of God. Do these high priests receive secret messages from God? Does Caiaphas’s prophecy of Jesus come from God as a specimen of this ancient oracle? Or does Caiaphas impose his thoughts on the people by claiming to speak for God?[3]

John’s gospel provides a clue. Caiaphas says, “It is better for you that one man should die for the people, not that the whole nation should perish.” Then John explains, “He did not say this of his own accord, but being high priest that year, he prophesied that Jesus would die for the nation, and not for the nation only, but also to gather into one the children of God who are scattered abroad” (Jn. 11:50-52). John indicates that Caiaphas prophesies, suggesting that John believes God gave these words.

Receiving God’s words and understanding them are two different things. God has a particular meaning with these words (Mk. 10:32-34), while Caiaphas interprets them differently, in a self-serving, politicized way. God’s meaning is that Jesus’ death and resurrection establish a forever reign for the eternal King. Caiaphas believes Jesus needs to die and be out of the way. This is how politics kills Jesus. The death and resurrection of Christ demonstrate what happens when people who are infatuated with their authority confront the Son of God. Caiaphas is one of those exasperating people who does not understand Jesus’ prophesies, and yet also does not understand his own. What appears as political power overwhelming the Messiah actually becomes the Messiah overwhelming their power. This is how the Kingdom of God operates. When the elites exchange virtue for pernicious schemes, they bring judgment upon themselves (Ps. 2:1-12).

_{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the book The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and the book The Making of Evangelical Spirituality (Wipf and Stock). 
 
   [1] Josephus, F., & Whiston, W. (1987). The Works of Josephus, Antiq. 6.12.5. Hendrickson.
   [2] See also 1 Esd. 5:40; 1 Macc. 4:46; 14:41
   [3] Josephus, F., & Whiston, W. (1987). The Works of Josephus, Antiq. 3.8.9. Hendrickson.}

Introduction
In Dante’s Purgatorio, pride is the first sin punished. Penitents carry heavy boulders on their back, forcing proud heads to stoop so the gaze of their smug eyes never leaves the earth. Elsewhere, Dante compares proud persons to children, which suggests pride is a characteristic of spiritual adolescence.

So, it’s not outside the realm of possibility that covenant children, especially teenagers, will have seasons of incorrigible youthful arrogance. Teenagers with this condition are unsociable and uncivilized. Unsociable because, like Gorgon, everyone else in the room turns to stone—laughter fades, wonder evaporates, and valiance vanishes. Uncivilized because solemn conceit ruins everyone else’s day. A scoffing spirit fills the room and suppresses the virtue of others. Courage is debunked. Wonder and learning are debunked. Self-sacrifice is debunked. Obedience is debunked. Thinking of others is debunked. Love is debunked.

Those who blow the sly breeze of self-congratulation haven’t quite grasped that other people aren’t interested in those quite interested in themselves. In sum, youthful arrogance is when a teenager pretends they are the universe. It’s a disposition of self-absorption and sinful self-love.

This proves difficult for parents and teachers, who wish to help the young soul to maturity. A complex interaction of spiritual, developmental, and psychological forces produces a bewildering kaleidoscope of youthful arrogance that is hard to understand. Youthful arrogance is built on three founding myths: I am special; I am the central presupposition; I have a theory for that.

First, I am special
Proverbs 10:4 says, “A slack hand causes poverty, but the hand of the diligent makes rich.” Those who think themselves special say, “I’m going to be rich when I’m an adult, but I’m not going to work hard like the chumps.” Proverbs 3:13-14 say it is better to gain wisdom than riches and Proverbs 4:24 says, “Put away from you crooked speech, and put devious talk far from you.” Those who think themselves special say, “I’d tell a lie if it resulted in a large profit.” Proverbs 10:17 says, “Whoever heeds instruction is on the path to life, but he who rejects reproof leads others astray.” Those who think themselves special say, “Who are they to correct me?” Proverbs 10:8 says, “The wise of heart will receive commandments, but a babbling fool will come to ruin.” Those who think themselves special say, “I’ll babble whatever I want, whenever I want.”

In other words, those with inflated self-regard bluff that the wisdom of God doesn’t apply to them. In the Proverbs, God says, “The world normally works this way.” The arrogant remonstrates, “I’m not normal; I’m the exception; I’m special.” It’s an ill-placed certainty that the wisdom of God doesn’t apply to me.

Second, I am the central presupposition
It’s fitting in John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress that the character Ignorance hails from the town of Conceit. Ignorance is described as a “very brisk lad” who is going to the Celestial City. The trouble is Ignorance doesn’t enter the narrow path at the Wicket-Gate that is at the head of the way. He enters through a crooked lane. Nevertheless, Ignorance is confident he will gain entrance to the Celestial City because he tithes, gives alms, and lives a good life. Ignorance responds to Christian’s objection by saying, “Be content to follow the religion of your country, and I will follow the Religion of mine.” Ignorance is wise in his conceit. He takes the journey alone rather than join the pilgrims. When he trusts his own heart, Christian points out this is deceitfulness and the Word of God is the only trustworthy testimony. Ignorance responds, “I will never believe that my heart is thus bad.”

When someone thinks they know what is good and evil without relying on Scripture, they’ve made themselves the standard of knowledge. So, when they read a book with words they don’t understand, they think, “How dumb for the author to use those words that I don’t understand.” When they see someone take the narrow path, they think, “Why would anyone do that?”

Consider, Dillon, a teenager with youthful arrogance. He blasphemies what he doesn’t understand (Jude 10) in fits of disinterested conjecture. Dillon is suspicious of those who don’t start where he starts, namely, with Dillon. He is suspicious of great men and great ideas because they aren’t Dillon’s ideas. He can’t see the merit in lowering himself to the level of Aristotle or Edmund Burke, who foolishly write complicated sentences with words and ideas that no one could possibly understand. Dillon presses on with an abiding hostility against all that is non-Dillon.

Third, I have a theory for that
The fact that young people are preoccupied with theories over events—speculation over theology—suggests a lack of sense of how the world works. This is the case because the experiences of the young are limited. Old people know how the world works because they’ve lived it. When the Proverbs warn against venting (Prov. 29:11), the experienced person hears the wisdom because they know experientially that venting isn’t as cathartic as advertised. When Proverbs 18:2 says, “A fool takes no pleasure in understanding, but only in expressing his opinion,” the experienced person hears the wisdom because they’ve seen a thousand blithering fools.

When a wise person hears the latest world-altering theory, he pats it on the head and forgets it the next day. Why? Because he’s seen the rise and fall of hectoring ideas his whole life. When an arrogant youngster hears the latest theory, he embraces it full of cocksureness, certain that the whole climate of opinion will turn in this direction. As Chesterton once quipped, “His cunning is infantile.” Young people’s theories on the world are too depersonalized, not accounting for the human lives that animate God’s world with consciousness, will, failure, progeny, responsibility, prejudice, and inheritance. The arrogant youth measures other people’s worth by what they have achieved but then insists that other people measure him by what he postulates.  

Conclusion
To identify and address youthful arrogance head-on is not to relegate these children to a cursed caste. Parents and teachers can help poor souls afflicted with youthful arrogance. The goal is to reverse the founding myths of youthful arrogance. I am special becomes God is special. I am the central presupposition becomes God is the central presupposition. I have a theory for that becomes God’s Word has spoken to that.

Consider several strategies for ministering to such as these.  

First, help the weak and be patient with them all (1 Thess. 5:14).
A chess game has many moves before checkmate. Likewise, there will likely be many small moments before the child is humbled. There is not one perfectly delivered dad-speech that will fix it. Like most change, the path from pride to humility is slow and gradual. Parents can model humility, teach modesty, and offer correction. They can also pray that the Lord’s good providence orchestrates life circumstances to humble the child. Christ was humiliated before glory. Our covenant children will be no different. To exalt yourself is to imitate the fall of the devil. To humble yourself is to imitate the ascension of the Lord.

Second, help them see that ontology trumps autonomy.
For covenant children in the twenty-first century, autonomy is the alternative to submission to God. Autonomy is rebellion against their ontological placement in the covenant, a rebellion that visualizes a future apart from the efficaciousness of the covenant bond. When covenant children are baptized, they are united to Christ (Rom. 6:1-3). This is the objective (i.e. ontological) meaning of baptism. When covenant children manifest prolonged periods of youthful arrogance, they are failing to embrace the objective gift of God’s grace (1 Pt. 5:6-7). The only proper way to receive the Kingdom is as a helpless babe (Mark 10:13-16), which requires receiving God and his grace.

Chesterton said, “The fullest possible enjoyment is to be found by reducing our ego to zero.” There are two things suitable for this task. First, a proper understanding of the evil in one’s own heart, and that Christ was scourged, mocked, and crucified because of the sin of his people. Second, a proper consideration of the God of the covenant, who chose an undeserved sinner, placed his covenant sign on him, and distributed undeserved grace and glory, revealing divine holiness, power, and majesty.

Third, help them embrace the beauty of the gospel.
The gospel message is this: You are not God! There is only one true God and you are not him. The prideful soul is full of calamity. There is only one thing that gives calm and quiet to the soul (Ps. 131:2) and it is Christ alone as revealed in Scripture alone (James 1:21). In the cross of Jesus, God does everything, leaving you with nothing to put your pride in. It is Jesus who saves. It is not we, but he who saves. It is his going to the cross and submitting himself as the Lamb of God and having our sins put upon him by the heavenly Father. It is Christ bearing the strokes of wrath that were meant for you. He does it all, which means there is nothing left for you to boast in except Christ, and Christ alone (1 Cor. 1:31).

<sub>Bibliography
G.K. Chesterton, Heretics (Nashville: Sam Torode, orig. 1905), 53-55.

Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the book The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and the book The Making of Evangelical Spirituality (Wipf and Stock).</sub>

Introduction
The ubiquitous expectation in modern life is to “be true to oneself,” which means the foremost concern and superseding moral imperative is the cultivation of the self.[1] This self-creation assumes that people have the liberty to form their judgments, even when aligned against the Nature of Things. It’s the liberty to ignore the Lawgiver and Judge; to ignore the unchosen obligations of life; to take up any religion or none at all while imagining oneself to be an impartial critic of the Bible. The authenticity ethos is the right to self-define and then unveil at a time of my choosing. Rather than building an alternative to the authenticity deliramentum, evangelicals have made a truce with it.

For modern evangelicals, authenticity equals transparency. And since evangelical theology emphasizes brokenness rather than victory—“none of us are perfect” rather than “be holy because I am holy”—transparency means revealing sin. In other words, since ongoing sin is the evangelical reality more real than others, the squalid side of life is thought to be more genuine than the holy side.

The language of “authenticity” is itself misleading. It should be that “authentic” refers to rightly aligning oneself with objective reality. But the new notion of authenticity is grounded in the self rather than the metaphysical truth of the Universe. It’s a project of aligning oneself with the imagined or desired outcome. Evangelicals don’t just have a truce with authenticity; it is the fundamental premise of modern evangelical theology, as illustrated in evangelical preaching and music.

This is seen, first, in evangelical preaching (EP). The Gospel of Jesus Christ is the good news that Christ came to save sinners. Saving sinners refers to salvation. Salvation implies saved from and saved to. What does "EP" say you are saved from? Failure before man. The message is that through Christ you are unconditionally loved, so no matter your failures, shame, or embarrassments, Jesus loves you. You are saved from failure before man. You are saved from not measuring up to the person more talented than you. You are saved from feeling bad about yourself. You are saved from the guy one cubicle over who personally slighted you. What does "EP" say you are saved to? Freedom to feel no failure before man, freedom to feel like who you are is enough, and freedom to boost your self-esteem. This is why EP requires that the preacher exposit himself and reveal his psychological weaknesses as illustrations of “the Gospel.”

This is seen, second, in evangelical songs. Consider Keith and Kristyn Getty’s song, “He Will Hold Me Fast.” The lyrics of the song, as such, are not inaccurate. But it embodies the authenticity ethos where weakness is authentic and Christians barely stumble across the finish line. The first lines of the song are:

  When I fear my faith will fail
Christ will hold me fast
When the tempter would prevail
He will hold me fast

Of course, Christ will indeed hold his people when the tempter tempts and believers fear, but by emphasizing the authenticity ethos the implication is that the Christian life is for people feebly holding on in the face of fear and temptation, that fear and temptation are the genuine realities of life, and people just weather the storm until Christ just barely pulls them through. The Gospel is thus domesticated to accommodate the new ethic of authenticity.

Confusion
 
The authenticity ethos found in modern evangelicalism confuses four things.

First, it confuses honesty
When people start with the assumption that feelings aren’t evil because feelings are honest, then expressing real feelings feels honest. In contrast, self-control over whatever feelings happen at the moment feels dishonest. And since honesty is a virtue, that means expressing feelings is a virtue. In this way, the authenticity ethos privileges “emotivism,” as Alisdair MacIntyre called it.[2] Evangelical emotivism assumes there is no way to secure agreement on theological, political, or ethical matters. So, confessionalism is regarded as fraudulent arrogance for failing to feature uncertainty and failing to allow each person’s preferences about theology, politics, and ethics to suffice.

The reason the authenticity ethos confuses honesty is that every virtue is something we are responsible for (Rev. 20:12). Furthermore, emotions are easy but virtues are not (Mt. 7:12-23). Unfettered emotional release is much too easy to be a virtue. Besides, honest feelings don’t lie about their object. A child might feel authentic anger and resentment toward their parents. But as Peter Kreeft has said, “Honesty with feelings means asking whether they are true.”[3]

Second, it confuses community 
The gospel of authenticity says that the more planned and liturgical something is, the more artificial it is. This helps explain the devaluing of the Lord’s Day worship service. If authenticity is revealing sin, then the authentic life is living as part of the world. Living in sin is more genuine than consecrating oneself to the Lord.

The authenticity ethos fails to see that biblical community is impossible without Sunday worship services. Covenant Renewal Worship renews biblical fellowship in at least three ways. First, the weakest members see themselves as part of the whole church, not just as tag-alongers. It does the weak members well when the one who is high experiences what it’s like to be low at the foot of the cross. Second, the church is separated from the temptations and sins of the world. After all, it’s hard to view pornography on your phone while on your knees confessing sin alongside God’s people. Third, the quarreling members’ otherwise intractable conflict resolves as they unite at the Lord’s Table, remembering that they have one faith, one Lord, and one baptism.

Third, it confuses cognizance
When people think it’s virtuous to say what they think, they assume something false, namely, that they have mastered what they think. Part of the reason people struggle to master their tongue (James 3:7-8) is that they struggle to master their thoughts. The meaning and actions of one’s life are a person’s real thoughts, and the final meaning of life isn’t known until reviewed by Christ the Judge on judgment day. This is reflected in C.S. Lewis's novel Till We Have Faces, when Orual says, “Lightly men talk of saying what they mean … I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean?” Until that day when the word is dug out of us, pray the Spirit conforms you to the Scriptures, prayers, and confessions of the church.

Fourth, it confuses righteousness
In the authenticity ethos, there is a distinction between inner authentic emotions and obedience to external moral standards. Authenticity is thought to be righteousness itself because it reveals a certain identity and complexity, at once factual and mysterious. And so it is that sexuality is obligated to be faithful to inner desires rather than to biblical moral expectations. Pastors are authentic when they reveal the raw elements of their own life. Churches are authentic when they feature the “weakness” and “messiness” of life and how Christ someone makes the harum-scarum life look beautiful. Congregants don’t confess sin on God’s terms, but imperfections on their own terms. The primary result is that people are sheltered from correction, making sanctification impossible.

Christianity, no doubt, has room for acknowledging weakness before God (2 Cor. 12:9). But the difference is that the Christian confession of weakness happens conjointly with confessing sin for the purpose of transformation. The gospel of authenticity says “I accept you as you are.” The gospel of Christ says, “I will transform you.” The first requires the mere confession of weakness, the second also requires Spirit-wrought repentance from sin.

The authenticity ethos is a trendy way to embody the chic piety of self-definition. This is problematic for Christians for two reasons. First, God hands out the definitions, not people. Second, when people hand out the definitions, they conform to the canons of sinful nature. This is how a Roman Catholic priest can come out as gay and receive a standing ovation in the name of authenticity. Had he declared his commitment to fighting against the dishonorable, unnatural desires (Rom. 1:26), he would have received the anti-ovation of heckling jeers.

Conclusion
The authenticity ethos thrives when the objective reality of Christ’s victory is diminished by the subjective feeling of imperfection; when the supreme reality is moodiness rather than God, the cross, and the Gospel. In contrast to the authenticity ethos, the great truth of the world is the objective reality of Christ’s victory. This is particularly emphasized in the book of Revelation, where the Christ, the Faithful and True One, goes forth unto victory, riding the white horse, robed with the garment sprinkled with blood, and leading the armies of heaven (Rev. 19:11-16). Make no mistake, God sees the tears and fears (Rev. 7:17; 21:4). Yet the final victory is assured (Rev. 15:2), the faithful’s blood avenged (Rev. 19:2), and our Savior reigning (Rev. 5:7-8).

Why is it wrong for Christians to practice “authenticity?” Because that's not the reason Christ died on the cross. He didn’t die so people could have self-expression. He died to create a society of human beings who have died to the self and been united by the Spirit, with the Son, to the Father into a heavenly city equipped to invade the earthly city.

<sub>Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.

  [1] Joseph Heath and Andrew Potter, Nation of Rebels: Why Counterculture Became Consumer Culture (New York: HarperCollins, 2004), 270.
   [2] Alisdair MacIntyre, After Virtue: A Study in Moral Theory (Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press, 1981), 19.
   [3] Peter Kreeft, The Best Things in Life: A Contemporary Socrates Looks at Power, Pleasure, Truth, and the Good Life (Downers Grove, ILL: IVP, 1984), 105.</sub>

The power of hypocrisy is that it proves something to be false. But maybe not the thing you think. Veganism isn’t proven false by a vegan who has three exception days a week. Her belief in veganism is proven false.

Or consider what environmentalism hypocrisy says about the movement. We are told that the situation with climate change is an emergency. But many (most?) of the advocates don’t act like it is an emergency. What does this prove about environmentalism? It does not prove that climate change is false. It proves that environmentalists say one thing with their mouths and another with their lifestyles.[1] If they believe the hysteria, then wouldn’t they at least fly commercial instead of the private Learjets and Gulfstreams? Or not fly at all? Wouldn’t they avoid the Limo? Yet outside the UN Climate Summit, how many limousines are parked? Again, hypocrisy doesn’t prove falsity. It proves that many climate changers don’t believe what they say they believe. This has been an enduring feature of the “justice” and outrage causes of the left.

Paul Johnson’s book Intellectuals: From Marx and Tolstoy to Sartre and Chomsky demonstrates that the intellectual class is the leftists. Johnson argues that one of the biggest issues with the intellectual class is that they seldom actually live by the ideas that they propound. In other words, the people on the left are hypocrites. One high-profile example of hypocrisy comes from the former mayor of New York City, Michael Bloomberg, who brought an entourage aboard his personal Falcon 900 to Copenhagen, at a cost in carbon emissions that was thirty-seven times more than if the group had flown commercial. The reason for the trip? Mr. Bloomberg was speaking at a conference on climate change.[2]

The point is that a person can claim to believe one thing, but as James 2:14-26 says, actions prove what a person believes. When environmentalists live life functionally like there is no emergency, I’m inclined to think they don’t believe there is an emergency. Likewise, when Christians live life functionally like there is no wrath to come, I’m inclined to think they don’t believe the Bible. Shouldn’t we hold our own kind to the same hypocrisy standard we hold the environmentalists to?

Jesus spoke about a certain kind of religious hypocrisy in Mark 7:6-7, “And he said to them, ‘Well did Isaiah prophesy of you hypocrites, as it is written, “‘This people honors me with their lips, but their heart is far from me; 7in vain do they worship me, teaching as doctrines the commandments of men.’” According to Jesus, hypocrisy has to do with how the inner person (the heart) interacts with the outer person (the lips). John Milton said that hypocrisy was invisible because it begins within.

_{For neither Man nor Angel can discern
Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks
Invisible, except to God alone[3]}

Obadiah Sedgwick, another Puritan, said: “The souls of men…have a secret way contrary to open profession.”[4] Hypocrisy is when there is an unclear and disputed interaction between the inside and the outside. Jesus says that traditions become sinful when they focus merely on the outside. The traditions of the Pharisees stood in opposition to the Word of God, yet they appeared to accomplish a righteous purpose. For this, Jesus calls them hypocrites, a word that refers to an actor who would put on a mask and pretend to be something he was not. This type of hypocrisy takes the form of self-presentation that has the appearance of virtue.[5]

It’s not enough to say, “Everyone is a hypocrite,” true though it may be. Christians need to be on guard against hypocrisy. There is hypocrisy natural to man which is on display in every human being—a parent yells at his kids to stop yelling. There is a hypocrisy that is occasional and represents only a temporary inconsistency—a flash of jealousy over a friend’s success. And there is the soul-crushing religious hypocrisy that Jesus spoke about—a buttoned-up presence at church joined with a prayerless and spiteful life at home.

The Bible reminds us that God knows and sees all. Whether your hypocrisy is natural, occasional, or religious, you need to confess it to the Lord who already knows. God doesn’t miss a thing, which means that when Christ died as the Paschal Lamb, he didn’t miss any of the sins of any of his people. Jesus died for and paid the price for every one of them, including the secret sins. Shall we go on sinning that grace may abound? By no means! God’s grace flows like blood and water. The blood covers the sin and the water makes us clean, new, transformed, and alive.[6]

_{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.
 
 [1] See the following link for an example of climate scientists who do live according to their beliefs.
 https://www.theguardian.com/science/2019/jun/29/no-flights-four-day-week-climate-scientists-home-save-planet?utm_source=pocket-newtab
[2] https://www.nytimes.com/2018/01/11/nyregion/battling-climate-change-from-the-back-seat-of-an-suv.html?mtrref=www.google.com
[3] John Milton, Paradise Lost, Book III; 684
[4] Obadiah Sedgwick, The Anatomy of Secret Sins, Presumptuous Sins, Sins in Dominion, and Uprightness (London, 1660), 15.
[5] Wilfred McClay, A Student’s Guide to History, pg 81.
[6] Mark Jones, Knowing Sin: Seeing a Neglected Doctrine Through the Eyes of the Puritans (Chicago: Moody, 2022), 98f.}

Introduction
Hebrews 11:1, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.”

Faith implies that there is something we can’t see. The totality of reality does not consist in what man can see, hear, or touch. There is something outside the human field of vision. What is not seen is part of the true actuality. Thus, part of human existence is that some certain share of us can’t be nourished by merely the visible or the tangible. The temptation of men of all ages is to reduce the world down to what is seen. Faith is resistance to this inclination. Faith is crossing from the tangible to the intangible realm, repenting from partial reality to embrace the depths of existence.

And what are the depths of existence? Jesus Christ himself. His crucifixion. His resurrection. His ascension. His New Society and New World, which is dependent upon his glorious grace. So it is that John Calvin defines faith as, “A firm and certain knowledge of God’s benevolence toward us, founded upon the truth of the freely given promise in Christ, both revealed to our minds and sealed upon our hearts through the Holy Spirit.”[1]

Object of Faith
Christian belief is about how the gulf between the visible and the invisible, the separation of the temporal and eternal, is bridged by God as man. This is God’s self-revelation, as John 1:18 says, “No one has ever seen God; God the only Son, who is at the Father's side, he has made him known.” Jesus makes God known so we can see and touch him. The problem is that when they did see Jesus, they didn’t believe in him (Jn. 6:36). He did many signs for them, but they still didn’t believe in him (Jn. 12:37). By seeing Jesus’s signs and rejecting him, they proved that they hated both God the Father and the Son, establishing that they were guilty of sin (Jn. 15:24). They didn’t even believe Jesus when he was raised from the dead (Lk. 16:31). This is why Jesus denounced “the cities where most of his mighty works had been done, because they did not repent” (Mt. 11:20). Jesus “marveled at their unbelief” (Mk. 6:6).

In other words. Christ’s incarnation led to the death of God, killed by man. Since man kills God, it seems to conceal God’s revelation and obscure Christ’s divinity. How can man kill God? Can man believe in a God he has killed? The answer is yes, we must, as the Centurion taught us (Mk. 15:39). Otherwise, man remains in an apparently closed world, a “domain of darkness” as Paul calls it (Col. 1:13), which is more unreliable than believing in the death of God. People reject faith for its apparent uncertainty, only to experience the uncertainty of unbelief. Without the crucified Christ, reality is reduced to an only materialistic claim, which the soul knows is screamingly false.

So, while faith is knowledge (see below), it is more than knowledge. It is entrance into the totality of reality from which meaning is bestowed. The spiritual and physical parts of man, including his decisions and actions, are based on this reality, this bestowed meaning. Faith is entrusting yourself to the King who upholds the world (Heb. 1:3). When you enter into this reality, there is a firm ground for standing; there is a stable metaphysics for living. Since human existence depends on the Creator, the Logos, the Word made flesh, faith is receiving the Creator, as John says, “He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. 12 But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God, 13 who were born, not of blood nor of the will of the flesh nor of the will of man, but of God” (Jn. 1:11-13). Receiving what? Receiving Christ. More particularly, receiving and accepting that Christ provides the meaning of the universe. Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn said the West’s problem was that it had forgotten God. But that doesn’t mean the solution is to merely remember God. The Apostle Paul taught that real understanding isn’t merely knowing that God exists. It’s about knowing God’s will in all spiritual wisdom (Rom. 12:2; Col. 1:9, 4:12; Eph. 5:17).

So, here you are, you’ve expressed that Jesus Christ, raised from the dead, is the object of your faith. How will Christ judge your profession of faith? In Matthew 25:31-46, Jesus will say to those who enter the kingdom. “‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. 35 For I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36 I was naked and you clothed me, I was sick and you visited me, I was in prison and you came to me.’ 37 Then the righteous will answer him, saying, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you drink? 38 And when did we see you a stranger and welcome you, or naked and clothe you? 39 And when did we see you sick or in prison and visit you?’ 40 And the King will answer them, ‘Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to me.’”

Jesus judges if your faith is the real deal by assessing how you look upon the least of men. Do you see those who need your help and discover Christ?[2] To have faith in Christ, rather than merely professing it, is to recognize the needy person as worthy of receiving the love of Christ through you. A profession of faith in Christ, when genuine, leads to a commitment to serving and helping people. Put again, faith in Christ without love of man is not real Christian faith. What Jesus teaches in Matthew 25:31-46 is said plainly elsewhere, for example, Galatians 5:6 speaks of “faith working through love.”

Faith and Forgiveness
Jesus repeatedly linked healing with faith. When the friends lowered the paralytic through the roof, Jesus saw their faith, forgave the man, and he was healed (Mt. 9:2-8; Mk. 2:1-12; Lk. 5:17-26). Jesus healed the bleeding woman, saying, “Your faith has made you well” (Mt. 9:20-22; Mk. 5:25-34; Lk. 8:43-48). Jesus healed the two blind men, saying, “According to your faith let it be done to you” (Mt. 9:27-31). When the Syrophoenician woman asked Jesus to remove the unclean spirit from her daughter, Jesus said, “‘O woman, great is your faith! Let it be done for you as you desire.’ And her daughter was healed instantly” (Mt. 15:21-28). Jesus healed blind Bartimaeus, saying, “‘Go your way; your faith has made you well.’ And immediately he recovered his sight and followed him on the way” (Mk. 10:46-52). When Jesus healed the ten lepers, all ten were cleansed, but only one’s faith is commended, suggesting something more than physical healing. Jesus tells him, “Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well” (Lk. 17:11-19). For the Centurion’s servant, healing happens at a distance based on the centurion’s faith, saying, “Truly, I tell you, with no one in Israel have I found such faith” (Mt. 8:5-13). Jesus raises Jarius’ daughter from the dead, telling Jarius, “Do not fear, only believe” (Mk. 5:21-43). With the epileptic boy, the disciples fail to drive out the unclean spirit because of their lack of faith. But Jesus tells the boy’s father, “All things are possible for those who believe” (Mk. 9:14-29).

Faith in Christ leads to forgiveness, and forgiveness leads to healing. So, man becomes most human when he is forgiven. This is because the healing that comes by faith restores people to the covenant community. The centurion believes for his servant. The friends believe for the paralytic. Jarius believes for his daughter. Faith is a communal activity, occurring within relationships. So, the woman’s cleanness means she can return to the community, just as the healed lepers can return to their town.

So, faith is the point of contact between the human and divine. Jesus says, “Your faith has healed you,” not because faith has magical powers, but because of what faith is, namely, receiving the extended hand of Christ. Faith in Christ heals a physical disease, but it’s the healing of the spiritual disease, as is emphasized in the paralytic’s story of Mark 2:1-12, that shows the deeper problem and the deeper healing. It restores you to fellowship with God and man.

Faith and the Spirit
Faith is a fruit of the Holy Spirit (Gal. 5:22f), produced by the Holy Spirit. All of salvation is a gift of God, including faith (Eph. 2:8f). Belief is something that is granted (Phil. 1:29), something obtained by divine allotment (2 Pet. 1:1). Confessing Jesus as Lord requires the Holy Spirit (1 Cor. 12:3) and without the Spirit people can’t accept spiritual truth (1 Cor. 2:14). The new birth, which includes faith, comes from the Spirit (Jn. 3:5f; 1 Jn. 5:1). The Spirit gives spiritual life, at the center of which is faith in Christ (Jn. 6:63). Faith is the result of divine opening, where God opens the heart (Acts 16:14). The Spirit enlightens the heart to revelation, enabling faith (Eph. 1:17f). Everything we have is received, including faith (Jn. 1:12f), which means it is not self-generated (1 Cor. 4:7).

Faith by Hearing
“Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Rom. 10:17). What does this mean? It means that faith is not like a philosophy that results from reflection. Faith does not come by thinking it out. Faith is the reception of something heard rather than the result of something thought. This doesn’t remove thinking from faith. It means the thinking is over something you’ve heard and received.

This is what happened with the Samaritan woman at the well. She meets Jesus and hears his words about living water. She hears him reveal the private details of her life. She hears his claim to be Messiah, and she believes (Jn. 4:7-26). Then, she testifies to what she heard, telling the people in the town (Jn. 4:28f). The Samaritans hear the woman’s testimony, and they believe (Jn. 4:39) and want to hear from Jesus directly (Jn. 4:40-42). As the Pslamist says, the sheep will hear God’s voice and not harden their hearts (Ps. 95:7f; Jn. 10:27).

Cornelius faith came from hearing Peter speak (Acts 10:44). Lydia’s heart was opened when she heard Paul speaking (Acts 16:14). The 3000 at Pentecost heard Peter’s sermon and were cut to the heart, repented, and were baptized (Acts 2:37-39). The Thessalonians received the word, which they heard from Paul’s missionaries (1 Thess. 1:5-6; 2:13). Faith comes by hearing with divinely opened ears (Mt. 13:16; Jn. 6:44f; 8:47; Eph. 1:17f). As the prophet writes, hearing leads to salvation (Is. 55:3).

So, faith is receiving the Word of God. This reception changes your life. Previously, your thoughts and desires took precedence over everything. Now, the Word takes precedence over your thoughts and desires. The Word lays an obligation that doesn’t change the fact that you think and feel. It obligates your thoughts and feelings to conform. Conformity implies community. Individual Christian faith is communal because everyone in the church is being conformed by the same Spirit and the same Word.

Different Uses of the Word “Faith”
There is a wide semantic range of the word “faith” in the New Testament. Faith is often used to mean personal trust or confidence. For example, Galatians 2:20 talks about new life “by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.” John 3:16 says, “Whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life.” So, faith is directed toward the person of Jesus Christ (Acts 20:21).

 Faith is also used as belief or conviction in propositional truth. Hebrews 11:6 says that “Whoever would draw near to God must believe that he exists and that he rewards those who seek him.” In this case, faith believes two propositions. God exists, and God rewards those who seek him. Romans 10:9 requires confessing that “Jesus is Lord” and believing “that God raised him from the dead.” In this case, faith believes in two more propositions. The Lordship and resurrection of Christ. Romans 10:9 adds that this belief occurs in your heart, which means it’s not a probability bet. It is a belief where you stake your life on it.

Faith is also used to mean faithfulness, for example, Galatians 5:22, “The Fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control.” Or 1 Thessalonians 3:2, Paul sends Timothy “to establish and exhort you in your faith.” Timothy’s job is to strengthen them to fulfill faith as an enduring commitment, that they may “walk by faith, not by sight” as 2 Corinthians 5:7 puts it. In Revelation 2:13, they did not deny their faith but held fast to the name of Christ, remaining faithful to Christ under persecution.

Faith is sometimes used as “the faith” referring to a body of Christian doctrine. So, Jude 3 encourages Christians to “contend for the faith,” and 1 Timothy 4:1 says some will “depart from the faith,” meaning they are abandoning orthodox teaching. When Paul turned to Christ, he began “preaching the faith” (Gal. 1:23) and many of the Jewish priests converted and “became obedient to the faith” (Acts 6:7).

The various semantic usages of faith continue beyond this. For instance, faith is also a spiritual gift, as in a set-apart ability (1 Corinthians 12:9). It is assurance, or certainty, as said in Hebrews 10:22 and 11:1. Whatever the particular usage, the key is to see that faith is covenantal throughout. Just like love is multidimensional, so is faith. Whatever the semantic usage, it involves a personal relationship with God himself.

What sort of faith does God require?
Persevering Faith 
Christians are under the covenant demand of persevering faith, which is why many verses teach that true saving faith perseveres until the end. Philippians 1:6 says, “He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” Colossians 1:22-23a says, “He has now reconciled in his body of flesh by his death, in order to present you holy and blameless and above reproach before him, 23 if indeed you continue in the faith.” Hebrews 3:6 says, “We are his house, if indeed we hold fast our confidence and our boasting in our hope.” Hebrews 3:14 says, “For we have come to share in Christ, if indeed we hold our original confidence firm to the end.” Second Peter 1:10 says, “Therefore, brothers, be all the more diligent to confirm your calling and election, for if you practice these qualities you will never fall.” First Timothy 2:15 says, “Yet she will be saved through childbearing—if they continue in faith and love and holiness, with self-control.”

The doctrine of the perseverance of the saints is framed by conditional clauses. To receive the promises of the gospel requires—is conditioned upon—an enduring faith in Christ. This does not undermine God’s unconditional election (Eph 1:3-14; Rom. 9:1-23; 2 Tim. 1:9f), but complements it. Just like God ordains the means of someone coming to faith, he ordains the means of them continuing in the faith. God has ordained to keep his elect (Jn. 6:39; 17:11f; Phil. 1:6; Rom. 8:29f; 1 Cor. 1:8f; 2 Thess. 3:3; Jude 24f). In John 10:28, Jesus said, “I give them eternal life, and they will never perish, and no one will snatch them out of my hand.” That means that your trials and temptations, your tribulations and troubles, cannot destroy your faith. Rather, they further it (James 1:2-4).

Knowledgeable Faith 
“For I have given them the words that you gave me, and they have received them and have come to know in truth that I came from you; and they have believed that you sent me” (Jn. 17:8). The order is that they received the words, they came to know in truth, and they believed in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior. Elsewhere, Peter confessed, “We have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God” (Jn. 6:69). The order here is reversed. They believe, and then they know. In John 10:38, Jesus says, “Even though you do not believe in me, believe the works, that you may know and understand that the Father is in me and I am in the Father.” Here, the order is that they believe, know, and understand. But then in John 16:30 the disciples say, “Now we know that you know all things and do not need anyone to question you; this is why we believe that you came from God.” The order here is knowledge and then faith. In John 8:31-32, Jesus says, “If you abide in my word, you are truly my disciples, and you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” The order here is abiding in God’s word, which refers to obeying in faith (2 Pet. 1:5-8), then knowing truth.

What are we to make of this complicated relationship between faith and knowledge? It seems the surest conclusion is that knowledge and faith are interwoven in a mutually dependent way. The order varies. Sometimes belief precedes knowledge (Jn. 6:69). Sometimes knowledge precedes belief (Jn. 17:8). The point is that they are inseparable. Faith and knowledge can be distinguished as two different things. But they can’t be distinguished temporally. Real faith includes growing knowledge of Christ. Real knowledge of Christ includes growing faith. John Calvin put it this way, “Faith rests not on ignorance, but on knowledge.”[3]

As faith starts small and grows big (see below), so does knowledge (2 Pet. 3:18). John’s Gospel is written that they may believe (Jn. 20:31). Knowledge of the life and teachings of Christ is part of believing in Jesus. Paul prays that the believing Ephesians would grow in knowledge (Eph. 1:17-19). Paul’s own faith leads him to want to know Christ (Phil. 3:8-10). He knows whom he has believed (2 Tim. 1:12). And as knowledge grows, obedience grows (Col. 1:9-10). This pursuit of knowledge is spiritual in nature because it is dependent upon divine illumination (2 Cor. 4:6). It’s a knowledge that centers on Christ the Lord (Heb. 8:11). It’s a covenantal knowledge (Jer. 31:34). Within the covenant, faith seeks knowledge while knowing that too precise a knowledge would, at some point, no longer be faith, as Thomas learned (Jn. 20:24-28). Thus, faith requires the humility to admit that my own ignorance is true knowledge when standing before incomprehensible mystery.

Satisfied Faith
John 6:35, “Jesus said to them, ‘I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.’” Faith in Jesus means that spiritual hunger and thirst are satisfied. Christians are the beneficiaries of an undeserved bounty, which, consequently, produces contentment with all that God is for you in Jesus. When Christ turns the peasant into a prince, there is gratitude and satisfaction such that the new prince can only think of praising the Lord. Psalm 63:3 and 5 says, “Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you … my soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food, and  my mouth will praise you with joyful lips.”

Personal Faith
Faith is not based on belief in something, but Someone, the God-man Jesus Christ. Encountering Jesus is experiencing the meaning of the world, not as a Fate, but as a person. Jesus speaks not his will, but the Father’s will (Jn. 5:30). Since the Father is invisible (Col. 1:15; 1 Tim. 1:17), Jesus is the witness to the intangible. When God takes on human flesh, the invisible God is made visible, the distant God is made near, the transcendent God is made imminent, and the eternal realm is brought to earth.

 Why did God become incarnate? “For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life” (Jn. 3:16). In other words, when the invisible God is made visible in Christ, when the meaning of the world appears as a person, it is to witness God’s love to the world (1 Jn. 4:7-12). Life is worth living because of the incomprehensible love of God to man (Eph. 3:17-19).

 Scripture says that Christ is the foundation of the world (1 Cor. 3:11; Eph. 2:20; 1 Pt. 2:6). Scripture also says we should seek and find (Dt. 4:29; Jer. 29:13; Mt. 7:7f; Lk. 11:9f; ),[4] which means faith is finding the foundation that upholds the universe, namely, God’s love manifest in the person of Jesus Christ. We enter God’s Kingdom when we entrust ourselves to God like a child knowing he is safe in his mother’s arms (Mk. 10:13-16). So, if God is a person, that means our faith in him is of a personal character. He loves us by taking the form of a man, “born of woman, born under the law, 5 to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons” (Gal. 4:4-5). We love him by obeying him in faith (1 Jn. 3:23f).

Faith will one day become sight. “For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known” (1 Cor. 13:12). That which we believe now will be seen then. “For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? 25 But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience” (Rom. 8:24f). Faith is what you know when you can’t see. It’s the hope of what you will one day see, namely, the King of Creation who knows you by name (Is. 43:1; Jn. 10:3; Lk. 10:20; 2 Tim. 2:19).

Obedient Faith
An obedient faith is, to use the words of the Westminster Confession of Faith Chapter 16, one that does good works as “the fruit and evidence of a true and lively faith.” John Calvin says that “Paul defines faith as that obedience which is given in the gospel.”[5] And “Faith can in no wise be separated from a devout disposition.”[6] What is Calvin talking about?

Paul says that the “righteous requirement of the law” is “fulfilled” in those who “walk …. According to the Spirit” (Rom. 8:4), “live according to the Spirit” (Rom. 8:5), subject their “mind …. To God’s law” (Rom. 8:7), do not “live according to the flesh” (Rom. 8:13), “put to death the deeds of the body” (Rom. 8:13), and “suffer with him” (Rom. 8:17). These things represent the “obedience of faith” (Rom. 1:5; 16:26). Paul’s goal in evangelism was “to bring the Gentiles to obedience—by word and deed” (Rom. 15:18). This is what happened when Paul preached the gospel to the Romans, they became “obedient from the heart to the standard of teaching to which you were committed” (Rom. 6:17). What is the “standard of teaching”? It’s the gospel.

It’s not that the apostles don’t care about faith. It’s that the goal of evangelism is faithfulness. And faithfulness is a life of faith that includes things like confessing your sin. “If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and to cleanse us from all unrighteousness” (1 Jn. 1:9). Faithfulness is not work-righteousness. Faithfulness is not earning your salvation. It is all of grace to trust God and follow him. This is why in Acts, believers and disciples are synonymous (Acts 6:1-2, 7; 9:1, 10, 19, 25f, 36, 38; 11:26, 29; 13:52; 14:20, 28; 15:10).

Growing Faith 
Faith starts small and grows big. Jesus said to them, “Because of your little faith. For truly, I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you” (Mt. 17:20). The mustard seed is, proverbially speaking, the smallest of seeds (Mark 4:31). So, faith can be small—very small—and it can be big—very big, “larger than all the garden plants” (Mk. 4:31). Thus, not all faith is equal in size. Some faith is small and immature. Other faith is large and mature. Those with weak faith are expected to coexist alongside those with strong faith (Rom. 14-15).

Abraham’s life demonstrates that faith does not arrive fully mature. His faith begins by believing God’s call and promise (Gen. 12:1-8). But it's an immature faith. He lies about Sarah twice. He takes Hagar and scoffs at God’s promise. Despite his small faith, he is declared righteous by faith. Justification is by faith alone, or perhaps more accurately, justification is by mustard seed faith alone. Abraham is the patron saint of faith (Gal. 3:6-9). He is the father of all who believe (Rom. 4:11) and obey (Rom. 4:12). By faith Abraham received the promise, and so too for all those “who share the faith of Abraham” (Rom. 4:16). Abraham’s faith grows through testing, notably the near sacrifice of his son Isaac (Gen. 22). The paradigm of faith, modeled by Abraham, is that it starts small and grows. This is the ordinary way of justifying faith. Israel’s problem was that it didn’t follow the pattern of Abraham. Their faith shrank rather than grew. They were saved from slavery by miracles, but their faith was hardened by idolatry (Hebrews 3-4).

Faith can be small but genuine (Mt. 17:20) and powerful (Mk. 11:22-24; Lk. 17:6). Jesus likens faith to a seed for a reason (Mt. 17:20). The same seeds produce different outcomes. Some seed “hear the word and accept it and bear fruit” (Mk. 4:20). Other seeds die. Elsewhere, faith is contrasted with doubt (Mt. 14:22-33; Mk. 9:24), showing that real faith can be weak and genuine faith can waver. This is why the disciples ask Jesus to “increase our faith” (Lk. 17:5). Yet Jesus reminds them that though faith can be little or great, it’s ultimately measured based on whether it is alive or dead (John 15:1-11).

The pattern throughout the New Testament is that faith grows. Consider the disciples who scattered at Jesus’ arrest, then boldly preached the gospel at Pentecost (Acts 2). Their faith grew significantly. Paul tells the Thessalonians, “Your faith is growing abundantly” (2 Thess. 1:3). He notices that the Corinthians’ “faith increases” (2 Cor. 10:15), and the Philippians have “progress and joy in the faith” (Phil. 1:25). The faith of the Corinthians started “partial.” It was a faith “in part.” It was faith that saw “in a mirror dimly” (1 Cor .13:9-12). But Christian faith doesn’t remain partial. It grows “From faith to faith,” which speaks to the direction of Christ-life as a trajectory of increased righteousness (Rom. 1:17).

Question 21 of the Heidelberg Catechism describes faith in its most mature form, saying, “True faith is not only a sure knowledge by which I hold as true all that God has revealed to us in his Word; it is also a wholehearted trust, which the Holy Spirit works in me by the gospel, that God has freely granted, not only to others but to me also, forgiveness of sins, eternal righteousness, and salvation. These gifts are purely of grace, only because of Christ's merit.”

Fully formed faith involves knowledge, assent, and trust, but it doesn’t begin that way. The seed of faith begins as a “relational posture of trust toward another person.”[7] It lacks the propositional, detailed, or articulated form of mature faith, much like the acorn lacks the height, roots, and leaves of an oak tree. It’s relational, like the helpless trust exhibited by the infant in his mother’s arms. Psalm 22:9-10 teaches that covenant infants don’t just trust their mother, they trust God, “You made me trust you at my mother’s breast. On you was I cast from my birth and from my mother’s womb you have been God.” Babies are born relational creatures capable of relational trust, which, when fully formed, includes the ability to articulate propositional knowledge.

So, it’s not the case, as Baptist theologian Paul Jewett argues, that “the Bible always speaks of repentance and faith…in terms of a change of mind, an enlightening of the understanding, a renewal of the will, which comes by hearing the Word and issues in a conscious commitment to Christ.”[8] Faith is not always fully formed. It does not always include conscious knowledge, cognitive comprehension, or verbal articulation. Sometimes in Scripture, a person can trust the Lord from before birth (Ps. 71:5f). Indeed, in the mind of Jesus, the faith-filled child is illustrative of the entire category of covenant children (Mt. 18:6).

Too critical an inquiry into infant faith obscures the fact that when matured, this trust will have knowledge and assent as its companions. Until then, it’s a faith that breathes in the Spirit as warmly as it's given. God is a God who can be trusted by the weak and praised by the learned academician. God’s gift of faith can be granted as a partial propensity that, over time, will be gloriously colored with knowledge and assent.

Calvin wrote, “The age of infancy is not utterly averse to sanctification.”[9] What began in faith continues in faith. Faith is perfected, that is, completed, through works (James 2:18, 22). Faith matures across lifetimes. It can grow in leaps and bounds. But ordinarily, growing faith is like a race of endurance (Heb. 12:1-2). It must be refined (1 Pet. 1:7) and disciplined (Heb. 12:3-17), like Edmund, whose first trip to Narnia is stumbling and profane. But by the last battle, he’s a king who trusts Aslan completely. Faith grows because people are transformed.

Conclusion
Justification is by faith alone. The characteristic of faith that makes it the instrument of justification is, as the Westminster Confession of Faith chapter 11 says, “Receiving and resting on Christ and his righteousness.” This “is the alone instrument of justification.” As it relates to justification, faith is receptive. It is the “instrument” of receiving God’s righteousness, which “is only of free grace.”

_{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.
 
   [1] Calvin, Institutes, 3:2:8.
   [2] This is consistent with a biblical Christology. Christ is the “last man” (1 Cor. 15:45), which means Christ is the real man and the future man who is gathering to himself the last men, such that to be on Christ’s side is to be on the side of these last men.
   [3] John Calvin, Institutes, 3:2:2.
   [4] The Reformation formula was fides quaerens intellectum, faith seeking understanding.
   [5] Calvin, Institutes, 3:2:6.
   [6] Calvin, Institutes, 3:2:8.
   [7] Rich Lusk, Paedofaith: A Primer on the Mystery of Infant Salvation and a Handbook for Covenant Parents (Athanasius Press, 2005), ii.
   [8] Paul K. Jewett, Infant Baptism and the Covenant of Grace (Grand Rapids, MI: Wm. B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1978), 268.
   [9] John Calvin, Institutes, 4.16.18.} 

Introduction
The central event of the New Testament is not the overthrow of the Old Testament, but the overthrow of death by way of Jesus Christ’s resurrection, which forever linked the two testaments, establishing the continuity of covenant architecture. But if there is continuity between the covenants, why is it called the New Covenant?

Christ—The New Indicative
“Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah, 32 not like the covenant that I made with their fathers on the day when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt, my covenant that they broke, though I was their husband, declares the Lord. 33 For this is the covenant that I will make with the house of Israel after those days, declares the Lord: I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts. And I will be their God, and they shall be my people. 34 And no longer shall each one teach his neighbor and each his brother, saying, ‘Know the Lord,’ for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, declares the Lord. For I will forgive their iniquity, and I will remember their sin no more.” Jeremiah 31:31-34

The New Covenant promises internal transformation (Jer. 31:33). Yet the Old Covenant also includes internal transformation (Dt. 10:16; 30:1-10; Jer. 4:4; 9:26; Ez. 18:31; Rom. 2:28).[1] So then, in what sense is the New Covenant new? In what sense is the internal transformation of the New Covenant different from the internal transformation of the Old Covenant?

The Old Testament’s promise of internal transformation anticipates a time of complete fulfillment that will be more fruitful.  This time is invariably known as the latter days, the New Covenant, the new creation, the gospel, and the Messianic Age. Deuteronomy 30:1-10 is an anticipatory passage that anticipates the complete fulfillment of the internal transformation. In the New Testament, the promise of internal transformation is strengthened.

Consider an example of how this works. The Old Covenant contains commands. So does the New Covenant. What is the difference between the commands in the Old and the commands in the New? The difference is the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. God doesn’t dispense with commandments in the New Testament. The Epistle of James is 108 verses long and has fifty imperative commands. The commanding power of the law is strengthened in the New Covenant because the indicative of the New Covenant is strengthened.

  God’s commands are always based on indicatives of grace. Before giving the Ten Commandments on Mount Sinai, God said, “I am the Lord your God, who brought you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of slavery” (Ex. 20:2). God’s moral commands come out of the graciousness of saving the nation from slavery in Egypt. God reminds them of his abundant grace before giving commands. Grace precedes command. God never expects his people to have the moral ability to obey his commands apart from his grace.

  Grace precedes command is also the pattern of the Sermon on the Mount. Immediately before the sermon, in Matthew 4:23, we read, “And he went throughout all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the gospel of the kingdom and healing every disease and every affliction among the people.” Then Jesus preaches the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus’ commands come out of the grace and mercy of Jesus’ actions. Grace before task. God gives himself first and gives commands second. God’s grace paves the way for obedience, which is why God’s grace demands more, not less. The commanding power of the law is strengthened in the New Covenant because the indicative power of the New Covenant is strengthened.

  Likewise, the internal transformation of the Spirit is strengthened in the New Covenant because the indicative of the New Covenant is strengthened. The potential for internal transformation is intensified because Christians live in the age of the Spirit in which the promises of God have been fulfilled in Christ.

  The internalization promise of the New Covenant highlights the weakness of the Old Covenant (Heb. 8:8). The source of internalization in the Old Covenant was unfulfilled. The source of internalization in the New Covenant is Christ crucified and resurrected. The gift of the Holy Spirit applies the benefits of Christ to his people. Christians obey the law, not because of intrinsic moral ability, but because of Christ’s resurrection power applied through the Spirit. By faith in Christ, the triune God applies the gospel inside out. The Father (1 Jn. 4:12f), the Spirit (Rom. 8:11), and the Son (Eph. 3:17) together fulfill the internalization promise of the New Covenant. The triune God abides in his people, empowering obedience, granting assurance, and giving comfort. God convicts them of sin, establishes repentance, and transforms the elect. This internal work of God manifests through outward good works (Eph. 2:10).

Signs
The sign of the Old Covenant was circumcision and the sign of the New Covenant is baptism. The Israelites performed the rite of circumcision on believers and their children. This wasn’t a cultural sign. It wasn’t a national or fleshly sign.  It was a spiritual sign. According to Jeremiah, Old Covenant circumcision represented a circumcised heart (Jer. 4:4), and this, as Abraham says, involves living faith (Gen. 15:6). According to Ezekiel, New Covenant baptism represents a new heart through the pouring out of the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:38).

“I will sprinkle clean water on you, and you shall be clean from all your uncleannesses, and from all your idols I will cleanse you. 26 And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. 27 And I will put my Spirit within you, and cause you to walk in my statutes and be careful to obey my rules.” Ezekiel 36:25-27

The Old Covenant sign was external and internal (Rom. 2:28f). It was visible and invisible (Col. 2:11f). It was earthly and heavenly. It was fleshly and spiritual (Rom. 4:11). The New Covenant sign is also all of these things (Zech. 13:1; Mt. 28:19; 2 Cor. 7:1; 1 Pet. 3:21), but there is a difference. Christ makes the Old Covenant obsolete (Heb. 8:13). How so? Jeremiah contrasts the New Covenant with the Mosaic Covenant when he says the New Covenant is “not like the covenant that I made with their fathers on the day when I took them by the hand to bring them out of the land of Egypt” (Jer. 31:32).  The testatory of the Old Covenant was the law. The testatory of the New Covenant is Christ crucified and resurrected. The need for the priesthood, sanctuary, and sacrificial system of the Old Covenant is now removed. The provisions of the Old Covenant are at the heart of what is made obsolete by Christ.[2]

Conclusion
The New Covenant of Christ’s blood (Lk. 22:20) is “better” (Heb. 8:6) than the sacrificial system (Heb. 8-10). The New Covenant prophecies highlight forgiveness and internalization. Does that mean there was no forgiveness in the Old Testament? Does that mean there was no law on the heart of God’s people in the Old Testament? No, there was forgiveness and internalization in the Old Testament, but of a kind the sacrificial system could support. Old Testament forgiveness and internalization were but shadows of the fullness of forgiveness and heart change made possible in the death and resurrection of Christ. In the Old Testament, they did not enter God’s rest because of unbelief. The church is warned that they ought not to make the same mistake (Heb. 3:7 – 4:16).

<sub>Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.


  [1] In Dt. 30:14 the law is in the heart and mouth to obey it. They don’t need to go to heaven or descend to Sheol to hear the word of the law. Obedience is because of an inside-out process.
   [2] Peterson, D. G. (1994). Hebrews. In D. A. Carson, R. T. France, J. A. Motyer, & G. J. Wenham (Eds.), New Bible Commentary: 21st century edition (4th ed., p. 1338). Leicester, England; Downers Grove, IL: Inter-Varsity Press.</sub>

Wendell Berry concludes his poem, Manifesto: Mad Farmer Liberation Front, with the exhortation to “practice resurrection.” In this same poem, he says, “Expect the end of the world. Laugh. Laughter is immeasurable. Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.” This is near what G.K. Chesterton meant when he said that “A characteristic of the great saints is their power of levity.”

Laughter is an expression of merriment. Some laugh with a sound and others without. Some chuckle and others crow. Some blow out air and others suck it in. Some giggle and some howl. There is the scream laugh and the snicker, the chortle and the guffaw. Some women snort when they laugh and some men double over. Laughter is a form of social emotion that brings people together. Friends exaggerate laughter, which flows more freely in company than in isolation.

Why do we do it? Why do we laugh? People laugh in response to something—in response to some thought, some action, or some amusement. Not a response like a reflex, but a responsive state of mind that embraces the spontaneous mirth of incongruity, surprise, and absurdity.

In The Screwtape Letters, C.S. Lewis distinguishes between four causes of human laughter. The first is Joy. This is found “among friends and lovers reunited on the eve of a holiday.” It is when “the smallest witticisms produce laughter.” When laughter produces Joy it is an “acceleration … of celestial experience.” The second is Fun, which is closely related to Joy. It is “a sort of emotional froth arising from the play instinct … it promotes charity, courage, contentment.” The third is The Joke Proper, “which turns on sudden perception of incongruity.” When used improperly it destroys godly sorrow, passing off sins as funny. The fourth is flippancy. This is when jokes make it “as if virtue were funny … Every serious subject is discussed in a manner which implies … a ridiculous side to it.”

There is a distinction between righteous laughter and the laughter of fools. God takes no pleasure in the latter. Ecclesiastes 7:4-7 says, “The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning, but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth. 5 It is better for a man to hear the rebuke of the wise than to hear the song of fools. 6 For as the crackling of thorns under a pot, so is the laughter of the fools; this also is vanity.” Righteous laughter is not based on the profane, crude, obscene, or curst. It's based on the fact that we’ve drawn water out of the wells of salvation (Is. 12:2-3) and it produces a “joy unspeakable” (1 Peter 1:8-9). The one who has been forgiven much laughs much. They laugh at fear (Job 39:22) and the adversity that may come (Proverbs 31:25). They even laugh at the flapdoodle of the wicked (Psalm 52:6).

The French novelist Marcel Pagnol said, “Laughter is a human thing, a virtue belonging only to humanity and God, that perhaps God gave to humans as consolation for having made them intelligent.” God gave humans the gift of laughter for at least two sanctifying benefits. The first regards how man relates to God. Giving thanks in all circumstances is a virtue (1 Thess. 5:18). There is a certain way of seeing the world that preserves God’s good purpose in all things (Rom. 8:28). Just after his death penalty was repealed, Dostoyevsky said that the task of life was to “be a human being among people and to remain one forever, no matter in what circumstances, not to grow despondent and not to lose heart.” God gave his image-bearers the ability to laugh as a reminder that the end is better than the beginning and that Joy has the final say. At its best, laughter produces a letabund diagnosis of the world that knows God’s people don’t end up dead. It not only stiff-arms despondency, but it causes the faithful to rise above the onerous situation, testifying to the better world.

The second reason God gave humans laughter has to do with how man relates to himself. George Orwell said, “The aim of a joke is not to degrade the human being, but to remind him that he is already degraded.” Most jokes are about the foolish things people do and the degraded sense of human nature. Chesterton warned about the danger of pride dragging people into the “easy solemnity” of “selfish seriousness.”  Yet even the tallest pride bends under the assault of laughter. The right joke, unpolluted by sin, humiliates sinful pride. When a buddy issues bon mots at your expense and everyone in the circle chuckles, that helps you see through the façade of impregnable idealism, disclosing the realities lurking behind the priggishness common to man. In this way, jokes are mementos reminding people that they need grace all along the journey.

This is always a religious experience, when man takes himself lightly. When the jokes are about him, Satan never laughs. Pride is fundamentally the sin of false cosmology, for when a man thinks about himself a great deal, he is trying to be the center of the universe. Or maybe it’s easier to say, simply, that humorlessness is Satanic. Egos need to be pricked. Know-it-alls need to be humiliated.

French philosopher Henri Bergson said laughter is distinctively human. It is, as Pagnol said, “A human thing.” It’s the mark of the imago Deo in man. Indeed, the word humor comes from the Latin humus, which means soil, earth, or ground. Adam, remember, was formed out of the ground. He is human. He is of the ground. And when the jokes on you, laughing along is a confession that mysteriously turns the ego from stone to flesh. Laughter is an ever-renewable resource for perseverance not available to other creatures. To laugh is to be human, in that way God intended.


<sub>Bibliography
Peter Berger, Redeeming Laughter: The Comic Dimensions of Human Experience (Bostin: De Gruyter, 1997).
Henri Bergson, Laughter: An Essay on the Meaning of the Comic (orig. 1911).
G.K. Chesterton, Heretics (Nashville, TN: Sam Torode, orig. 1905), 54f.
C.S. Lewis, The Screwtape Letters (New York: HarperOne, 1996, orig. 1942), 53-56.
Roger Scruton, How to be a Conservative (London: Bloomsbury, 2014), 154f

Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, American history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the book The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call, now available on Amazon.</sub>

Introduction
Some faithful Christians refuse to read fiction. The reason cited is the same: If there is time to read, they’d rather read something true. Better to plow up a real field than a pretend one. Such prejudice against fiction isn’t new. General Robert E. Lee forbade his son Rob from reading novels because they would discourage industriousness and cause him to desire unreal things.[1] Similarly, many faithful Christians look upon fiction reading as a diversion, nothing more than a trifling digression, like when their grandmother passed the golden years reading tawdry romance novels. To them, fiction is just stories, usually bad stories, that have the redeeming qualities of a Spanish soap opera. In contrast, non-fiction is viewed as the clean and complete road to truth that doesn’t tempt the dangers of imagination.

Granted, it is crucial to acknowledge there are many bad novels. It is also crucial to acknowledge that many bad novels are manifestly bad. They waste your time and soul just as much as the latest Netflix series. There is a need to separate the wheat and the chaff. For every Wendell Berry masterpiece, there is a twistical E.L. James washout. But it is also manifestly not the case that fiction is false while non-fiction is true. And the probity of this assertion stands tall even before we account for the disaster that is Howard Zinn, whose revisionist history is passed around by college students who think they are getting the “real history” of the United States.

Fiction is often more real than fact. The reason is given by Barney, a student in Nora Baines's history class in Nat Hentoff’s novel, The Day They Came to Arrest the Book, “Fiction is sometimes more real than fact. I mean, it can tell you more than facts. It can tell you more about what ordinary people were like in certain times and places than laws and battles and things like that . . . Fiction is imagination. The novelist can suppose, and so he can get inside people’s heads.” Michel Foucault, the historian of ideas, responded to the charge that his fiction wasn’t history by saying, “It seems to me that the possibility exists for fiction to function in truth, for a fictional discourse to induce effects of truth.”[2]

Books exist because people with ideas wish to explain them. Some explain using didactic prose. Others do so in a provocative narrative containing thick layers of meaning. But the test that separates good from evil and beauty from ugliness is not whether or not the book is fiction or non. If one provides mental clarity of righteousness and the other mental confusion, then there exists a valid test separating truth from falsehood, a test that spans far beyond whether the book is non-fiction.

There is an unbroken thread that connects fiction with non-fiction. Each contributes something. The best non-fiction books plunge the reader deep into the mystery of the subject. The best fiction books get the reader out of the deep. If there is a curious and fantastic truth in the non-fiction book, it is concretely embodied in the imagination of a story. If the goal of virtue is incarnation, then illustrations aren’t optional extras. It is the business of fiction to disclose the carefully argued points of non-fiction. To the degree that fiction provides a sense of truth, it retains powerful intellectual and spiritual relevance to the church.

The best of fiction takes place at the point where several branches intersect, including theology, spirituality, philosophy, and phenomenology. The nature of life tells us that stories are not indulgent accessories.

Three reasons Christians should not snub quality fiction
First, reading fiction demystifies the human condition
What does life consist of? Temptation. Depression. Pretension. Self-love. Forgiveness. Lust. Laughter. Fake laughter. Hope. Duty. Delight. The best novels advise on the most complex subjects of life—the beliefs that lodge in the heart.

Consider, for example, how Marilynne Robinson’s novel Lila provides insights into the mentality of people who grow up as orphans in a traumatized childhood. The main character, Lila, walks through life under a cloud of shame that continually rains reminders that she is not good enough. Her every move makes her more ashamed of herself, even when the deed is innocent. She assumes everyone looks at her as a fool. She talks roughly to people “so that she could say when it ended she always knew it would.” She dreams of dignity but then resists kindness. It’s the long agony of self-sabotage. When she enters into a respectable life, she wonders, “What happens when somebody isn’t herself anymore?”[3]

There is nothing on earth more terrific than the labyrinth that is the interior of the soul. There is hatred hidden in the darkest corner; vanity veiled in the unplumbed undercroft. Yet modern man balters through life addicted to hedonic emptiness that wrecks the marrow of the human ego. Novels expound on the mysterious content of human existence, taking readers beyond the primitive stage of reflection. It not only provides the sobering effect of understanding others’ experiences but it enlightens the darkness of bitterness, cowardliness, and sorcery to make the intractable man covet conversion.  
 
Second, reading fiction inspires obedience
Marilynne Robinson says that fiction “exercises the capacity for imaginative love, or sympathy, or identification.”[4] How does this happen? Maryanne Wolf cites research showing that when a reader develops a fondness for a fictional character and that character starts running, the reader’s motor cortex activates as if he is running. Such a stimulated imagination creates real effects, as King David learned.

Nathan was God’s spokesman (2 Sam. 7:2) during the time of David. It was his job to confront David about his sin against Uriah and Bathsheba. Before making the direct accusation (2 Sam. 12:9), the prophet tells David a story about two men; one rich and the other poor. The rich man has many flocks (2 Sam. 12:2). The poor man has one little lamb (2 Sam. 12:3). A traveler arrives at the rich man’s house. Rather than slaughter one of his own sheep, the rich host takes the poor man’s little lamb to feed the guest (2 Sam. 12:4). David’s anger is kindled and he unwittingly condemns himself by pronouncing a death sentence on the rich man (2 Sam. 12:5). Then Nathan says, “You are the man!” (2 Sam. 12:7). David, in return, makes a full confession (2 Sam. 12:13; Ps. 51).

The power of Nathan’s story animated David’s repentance. It was only when the reality of the situation was vividly portrayed via fable that David’s hard heart softened. Nathan could have handed David an ethics textbook. But that wouldn’t have described David’s moral situation with the richness and complexity that reached David’s heart.

Another example of inspired obedience comes from Willa Catha’s book, Death Comes for the Archbishop, Bishop Jean Marie Latour is appointed to establish the new diocese of New Mexico. Latour carries out a selfless program of ministry by traveling widely throughout the territory ministering to the poorest of the poor and the rich alike. In old age, the bishop catches a cold. His young assistant, Bernard, tries to comfort him with the words, “One does not die of a cold.” The old bishop smiles and says, “I shall not die of a cold, my son, I shall die of having lived.”[5] This is the distinctly Christian way of living and dying. As Jesus said, it’s the only way to receive life, “for whoever will save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life more my sake will find it” (Mt. 16:25).

It is true we can learn about what this means from a brilliant non-fiction book, like’s Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s The Cost of Discipleship, where he says, “When Christ calls a man, he bids him come and die.” But in the life of Bishop Latour, we see it in action.

While it’s important to grasp Christian concepts, it's imperative that they grasp us. Stories confront the sort of disengaged reason that knows God from afar as if he is a matter to be studied without personal involvement.

Third, reading fiction divulges the world
If reading a book is a conversation, then the more genres you read the more assorted conversations you have. In literature, the reader experiences what he sees. That experience contributes greatly to his comprehension of the world. The mistake of rationalism is to confine comprehension to the mind. This ignores the inklings of the soul, the suggestions of holy transcendence that people feel but can’t prove. The sense that there is something more needs to be drawn out. Non-fiction is rarely up to the task, not like poetry and fiction.

Typical unbelief in the twenty-first century is not intellectual—it’s not for lack of evidence. Rather unbelief is visceral. Peter Kreeft says, “The root of most atheism is not argument but attitude, not intellection but feeling, not the love of truth but the fear of truth.”[6] People love themselves and don’t wish to bend the knee to another. People feel the irresistible pull of two-second worldly pleasures and don’t wish to repent. They want to do what they want to do. They want to determine truth. They want to determine meaning. They want to determine worth. They want to define the world. Rejection of God is sin-soaked emotion, not ivory tower reflection. It is a toddler tantrum trying to conquer the parents’ will.

Fiction appeals to the visceral aspects of human existence—desires, hopes, longings, ideals, imagination, and fears. It allows the disruptive voice of Christianity[7] to offer an alternative human existence, one where human satisfaction doesn’t come merely from earth-fed sources.

For example, consider F. Scott Fitzgerald’s protagonist in the novel, The Great Gatsby. Jay Gatsby desires Daisy Buchannan as his personalized ideal of meaning. She is the splintered light of hope that breaks through the imminent frame of Gatsby’s flattened world. His pursuit of Daisy represents the haunting experience of transcendence for those who live their life exclusively below the sun. Reading the novel helps the reader feel that the locus of meaning is found only in that which is beyond mere physical grasping.

Conclusion
Christians read because they are people of the book. Peter Leithart explains, “We read because in reading we encounter the God who is Word. Christians extend this argument easily to ‘edifying’ reading.’”[8] Every human life is a reflection of the influences, documents, and stories that are deposited in the soul. What one reads (or doesn’t read) drives what they believe, what they do, and how they make decisions about the future.

Read to enlarge your being, as C.S. Lewis said. Talk about the books you are reading and ask others what they are reading. Read theology and history. And also read fiction. Read Flannery O’Connor and G.K. Chesterton, J.R.R. Tolkien and Dostoevsky, T.S. Eliot and John Buchan. Read George MacDonald and P.G. Wodehouse. Why? Because it's good for your soul.

_{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.
 
   [1] Allen Guelzo, Robert E. Lee: A Life (New York: Knopf, 2021), 147.
   [2] Christopher Watkin, Michel Foucault (Phillipsburg, NJ: P & R, 2018), xxiii.
   [3] Marilynne Robinson, Lila (New York: Picador, 2014), 172f, 185.
   [4] Marilynne Robinson, When I was a Child I Read Books (New York: Picador, 2013), 21.
   [5] Willa Catha, Death Comes for the Archbishop (New York: Vintage Classics, 1990 [orig. 1927]), 267.
   [6] Peter Kreeft, Christianity for Modern Pagans: Pascal’s Pensees (San Francisco, Ignatius Press, 1993), 28.
   [7] Alan Noble, Disruptive Witness: Speaking Truth in a Distracted Age (Downers Grove, IL: IVP, 2018).
   [8] https://www.firstthings.com/blogs/firstthoughts/2010/09/why-should-christians-read-fiction-and-poetry}

Introduction
Creative people are needed because God demands a richer vocabulary than words can give. New eloquence is needed to move the borders of intelligibility. Yet, God didn’t make everyone to be a creative person. Some are hands and some are feet. Others are the intuition.[1] The intuition sees how things tend, which means they see how things complete themselves. Because of the constrained variables in the complexity of reality, the hands and feet have diminished vision. They need the intuition, which disciplines the body toward teleology.[2]

So then, remembering that God doesn’t give the gift of creativity to everyone, what should someone do if they have this unique giftedness? First, they must understand creativity, Second, they must understand the purpose of the gift of creativity. Third, they must cultivate the gift of creativity.

Understanding creativity
What exactly is creativity? The ancients taught that God alone possesses creative power—ex nihilo. No creature, whether angel or image bearer, could produce something from nothing. Rather, each human person, including their material body and immaterial soul, existed because of a creative act of God. Divine creativity has a proper goal, one that God conserves and cares for until all of creation produces the eternal fruit. This is the doctrine of divine providence.

To speak of human creativity is to make a categorical distinction between God and man. There is divine boldness required for man to create. The 17th-century poet and cleric John Donne said, “Poetry is a counterfeit Creation, and makes things that are not, as though they were.” Human creativity, therefore, mirrors a God-like task while using the materials God made.

So the truly creative person never begins, as Rousseau taught, with their personal emotions. Creativeness is measured by reflection rather than originality. Avery Cardinal Dulles argued that creativity and tradition “are not only compatible but mutually supportive.” Dulles stands in contrast to the tradition of antitraditionalism represented no more publicly than by Ralph Waldo Emerson. In 1836, in the introduction to his essay on “Nature,” Emerson argued that reliance on tradition inhibits insight because it forces people to behold God through a middleman rather than face to face.[3] A year later in his famous Phi Beta Kappa address, Emerson complained that preoccupation with history dulls the spontaneous power of insight.[4]

It’s now common to define the essence of creativity as an uninhibited combination of transgression, originality, and spontaneity. This is a submission to Emerson, who contrasted tradition with insight. Emerson thought that the past was authoritarian and tyrannical and that insight was possible when the inner wisdom in the human spirit was unfettered from chains of tradition. It transgressed the past by turning inward rather than outward, which also happens to be the new definition of originality. Something is original only when it is based on impulse, i.e., spontaneity.

In opposition to Emerson, Christians profess that insight is thin and cheap without tradition. The person fervent for originality is always a bore. Why? Because fake creativity is a forgery. Only God creates out of nothing, which means for humans, the only originality is unoriginality. The human task is to bring together several pieces to determine their relation. This requires perceiving a likeness between things that were ostensibly unrelated and building them into a new unity that possesses independent existence. It is precisely because modern people despise memory that modern art and music are so dull. Creativity is impossible without recitation.[5]  

Understanding the purpose of the gift of creativity
It is the special characteristic of modern life—screens especially—that deadens people’s creativity. Yet, a creative person is not made through the rigor of self-discipline, but by a high degree of fascination. A person will never be creative unless they have a profound interest and sober delight in the natural world. To have an interest in the natural world is to have an interest in God’s world—what it has been, what it is, and what it will be. It’s a theistic notion to have a category for things good in themselves and it’s a creative person who can point this out. The sanctification of culture requires a continuously new and incrementally expansive view of God’s world.

Shakespeare said there are more things in heaven and earth than you could ever dream of. That is, there are more things in heaven and earth than man’s limited, material, human frame can hold.  The church needs, as John Keats said, “some watcher of the skies … with eagle eyes” to present to the church “a wild surmise.”[6] To be ravished by God’s world is to be filled with a suggestion of the God who made it. At least that’s what Paul said in Romans 1:20, “For his invisible attributes, namely, his eternal power and divine nature, have been clearly perceived, ever since the creation of the world, in the things that have been made. So they are without excuse.” The potency of creativity is to help God’s people clearly perceive. This is part of how the church recovers the animating spirit of Christian culture, centered on the God who is there. A high level of cultural commonality must exist in the church first, then in the world.

Cultivating the gift of creativity
A creative person is someone full of wit and imagination who has the skills of poetry and eloquence applied through the depth of thought and fires of sanctified imagination. The purpose of creative Saints in the body of Christ is to persuade God’s people against the “truth” of unreality. People are on dangerous ground if they praise as beautiful that which is flatly implausible in light of God’s revelation. Creativity-in-training begins by fixing loyalty to the truth of the Living God.

This is how Jonathan Edwards could make sanctifying observations about moonlight. The nature of moonlight is that the glow of the moon is not intrinsic to it. Moonlight, rather, is the continuously new reflection of sunlight. This is how God made the world and it teaches us about God. Just like the sun is pervasively present even at night, so too does God constantly renew creation as an act of his Divine Being.[7]

In her book Mind over Memes, Diana Senechal takes issue with the methods schools use to instill creativity. By attempting to train creativity, they end up deterring it. In her research, she discovered that no one can be creative without first learning about what came before. Mastering the basics of the past requires a lot of work, study, thought, and practice. Invention is the result of a long process of mastering the tradition, which is about mastering the originals. For example, consider music making. Aspiring musicians want to push the boundaries of plainsong and make the next avant-garde song. But this is impossible without first learning foundations—scales, notes, and chords. Then they must learn existing songs and study how they are composed. Creative people don’t begin with innovation, they begin with fons et origo.

Conclusion
Until a person grasps the profound meaning of the Original, they won’t understand the things of God. That is, they won’t understand the tools for creation. The Christian tradition, rooted in the incarnate God-man, originates from the living memory of the Creator God. This is an ancient heritage that can’t be improved upon. There is no new framework, only re-actualizing the creative mystery that is the cause of Being. The Christian tradition, therefore, doesn’t need resurrecting or preservation. It needs Christians with the gift of creativity to serve (1 Pt. 4:10) the deadened and godless lives that need resurrecting and preservation.

_{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.
 
[1] Jacques Maritain, Creative Intuition in Art and Poetry (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1953).
[2] Marilynne Robinson, What Are We Doing Here? (New York: Farrar, Straus, and Giroux, 2018), 110-114.
[3] https://archive.vcu.edu/english/engweb/transcendentalism/authors/emerson/nature.html
[4] https://www.firstthings.com/article/1992/11/tradition-and-creativity-in-theology
[5] Jaroslav Pelikan, The Vindication of Tradition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1984), 73-82; Dorothy Sayers, Letters to a Diminished Church (Nashville: Thomas Nelson, 2004), 33. 
 [6] John Keats, “On First Looking into Chapman’s Homer.”
 [7] Edwards, Jonathan. The Complete Works of Jonathan Edwards. The Great Christian Doctrine of Original Sin Defended (p. 4990). Kindle Edition.}

Introduction
Just because we ought not take ourselves too seriously doesn’t mean we ought not give serious reflection to the unconversable subject of death. Upon the occasion of his mother’s grave illness, Martin Luther wrote a letter encouraging her to confront death directly, “Let us therefore now rejoice with all assurance and gladness, and should any thought of sin or death frighten us, let us in opposition to this lift up our hearts and say, ‘Behold, dear soul, what are you doing? Dear death, dear sin, how is it that you are alive and terrify me? Do you not know that you have been overcome? Do you, death, not know that you are quite dead? Do you not know the One who says of you: ‘I have overcome the world?’”[1]

These are the perspectives from a different time. C.S. Lewis said, “The great Christians of the past…. Thought it good for us to be always aware of our mortality. I’m inclined to think they were right.”[2] Luther and all those in the history of the world before him went to bed at night not knowing if they would awaken the next morning. Today, it takes 30,000 nights of sleep before people even begin to reflect on death. This is to ignore a fundamental aspect of the human condition. If your theology is complete, it must encompass death. The goal isn’t to merely check all the boxes and cover all the topics. A theology of death should help you live. Humans, among all the creatures, have foreknowledge of their death. When properly understood, this ought to lead to a deeper appreciation of life, virtue, and our relationship with the eternal. To that end, let us circle the valley of death (Ps. 23:4), as it were, and survey it from seven strategic heights.

  First, The Definition of Death
 Since death is the wages of sin (Rom. 6:23), it’s appointed for all to die because all have sinned (Rom. 3:23). Christians are excepted from the sting of death, but not death itself (1 Cor. 15:55). For all people “in Christ,” death is the beginning of eschatological glory. In Philippians 1:21, Paul says that “to die is gain.” Why is it gain? Verse 23 says, “I am hard pressed between the two [living or dying]. My desire is to depart and be with Christ, for that is far better.” So, when a Christian dies, what happens? Their spirit is instantly “with Christ.” Their body returns to dust and sees corruption, but the soul is immortal, and neither sleeps nor dies (1 Cor. 15:42-44). The spirit goes to be “with the Lord” (2 Cor. 5:8), where there is fullness of joy and pleasures forevermore (Ps. 16:11). This is why Revelation 14:13 pronounces a blessing on “the dead who died in the Lord from now on.” The Westminster Larger Catechism 86 describes this condition as “the commencement of communion in glory with Christ.”

  If a Christian is saved from sin, death, and the devil, why do their bodies still decay? The bodies of Christians break because the flesh can’t endure the unbearable light of holiness. The mortal, perishable flesh is sown in dishonor and weakness. But this is not the end of the story. The natural body that is from the earth—from the dust—will one day come to life again (1 Cor. 15:35-49). The mystery is that Christ transforms death so that it is no longer an attack on life itself (1 Cor. 15:50-58). But more on that in point seven.

  Second, The Biblical Theology of Death
 The foundational episode of death is when Adam and Eve ate the fruit in the Garden (Gen. 3:1-7). Death enters God’s creation as a consequence and a curse. Though Adam’s physical death is delayed, spiritual separation becomes a form of death that precedes physical dissolution. The first human death is fratricide, when Cain kills Abel and Abel’s blood “is crying to me from the ground” (Gen. 4:10). Death has a voice, and the words are those of justice, the restoration of a disturbed moral order. Death becomes universal at the flood (Genesis 6-9). God’s cosmic judgment becomes the pathway to renewal. All flesh dies except the remnant preserved in the ark. Judgment and salvation travel through the same waters. Death becomes a test of faith when Abraham raises the knife over his beloved son, Isaac. But God provides a substitute, and the ram dies in Isaac’s place, establishing that death includes a sacrificial principle. The death of a substitute secures life for God’s chosen (Gen. 22).

  The Passover presents death as the instrument of deliverance. The Lord passed through Egypt, and every firstborn in the land of Egypt shall die. Blood on the doorposts, substitutionary blood, prevents death from entering the house. This is the final plague that breaks Pharaoh’s oppression and leads to Israel’s liberation (Exodus 11-12). Many years later, an entire generation dies outside the Promised Land as a consequence of their unbelief. They are excluded from rest. Yet God’s redemptive plan advances as their children are permitted to enter (Numbers 14, 26). In Numbers 21, death comes by serpent bite, recalling Eden. But then death is halted by looking at the bronze serpent lifted up. The death-giving object becomes the instrument of life that must be received in faith. The death of Moses in Deuteronomy 34 marks the end of an era. He dies outside the Promised Land, yet still in communion with God, as the Lord “buried him” (Dt. 34:6).

  The sin of Achan in Joshua 7 leads to his execution. Death is the wage of violating the covenant. One man’s sin brings defeat and death to Israel. In Judges 16, the strange story of Sampson ends by emphasizing how he killed more in his death than in his life (Judges 16:30). The death of Saul marks dynastic transition as the cost of disobedience (1 Sam. 31). The cost of David’s sin with Bathsheba was even worse, as Nathan said, “The child who is born to you shall die” (2 Sam. 12:14). David’s grief swells as another son, Absalom, dies (2 Sam. 18).

  But the overwhelming grief of death finds a flicker of hope in the Prophet Elijah, who first raises the widow’s son in 1 Kings 17, and then the Shunammite’s son in 2 Kings 4. Death reversed by the prophetic word reminds people that Yahweh has power over death. So, when it’s prophesied that the Suffering Servant would die (Isaiah 53), resurrection hope endures, as Daniel 12:2 says, “Many of  those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.”

  So, what is the meaning of death in the Old Testament? Death is not “natural.” It is an enemy, a curse, and a consequence of the Fall. It is judgment upon sin, both personal and corporate. It is a sacrifice that atones and delivers. It is an opportunity to test faith and obedience. And it is something that will be conquered because the dead can rise. All of this points to Jesus Christ, as we’ll see in points six and seven.

  Third, The Futility of Worldliness
 Psalm 49 teaches that death provides a clear view of the futility of worldliness (Ps. 49:12, 20). It’s absurd to live for what always fails (Ps. 49:6; Prov. 23:5). People can’t buy their way out of dying (Ps. 49:7f). Death is the common lot of all men, even the arrogant (Ps. 49:5f). Death climbs in at the window to carry off the living (Jer. 9:21). For those who die under wrath, alienated from God, there is no hope after death (Ps. 6:5; 30:9; 88:4-5). There is a death without hope (Ps. 49:13f) and there is a death with hope, as the Psalmist says, “But God” will be the Savior (Ps. 49:15). Even in the Old Testament, the resurrection morning is anticipated (Dt. 12:2) where the righteous will be fully satisfied (Ps. 17:15).

The futility of worldliness is to grasp for control in God’s world. The man who trusts in his riches cannot cheat death any more than the beast that perishes (Ps. 49:12). Man can die in “pomp,” without understanding (Ps. 49:12), or he can die with understanding (Ps. 49:20). What does a lack of understanding about death look like? First, it's the conceit that wealth can buy everything; it can even buy off death’s decree. It fails to see that earthly riches may buy a lasting tomb or commute a death penalty (Ex. 21:30), but it can do no more (Ps. 49:7-11). Second, it’s the mistaken notion that self-reliance can be carried to the grave. There are destinies beyond burial which require the ransom power of Another (Ps. 49:13-15).

For those who trust in wealth or themselves, there is no light (Ps. 49:17-19). To have light is to have “understanding” (Ps. 49:3), or discernment, that there is another realm of life beyond. The earthly notions of power and influence do not operate there. In the realm of divine redemption, the first are last, and the last are first. If you hear before you fear, you can gain understanding (Ps. 49:4f). The light makes you “upright” (Ps. 49:14) such that you can die right with God (Num. 23:10). This is when a life conforms to God’s way (1 Kgs. 15:5) and is acceptable to God (Job 1:1). The Lord saves the upright (Ps. 7:10) because Christ himself is the light (Jn. 8:12).[3]

It's this hope in another realm that overcomes a worldly view of death. If Christ defeated death, then Christians shouldn’t live as those defeated by the fear of death. Death is gain (Phi. 1:21; 2 Tim. 1:10). When a Christian dies, it is a homecoming; it is a fulfillment of his hope to know Christ. Martyn Lloyd-Jones said that the Christian views death without fear because, “He has striven diligently to know him better and better. He knows Christ. He knows where he is going. He does not feel lonely as he is dying because Christ is with him….so the fear of death is gone—he does not object to going because he knows exactly where he is going, and to whom he is going.”[4]

When the Baptist preacher, Vance Havner (1901-1986), endured the passing of his wife, people would say, “I heard you lost your wife.” Havner responded, “No, when you lose someone, that implies you don’t know where they are. But I know exactly where my wife is.” Then Havner would quote the John Oxenham poem, “Death Hides But Does Not Divide.” “Death will hide but not divide / She is but on Christ’s other side / She with Christ and Christ with me / United still in Christ are we.”

Fourth, The Forgetting of Death
The move today is to minimize death, to forget that it’s inevitable. Everyone begins their life alive and ends their life dead. This is the inevitability of death, and most people regard it as bad news. So they evade it, forget it, run from it, shrink from it, and distract themselves from it. Elderly people are removed to facilities, natural aging is masked, and cemeteries are tucked away. People maximize pleasure in this earthly life, pursuing happiness in the mold of celebrities: money, luxury, fornication, and power. This makes some sense, of course, if earthly life is all you have. Pascal’s wager argues that it’s rational to believe in God because the potential infinite reward of salvation outweighs any finite cost of belief, while the potential infinite punishment of damnation makes disbelief too risky. But with the forgetting of death, the wager’s been flipped. When you begin with a bias of materialism, everlasting fire faces long odds. So, why not grab as much pleasure as you can?

The dread of death becomes the degradation of man. The entire effect is a sort of mellow nihilism that sees no need in eminent worry about the rancor of the potter’s field. This has significant implications, beginning with the removal of mystery. Death is the mother of mystery. Without Christ, death is a universal riddle (Ps. 49:1-4). What will happen when you die? What will be my fate? Will it be scary? What will God think of me? There is a trickledown effect when the ultimate mystery is wiped from possibility, namely, the suspension of mystery elsewhere, which also entails the suspension of imagination.

Fifth, The Culture of Death
Yet, the absurd pull of ideas is that, at the very same time people try to forget death, there is the desire to restrict the right to life and expand the right to death. The “culture of death,” as Pope John Paul II called it, favors abortion, infanticide, and euthanasia. Life is intolerable. Death is preferred for the sole reason that it ends the unbearable burden of living. The culture of death assumes that people, especially medical doctors, should have power over who lives and who dies. It assumes that humans rise to the task of being gods who don’t just create or destroy meaning, they generate or terminate life.

It also carries a certain assumption about what it means to be human: Life is worth living because of the potential for pleasure.[5] This is then translated into a social policy of intolerance of anyone who turns out to be inconvenient for fleshly gratification. Only in the culture of death could the British House of Commons approve bills allowing for assisted suicide and late-term abortions. The logic is deadly. Those who go on living drain the resources of the others, so it’s merciful to kill.[6]

  The culture of death is the result of modern ideas, modern art, modern literature, and modern technology.[7] Each facet of secularism is full of pessimism and despair, the twin characteristics of the post-Christian West. There is no wonder. There is no joy in the gift of life. Instead, people invent reasons to kill their children, which turns out to be their own suicide. These various forms of death aren’t freedom, and neither is the destruction of the family. The secular milieu isn’t freedom to live but freedom from life. It’s not freedom to love but freedom from love. The reason the church has the resources to snatch life from the jaws of death is that Jesus came that we might have life and have it more abundantly (Jn. 10:10).[8]

  Sixth, The Proclamation of Death
 When others have died, and we are left behind, a flood of well-meaning sentiments elbows its way to the front. “Hang on to the happy memories.” “Remember them without regret.” “One day you won’t feel the pain of their absence.” “They are in a better place.” Of course, there is some comforting effect to these words. But, as common as death is, it is not just another event in the journey. Death reveals and reduces. It reveals what that person meant to us. And if they meant anything significant, then it reduces us because we just lost a friend. The living are reminded of the beauty, power, and depth of love and friendship. The feeling of loss is the terrible price we pay for having been given the gift of love. The cost of death and the loss therein provide a profound understanding of human nature and the deep capacity of relationships and remembrances.

  Paul says that the Lord’s Supper proclaims the Lord’s death until he comes (1 Cor. 11:26). But this “proclaiming” wasn’t automatic. Because of the Corinthians' factions, they went through the motions of the Lord’s Supper without actually taking the Supper (1 Cor. 11:20), which means they were not proclaiming the Lord’s death. This reveals exactly how the Supper proclaims the Lord’s death. Because of their factions, their Supper-taking proclaimed something false about Christ. But taking the communal meal together, eating and drinking in unity and peace, communing by deferring to the needs of others, this proclaims the Lord’s death because it accurately represents the meaning of the sacrifice of Christ’s death. In the Eucharist, the church receives with thanksgiving the benefits of redemption through Jesus Christ. When they partake in love and unity, they manifest the covenant connection of Christ. When they go on from the meal to deny themselves in humility, live with moral courage, and have joy in suffering, they are living the meaning of the Lord’s death.

  If you are feeling audacious, then consider a parallel: the Church's remembrance of Christ's death may well teach us the proper manner of remembering our beloved loved ones who have passed beyond the veil. Think of it this way. Saint Paul warns that those who fail to discern the unity of the body of Christ eat and drink unworthily at the Lord's Table. They fail to proclaim the Lord’s death because they miss the very thing Christ’s sacrificial death proclaims. Is there not the potential for an analogous failure when we gather to remember our departed loved ones? If we fail to perceive the Lord's handiwork woven through their earthly life, if we see only loss and not gift, only absence and not eternal presence, do we not likewise eat and drink unworthily of their memory? Christians must grieve and weep, but not like those who have no hope (1 Thess. 4:13). Feel the full weight of loss. But faithful remembrance requires something more costly: the imitation of their virtues (1 Cor. 11:1), gratitude for love received, and recognition that love itself is a divine gift. Without these, we proclaim not their life, but only our loss.

  Seventh, The Conquering of Death
 Primitive societies didn’t think of death as a natural phenomenon. It was something to be interpreted. There were spectral agents afoot, poisoning, or making magic, or wielding weapons to end the life of another.[9] The Bible explains the cause of death differently. Paul said the wages of sin is death (Rom. 6:23). This means that physical death is the result of spiritual death. When Adam ate the forbidden fruit, the entire race of man obtained the condition of spiritual death. Adam’s physical death years later was a consequence of that spiritual death. The same is true for all those descended from Adam.

Death prevents sin from being a secret. When someone dies, it overturns any attempted ruse of sinlessness (1 Jn. 1:8-10). Spiritual superciliousness is reduced to nothing when you follow Christ, who laid himself down for the rest of the world. Christ’s death calls death what it is: death. Christ does not explain away death, or dismiss death, or deny death. He faces death, which requires us to admit our death and confess the wage for death’s cause, our sin. Christ made himself responsible for defending humanity from its worst foes: sin, death, and the Devil. Neither the sheriff, the surgeon, nor the psychologist is adequate to defend against these devouring monsters. Those who don’t face death with Christ are destroyed by it. Those who do face death with Christ are more than conquerors.

Death is the instrument of personal salvation. Your death, in and by Jesus’ death, is salvation. Put again, you must die first before you can be saved. You must die to sin before you can be righteous. How does one die to sin? There is only one way, and it isn’t your physical death. When you die physically, it is because of your sin. Apart from Christ, your sin would be punished eternally. So, you can’t die to sin through physical death. In physical death, you continue in the consequences of your sin. You need a death that is higher than death. You must die to sin before you can be righteous.

How so? The only way someone can truly die to sin is through Christ’s death. When someone puts trusting faith in Jesus Christ as the substitute for their sins, then Christ’s death becomes their death, death to sin. With nails through his hands and feet, at three o’clock on that dark afternoon, Jesus received in his body the guilt of the punishment of the sins of all those who believe in him. Do you believe? If you do, then you are dead to sin. And when one is dead to sin, they are alive with Christ, having received the full righteousness of Christ. And with the righteousness of Christ, you are restored to the original condition of Adam.

There will be a physical resurrection when Christ returns. Christ’s resurrection body will be the prototype, and Christ’s cosmic restoration will provide the habitation, the New Heavens and Earth, where all those resurrected to new life will live. This is the gospel of Jesus Christ, the power of life from death. All you can do, or need to do, is trust Christ who triumphed over the grave.[10]

  Just like Christians have two births, the physical birth and the spiritual one, so too Christians have two deaths, the death to sin and then the physical one. Christians can live fully for the Lord because they have died so completely to themselves before they die physically. The Gospel of Jesus Christ is not the reconciliation of death, but the revelation of death. What is revealed? That death is no mystery, but a destroyed enemy. The largest fear now cowers because Christ is Life.[11] Your resurrection, in and by the silence of Jesus’ tomb, will be your justification (Rom. 4:24; 6:1-5).

  Martyn Lloyd-Jones argued that the ultimate proof of a Christians profession of faith comes when they are face to face with death. It tests your doctrine, your morality, and your experience. “Orthodoxy is not enough, morality is not enough, experiences are not enough. The one question for each of us is this: do we know something about this glory? Do we set our affections upon it? Do we live for it? Do we live in the light of it? Do we seek to know more about it? That is the secret of the Christian.”[12]

  The great Christians of the past had a clear view of death that was connected with eternal glory.  This is why the early church faced death with the note of victory. Athanasius wrote that Christians trampled upon death because Christ was raised.[13] Eusebius was an eyewitness to the martyrdom of many Christians and observed how they were indifferent to the tortures and received the sentence of death with exultation, singing hymns to their dying breath.[14] Ignatius, who was sent to the beasts, pleaded that the church would not seek his release because he was so eager to see Christ, who died on his behalf.[15]

  Conclusion
 Death is not the balm and nectar of oblivion, as Damian Michael Bentley’s “Society of Death Our Friend” put it. John Donne’s poem, “Death Be Not Proud,” written in 1609, explains how it is and why it is that Christians need not fear death. Donne’s sonnet presents a personification of Death, arguing that death is not as powerful as it appears because it is ultimately conquered through eternal life.

  <sub>^{Death be not proud, though some have called thee
 Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so;
 For those whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow
 Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
 From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be,
 Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow,
 And soonest our best men with thee do go,
 Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
 Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
 And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
 And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well
 And better than thy stroke; why swell'st thou then?
 One short sleep past, we wake eternally
 And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die.}

  Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.
 
   [1] Luther’s Works, 50:18-19.
   [2] C.S. Lewis, “Learning in Wartime” in The Weight of Glory (HarpersOne, 2001 edition), 61.
   [3] Motyer, J. A. (1994). The Psalms. In D. A. Carson, R. T. France, J. A. Motyer, & G. J. Wenham (Eds.), New Bible commentary: 21st century edition (4th ed., p. 517). Inter-Varsity Press.
[4] Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Expository Sermons on 2 Peter (Banner of Truth, 1983), 50f.
   [5] The logic of Scripture is something different. Since life is a mist (James 4:14), it is foolish to pursue earthly satisfaction and self-indulgence. Better to submit yourself to the will of God (James 4:15). Better to live in fear of the Lord, which is the point of Ecclesiastes. 
   [6] Herbert Schlossberg, Idols for Destruction: The Conflict of Christian Faith and American Culture (Crossway, 1990), 82.
   [7] Transhumanism, the attempt to upload people’s minds into computers, is the attempt to overcome death via technology, thereby granting immortality. https://www.businessinsider.com/futurist-presidential-candidate-zoltan-istvan-is-driving-a-giant-coffin-across-america-to-defeat-death-and-win-the-white-house-2015-7
[8] Dale Ahlquist, Common Sense 101: Lessons From G.K. Chesterton (Ignatius Press, 2006), 192.
   [9] Lévy-Bruhl, Lucien. La Mentalité Primitive. Paris: Librairie Félix Alcan, 1922
   [10] Robert Farrar Capon, The Foolishness of Preaching: Proclaiming the Gospel Against the Wisdom of the World (Eerdmans, 1998), 19.
   [11] Alexander Schmemann, For the Life of the World: Sacraments and Orthodoxy (St. Vladimir’s Seminary Press, 1973), 99-100.
   [12] Martyn Lloyd-Jones, Setting Our Affections Upon Glory: Nine Sermons on the Gospel and the Church (Crossway, 2013), 13-24. 
   [13] St. Athanasius, On the Incarnation, translated by Penelope Lawson (Macmillan Publishing, 1981), 42-43.
   [14] Eusebius, Ecclesiastical History, translated by Christian Frederick (Baker, 1955), 328.
   [15] St. Ignatius, Epistle to the Romans, iv-vi, translated by J.B. Lightfoot, The Apostolic Fathers (Baker, 1956), 76-77.</sub>

Introduction
Martyn Lloyd-Jones said, “The greatest weakness in evangelical Christianity today is that it forgets God.”[1] That means the church has a memory problem. Memory is information that you hold in the mind; knowledge that you store away. But memory is not the same as data storage. God gave you a vast capacity for memory because you are intended to move through the story he is writing.[2] Memory is the ability to retrieve information from the past, use the information in the present, and project the information into the future. Memory is a repertoire of knowledge that can be summoned in a way that travels freely between the past, the present, and the future. It is this conjectural thinking that provides life with the depth perception necessary for faithfulness.[3]

  Memory is a gift. What if there were no memory? Think of the chaos. The world would appear as a random, fuzzy collection of objects. There would be no meaning, only the arousal of innate reflexes. There would be no basis for interpretation, only the elapsed and deserted moments of the past. There would be no knowledge of the external world, only unintegrated events that lack unity and intention.

  One doesn’t form memories. One is inhabited by them. The reason the world is in such a moral mess is that it is in the grip of a demonic inhabitation, willfully possessed by the dark daydreams of solipsism. If your memory canvas is painted with an amoral, asymmetrical human world, void of aesthetics and substantive only in the meaning of power patterns, then it’s no wonder people occupy a gallimaufry cosmos with no solid meaning, order, or wisdom. Love and trust become empty rationalizations, bowdlerized buzzwords that merely flatter the dominant patterns of the zeitgeist.

  Lest you are already missing the point, here it is more plainly: The memories that inhabit you really do matter. A person with the wrong memory, or no memory at all, becomes barbarous, easily tyrannized by sin, obeying a nihilism masquerading as advancement.

  Different Types of Memories
 There are two main types of memories. The first type consists of memories of your past experiences. These experiences live in your head not just by images, but by the ability to feel emotion. There is sensory memory, such as the smell of fresh-baked bread or the sound of your favorite song, that triggers a broader recollection of your past world. There are the traumatic memories of unhealed wounds. There are embodied memories, such as the skill of riding a bike or the habit of making your bed in the morning. These experiences don’t necessarily begin as words, but they do eventually translate into language and are reborn in the imagination. Then there are memories gone askew. When psychologists note that people’s memories tend to be populated with inaccuracies, they’re pointing to a common human tendency to analyze our present circumstances and unconsciously reshape the past to make sense of who we are now.

  The second type of memory is communal and inherited. Your mind contains not only what you’ve personally experienced but what others have told you. There are all kinds of influences that come into your life. There are all kinds of documents that live in your head; all kinds of narratives and images and characters—real and chimerical—that reside in the human imagination. Family stories, historical accounts, biblical symbols, cultural myths, and fictional narratives. You know characters from novels as intimately as childhood friends. You remember the Exodus, though you weren't there. The Civil War, the Resurrection, and your grandfather’s war stories all dwell in you as memory, though not as personal experience. These transmitted memories, some factual, some legendary, some entirely invented, are the impressions, tidings, and tales that now inhabit you.

  God’s Memories
 God’s remembrances surpass even the strongest human memories (Is. 49:15). God’s mercy for his people is because of his memory of his people. This is part of God’s deep paternal affection (Jer. 31:20). There is an unfolding pattern of God’s memory across Scripture. In Genesis and Exodus, God’s remembrances initiate salvation. In Leviticus, God’s remembrance restores Israel, even in judgment. In the Psalms, God’s memory is cause for praise and faith. In the Prophets, the promise is renewed that God will remember his covenant despite Israel’s unfaithfulness. In the New Testament, Jesus comes as the ultimate fulfilment of God’s covenant remembrance.

  The first person God remembered was Noah (Gen. 8:1a). Lest Noah get a big head, God also remembered the beasts and livestock on the ark (Gen. 8:1b). All this remembering led to action, the waters receded and preservation continued (Gen. 8:1c). Then God promised Noah that in the future he would remember the sign of the Noahic Covenant, the rainbow, ensuring preservation of the earth (Gen. 9:15f; Ps. 98:3). Lot is spared because God remembers Abraham, establishing that God’s covenant loyalty extends to Abraham’s family (Gen. 19:29). Then God remembered Rachel and ends her barrenness. This results in the birth of Joseph (Gen. 30:22). In Exodus 2:24-25, God hears the Israelites groaning and remembers his covenant with Abraham. This is the theological foundation for the Exodus (Ex. 6:5). After the golden calf incident, Moses appeals to God’s covenant memory as the reason for withholding punishment (Ex. 32:13; Dt. 9:27). God promises that even if Israel is in judgment and exile, he will remember his covenant. He will remember how he saved them from Egypt, and restore Israel (Lev. 26:42, 45; 2 Kings 13:23; Ps. 105:8; 106:45). In 1 Samuel 1:19, God remembers Hannah’s petition, and Samuel the prophet is born. God’s remembrances translate into ongoing provision for his covenant people (Ps. 111:5). Because of God’s remembrance of his people in their time of need, Israel will praise the Lord (Ps. 136:23). The birth of John the Baptist and the sending of Jesus the Son are because of God’s covenant remembrance (Lk. 1:72f). God remembers the almsgiving of Cornelius, marking out that in the New Covenant, God’s remembrance includes faithful Gentiles in covenant blessing.

  Consider three key features of God’s memory. First, God’s remembrances lead to action, such as deliverance or provision. Second, God’s covenant is central. Most references connect God’s remembrance to his covenants with Noah, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Third, God’s memory is paradoxical. When God does not remember the covenant of brotherhood, judgment comes (Amos 1:9). When God does not remember the iniquity of the people, salvation comes (Heb. 8:12). God remembers His covenant by choosing to remember sins no more. God’s people are comforted as forgiven sinners because God’s memory has changed sides.

  Human Memory
 Since human memory should mirror God’s memory, that means human memory also ought to have three key features. First, godly memory leads to righteous action. When God commands Israel to remember the difficult forty years they had in the wilderness, including the testing and discipline, the goal is that these memories become the foundation for present obedience (Dt. 8:2). This is also why God establishes a perpetual liturgical memory. Israel keeps the Passover as a re-presentation of God’s faithfulness, which allows each new generation to participate in the founding salvation act that created the nation-state of Israel (Ex. 12:14; 13:8f). Likewise, Jesus institutes the Lord’s Supper as the New Covenant memorial (1 Cor. 11:24), where each believer participates in the salvation act of Christ’ sacrifice (Lk. 22:19; 1 Cor. 10:14-22). Through this participation, the people of God are instructed and molded into the church.

  Second, godly memory is rooted in covenant truths. There is a reciprocal nature to covenant memory. God remembers his people and has mercy. God’s people remember God’s mercy and respond with obedience (Dt. 7:9; Ps. 103:17f). Also, there is an intergenerational nature to covenant memory. God’s people are supposed to “Remember the days of old; consider the years of many generations; ask your father; and he will show you, your elders, and they will tell you” (Dt. 32:7). It’s not just that memory is transmitted through testimony, but it’s a communal activity with God’s people in the past.

  Third, godly memory forgets certain things. Christians forget the former life of sin to take a new life of holiness (Eph. 2:1-10; Phil. 3:13f; 1 Pt. 1:16). Forgetting the wrong things is spiritually dangerous. For example, forgetting God’s provision in a time of prosperity leads to pride and disobedience (Dt. 8:11-14). And forgetting God’s goodness leads to idolatry, like the golden calf (Ps. 106:21). By remembering the right things now, “the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind” (Is. 65:17) “He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Rev. 21:4).

  Consider Four Further Functions of Memory
 First, Memory Reinforces Relationships
 Memory includes people. The people you can’t forget are the ones to whom you had a bond. Your ongoing memory of the person reveals the strength of your loyalty to the bond. It also reveals what, and who, you were paying attention to. When you forget a person, it may be simple absent-mindedness. Maybe you only met the person once. Maybe it was twenty years ago. It’s an innocent forgetfulness. Other forgetfulness is purposeful, a social excision and intentional severing of any link, a destruction of the relationship. When you remember a person, like Paul commands the Galatians to remember the poor (Gal. 2:10), you aren’t supposed to imagine some distant person in a far-off land. You are exercising your will to remember the particular poor people you know, to not remove them as if their need is undesirable to you. Your remembering is a purposeful interceding on their behalf.  

  Second, Memory Awakens Transcendence
 Forgetfulness is part of the fall. Which means memory doesn’t just have an intellectual dimension, but a spiritual one. What is remembering? It’s internalizing knowledge. Once this knowledge was outside of you. Now it is part of you. It might be terms, people, patterns, or concepts. It might be smells, loves, feelings, or poetry. It’s all the sensory experiences impressed on the mind to form abstract associations between the seen and the unseen.

  These sensory experiences relate to “real” spiritual ideas. The more angelical the memories, the stronger the potential exists to see the true nature of things. This is near what Augustine is getting at in chapter ten of his Confessions, where memory serves as a vessel of grace. Memory becomes the mind’s capacity—the soul’s capacity—to feel the ineffable compound of Joy and Wonder, of strangeness and familiarity, in the consuming sense of Transcendent Truth. Some memories are terrifying. Others beautiful. Others mysterious. Because each person is colonized by eternity (Eccl. 3:11), each person possesses the potentiality of spiritual institutions such as faith, hope, and love. This potentiality forms the calling of every human being: to submit their human identity to the Lordship of Christ for the glory of God.

  For some people, the Spirit’s sovereign sway awakens the human spirit to see the unmistakable stamp of cosmic reality, and their heart is opened to pay attention to the divine witness (Acts 16:14). The heart is freed to receive the world as something given to them, as something they inherit and experience. The heart is enabled to learn the patois of God’s universe.

For other people, the vitality and resoluteness of this Transcendence denervates their souls. They look in the mirror and see the mark of Cain, so they flee the glory cloud, preferring to vaunt the dark nakedness of an ugly autonomy rather than the beauty of the glory of the grace of God. Their heart is hardened to the unassailable facts of sex, marriage, and decency as they overturn the fixities of human nature.

If forgetfulness is soul deep, then memory improvement is spiritual restoration. Memory of what, exactly? Above all, the goodness of God, his invisible attributes, eternal power, and divine nature. When this knowledge is integrated into your own being, then the soul will honor God and give thanks to him (Rom. 1:19-21). These memories are the very first sign of the renewal of the soul.

Third, Memory fights unbelief
Psalm 126:3 describes a deliberate act of remembering. The psalmist recalls God’s past intervention, not as nostalgia, but as a foundation for renewed trust in the present. Memory has a purpose. It is not passive recollection; it is active resistance against despair. By remembering how “the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion” (Psalm 126:1), the people are strengthened to pray, “Restore our fortunes, O LORD” (Psalm 126:4). Memory turns past joy into present faith. It reorients the heart from what is to what God can do again. Memory becomes the bridge between sorrow and joy, linking what God has done with what we believe He will do.

The restored are not merely those who experience joy again. They are those who learn to remember rightly. Memory, for them, is not a gallery of fading photographs but a weapon against unbelief. In Psalm 126, joy begins not with new circumstances, but with the recollection, “The LORD has done great things for us” (Ps. 126:3). This is not sentimentality. It is theological clarity. The restored learn that to forget God’s past faithfulness is to surrender to present despair.
 
Righteous remembering is to anchor the soul in a truth deeper than circumstance. They rehearse the miracles, not to live in the past, but to insist that God is still who He was. Memory is about establishing thoughts based on God’s character, which is never changing. When you remember God’s character, you stop obsessing about your always-changing life situation. In this way, memory is an expression of faith looking backward, so the person can walk forward in faithfulness. Thus, memory is a spiritual weapon, not a mere mental exercise.

Fourth, Memory aids obedience
Psalm 132 refers to David’s affliction suffered while he was faithful to God in trying to find a place for the ark. Verse one asks Yahweh to “remember” David’s affliction, and so should we. At least fifteen times in the New Testament, believers are commanded to “remember.” Knowing this biblical history is important. With a biblical memory, you have two thousand years of experience from which to make off-the-cuff obedient responses to every kind of situation. If the church is going to live adequately and maturely as the people of God, we need more memories to work from than our own experience can give us.

We need the theological narrative of the Bible. This biblical history is not a museum of moral tales; it is a fortress against madness. Without it, we are at the mercy of every mood, every fashion, every gust of opinion that blows through the culture like a leaf in a storm. Modern man prides himself on spontaneity, but without the right memory, his spontaneity is merely ignorance in motion. True biblical memory is a treasury of battle-tested wisdom. And biblical memory is not just any memory; it is the memory of a people who have walked with fire and cloud, sung in prisons, and prayed in lions’ dens.

The Bible gives you commandments etched in stone and stories etched in blood, stories of the One True God and his people walking in deserts. To live without this biblical memory is to set out to sea with no map and no stars. Your own experience is a thimble of water beside the ocean of Scripture (Job 8:9). If you are to live not just impulsively, but rightly; not just reactively, but faithfully, you must root your reflexes in divine revelation.

Conclusion
The Bible is not yesterday's news. It is yesterday’s wisdom that is alive, divine, and desperately needed today. And that is why it is good for you to study the Bible, and not just the epistles of Paul, but the stories of the Old Testament. These are not merely ancient tales. They are buried treasure. You must read the stories of Scripture and look for the typology, the history, and the theology of the Bible. This will teach you what life in God’s covenant is all about.

So you must not remain ignorant of Abraham, called from the land of Ur, the Hebrews enslaved in Egypt, David battling the Philistines, Jesus arguing with the Pharisees, or Paul rebuking the Corinthians. The obedience of memory creates a Christian who has David in his bones, Jeremiah in his bloodstream, Paul in his fingertips, and Christ in his heart. It is through biblical memory that you learn that obedience is not a stodgy plodding in the ruts of religion; it is a hopeful race toward God’s promises. That’s why learning the stories of the Bible leads to mature obedience.

<sub>Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.

  [1] Martyn Lloyd-Jones, The Great Doctrines of the Bible: God the Holy Spirit (Crossway, 1997), 127.
   [2] N.D. Wilson, Death by Living (Thomas Nelson, 2013), 96. 
   [3] Abby Smith Rumsey, When We Are No More: How Digital Memory is Shaping Our Future (Bloomsbury Press, 2016), 12.</sub> 

Introduction
Today, every podcaster grasping for followers complains about the postwar consensus (PWC), a phrase coined by Rusty Reno in his book, Return of the Strong Gods. So, I decided to go to the source and find out what Reno is talking about. One conclusion after reading the book is that the podcasters who complain about the PWC the most are the ones who, apparently, haven’t read Reno’s book. They would do well to follow Reno’s proposed solution, which probably starts by them voluntarily shutting down their podcast. In particular, the people who reduce the world to sociobiological dynamics of clan behavior are engaging in the same cold analysis from below that is the hallmark of the PWC. In contrast, the hallmark of Christianity is a rousing truth claim from above.

With that introduction, let’s get on with the book review.

What are the “strong gods”?
What does Reno mean by “strong gods”? “The strong gods are the objects of men’s love and devotion, the sources of the passions and loyalties that unite societies. They can be timeless. Truth is a strong god that beckons us to the matrimony of assent. They can be traditional. King and country, insofar as they still arouse men’s patriotic ardor, are strong gods. The strong gods can take the forms of modern ideologies and charismatic leaders. The strong gods can be beneficent. Our constitutional piety treats the American Founding as a strong god worthy of our devotion. And they can be destructive. In the twentieth century, militarism, fascism, communism, racism, and anti-Semitism brought ruin” (xxiv).[1]

  Strong gods are whatever inspires love, such as “Love of the divine, love of truth, love of country, love of family” (139). To qualify as a strong god, it must be a love that “impels us outside ourselves, breaking the boundaries of me-centered existence” (139). “The strong gods of public life are quite simply the objects of our shared loves. They are whatever arouses in us an ardor to wed our destinies to that which we love” (139).

  What is the relationship between the strong gods and the PWC? The goal of the PWC is to transcend ideology by creating policies based on social science (11-12). There must be no metaphysical claims and no substantive purpose to life (18). In other words, there must be no strong gods. This vision was cast by Karl Popper’s 1945 book, The Open Society and Its Enemies. His main concern was how to keep authoritarianism from resurging in society, how to keep another Hitler from taking power.

  The PWC underwent a broadening and flattening with F.A. Hayek’s 1944 book, The Road to Serfdom, which does better than Popper because it has a much narrower economic aim. He casts a vision for the superiority of the market economy over communism. Yet, Hayek stands on the same foundation as Popper, with a rejection of metaphysics. Hayek promotes autonomy, or a version of individualism, the essence of which is that each person is “the ultimate judge of his ends” to decide what is good or bad for me, not based on any transcendent reality, but on increasing my social utility (21).

  The PWC centers on disenchantment, opening borders, and weakening moral boundaries (xxiii). Closed borders equal Auschwitz (130). The PWC is concerned with getting rid of sacred foundations and shared loyalties (138). The fundamental judgment of the PWC is that “whatever is strong—strong loves and strong truths—leads to oppression, while liberty and prosperity require the reign of weak loves and weak truths.” If there is a strong, then there must be a weak. When Reno speaks of weakening, he refers to a strictly materialistic worldview that produces relativism, sociobiology, economic analysis, diversity, inclusion, sexual perversion, and globalism.

  The Circle of Totalitarianism
 Ironically, the goal of Popper’s open society was to end totalitarianism, yet the result was totalitarianism. Why did it work out this way? Why did the PWC’s opposition to totalitarianism lead to a new oppression? Why did their weakening of the strong gods become a Mephistophelean strong god? It’s because the battle against ideology quickly turns into an ideology. The struggle against loyalty quickly earns people’s loyalty. The erasure of ultimate truth quickly becomes the ultimate truth. The destruction of religion quickly becomes a religion.

  When you remove the One True and Living God, when you build society without any metaphysics, or Natural Law, or Bible, or human nature, or ordered loves, when your imperative is “never again,” then you must insist that it is forbidden to forbid, because the people who forbid are like Hitler. They must be censured and silenced. Put again, according to Popper, transcendence is oppression because it savagely imposes its truths on humanity (55). Popper’s logic is foundational quicksand, and it’s stunning that in the last seventy-five years, the American leadership class has tried to make its stand on it.

  There is an unforeseen and savagely ironic outcome to the PWC. That which hoped to withstand totalitarianism has created it. By flipping the script so that authority comes from the bottom up rather than the top down, the sources of authoritarian control have been rearranged rather than restrained. When Karl Popper calls for social scientific governance, or John Rawls calls for public reason, they are referring to data-based arguments that often present as “studies.” Their goal is to “restrict ourselves to the universal truths of science, especially the social sciences, which purport to be value-neutral” (81).

  What is the consensus of the PWC?
 The consensus is that if you remove truth claims, you remove the causes of divisive loyalty and forestall authoritarianism (50). Thinkers such as Karl Popper, F.A. Hayek, Albert Camus, Jacques Derrida, and Milton Friedman, while appealing differently to the Right and the Left, all agree that society must pursue disenchantment. This is why, for the last eighty years, on the ultimate questions, the Republicans and Democrats have agreed to the ongoing critical analysis that disenchants. The result of each political program is that there are no worthy objects of loyalty and love. For the Democrats, the highest truth is cultural deregulation. For the Republicans, the highest truth is economic deregulation. Both agree that the one thing that can’t be permitted is truth claims from the God of the Bible. Metaphysical poverty must be maintained. Anyone who makes ultimate truth claims is a neo-fascist.[2]

  What is the PWC’s foundation?
 The foundation is value-neutral science. Social science, or economic science, or political science becomes the privileged claim, the foundational assertion, the numinous presence, even as the PWC denies metaphysics. Notice the performative contradiction. They’ve rejected the tyranny of ultimate truth claims with ultimate truth claims. Now, they wouldn’t dare call their project an ultimate truth claim, because such a claim would make them crypto-fascists. But when they refer to hundreds of studies, data sets, and scientific facts, they expect this to be received as the unassailable conclusion. This is the very sort of definite epistemological claim they are trying to withstand. So, the method of the PWC depends upon the very thing it denies, the possibility of real knowledge, the ability to grasp meaning, and the capacity to make true claims about reality.

  For others, the foundation is diversity and identity politics. The more diversity was celebrated, the more people gravitated toward their “identity.” This is understandable. People want, people need, a shared loyalty. Because they are deprived of the strong gods, they create solidarity based on race, sex, sexual orientation, and other identities.

  What is the result of the PWC?
 Reno argues that the PWC leaves people homeless, anchored to nothing, part of nothing great, nothing enduring, nothing worthy of admiration. It erases family history and marital fidelity. People are homeless in that they are expected to eat pabulum and like it. They are taught to tear down anything worth standing. Reno writes, “This is our crisis: a disquietude born of homelessness” (103).

  So, that means our current crisis was created by the PWC. What current crisis, you ask? Marriage is collapsing, boys use girls’ bathrooms, drug overdoses decimate communities, leaders push for the legalization of gambling and marijuana, the suicide rate rises, doctor-assisted suicide rises, and the church conforms to the sexual revolution. Yet, all the leadership class sees is discrimination, exclusion, and bigotry, which are inadequate as ends in themselves (143f).

  PWC and Hitler
 The PWC arose as a direct response to the authoritarianism of WWII, especially Hitler. One reason the PWC has failed is that they got Hitler wrong. Hitler was, of course, authoritarian, and he, along with Stalin, is absolutely the villain. But the proponents of the PWC react to that by saying that anything that engenders strong loyalties, like Hitler, tradition, religion, family, or nation, must be done away with. Hitler is branded as a nationalist who lured the German people to love their nation too much. But is casting Hitler—Hitler!—as a facilitator of too strong a love an accurate historical assessment?

  For all of Hitler’s blustering about love of country and love of Germany, he proved to be the greatest enemy to Germany. His actions as the Führer systematically destroyed Germany. The German church was in stage four cancer because it prostituted itself to theological liberalism. Nazifying the church put it in the grave. The young men of Germany were killed off, an entire generation of men sacrificed for Hitler’s territorial delusions of “blood and soil.” The moral authority of Germany was forfeited when they rounded up and killed the “deplorables” in mass, mainly the Jews. The Nero Doctrine of scorched earth that finished off Germany and destroyed it once and for all means that Hitler is not a loving father who is self-sacrificing to protect his family. He is the baleful father who kills his family in a murder-suicide. If the father left a note insisting he slaughtered them out of love, any sane detective would dismiss it as the words of a selfish loggerhead.

  Hitler’s love of country doesn’t explain Germany’s share in the guilt of World War II. And similar things are revealed when you survey the other belligerent nations. For example, Stalin, the leader of the USSR, was driven by an ardent internationalism rather than nationalism. The reason we have to slow down and think about Hitler is that it’s not just the PWC that has gotten Hitler wrong. Now, Hitler-love is back. People see that the PWC is bunk. In this, they aren’t wrong. It’s plain as day. The reactionaries to the PWC (and their bots) have said, “If the PWC is wrong, maybe that means Hitler wasn’t such a bad guy. He’s been misunderstood.” And so, these reactionaries, under the influence of some strong excitement, engage in Hitler rehabilitation. This pro-Hitler reaction to the PWC, alarming and avenging as it is, requires special and rather grave consideration. In particular, Hitler fanboys seem unaware that they make themselves just like those they oppose, the creators and supporters of the PWC.

  The deeper cause of differing opinions is more similar than the differences themselves. Each side has a strong reaction to Hitler that misses the mark. Each is interested in preventing the rise of authoritarianism—the PWC being concerned about Hitler-type totalitarianism and the Groypers being concerned about the post-PWC woke tyranny. Both sides, no matter how noble their views are made to sound, feed an unnatural view of life, namely, the PWC eliminating metaphysics and the Groypers wondering if a certain mustached murdering madman wasn’t so bad.

  The PWC, for all its components, including free markets, weak borders, and multiculturalism, has at its heart a rejection of any ultimate truth claims. By rejecting metaphysics, the PWC ended up breaking all the shields and weapons ordinary citizens had to defend themselves from power.

 And this is why the PWC has failed, even as free trade and unlimited immigration deserve different estimations. A rejection of metaphysics indicates a lack of interest in life as a thing to be lived, as if love letters, private emotions, or human happiness are unnecessary excesses to human existence. Then there is Hitler, who held as his chief heresy the fundamental falsehood that there could never be a Fate or Providence outside his control. The recent movement of Hitler-love is full of moral stunts and scoops, intellectual bargaining, and self-promotion. It is a world as spiritually dead as the world of the PWC, also rejecting metaphysics, only in a coarser form. As René Girard taught us, rivalry really does eliminate differences.

  What this reveals is that just like the perverse strong gods of blood, soil, and identity won’t be overcome by the open-society therapies of weakening—multiculturalism, immigration, and globalism (153), neither will the PWC be overcome by a revival of blood, soil, and identity. Something else is needed.

  Conclusion
 Reno says, “The crisis of solidarity threatens the West and fuels populism” (xxvii). This is why America is broken into hundreds of tribes, where each person skitters off to find their new shepherd, usually an inflammatory podcaster, and their new people, always online and usually supplemented by a large number of bots.

  The PWC leads to “never-ending critique, the spontaneous order of the free market, technocratic management of utilities, and the other therapies of weakening.” The reason this fails is that “Disenchantment will not make our society more humane and hospitable.” The open society has become the enemy of shared loves and anchored convictions, be they spiritual, cultural, or political. Humans “desire to live shoulder to shoulder with our fellow man in the service of shared loves.” To destroy the strong gods requires destroying love and solidarity. Thus, the PWC is anti-human (139-140). It turns out you can’t build a home without walls.

  People need shared loves that include transcendent ritual, local civic bonds, definable cultural inheritance, and a “normal” social landscape where the family is indispensable to the moral imagination. For this to happen, people need the strong gods. Not just any strong gods, but the right ones. Rebuilding shared loves starts with nurturing the local church and marriage (159). No more can people be deprived of ennobling loves (159).

  Reno ends his book with these words, “Our task, therefore, is to restore public life in the West by developing a language of love and a vision of the ‘we’ that befits our dignity and appeals to our reason as well as to our hearts. We must attend to the strong gods who come from above and animate the best of our traditions. Only that kind of leadership will forestall the return of the dark gods who rise up from below” (162).

  Passivity leads to death. Active love leads to life. It’s time to stop dying. Every church that is paying attention should see the damage wrought by the PWC and have a ministry that teaches and inspires people to renew their shared loves and unifying loyalties under the Lordship of Christ. This is what the orphans and bastards produced by the PWC need the most: Worship of Jesus Christ, real fellowship with the body of Christ, and a moral imagination that is centered on the household, as G.K. Chesterton said, “Loyalty in the family is the chief security for liberty in the state.”[3]

  _{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.
 
   [1] Page numbers will appear in parenthesis: R.R. Reno, Return of the Strong Gods: Nationalism, Populism, and the Future of the West (Regnery Gateway, 2019). 
   [2] HT to Larson Hicks for pointing out that John Mayer’s songs "Belief" and "Waiting for the World to Change" are the ultimate, PWC anthems.
   [3] G.K. Chesterton, The Story of the Family (Ignatius Press, 2022), 224.}

Introduction
Algorithms have ancient roots. The word itself comes from the 9th-century Persian mathematician al-Khwarizmi, whose Latin-transliterated name became “algorithm.” But algorithmic thinking predates him. The ancient Greeks used the Euclidean algorithm for finding greatest common divisors around 300 BC. For most of history, algorithms were mathematical procedures. Things changed in the 1800s when Charles Babbage conceptualized mechanical computation. Ada Lovelace wrote what’s considered the first algorithm intended for machine processing.

Jump ahead to the 1930s and 1940s, and there is Alan Turing's theoretical work, there is the development of electronic computers, and in the 1950s, computer scientists were formalizing algorithm analysis. The internet age brought algorithms into daily life. Search engines in the 1990s, social media feeds in the 2000s, and recommendation systems everywhere by the 2010s. Today's machine learning algorithms can even modify themselves based on data, creating systems that make decisions in ways that can be unclear even to their creators.

An algorithm is a step-by-step procedure for solving a problem or accomplishing a task. Similar to how a recipe requires the chef to use certain inputs and follow specific instructions to produce a dish, algorithms are sets of rules that computers follow to process information, make decisions, or perform calculations. A simple algorithm might sort a list alphabetically. A more complex algorithm makes millions of micro-decisions to determine what content appears in someone’s social media feed based on thousands of factors. The information and images people see, or don’t see, are dependent on the choice of the algorithm. It is this latter type of algorithm, and each Christian’s relationship to it, that deserves a closer consideration.

Consider the algorithm’s relationship to five areas of human life

First, the Algorithm and Character
Algorithms guide you into the person you will become, which means the person who wrote the algorithm, and the system that uses it, guides you into the person you will become. Where do they guide you? To the content producers you can’t resist. Content producers are in a popularity contest. They adopt a strategy and a persona to get maximum attention, which is gained by controversy and polarization.

There are a number of strategies for polarization. Perhaps the laziest polarization strategy is to pit the generations against each other. It doesn’t matter that this play has been run a thousand times. The people who run it still get an audience, and the audience still irresistibly gravitates toward it.  The first time the generations were labeled was the lost generation of World War I. Each generation since has received a label along with a list of traits. Think of generation grouping as critical theory for the generations, where each person embodies the generalizations with no account for variation. And, like in critical theory, each member represents the whole. One reason people keep thinking in terms of generational groups is that the algorithm drives them to identify with their generational cohorts.

Creating generational conflict is dependent upon one narrow principle: Convince people to trample upon anything held sacred by the previous generation. The way to legitimize yourself with your generation is to transgress the boundaries that previous generations considered closed. So, the weakness of a generational warfare heuristic is that it creates new norms, be they theological, historical, or moral, based on the imperative of rejecting whatever norm the previous generation established.

Ironically, this makes the newest generation identical to the previous generation. How so? The former generation formed their non-negotiables by the default rejection of the generation that came before them. Now, the new generation rises and forms its essentials by the default rejection of the generation that came before them. This Hegelian process is why generational warfare leads to a repeat of the same egregious errors of the past. But this shouldn’t be surprising. The point of generational warfare is not to solve problems or reveal beauty; it is to maneuver you into polarization.

Second, the Algorithm and Control
There are two signs you are being gamed by the algorithm. First, there is the difference in how you treat people online versus in the real world. When you go on social media, you are immediately fighting with fifty people—or bots—about language and generations and politics. But then, when you’re out in the real world and walk past fifty people, it never crosses your mind that you should stop and shout at them about language and generations and politics. The algorithm creates a contrast between the virtual world and the physical world. When you’re living in the real world, you’re not surrounded by constant arguments with everyone you pass. But when you live in the online world, it’s a series of endless arguments. You have become, in effect, two persons. There is the online version of you and the real-world version of you. And to the person in the grips of the algorithm, this strikes them as altogether respectable.

The second sign you are being gamed by the algorithm is the promethium confidence that you are the exception. You become blind to the fact that there are no exceptions. The sure sign that you are not the exception is that you think you are the exception. This blindness is by design. The algorithms are not designed to reveal the truth, but to reconfigure it in a revolutionary direction, because that is what it takes to hold you. So, “truth,” according to the algorithm, is whatever attracts users’ devotion, clicks, and return visits. It doesn’t matter if the content is historically bungling or malevolent. If it addicts the user, then it’s a new “truth.” But the user looks out upon the landscape of ideas with the assumption that all the rest of them have been taken in, but I’ve found the one true, unassailable hot take. This anthropological naiveté gives considerable control to the algorithm.

Third, the Algorithm and Sinful Nature
Each person goes online with a latent zeal for different opinions concerning religion, government, and many other points. Each person brings some combination of speculation and practice, along with an attachment to different leaders and podcasters who are ambitiously contending for attention and power. The sinful nature is inclined to divide mankind into factions. Inflamed wit likes to launch verbal rockets in order to stoke shared vitriol. The two sides are disposed to vex and oppress each other rather than yield to their shared humanity. So strong is this propensity of mankind to fall into mutual animosities that even a benign comment occasions the most frivolous and fanciful reactions, IN ALL CAPS! It takes hardly a spark to kindle the unfriendly passions and excite the most violent exchange of words.[1]

Fourth, the Algorithm and Vanity 
You know you are living in an extraordinary age because you willingly carry the screen in your pocket that runs the tech bros algorithm. You learn to hate what others love. You learn to divide by nation, class, ethnicity, and gender. You boast in the “uniqueness” of your tribe with brainsick vanity (Rom. 3:27), thinking that all those who don’t follow your favorite podcaster are inconceivably naive. As the algorithm steers you to your new masters, your vanity convinces you that you are living in righteousness and partaking of the heroic. Contempt for certain leaders, nations, and peoples is the result of a trail of digital breadcrumbs that people didn’t even know they were eating. It’s vanity because the algorithm steers you without you even recognizing it. To the degree you think you imagine yourself enlightened, you have lost contact with reality.

Fifth, the Algorithm and the World
The algorithm uses the screen and digital technology as its vector. It is not subject to the accumulated virtue of history, philosophy, or theology. It seeks to create a new mind, a new providence, a new transcendence. Social media especially invites this menacing shadow.
 
The user is algorithmically conditioned to practice digital rubbernecking. They are fed information and images that are hyper-specific to their taste. So they move from one irresistible thing to another. To achieve this, the algorithm panders to your immediate wants. This pomp of power is not that it complicates knowledge, but rather simplifies it. Even the most homely people now consume base and barbaric content as a matter of course. It is in the machine’s interest for users to give away their humanity for engorgement on screen time. This arc of the algorithm is to create not just a new person, but the accumulation of new persons, a new civilization that replaces human culture and virtue with an undefinable yet totalizing cyber-blather.

 What’s the Solution?
 What’s a faithful Christian to do? The reflex shouldn’t be anti-technology. Not only does that burst the bonds of the possible in today’s world, but it fails to tell the whole truth about technology. We must be on guard against the notion that new technology, generally, is corroding society. We’ve seen great technological accomplishments over the past 200 years, which were rooted in and reflecting the real world. Not all technology is in obeisance to the algorithm. We must be grateful for God’s bounty of good gifts while recognizing that behind our screens there is an automated decision maker running in the background, unseen, unacknowledged, and written by people who hate your God, your family, and your church. And, it’s worth remembering that both Saint Augustine and C.S. Lewis denied that technology necessarily equals progress, especially spiritual progress.[2]

  Now to the two-fold solution.

  First, the purposeful creation and preservation of human life. 
 In other words, technology should be applied in a way that reinforces agency, creativity, virtue, and in-person relationships. This requires circumventing the algorithm. If the technocracy is the manager, then you should become unmanageable. Resolve to have only needful engagement with social media, being even more suspicious of your weakness than you are of the politicians. Even the smartest and most lettered people have an enormous capacity for being taken in. This must be confessed daily. This honesty will guard you from the lie that you are able to confront the algorithm and win. If this requires a lifestyle change, then it’s worth it (Mk. 9:42-50). The more people speak to people face to face, deny themselves in physical ways, including their time, and choose to host a family for dinner rather than yell at someone on the internet, they are inclining their soul in the right direction.

  The purposeful creation and preservation of human life requires you to not just side-step the grid, but to replace it. Shirking the influence of the algorithm gets easier when you pick up a book. Books need to again become the stimulus for the intellect, not to the exclusion of everything online, but as the fountainhead for intellectual activity. This will help you not only reject those things that are corroding organic society and relationships, but also embrace that which multiplies God-given abilities, virtue, and is directed at ordered achievement.

 Second, the intentional spreading of that human life to include more and more people. 
This begins with Sunday worship in person, not online. Then it extends into a world filled with people who need rootedness. A truly embodied lifestyle will include other people. It entails eating, serving, and giving. It involves plodding, laughing, and singing. It requires family, friends, and neighbors. Real human culture cannot be taught merely by giving the screens a new algorithm, even one that takes people to Shakespeare. All people have been born image bearers. They have the image of God stamped on their soul, which means all they need is an invitation to imagine the moral atmosphere of embodied existence.

A great deal of what is called life seems largely to consist of living it. So, you must invite people to no longer be obedient little servants to the enemies of life. It is an invitation to see that this whole machinery that is directed to facilitate the self-display of sinful desires is a bore. The life of a digital coxcomb is dull because it requires no courage or adventure. There is nothing world-changing or vigorous about willingly fading into the clutches of Lord Algorithm. One boasts in his labors to move the Overton window. All the while, the boaster's personal Overton window is a stream in the hand of the algorithm, turned wherever it chooses. It’s gullibility when someone willingly gives themself to the trap that has been laid for them, to roll into the enemy’s nets and fall asleep. This person has been bamboozled. He’s been taken in by the unnatural immolation of the life worth living. All he needs is an invitation to dance, to leap, and to believe. But how can you invite someone to enter the palace if you are the paladin of the prison house?

  _{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.
 
   [1] James Madison, Federalist 10 in The Federalist Papers Federalist (Signet Classic, 1999), 73f. 
   [2] K. Alan Snyder & Jamin Metcalf, Many Times and Many Places: C.S. Lewis and the Value of History (Winged Lion Press, 2023), 42f.} 

Daron’s Review

Joe Rigney, Leadership and Emotional Sabotage: Resisting the Anxiety That Will Wreck Your Family, Destroy Your Church, and Ruin the World (Canon Press, 2024).

Joe Rigney’s recasting of Edwin Friedman’s A Failure of Nerve is insightful, relevant, practical, well-organized, and short. I highly recommend it for men, women, and teens. It also serves well for group study and discussion.

In a mere 100 pages divided into six well-organized chapters, Rigney first diagnoses a problem and then recommends antidotes to a sinister threat to human flourishing in our culture today: a “crisis of degree.”  He describes degree as the principle of cultural order, rule, or hierarchy.  Degree manifests in relationships of difference (ordered relationships) in which stabilizing—and often hierarchical—familial and societal roles are recognized and honored: husband and wife, teacher and student, magistrate and citizen, pastor and congregation, and so on.  When this principle of ordered contrast is respected, the diversity of human personalities, talents, and actions is productively unified.  Degree is like harmony in music or like the sun’s gravity that constrains and protects the planets, where imposed order yields liberty, peace, and long-term productivity.

Rigney soberly describes what happens when an organization or society abandons the principle of degree or social differentiation.  Human action becomes driven primarily by passionate reaction to others.  Volatility reigns in homes, institutions, towns, and nations.  Further, everyone caters to the least mature members of the group, seeking peace at all costs.  This leads to emotion-driven blame-shifting and victimization, which destroys social cohesion, leading to desperate, quick-fix solutions that sacrifice long-term social health for near-term escape from pain. And this means that clear-thinking leadership is cast as threatening, when in reality a healthy society requires differentiated leaders who often must cause near-term “pain” to impose order to achieve long-term stability and fruitfulness.  Another way to describe the problem is through the destructive pattern born in the Garden of Eden and later repeated in Israel’s worship of the golden calf:  abdication (of leadership), then idolatry, then blame-shifting.

What is the solution to this crisis?  Rigney applies selected insights from the Ten Commandments to describe the solution, based on a group gaining a “vision for body life that includes both faithful headship and faithful membership.”  First, the head or leader focuses internally to structure the body for its purpose through his presence, words, and actions.  Next, the leader establishes order in relation to the external environment by maintaining the body’s boundaries and representing the body to other bodies.  In turn, the members of the body respond to faithful leadership by providing feedback and counsel to the leader (following is an active role). The body glorifies the head by executing the established mission and amplifying it into the world. The body is the seat of fruitfulness, receiving from the leader in order to give more, beautifying and glorifying what it received.  

Rigney describes three traits of the sober-minded leader: 1) clarity of mind, 2) stability of soul, and 3) readiness to act. “To be sober-minded is to be mature, to have your passions governed by what is true and good and beautiful through the habitual exercise of the trained emotions.” Or put simply, “God over mind, mind over passions.”

The remaining chapters are equally insightful and practical.  Rigney warns that people will attempt to sabotage sober-minded leaders, and he describes specific ways to combat both overt and subtle attacks. He then applies principles from the opening chapters to three specific domains: the home, the church, and the world at large.  These pages are loaded with wisdom.

Leadership and Emotional Sabotage is full of practical wisdom, sharp insights, and meaningful examples–a must-read for leaders of any type: heads of household, business owners, supervisors, church officers, and those who disciple future leaders. And young adults–if you comprehend and apply this book now, you will lead and follow well!

Excerpt:
“This then is the Biblical antidote to the Crisis of Degree, the envious fever that afflicts us.  The gospel of Jesus makes us right with God so that we can love him above all else.  The glory of this gospel gives us gravity, so that we’re sober-minded, with a clarity of mind, a stability of soul, and a readiness to act.  And sober-minded leaders are able to faithfully lead their families, churches, businesses, schools, and nations through their glad-hearted and steady presence, bringing stability and life and health amidst the storms of passions that surround us.”

_{Daron Drown and his wife Amy settled in Huntsville after an Air Force flying career.  They homeschooled their five daughters and have one younger adopted son.  Daron continues to work in aerospace and Amy serves in church and community along with two kids still at home.  The Drowns love a kitchen full of friends, books by a winter fire, camping, hiking, table games, vigorous conversation, household projects, and opportunities to learn.}

Brian’s Recommendations:

1)    Charles Williams, Forgiveness (Grand Rapids, MI: William B. Eerdmans Publishing Company, 1942)

Charles Williams—poet, novelist, lay theologian, and one of the lesser-known members of the Inklings—brings his distinctive blend of imagination and theology to the topic of forgiveness. While Lewis and Tolkien are more familiar names, Williams played a significant role within the Inklings circle at Oxford, admired by Lewis for his intellectual intensity and by Tolkien for his creativity, even if they occasionally clashed. Personally, I have only read one other book of his - a work of fiction - though, as an avid reader of Lewis and Tolkien, I have come across his name and ideas many times. There are similarities in his style to that of Lewis, though Williams also seems to have a mystical quality to his writing. I didn’t know what to expect when I started this book (which I stumbled across recently at a used book store in Oregon), and was immediately taken with it. Williams places his theological reflections squarely in the realm of everyday actions and colors it with his knowledge and love of literature (again, very similar to Lewis). In fact, this book of theology begins with exploration of forgiveness as it is found in the works of Shakespeare.

Williams speaks often about what he calls “co-inherence” (the mysterious interdependence of all human lives), and he treats forgiveness not simply as a moral virtue but as a participation in the very life of God. For him, forgiveness is a doorway into divine charity—the love by which God Himself exists and acts. To forgive is to share in God’s own work, allowing His life to flow through human relationships… a concept that I have considered deeply for a long time, but had never seen put in such imaginative and profound ways until reading this book.

For example, here’s an excerpt from chapter four: “Love that forgives, which is the only love we can, or can ever, know, is tender and beautiful… the mystery of such a love is as unimaginable as our pre-fallen state; and the climax of the matter depended on it. There sprang from it the very flash of Forgiveness… He became then Forgiveness in flesh; he lived the life of Forgiveness. This undoubted fact serves as a reminder that Forgiveness is an act, and not a set of words. It is a thing to be done… the birth of Forgiveness was the birth of something of flesh and blood, of brain and bone.”

A major thread running through Forgiveness is Williams’s conviction that sin creates real burdens that affect not just individuals but the entire network of human relationships. This is where his doctrine of co-inherence becomes central. Because none of us lives in isolation, we cannot bear our own sins alone—nor can we forgive in isolation. Williams writes, “St. Peter, in the dialogue with Immanuel mentioned earlier, included this as a condition, and our Lord permitted it: if my brother sin against me and turn again?... it is within that relationship that the harm has been done. It is then within that relationship that the forgiveness must exist, and since all relationship must thrive or decay by what it holds within it, by its elements, it is from such forgiveness that the relationship must thrive… To prefer another’s will to one’s own is much, but to become another’s will by means of one’s own is more, and is indeed the necessary thing for love.”

Williams connects this insight directly to Christ’s substitution on the cross: Jesus bears the weight of humanity’s sin because no human being can. Personal forgiveness, then, is a small participation in Christ’s own burden-bearing. This makes forgiveness costly rather than sentimental; the forgiver absorbs the debt in imitation of Christ.

Williams also warns of the spiritual peril of unforgiveness, which he sees as a kind of self-imposed exile. The same openness of heart that allows us to forgive others is what allows us to receive forgiveness from God… and this is where Williams excels: he emphasizes that forgiveness is an imaginative act, requiring us to see the offender not merely as they were but as God intends them to be. Ultimately, Forgiveness is a deeply moving reflection on reconciliation—and it will be a book I return to in the future.

2) Marilyn Robinson, Gilead (New York, NY: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2004)

Gilead is a lovely story about a third-generation Congregationalist minister in the Midwest who, at the end of his life, is penning his memoir for his young son. As he writes, he reflects on the many blessings and trials that have brought him to this moment—including God’s grace in bringing him a wife and young son in his old age, after many years of loneliness and bachelorhood.

What makes Gilead so moving to me is its refusal to rush. This is not a fast-paced novel, but a reflection on life. John Ames, the main character, spends time considering acts of blessing and forgiveness, while also lamenting the sins of his past and the difficult relationships he had with family and friends. Above all, this is a book about the ordinary rhythms found in a small town pastoral ministry, peppered with theological insights and lived wisdom.

Robinson is a gifted writer who specializes in what I would call the “sacramental” nature of everyday life—the way sunlight in a dusty sanctuary or the laughter of a child can stand as quiet arguments for the goodness of God. And yet her writing is not overly sentimental (thank goodness). I read this book a number of years ago (maybe 15?), and in the intervening years, I have become aware of the author’s more liberal leanings in terms of politics and theology; and so, when I picked up Gilead to take on my trip to Oregon, I was a little apprehensive that it would not connect well this second time around. But it did. It’s a glorious read: moving, beautiful, convicting even.

Here is an excerpt: “It would be worth my life to try to get those big boxes (of sermons) down on my own. It’s humiliating to have written as much as Augustine, and then to have to find a way to dispose of it. There is not a word in any of those sermons I didn’t mean when I wrote it. If I had the time, I could read my way through fifty years of my innermost life. What a terrible thought. If I don’t burn them someone else will sometime, and that’s another humiliation… I suppose it’s natural to think about those old boxes of sermons upstairs. They are a record of my life, after all, a sort of foretaste of the Last Judgment, really, so how can I not be curious? Here I was a pastor of souls, hundreds and hundreds of them over all those years, and I hope I was speaking to them, not only to myself, as it seems to me sometimes when I look back. I still wake up at night, thinking, That’s what I should have said! or That’s what he meant! remembering conversations I had with people years ago, some of them long gone from the world, past any thought of my putting things right with them…”

Above all, Gilead is a meditation on grace—grace that comes slowly, unexpectedly, and often through flawed people. Robinson writes with the kind of bluntness and tenderness that makes the reader feel the weight of each moment, while reminding us that even the most ordinary life can reveal God’s glory, if one has the eyes to see it.

_{Brian McLain and his lovely wife Denise were born and raised in Florida. They have been blessed with six beautiful daughters who fill their home with boundless joy and entertainment. Brian has degrees in Theology and Electrical Engineering and spent 20 years in the Power Industry. The McLains love to sing, dance, read, cook and play games, and they cherish the opportunities they get to serve and host others in their home.}

Daniel’s Recommendation

Patrick Kavanaugh, The Spiritual Lives of the Great Composers (Nashville, TN: Thomas Nelson, 1992).

We live in a culture where the forces of expressionism, postmodernism, nihilism, scientism, and consumerism have steadily eroded the meaning of beauty and reduced music to background noise or commercial manipulation. Sound surrounds us almost constantly, yet we rarely stop to listen with intention. In such an environment, music is rarely treated as what it is: a gift that shapes the soul and an art that draws us toward transcendence.

The Spiritual Lives of the Great Composers (published in 1992, so by no means new) is a refreshing call to cultivate musical literacy. Kavanaugh reminds us that music is always shaped by loves, by theology, and by ultimate loyalties. He sets out to recover what so much modern commentary ignores.

What struck me most in this book is how naturally and eloquently it reinforces a Christian understanding of worship and the arts. Music, as Kavanaugh presents it, is not a decorative add-on to the Christian life. It is a mode of articulating a knowledge of the Word, a way of loving God, a form of cultivating virtue. The truths expounded in this book align closely with our own commitments in the CREC: that worship should be ordered, beautiful, weighty, and shaped by truth rather than by passing taste. This book quietly trains the reader to expect more from music—more depth, more transcendence, more theological resonance.

The chapter on Bach alone is worth the price of the book. Kavanaugh shows how Bach’s theology is not something we merely infer from marginal notes, but something audibly woven into the very heart of his compositions. “Music is a sermon in sound,” Luther said, and Bach’s music does indeed preach in structure, tension, dynamics, dissonance, release, shadow, and light.
What also makes this book insightful and useful is its implicit critique of the modern habit of glorifying artistic brilliance while excusing moral emptiness. Kavanaugh does not romanticize vice. He insists that what a man seeks, believes, and loves leaves fingerprints on his work. It is a good reminder for us, who are constantly catechized by sound. We do not merely need better “styles” of music; we need music that grows out of truth, humility, repentance, and hope.

I would commend this book especially to three groups in our congregation. First, to parents who want to give their children a richer cultural experience than the thin gruel available in contemporary media. Second, to any Christian who senses that our age has lost something real in its approach to beauty but is not quite sure how to recover it. And third, to anyone engaged in psalm and hymn singing (so, yes, that’s all of us!). This book does a great job of recovering the spiritual roots of the great music of the West and, in so doing, recalibrating our own hearts in the right direction: worship for the Giver of every good gift.

Excerpts:
“In the twentieth century, so much has been written about the negative side of composers’ lives—anecdotes about their conceit, their tempers, their financial troubles, and their many failures—that a grossly inaccurate picture is often widely accepted without question. I wish to highlight verifiable aspects of these men’s lives as they strove for good, sought to understand God, and found meaningful spiritual purpose in their lives.”

“Bach was a master of ‘word painting,’ and used a large repertoire of musical devices to enhance the meaning of the text he was setting to music. Of the hundreds of examples of this technique, perhaps the best known is from his St. Matthew Passion. In this sublime work, Bach invokes a ‘divine halo’ impression around the figure of Christ by having the strings play long, quiet tones whenever the lines of Jesus are sung. This continues without exception until Jesus’ line from the cross, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’ At this crucial moment, when Christ’s humanity is supreme, the halo of strings is removed, and the emotional effect is unforgettable.

Another memorable scene is found in his colossal Mass in B Minor. Toward the end of the dramatic ‘Crucifixus’ movement, the voices and instruments quietly sink into their lowest registers as the body of Jesus is musically lowered into the tomb. This is immediately followed by an explosion of blazing glory in the ‘Et Resurrexit,’ an effect composers have copied for centuries.

Even humor was skillfully used when Bach set the Scriptures to music. In his Magnificat, as Bach was setting the Latin words of ‘He has filled the hungry with good things, but the rich he has sent away empty,’ he had a clever idea. To depict the word inanes (empty), he has the flutes abruptly stop playing and leaves but one note in the continuo to fill up the emptiness of the last bar of music! Surely he could not resist a smile as he added this touch to his masterpiece.”

_{Daniel Valcárcel and his wife, Eli, are originally from Barcelona, Spain. They have five children with whom they delight in singing, exploring new places, and serving together with joy. Daniel serves as Senior Field Manager for Latin America at Ligonier Ministries, where he labors to spread the truth of God’s Word throughout the Spanish-speaking world. His family finds deep joy in hospitality, music, and witnessing the Lord’s work in their community and beyond.}

Robert Cushman, one of the Mayflower passengers, said, “If we ever establish a colony, God works a miracle.” The Pilgrims endured deceit, harassment, persecution, death, starvation, high waves, sinking ships, and sea sickness. Yet they committed themselves to the will of God and resolved to proceed. The Pilgrims stuck together with a strict and sacred bond. They were not like most, who were discouraged by small things. They didn’t accrue small discontents as cause to wish themselves home again.

When the Mayflower landed at Cape Cod on November 11, 1620, William Bradford wrote these words, a pseudo-prayer fitting for all who have been deceived, harassed, persecuted, and killed.

“What, then, could now sustain them but the spirit of God, and His grace? Ought not the children of their fathers rightly to say: Our fathers were Englishmen who came over the great ocean, and were ready to perish in this wilderness; but they cried unto the Lord, and He heard their voice, and looked on their adversity. . . . Let them therefore praise the Lord, because He is good, and His mercies endure forever. Yea, let them that have been redeemed of the Lord, show how He hath delivered them from the hand of the oppressor. When they wandered forth into the desert-wilderness, out of the way, and found no city to dwell in, both hungry and thirsty, their soul was overwhelmed in them. Let them confess before the Lord His loving kindness, and His wonderful works before the sons of men!”¹

Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.

Footnotes
¹ William Bradford, Of Plymouth Plantation 1608-1650 (San Antonio, TX; The Vision Forum, 1998), 59-66.

Introduction

People pleasing is a view of life conducted on the assumption that receiving the approval of people is the real thing and the approval of God is the counterfeit thing. The people pleaser's goal isn’t just to please people but to win their favor and earn their blessing, even if it costs them the favor and blessing of God. This is where people pleasing and flattery connect. Each has a certain effect produced intentionally and almost inevitably by the avoidance of anything that could be distinctive of any creed or principle. Appeasers offer an intermediate accommodation to all winds of the world, which reveal a hollow heart and empty chest.

The first problem with people pleasing is that it avoids, abandons, or alters conviction. It’s not only a loss of perception, but of principle. Out of fear of man, the people-pleaser practices a reactionary reversal that systematically smashes his view. Previously, God was worthy of obedience. Now, someone else is worthy. It is a failure to make a distinction between the one who can kill the body and the one who can kill the soul (Mt. 10:28). The person who has lost his compass cannot navigate boldly. He can only drift, which means the strongest wind blows him.

This leads to the second problem of people-pleasing. Having lost his moral compass, the people-pleaser possesses no real conviction, only a performance that caricatures courage. Courage has extraordinary vitality and vivacity. It is an undiminished willingness to act upon your convictions. People pleasing distorts courage because when life gets hard, the pressures come fast. You’re always dealing with something; always struggling with particular difficulties or demanding people. People pleasing offers a tempting shortcut: just give people what they want and make the pressure go away. But this isn’t courage, it’s a cowardice dressed up as pragmatism.

And so it is that appeasement creates a colorless person, someone who is influenced by puny and pedantic things rather than their biblical convictions. Even intelligent and idealistic people can be tempted to justify their people pleasing with the notion that accommodation is not only permissible but a very fine thing in its own way, because of the liveliness of the moment. But there is nothing artistic or appropriate about being wrought by the fear of man. It’s an action as bare as the sky and as inhuman as the wilderness, void of courage and conviction. Perhaps the most practical and successful effect of people pleasing is that, for a moment, the village bully regards you as an enlightened comrade.

Peter Denies Jesus

People pleasing is a wretched curse and the cause of regretful disobedience. Peter knew this well, starting with his thrice-denial of Jesus. Here you have Peter. Brash. Bold. Built like a rock. When trouble comes, his instinct is to pull a sword and cut off the right ear of Malchus, a servant of the High Priest (Jn. 18:10-11). Peter has witnessed Jesus’ teaching with authority, miracles with power, and transfiguration into glory. Peter loves Jesus, believes in Jesus, and follows Jesus. He confesses that Jesus is the Messiah (Mt. 16:13-20). Yet, even impetuous Peter elevates people so that he fears them more than God.

When the religious leaders come to arrest Jesus, the sheep scatter (Mk. 14:27). Jesus predicted Judas' betrayal (Mk. 14:20). He also predicted Peter’s denial (Mk. 14:27, 30). Peter vigorously protests that he will never deny Christ (Mk. 14:31). But Peter does deny Christ. He is afraid to confess Jesus publicly. He is intimidated by a servant girl (Mk. 14:66), who asks Peter if he was with Jesus. Peter tries to evade the question by claiming ignorance. Then the charges and denials escalate. Peter “denied” being with Jesus (Mk. 14:68). This is in the aorist perfect tense, meaning he “kept on denying.” Peter progresses from playing ignorant of Christ (Mk. 14:68), to outright denying Christ (Mk. 14:70), to swearing a curse upon himself to repudiate any association with Jesus (Mk. 14:71).

Peter’s people pleasing is the greatest failure of the disciples (besides Judas), recorded in the New Testament. It is recorded in all four gospels. When Peter hears the rooster crow the second time, he weeps tears of sorrow and repentance. Why did Peter deny Jesus? He was caught up in the crowd contagion. He sits with the guards (Mk. 14:52). He chats with the servants (Mk. 14:66-72). He communes with the crowds around the fire. They notice he is a Galilean. He has a different accent and is recognized as one of Jesus’ followers (Mk. 14:67), but in obedience to his new communal order gathered around the fire, Peter denies Jesus.

Today, people call this peer pressure, which, in its worst form, is people pleasing. Peter went from exuberant faith to denial. He had insisted that even if all fell away, he would not. Even if he must die for Christ, he would not deny him. The intensity of Peter’s affirmation of loyalty only serves to make his failure all the greater. When the heat of the fire hits his face, he emphatically denies Jesus with just as much fervor as he emphatically pledged loyalty to Jesus.

People pleasing pressures you to compromise your loves, your beliefs, and your Lord. Your first principles evaporate, your allegiances dissipate, and your obedience shifts. The Pharisees were people pleasers, doing righteous acts to be seen by others rather than out of genuine devotion to God (Mt. 23:5-7). Pontius Pilate was a people pleaser, giving into the crowd’s demands to crucify Jesus so as not to lose favor with the people and Caesar (Mark 15; Lk. 23). King Saul was a people pleaser when he disobeyed God’s commands because he was afraid of the people and gave into them (1 Sam. 15:24). Aaron was a people pleaser who gave into the Israelites’ demands and made the golden calf (Ex. 32). And Peter, despite his faith, despite his gifts, despite his role, had one more high profile occasion of people pleasing when he withdrew from eating with Gentile Christians because he feared criticism from the circumcision group.

Peter Appeases the Circumcision Group

Late is his life, Peter had another high-profile episode of pandering, this time regarding the issue of table fellowship with Jews and Gentiles. In Antioch, Peter mingled with the Jews and Gentiles, eating with them both. But, when “certain men came from James,” Peter “drew back and separated himself” from the Gentiles. Why? Because he feared “the circumcision party” (Gal. 2:12). So, James sent some messengers to Peter. What was the message? It’s hard to know exactly, but the message may have been a warning about the persecution the “circumcision party” was carrying out against the Christians in Jerusalem. Peter feared the circumcision party (Gal. 2:12). What did he fear? The passage doesn’t say explicitly, but we can guess.

The persecution of Christians in Jerusalem was increasing. The non-Christian Jews (i.e., the “circumcision party”) were persecuting the Christian Jews. It’s possible that reports of Peter—the rock, the leader, the apostle—eating with Gentiles got back to Jerusalem and fed into the persecution mentality of the non-Christian Jews. Peter, wanting to alleviate the persecution, fearing what the “circumcision party” is going to do to the Jerusalem Christians, starts eating exclusively with the Jews.

Peter’s desire to please the circumcision party leads to a change in his dining habits. Peter knows the Gentiles are included in the gospel. It was Peter, after all, who received the remarkable vision in Acts 10 that revealed the place of the Gentiles in the Kingdom of God. But, because Peter is afraid of what Jews back in Jerusalem think, he separates from his Gentile brothers and sisters and reverts to the Jewish custom. Peter’s accommodating spirit even led Barnabas astray (Gal. 2:13).

Conclusion

After not one, but two public humiliations, Peter learned his lesson: it is better to fear God rather than man. Peter shares his hard-earned wisdom, “But even if you should suffer for righteousness' sake, you will be blessed. Have no fear of them, nor be troubled, 15 but in your hearts honor Christ the Lord as holy” (1 Pt. 3:14-15a). In other words, don’t fear people. Fear the Lord. Don’t seek to please people. Seek to please Christ the Lord.

The threat of people pleasing requires self-examination (2 Cor. 13:5). Are you trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God (Gal. 1:10)? Are you trying to please people, or God, who tests your heart (1 Thess. 2:4)? Are you working with all your heart unto the Lord, or for human masters (Col. 3:23)? Are you failing to openly acknowledge your faith in Christ out of fear of losing human praise (Jn. 12:42f)? Will you fear man and enter the snare, or will you trust the Lord and be kept safe (Prov. 29:25)? Will you, like Peter, learn the value in obeying God rather than human beings (Acts 5:29)?

Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.

American evangelicalism, which has boasted in creedlessness, is failing chiefly through the lack of them. In one sense, of course, fixed creeds are inescapable. The moment you take a stand against creeds, you’ve firmly fixed your own. You stand by it, under it, and for it. You identify with it. This is what creeds do. They establish a framework consensus.

One misconception about creeds is that they produce narrow Christians. The reverse is the truth. G.K. Chesterton explains, “For while men are and should be various, there must be some communication between them if they are to get any pleasure out of their variety … If we all start with the agreement that the sun and moon exist, we can talk about our different visions of them.” In other words, we can’t talk about our differences until we espouse our agreements.

When Christians agree on a core, they may respect differences elsewhere. Chesterton said, without the “liberty of dogma, you have the tyranny of taste.” In other words, without the creed, it becomes about the tyranny of preference, which, in evangelicalism, is announced through catchphrases. Evangelical jargon—doing life together, God spoke to me, God laid it on my heart—is the replacement for the creeds. The cocksure pride of evolving past creeds foreruns a paralyzed inability to get beyond clichés. This is why the ubiquitous tyranny of personal preferences stalks the American church.

Why does it happen like this—that the creedless impose the “tyranny of taste” (as Chesterton called it)? Consider the effects of those who embrace a creed and those who don’t. In the case of those who profess a creed, they pronounce openly and unabashedly. This creates a big tent for all confessors—birds of a feather flock together, so the saying goes, even if the birds lack identical appearance. The creed determines the essential DNA that connects them all, allowing for cooperation between all the different-looking birds of that feather. But for the creedless, whose creed is pretended tolerance, the tyranny of unwritten rules causes the birds of the scarlet red feather to form a clique and the birds of the ruby red to form another. Once the cliques are formed, with their podcasts and protests, they shun heresy or disagreement. They cast stones at the candy apple red clique, chirping about tolerance in a strongly-worded Relevant Magazine article.[1]

The lack of a creed means the different groups are always competing to establish the essential DNA. Without the recurring figures of church history, their ballast is their whims. The problem is there is no such thing as a corporate whim. By quoting the Apostles Creed or the Nicene Creed you embrace the bond that held together Augustine, Athanasius, Thomas Aquinas, Martin Luther, John Calvin, John Wesley, Charles Spurgeon, C.S. Lewis, and Martyn Lloyd-Jones. Lest you misunderstand, that bond is Jesus Christ. Without that bond, each church—No! each professing Christian—gravitates to his own idea. This doesn’t work for the simple reason that we were told to be the body of Christ (1 Cor. 12:12-31). We were told to be the temple of God (1 Cor. 3:9, 16f). That’s part of the reason we recite an ecumenical creed every Lord’s Day, because a people without root beliefs aren’t a people.

Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, American history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the book The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call, now available on Amazon.

[1] G.K.Chesterton, The Miscellany of Man (New York; Dodd, Mead and Company, 2017 Orig. 1912), 47ff.

Introduction
In our recent sermon entitled “Whiteness is not the unforgivable sin,”  we defined blasphemy against the Spirit, AKA the unforgivable sin, as attributing to Satan the work of the Spirit. We also saw that blasphemy against the Spirit is more than a rejection of the gospel. It is the obstinate refusal to acknowledge that Jesus’ power comes from God, even after seeing the truth of Jesus.

A common question is: What is the relationship between the unforgivable sin (Mark 3:22-30) and the apostasy described in Hebrews 6:4-6 and Hebrews 10:26-29? Blasphemy of the Holy Spirit is distinct from apostasy. Apostasy is deliberately turning against God and renouncing the faith. It presupposes that the individual was once a sincere believer. Yet, there are at least three similarities between apostasy and the unforgivable sin (Mark 3:29), even as the sin spoken of by Jesus in Mark 3:29 is not apostasy in the ordinary sense.

Similarities between apostasy and blasphemy against the Holy Spirit
First, the unpardonable nature of the sin.
Blasphemy against the Holy Spirit is said to be an “eternal sin” for which someone “never has forgiveness” (Mark 3:29). In the case of apostasy in Hebrews 6:4-6, “It is impossible … to restore them to repentance.” In the case of apostasy in Hebrews 10:26-31, “There no longer remains a sacrifice for sin.”

Second, neither can be done accidentally
Jesus’s teaching about blasphemy of the Holy Spirt is applied directly to the Scribes (Mark 3:22, 30). After watching Jesus’ authority to preach, heal sickness, forgive sins, and cast out demons, the Scribes attributed Jesus’ power to Satan rather than the Spirit. This was done after they watched Jesus carefully (Mark 3:2) for some time. Their sin of blasphemy of the Holy Spirit is a thoughtful, willful, and circumspect rejection of the work of the Holy Spirit. It is a settled condition of the soul. It is not an isolated act done accidentally.

The same is true for apostasy, which is when someone goes “on sinning deliberately after receiving the knowledge of the truth” (Heb. 10:26). This person has tasted the heavenly gift (i.e. participated in the Lord’s Supper), partaken of the Holy Spirit, and tasted the goodness of the word of God (Heb. 6:4-5). The clearest example of individual apostasy in the Old Testament is Saul, whom Samuel anointed as king over Israel. He was filled with the Spirit and prophesied (1 Sam. 10:6, 10), yet eventually fell away from the Lord and committed suicide.

Neither blasphemy of the Holy Spirit or apostasy is a one-time event done accidentally. It is when someone deliberately and actively hates Christ while knowing the truth. This condition doesn’t develop overnight. There is a difference between active and passive sin. Some sin in ignorance (Heb. 5:2) and Yahweh made provision for the person who commits unintentional sin (Num. 15:28). No such provision is made for the person who sins with a high hand (Num. 15:30f), which leads to our final similarity.

Third, each is sinning with a high hand.
Numbers 15:30-31 describes sinning with a high hand when it says, “But the person who does anything with a high hand, whether he is native or a sojourner, reviles the Lord, and that person shall be cut off from among his people. 31 Because he has despised the word of the Lord and has broken his commandment, that person shall be utterly cut off; his iniquity shall be on him.” Sinning with a high hand has three parts: (A) reviling the Lord (The Hebrew word gā·ḏǎp̄ means blaspheming), (B) despising the Word of the Lord (The Hebrew word bā·zā means showing contempt), and (C) breaking his commandment (the context indicates that the person sins presumptuously). In sum, it is an “evil heart of unbelief” that results in “deserting the living God” (Heb. 3:12).

Both blasphemy against the Holy Spirit and apostasy are “sinning with a high hand.” The Scribes, in Mark 3, desert the living God by rejecting his Christ. The apostates in Hebrews 6:4-6 and Hebrews 10:26-30 desert the living God by renouncing Christ. In both cases, they spurned the Son of God in a way that goes beyond mere rejection. Each has, what James Moffatt describes as, “contempt of the most flagrant kind.”

Conclusion
So we see that even as blasphemy of the Holy Spirit and apostasy are different things, they are of the same quality. It is a difference in degree rather than a difference in kind. Apostasy is more common than blasphemy against the Spirit. It always has been. The question people have about apostasy is: When is someone ‘too far gone?’ While that is a natural question given the subject, we should be slow to answer it. Ordinarily, it is not our job to pronounce people ‘too far gone.’ We know the sinner excommunicated in 1 Corinthians 5 could have repented and been saved (1 Cor. 5:5). We know in the story of the prodigal son he repented and was saved (Luke 15:31).

Hebrews 6:4-6 and Hebrews 10:26-30 are teaching that first, human beings can develop a hard heart (like the Scribes) such that they can no longer repent, and second, those who intentionally forsake Christ after sharing in the privileges of the covenant community are the most difficult people to restore to the faith. In John Bunyan’s The Pilgrim’s Progress, the man in the iron cage can’t get out, confessing, “I have so hardened my heart that I cannot repent.”

Apostates are like the sour grapes of Isaiah’s vineyard song (Is. 5:1-7). Even after receiving the farmers' care (Is. 5:1f), harvest time yielded nothing but sour grapes. Some plants don’t respond to nurture. Instead, they become a field of “briers and thorns” (Is. 5:6).  To repudiate salvation through the cross is to find no salvation elsewhere. There are times when God gives sinners up to their sin (Rom. 1:24), “sends … a strong delusion” (2 Thess. 2:11), returns “your deeds … on your own head” (Obad. 15), and no longer mediates for them (1 Sam. 2:25). That is not to deny that God welcomes all repentant people. Jesus said, “whoever comes to me I will never cast out” (John 6:37).

The author of Hebrews has not written these things so we can judge whether or not others have irrevocably backslidden. Judgments about who is beyond the pale are outside ordinary human wisdom. At his betrayal, Jesus told Judas, “Friend, do what you came to do” (Mt. 26:50). Jesus didn't preach repentance or reason with him. Satan had entered into Judas’ heart (John 13:27) and Judas fell away from Christ. But when it came to Peter rejecting Christ, Jesus welcomed him back. In the case of Acts 8:22-23, Peter called on Simon the Magician, whose heart was “in the gall of bitterness and in the bond of iniquity” to “Repent … of this wickedness of yours, and pray to the Lord that, if possible, the intent of your heart may be forgiven you.”

Sometimes the heart is hardened beyond repentance, like Saul, Judas, and Simon the Magician. And sometimes the apparently hardened heart repents, like Peter and the Prodigal Son. We must leave final judgment about these things to God and God alone. It is our job to point out the straight, high road that leads out of the Slough of Despond to the City of God.

_{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, American history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville, Alabama. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the book The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call, now available on Amazon.}

Bibliography
F.F. Bruce, Hebrews, The New International Commentary of the New Testament (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdman’s, 1990), 144-150.

Many Christians find themselves working for businesses or corporations that encourage compliance with the moral revolution. Perhaps their company wants them to participate in gay pride month. Perhaps they require employees to use the preferred gender pronouns of their co-workers. Or maybe they require them to sign a statement affirming critical race theory, homosexuality, or some other perversion.

The question then becomes, how are Christians to faithfully respond to employers who are pressuring employees to abandon their convictions. Many Christians know it is wrong to capitulate to such requests but might have difficulty articulating why or formulating a strategy to do so. We acknowledge that every situation is different and should be handled differently. Nevertheless, there are several principles on how to faithfully approach the issue.

First, we must register a protest at some level.
God does not expect his people to be swayed by conventional wisdom, mobs, or groupthink. God’s exact words were, “You shall not fall in with the many to do evil, nor shall you bear witness in a lawsuit, siding with the many, so as to pervert justice” (Ex. 23:2).  When you hide from the mob, they are going to find you eventually. When they do you will have to either comply with their demands or not. Eventually, Christians will be forced to show their cards or compromise. T.S. Eliot warned that the subtle pressure of intellectual conformity was a bigger threat than outright persecution.[1] The nature of the current moral revolution is that the mob isn’t satisfied until everyone conforms, indeed until everyone celebrates their cause.

  That being said, that doesn’t mean we should be more zealous than the situation calls for. There may be some cases where it is wise to keep your head down and mind your own business for a time, especially if you aren’t being forced to lie or to sin. For example, imagine your company periodically sends you so-called “social justice” propaganda emails that make no claim on you. For the most part, you can delete these emails with silent disgust. But you should begin formulating a plan. The emails may be phase one of a larger operation.

  Second, we must prepare to speak the truth.
 The time will likely come where we need to speak the truth, recognizing that the chips may not fall where we prefer. We should be prepared and ready to make the best arguments for our position, spoken in love. For more on this point see our companion article One Little Word Shall Fell Him.

Third, we are being asked to submit to a religious view.
Some might think it’s best to hide out as long as possible in hopes that the mob will trample someone else. The problem with this is that the new notions of inclusion and diversity are not neutral. Not everything is included. Real diversity is not desired. Rousseau made it clear in The Social Contract that Christians are welcome in society only as long as they submit to the General Will—as long as they subordinate the opinions of God to the opinions of the majority. He thought that Christianity was most contrary to the “social spirit.” This is how inclusion excludes other religions and all with a straight face. Pluralism and Christianity’s faith claims are not compatible. The moral revolution is trying to sacralize a new order.

Fourth, we need a strategy to register our disapproval
It’s hard to be the oddball, so begin by discussing your concerns with your closest coworkers. From there seek out co-workers that acknowledge the moral bankruptcy of the moral revolution. Find a group of like-minded employees, band together, and fearlessly stand on your convictions in a winsome and joyful way. This may mean writing a thoughtful email, though sending an email to the top will likely be less impactful than first sending it to your immediate supervisor. It might also mean calling a meeting to voice your unified opposition.

At The New York Times, 150 out of 1200 employees demanded that Donald McNeil be fired. Why? Because he used the N-word in describing why not to use the N-word.[2] The voices of a mere 12% of employees caused a man to get fired. This can happen in your company too, but in which direction? What if you organized the other 1,050 people to push back? They wouldn’t all join you, but many would. One of the felicities of this approach is that principled obstreperousness would be put in the right direction.

  Fifth, we shouldn’t do this alone
 A church that swallows up self-sufficiency in favor of mutual dependence (i.e. the hand needs the foot and the foot needs the eye) can be a powerful force. For the church to become what sociologists call a “deviant subculture,” it needs to support church members when they register disagreement at their job. The church needs to see that one of the best ways to subvert the poisonous values of society is for Christians to offer resistance when their company joins the moral revolution. When Christians resist, they demystify the moral revolution and help others see evil for what it is.

  But voicing displeasure with the cultural revolution may put you in the crosshairs of your company. Since you risk losing your job, the church should have your back. No Christian should feel like he is fighting this battle alone. Christians should know in advance that the church will be there to provide for them. And if it ever comes to it, Christians should know that if they are thrown in jail for speaking against evil, the church will care for their wife and kids, provide legal aid, and visit them often. We know that all who desire to live a godly life will be persecuted (2 Tim. 3:12). The faithful should not suffer alone.

  Sixth, we must make backup plans
 There is a risk that you’ll lose your job if you resist.[3] This is the primary reason Christians keep silent. So, we must begin formulating backup plans and asking the question, “What will I do if I lose my job?” But more than making backup plans, we need to be proactive and create alternatives. What would it look like if more Christians became entrepreneurs? What if local churches offered training on entrepreneurship? This would give more Christians the opportunity to take risks and speak out, or to proactively pull out of corporations and government jobs. In other words, it would enable Christians to become antifragile.[4] It’s not that every Christian should abandon corporate America or their government job. Corporate America has culture-shaping power and we need Christians in those jobs, fighting the fight of faith. But neither can Christians allow their moral conscience to go silent because they fear losing their job.

  Seventh, we must see that the enemy isn’t always as strong as we perceive him to be
 The powerful forces of corporations and government look terrifying and unbeatable. In truth, they are often brittle. When Daniel prayed in defiance of King Darius’ order (notice that Daniel prayed with windows open for all to see, Dan. 6:10), the King reversed (Dan. 6:26) the irrevocable law (Dan. 6:12) after seeing Daniels’s faithfulness to Yahweh. Daniel’s resistance exposed the impotence of the King’s wicked requirements. While it’s not always the case that the merest resistance will reverse unrighteous decrees, the resistance of Daniel is a biblical example that gives us hope that enemies will crumble when we are faithful.[5]  

  The economist and financial researcher Jerry Bowyer has provided a model for what resistance can look like. He has attended several virtual shareholders' meetings for large corporations and challenged their progressive stances. Most of the corporations ignored or dismissed his questions. But what if an entire block of shareholders and employees were asking these questions? The questions Bowyer suggests asking are, “Why in the world would large publicly traded companies endorse such divisive legislation that is clearly incompatible with the sincerely held beliefs of half of the country? Is it mainstream to force girls to compete in sports with athletes who identify as females, but are, biologically, boys? Is it mainstream to force shelters for battered women to accept biologically male applicants? Is it mainstream to compel churches into accepting new gender ideologies in their hiring practices?”[6]

  Eighth, we need to understand why many corporations support the moral revolution
 The reason is fear. Sasha Issenberg has admitted that those advancing the revolution shame corporations to coerce them to comply.[7] Those in the moral revolution threaten boycotts and bad publicity if the company refuses to meet their demands. So, companies give public signals that they are obedient to the whim of the revolution, signals such as encouraging their employees to support gay pride month.[8]

  While companies are afraid of the woke tidal wave, the majority of Americans don’t want corporations involved in politics.[9] What happens when big business antagonizes most of the country, their shareholders, and a block of their employees. Well, if all those people are silent, nothing happens. But if a block of those people intelligently resists, then King Darius may reverse course. Never forget that the convictions of your faith and what you do with those convictions influence the direction history takes.

   _{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, American history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the book The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call, now available on Amazon.
 
  [1] T.S. Eliot, The Idea of a Christian Society and Notes Toward the Definition of Culture (New York: Harcourt, Brace, Harvest Books, 1940), 18.
   [2] https://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/2021/02/12/donald-mcneil-new-york-times-fallout/
[3] For example James Damore of Google was fired for merely suggesting there are non-sexists reasons why there are more men than women in STEM jobs. 
 https://thefederalist.com/2017/08/08/read-the-google-diversity-memo-that-that-everyone-is-freaking-out-about/
[4] Nassim Nicholas Nicholas Taleb, Antifragile: Things That Gain from Disorder (New York: Random House, 2012).
[5] https://soundcloud.com/user-812874628/episode-440-daniel-chapter-6-part-1-series-on-the-prophets
[6] https://www.nationalreview.com/2021/05/a-shareholder-asks-some-inconvenient-questions/
[7] https://www.nytimes.com/2021/06/05/opinion/gay-marriage-boycotts.html
[8] https://hbr.org/2020/02/how-do-consumers-feel-when-companies-get-political
[9] https://scottrasmussen.com/59-believe-companies-taking-political-positions-adds-to-divisiveness-in-america/
https://scottrasmussen.com/43-say-they-know-political-positions-of-companies-they-buy-from/}

There is a lot of talk about the household in Christian circles these days, much of it good (On this note, we heartily recommend C.R. Wiley’s two books, Man of the House and The Household and the War for the Cosmos.

C.S. Lewis, too, shared some thoughts about the Christian household, thoughts which I will now paraphrase for your reading edification.[1] At the very least, it might spark some interesting conversation on the topic. Consider this paraphrase both an announcement and an exhortation. The announcement is that we will preach a summer series on the household (the information for that series can be found at the end of this blog post). The exhortation comes from Lewis, which is broken into four parts.

  Part One
 It is not the case that living in a “monogamous family life” (in other words, the nuclear family) will automatically make one “holy and happy.” There are many “dangers” that are obscured by the “sentimental illusion” of family life, that neglect the fact that things can go wrong. “Domesticity is not a passport to heaven on earth but an arduous vocation—a sea full of hidden rocks and perilous ice shores only to be navigated by one who uses a celestial chart.” So the first thing to keep in mind, says Lewis, is that the family, like every other institution involving humans, “needs redemption.”

  Part Two
 In part two Lewis says that the need for “conversion or sanctification of family life … must … mean something more than the preservation of ‘love’ in the sense of natural affection.” Lewis issues this warning because the love of “natural affection” demands sympathy before giving it. Lewis calls the “greed to be loved” a “fearful thing.” When this is the type of love exchanged in the household, it produces “incessant resentment.” The household must have a higher love.

  Part Three
 Next Lewis comments on the common maxim about a home life that “It is there that we appear as we really are: it is there that we can fling aside the disguises and be ourselves.” This invites a common pitfall. When we are at home, we do appear as we are, which is the very thing that should trouble us. Outside the home, we behave with “ordinary courtesy.” Inside the home, we interrupt, talk “confident nonsense about subjects of which” we “are totally ignorant,” and otherwise trample “on all the restraints which civilized humanity has found indispensable for tolerable social intercourse.” At home, Lewis says, we behave with “downright rudeness … selfishness, slovenliness, incivility—even brutality.” The freedom to indulge in this way is the reason many want to go home.

  Part Four
 Lewis’ fourth point responds to the question, If a person can’t be comfortable and unguarded at home, where can he? Lewis's answer is “there is nowhere this side of heaven where one can safely … be ourselves.” His point is that until you are a fully glorified son of God, it isn’t lawful to be yourself. There is just too much sin left in yourself. It’s not that there are no differences between home life and public life. But the difference is not that at home you can be yourself. The real difference is that home life “has its own rule of courtesy—a code more intimate, more subtle, more sensitive, and, therefore, in some ways more difficult.”

  If you find these observations helpful, you can read the full essay in C.S. Lewis’s book God in the Dock.
 
   _{[1] C.S. Lewis, God in the Dock (Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1970), 282-286.}

Introduction
In the event of business travel, as distinct from family travel, there is one plain and simple principle: You must have a plan to avoid sin. This requires a liturgical remedy. Traveling for work is when you are at your weakest. A sudden detachment from family life heightens the temptation to sin. In the nurturing biosphere of home you are surrounded by people who know you, care about you, and notice you. But when you step out the front door and join the procession of work travelers, you find a society of frightfully indignant people pretending they are free to deny or doubt every conceivable reason to act like a Christian.

Amid the impersonal routine of business travel, everything seems trivial and transient, including your usually vast reservoir of scruples. Moving among the teeming swarm means the strangers won’t notice when you sin. Neither will the people back at home. You are surrounded by a multitude of people who don’t notice you. When you are at home, you are relating to people you know, people you love, and people you will see again. This accountability helps you discern boundaries, morality, proportion, and meaning. At home, you can sense personal responsibility and live within familial duties. But when you travel, you are tempted to live by a half-witted notion of decency. The monstrous impersonality of business travel sets off a series of movements that promote moral evasion.

Business Travel Liturgy
Since all men are only what their liturgy makes them, you should have a liturgy for your business travel. Consider the following liturgical pattern when you travel for work.

Before you leave home
Tell your kids you love them. Hug them and look into their eyes. Don’t assume goodbye and “love you” is superfluous. Give each child a charge and tell them you’re going to ask them about it when you return. Encourage your wife and reassure her of the love you share.

When the plane prepares for takeoff, pray for your family while you are away.
“God our Father, while I travel, give my family unity, love, and mutual service. Give each member a spirit of understanding toward each other. Help love cover a multitude of sins. Help them to run from quarrels and bitterness. Instill in them forgiveness for the failures of others.  Inspire a spirit of patience so they can bear with one another’s faults, even when they are tired, grumpy, or irritated. Help the children not disregard their mother and help my wife not disregard the children. Give them this day, hope, laughter, and respect. Amen.”

When the plane lands, thank the Lord for his protection and ask him to give you grace for faithful living.
“Father, thank you for your protection on this flight. While I am away from home and unencumbered by family, give me wisdom and self-control to avoid lustful gratification. Keep my mind active with virtuous tasks. Eliminate the desires of the old order and give me the desires of the new order. I may be tempted by a devil, but I’m not driven by his destiny. Help me to pursue life rather than death; light rather than darkness; resurrection rather than decay. Amen”

When you get in the rental car, pray for your oldest child.
“Most gracious God, please bless her with a godly husband. A man who lives with integrity. A man who sees that responsibility and love are inseparable. A man who will lead her to Christ. Help me to model for her what kind of man she should marry. Help me to live with righteousness when at home and away, when people are watching and when no one is watching. Protect her from the temptation to gossip, whine, and quarrel. Help her to be secure in your approving love. Amen.”

When you eat a meal alone, pray for God’s companionship.
“Loving Father, join me at this table, for I was not created to eat alone. Comfort me with your Spirit. Help this momentary loneliness be a reminder of your good gifts of family and friendship that ordinarily surround me. Give me eyes to see the loneliness of others and to show them hospitality. Amen.”

When you arrive at the hotel, pray for your second oldest child.
“Alpha and Omega, grant my son a mind to know you and a heart to seek you. Give him maturity beyond his years. Give him a desire to please you. Make him ardently desire light over darkness. Give his life purpose. Help me to lead him to the righteous path, away from the dismal and degrading slavery of pornography. Give him self-control with his words and his eyes. Renew a steadfast spirit within him. Amen.”

When you are tempted to sin.
“Dear Father, I need you. Here I am again in weakness, desiring that which is only bad for me. My soul and my body want the wrong thing. Dear Jesus, cut off the destructive desire. My sin will make me miserable. Your commands will make me happy. Dear Spirit, deliver me from the lie of inevitability that says, ‘Sin cannot be helped because I cannot help it.’ It’s a damnable lie. Remind me of your promises, that your designs are for my good and Satan’s designs are for my ruin. Give me victory over sin just as Christ had victory over death. Amen.”

When you go to bed, thank God for his grace throughout the day.
“Most High God, thank you for the blessings of this day, for bringing me to my destination, and for your provision of food and shelter. Forgive me for when I have sinned in thought, intention, speech, and action. Forgive me for when I have chosen darkness over the light. Make me new in the grace of Christ. Guard me from being blind and blundering. As I sleep, comfort my soul and fortify me for the challenges tomorrow. Amen.”

When you wake up, pray for new morning mercies.
“O Lord, this day help me to hope all things in love. Help me to cultivate thankfulness for your many blessings. Help me to serve with joy and cover the failings of others with love. Because of my fear, lust, and selfishness, I do not have the strength to be faithful. Work your enabling grace in my heart that the will of the Father, the faithfulness of Christ, and the breath of the Spirit would animate my life. Amen.”

When you arrive at your place of business, pray for your day of work.
“Heavenly Father, thank you for my current employment and the way you provide all that is needed. Help me to work productively, creatively, and kindly. Give me eyes to see the needs of others and bless them. Give me patience, joy, and compassion to work as a legate of your kingdom. Amen.”

When you leave for the airport, pray for your wife.
“Abba, Father, please fill my wife with a transcendent sense of your love. During the menial moments of the day—cleaning the mess, doing the laundry, changing a diaper—help her to find purpose in the unseen and repeated acts of love. Give her eyes to see that she is building the Kingdom, nurturing souls, and creating a culture that receives and distributes divine grace. With each task, help her to find the fixed energy of service. Reminder her that just as the small child is dependent on their mother, so are we dependent upon Christ. Amen.”

When the plane prepares for takeoff, pray for your third oldest child.
“O God, may her heart be drawn to you. When she is feeble and jealous; when she is selfish and petty; when she is insecure and spiteful, arrest her with your grace and cause her to turn to you in simple prayer. Give her the strength to love her siblings, respect her mother, and walk in peace. Amen.”

When the plane lands, pray for your fourth oldest child.
“Christ taught us to receive the Kingdom like this infant. It is because this baby is helpless and dependent that they are a model of faithfulness. Help everyone in the house to pause and look at the helpless babe and intuit the lesson that this baby is a type of those who enter the Kingdom. Make this child a little evangelist of what it means to receive the gift of God. Help this child to grow up with dignity and worth, to be one who can comfort the dying and love the downcast. Help him to emulate your mercies in every detail of his life. Amen.”

When you get in the car to drive home, pray for your reunion with your family.
“Heavenly Father, though I am tired, fill me with joy as I reunite with my family. Give us hugs, love, and laughter. Help me to attentively listen to the chats of my children and hug my wife with tenderness. Your grace is stronger than my weariness. You don’t expect me to be the coolest dad, the most refined, or the most charming. You expect me, above all, to love. Help me to love my family and see their needs. Amen.”

Memorization
When you travel, set yourself a memorization task. Before you leave on the trip, announce to your family what you intend to memorize. When you return, give a scripture recitation to the family. During the trip, whenever your mind starts to wander, cut off the temptation by going straight into the memorization assignment. Begin by memorizing 1 Thessalonians 4:1-8.

“Finally, then, brothers, we ask and urge you in the Lord Jesus, that as you received from us how you ought to walk and to please God, just as you are doing, that you do so more and more. 2 For you know what instructions we gave you through the Lord Jesus. 3 For this is the will of God, your sanctification: that you abstain from sexual immorality; 4 that each one of you know how to control his own body in holiness and honor, 5 not in the passion of lust like the Gentiles who do not know God; 6 that no one transgress and wrong his brother in this matter, because the Lord is an avenger in all these things, as we told you beforehand and solemnly warned you. 7 For God has not called us for impurity, but in holiness. 8 Therefore whoever disregards this, disregards not man but God, who gives his Holy Spirit to you.”

Conclusion
This liturgy can be modified to fit your travel schedule. Edit the liturgy and make it work for you. Personalize the prayers and customize the outline. Discuss with your wife and friends how to make every moment holy. The one thing you cannot do is go on business travel without a plan for fidelity to the Lord.

_{Jason Cherry is an elder at Trinity Reformed Church in Huntsville, Alabama, as well as a teacher and lecturer of literature, history, and economics at Providence Classical School in Huntsville. He graduated from Reformed Theological Seminary with an MA in Religion and is the author of the books The Culture of Conversionism and the History of the Altar Call and The Making of Evangelical Spirituality.}