How Jonathan Edwards Made Me Laugh

Today I spent eight hours reading Freedom of the Will, one of Jonathan Edwards’ most intense writings.  It’s my last assignment for my Winterim class, and it’s a Th.M.-specific assignment.  We were allowed to choose one of three major Edwards works, read it, and write a ten-page analysis and critique of it: History of Redemption, Original Sin, or Freedom of the Will.  John Hannah told us that if we really wanted to have some fun and tackle the hard stuff, we should go for Freedom of the Will.  So tonight my brain is feeling the effects of my attempted academic heroism.

If I tried to translate Edwards’ 300-page metaphysical argument for you, I would confuse both you and myself.  Instead, I thought I’d pass along something that made me laugh.  Don’t get excited – it probably won’t make you laugh since you didn’t spend eight hours reading the guy.  But this is how Edwards illustrates one aspect of his opponents’ arguments which he believes is philosophically self-contradictory.  He’s basically saying, “This is what my opponents sound like.”  Read slowly — it’s Edwards.

“If some learned philosopher, who had been abroad, in giving an account of the curious observations he had made in his travels, should say, he “had been in Tierra del Fuego, and there had seen an animal, which he calls by a certain name, that begat and brought forth itself, and yet had a sire and a dam distinct from itself; that it had an appetite, and was hungry before it had being; that his master, who led him, and governed him at his pleasure, was always governed by him, and driven by him as he pleased; that when he moved, he always took a step before the first step; that he went with his head first, and yet always went tail foremost; and this, though he had neither head nor tail”: it would be no impudence at all, to tell such a traveler, though a learned man, that he himself had no notion or idea of such an animal as he gave an account of, and never had, nor ever would have” (Jonathan Edwards, Freedom of the Will, The Works of Jonathan Edwards, vol. 1, ed. by Paul Ramsey [New Haven: Yale University Press, 1957], 345-46).

I wouldn’t want to be his theological adversary or the object of his metaphysical sarcasm. 

P.S.   I’ve found more quotes from John Hannah in some other sections of my Winterim notes, so there will probably be a couple more posts on “Wit and Wisdom from John Hannah.”  I know you’re disappointed.

In God’s Eyes: The Danger of Defining Ourselves

It’s interesting to read the sidebars and the “About Me’s” and the self-descriptions of people in the internet world.  From our screen names to our self-descriptive adjectives, most of us seem to work hard at defining ourselves to those who barely know us and are willing to believe the best (or at least to suspend disbelief).  Of course, there are some who buck the trend and don’t say anything about themselves or say something catchy just for kicks.  And all of that might be OK.  The internet can be fun that way — customized and personalized.  But I find it to be such a strange world we live in, where we can easily be more defined by our avatar of choice than by the consistency of our lives before God and the testimony of our lives before others.

I see nothing wrong with defining yourself in a certain way online, or not defining yourself at all, or putting something humorous and self-depracating in place of a detailed self-description, as long as what you say is honest, accurate, and unselfish.  The problem is the difficulty of attaining those three qualities: honesty, accuracy, and unselfishness.

In the midst of this unripe, impersonal world of self-defined identity, I think it’s essential for all of us to remember that God is the true determiner of who we are.  God is the ultimate evaluator, the infallible jury, and the final judge.  I may put up a picture of a cross on my Facebook and I may put “God” at the top of my “Interests” list on MySpace, but it is God’s estimation of me that ultimately matters.  He has His own picture of who I am and He has His own list of my interests, and it’s pretty accurate because “the word of God is living and active and sharper than any two-edged sword, and piercing as far as the division of soul and spirit, of both joints and marrow, and able to judge the thoughts and intentions of the heart.  And there is no creature hidden from His sight, but all things are open and laid bare to the eyes of Him with whom we have to do” (Hebrews 4:12-13).

If you check my “About Me” page, you’ll find a short list of personal facts that give you a basic context for the rest of what you might read.  I’m married, I attend seminary, I minister at The Master’s College in Southern California, I have some favorite Christian books.  Sounds good enough.  But you don’t know me like my friends know me, you certainly don’t know me like my wife knows me, and no one knows me like God knows me.  I have to be careful — we all have to be careful — that we don’t give in to the temptation to believe too strongly in our own definitions of ourselves, our own press reports, and our own self-portraits.

I have no problem with writing your own short bio for your institution’s website or filling in the personal descriptions page on your blog or taking a nice picture of yourself and putting it on your Facebook.  We’re just trying to squeeze a few relational drops out of our de-personalized internet world by seeking to know and be known.  I think these relationships are incomplete and shadowy and ultimately unfulfilling, but I don’t think they’re inherely lame or unredeemable (or else I wouldn’t take the time to write on the internet).  However, I do think there are dangers.  One of them is the danger of believing your own self-descriptions to the extent that you deceive yourself and others into thinking that you’re a little bit (or a lot) different than you really are.  Like you, I have a perception of myself.  But I try not to trust it too much.  God’s eyes are infinitely more trustworthy, and the mirror of His Word tends to reveal what I wouldn’t prefer to advertise.

Anyone can customize a picture of themselves and look pretty or poetic or romantic or stoic or cultured.  But the more important question is whether the everyday, consistent, real you is found acceptable before the burning eye of a holy God.  You are who God thinks you are, not who you present yourself to be.  It would lead us all towards humility and a healthy gospel-desperation to remember that.

Hitting Us Where It Hurts: Thoughts on Mark Driscoll

Scrutinizing Mark Driscoll seems to be the hobby of much of the in-touch conservative church these days.  I’m not trying to add to the chorus and I really don’t have much to say overall, but there’s one thing that I think is important to learn in light of who Driscoll is, what he says, how he says it, and — most importantly — what he does.

Mark Driscoll hits the conservative church right where it needs to be hit.  But because he does it with a style that can be rightfully disagreed with, we often try to dodge his convicting words and his missional example.  And I don’t think that’s safe or fair.  In fact, I think it’s proud.

I’m not saying it’s proud to criticize elements of Driscoll’s style or philosophy of ministry.  If something’s unwise or unbiblical, we should call it what it is.  But I think that our criticism is often an attempt to stiff-arm the needed conviction that would devastate us if we were to entertain thoughts about where we fall short in light of Driscoll’s driving mission to reach his city with the gospel.

This is often what we do when we get convicted about something: we get nit-picky and shift the blame.  We do it in personal interactions and we do it in groups and we do it in entire movements.  If someone is 95% accurate in saying, “You always do this or that,” we don’t care about the 95% accuracy and the repentance that that 95% demands of us.  We’d rather focus on the 5% inaccuracy.  So we defend ourselves and say, “Come on — do I always do that?  You’re exaggerating.”  Well, yeah, they might be exaggerating, but not by much.  In the quest for evaluating situations perfectly and speaking appropriately, I’d settle for a 5% exaggeration rate any day.

Sometimes I feel like this is what conservative people do with Driscoll.  We say, “That’s great that he’s reaching his city with the pure gospel of Christ, and I know that we should be doing that, too, but I’ve heard that he sometimes cusses in his sermons and tells crude jokes!”

I don’t think that preachers should be crude and cavalier in their sermons.  I disagree with Driscoll’s style here.  If I really dug into his ministry and his writings, I’m sure there would be a lot of other things I disagreed with.  But I think he’s getting the big things right, and those big things are the exact things that we’re getting wrong.  Actually, they’re the big things that we’re not doing at all.

So what are we going to focus on?  The little things he’s doing wrong or the big things we’re running away from?  I realize that it’s not an either-or issue — we can highlight our disagreements with Driscoll’s style and at the same time recognize how his life and ministry should challenge us.  But I don’t think this usually happens.  We usually pick on the small things — the 5% we don’t like — and avoid the big things — the 95% where he really nails us.  In fact, we pick on the small things in order to avoid the big things.

We have to learn to do both when looking at solid Christian leaders with whom we disagree but from whom we can learn — to be discerning about their negative failures and to be devastated by their positive example.  But in this case, I think there’s a lot of discernment going on and very little devastation.

Mark Driscoll is telling us to be missional and evangelistic and gospel-driven, because he knows that we’re not.  This is exactly what we need to hear, but it’s what we most want to avoid hearing.  Why?  Because it hurts us and humiliates us and calls us to a lifestyle that’s radically different than the comfort and security of our yawning Christian sub-culture.  Let’s not make the mistake of plugging our ears and hardening our hearts with the excuse that we wish he said it differently.

Some of our reasons for critiquing Mark Driscoll are biblical.  But as one Christian leader has wisely said, “I like how he’s doing it better than how you’re not doing it.”

Wit and Wisdom from John Hannah (6)

Part 1 – Monday’s quotes
Part 2 – Tuesday’s quotes
Part 3 – Wednesday’s quotes
Part 4 – Thursday’s quotes
Part 5 – Friday’s quotes

This is the last installment of quotes from my recent Winterim class on Jonathan Edwards with professor John Hannah from Dallas Theological Seminary.  I hope you’ve benefited from some of them and that one or two will stick with you as you attempt to live carefully for the King.  These are from our final class on Saturday, January 13.

Student question:  Can we change the reading assignment?  Answer:  It would be a delightful thing to reduce 500 pages of your reading to 30, but those of us in the teaching profession have to keep up our image.

Difficult passages:  There are some passages that just make me want to tear my hair out, and that’s good, because it reminds us of how small we are.

Formulating your theological views:  Over the years I’ve asked myself the question, “How do people come to their views?”  I think people embrace their views based on two things: (1) it leaves the least unanswered questions and (2) it leaves the least problems.  But this still leaves us with (1) unanswered questions and (2) problems.  I don’t think you truly know your view until you know the problems it creates and the questions it doesn’t answer.

Salvation:  God is not moved by sincerity.  He’s moved by righteousness.

Reasons:  Reasons always come after reality.  We invent reasons afterwards.

All of God, from beginning to end:  You bring things into the presence of a monarch.  But we have nothing to give our King.  So He gives us things to give to Him.  That’s the absurdity of the Christian faith.

Heaven:  Heaven is the classless society of the redeemed.

Trials:  I know this isn’t my decision to make, but I wish chapter 42 weren’t in Job, because most people don’t get their sons and daughters back when they lose them.

Trusting God:  Assume for the sake of easy calculation that there are 300 days in a year.  Then assume that I’m 60 years old (which I am).  That’s 18,000 days of God’s faithfulness that I’ve experienced.  So why don’t I trust Him to be faithful tomorrow?  That’s called depravity.  When it hits 19,000 days, I’ll look back and call the 18,001 day a day of faithfulness.  But why don’t I live that way now?  Because I don’t trust Him.  I think we have some high-tech repenting to do.

What to live for:  I played high school football, and I remember our wins, because there weren’t many.  I remember standing as a 16-year-old on a frozen, raunchy football field with blood staining my face after beating our rivals in a muddy game.  And as I walked off the field and headed for the bus, they turned out the lights.  And I thought to myself, “Was it all worth it?  They come, they applaud, they go home, and the lights are turned out.”  And I realized at that point: I want to live for something where the lights never go out.  And it can’t be myself.

Calvinists and Arminians:  I do know that Calvinists don’t act any better than Arminians, even though they should.

Dealing with doubt:  When I doubt, I don’t pull out my accomplishments.  I pull out my Lord.  I have not risen above a third-grader.  I just know more.

Joy of pleasing God:  When God is most pleased, we are most benefited.  When God is glorified, we’ve got it made.

Evangelicalism today:  I think that evangelical preaching today is baptized morality.  And it’s good, but morality will damn your soul if it doesn’t have an object.  Morality preached apart from the gospel is no gospel.  Law and grace must always be put together.  We seem to prefer to help people next week instead of forever.  My goal is not to have a better existence, but to have a better eternity.  By preaching a better eternity, they may have a better existence.  But I don’t confuse the two.  Don’t confuse cause and effect.  If I preach cause, I’ll get effect.  But if I preach effect, I won’t get cause.

Significance:  We fear insignificance.  But what we really fear is that God might call us to do something that He calls significant but that we don’t.