Bible, Theology & Philosophy

Enter the Imagination

Picture yourself exiting a train that you boarded miles ago by mistake. You’re not sure where the train was going, so you don’t know what station you are in now. You only know that you are in a large city. The sign in the depot informs you that no other train will leave for days. You decide to rent a car so that you can find food and lodging. As you pull out of the parking garage, however, you discover that you are driving through a blizzard. The air is so full of snow that you can barely see the pavement in front of you. Occasionally a swirl will allow you to glimpse tall buildings or other features of the city. When you get close enough, you can sometimes spot a street sign, but the names are meaningless to you. In the meanwhile, the snow is piling up on the windshield and the glass is fogging over. Before you have driven half-a-mile, you are completely lost. You have no idea how to find your way.

This picture is a metaphor for the human condition. Our world is like the city. It is not merely a random collection of particulars, but an ordered system. If we could perceive the order, we would be in a position to get where we needed to go—assuming that we knew where that was. Our problem is that our senses are so bombarded with events and objects (i.e., with facts) that we are simply overwhelmed by the blizzard. This problem exists at three levels. First, the sheer number of facts is immense. Even a small room comprises more events and objects than we could take cognizance of in a lifetime. Second, our sensory apparatus (by which I mean not only the senses themselves, but our ability to register and relate facts) is limited and easily overwhelmed. It regularly shuts out most of what our senses do actually detect. Third, our ability to register and relate facts is directed, not by a neutral intellect, but by a will that determines in advance to arrange at least some facts in certain ways. In brief, we are caught in a blizzard with snow piling up on the windshield and the glass fogging over.

Somehow, what we need to do is to build up in our minds a map of immanent reality (“the city”) that will allow us to navigate its contours and, eventually, to leave it safely. This map will provide us with an internal image of the city. Such an internal image, if accurate, is capable of directing us even when our vision of the facts is largely obscured.

Read Part 1.

Fundamentalists and conservative evangelicals believe God has preserved His word. The debate among them is mainly over the manner of preservation and the form the preserved word has taken. Some believe we have a God-preserved, word-perfect text we can identify with certainty. Others believe we do not.

Those who hold to identifiable, word-perfect preservation cite several passages in support of their doctrine. Part 1 of this series examined several of the strongest of these to see what they they actually teach.¹ I concluded that these passages lead us to believe God will preserve His word perfectly in a form that is at least potentially discoverable, but that they do not promise that God’s people will always be able to point to a particular manuscript or text and confidently claim it is the word-perfect, preserved text.

Others have examined these passages (and others) and come to very similar conclusions (Moritz, 86-88; Beacham and Bauder, 116-123; Williams and Shaylor, 83-111), and defenders of certainly-identifiable, word-perfect preservation have responded with counterarguments and accusations. Many of these obscure the real issues in the debate and attempt to frame it in a way that heavily favors their view.

A variety of electronic periodicals reach my inbox regularly. One that arrives nearly every day is published by a retired seminary professor. Most days I derive a great deal of pleasure and often profit from glancing through his cogitations.

Today’s number, however, evoked a bit of concern. The dear fellow was reprinting some criticisms that he had received. Here is what they said.

The oft-repeated mantra coming out of Dr. Piper and Dr. Storms is that it is impossible for human beings to enjoy too much pleasure. We are made for pleasure, but it’s the pleasure of enjoying God. These guys are full-bore new evangelicals and Piper is a hard line Calvinist…. Why are you promoting this sort of thing?

While I can appreciate many things coming out of Dr. Piper’s ministry, are you endorsing such a leading New Evangelical with no disclaimer?…I am sure you do not endorse the New Evangelicalism that is Dr. Piper’s ministry, but when we simply laud a New Evangelical by attending his conference and praising it, that is the result at the practical level.

These responses are typical of the way that some Fundamentalists view conservative evangelicals in general. These men apparently divide all American Christians into only two categories: Fundamentalists and neo-evangelicals. If a Christian leader is not recognized as a Fundamentalist, then he is considered to be a new evangelical, with all the opprobrium that follows.

This binary system of classification is far too simplistic. American Christianity never has been neatly divided between new evangelicals and Fundamentalists. Other groups have always existed, and one of them is the group that we now designate as conservative evangelicals.

Like a traitor, scorning justice,
Head unbowed before God’s Law,
Given glimpses of the Holy,
Tyranny was all I saw.

Soul infused with serpents’ venom,
Purposing unholy war,
Hands devising clever mischief,
All of this was I, and more.

He, dispensing awful justice
Haled me up before His throne,
Bound on me the grave indictment
Of commandments hewn in stone.

“Answer now,” the judge demanded,
“Justify yourself to me.
Saints and angels wait your answer—
Enter your judicial plea.”

I, exposed by blinding justice,
Naked in its righteous glare,
Stripped of every self-deception,
Stood with nothing to declare.