Miracles, Evolution, and Faith

The debate between scientific and religious communities on the function of the natural world is ultimately not a disagreement on biological processes.  It is a disagreement on worldview.  It is a debate between those who believe in a Designer and those who purport philosophical naturalism -- that is, the belief that everything has a natural (as opposed to super-natural) cause and organic life is solely the product of random forces.  Even non-religious scientists recognize the problems inherent to this view.  Furthermore, faith does not deny scientific reason, nor does it completely deny evolutionary theory.  However, it does deny a worldview that says, in sum, "None of this matters because it is all the result of chance."

I've written previously about faith as a worldview and the legitimacy of traditional, conservative beliefs.  I also intend to write a more extensive post on the topic of scientific reasoning.  For now, however, I wanted to briefly share something that I found immensely encouraging.

For those who wrestle with this debate, for those who have doubts about Jesus, or for those who have difficulty rationalizing scientific reasoning with the miracles of the Bible, the following passage from Timothy Keller's The Reason for God is a wise and precious analysis of God's operation in the natural world.

In Matthew 28, we are told that the apostles met the risen Jesus on a mountainside in Galilee.  "When they saw him, they worshiped him; but some doubted" (verse 17).  That is a remarkable admission.  Here is the author of an early Christian document telling us that some of the founders of Christianity couldn't believe the miracle of the resurrection, even when they were looking straight at him with their eyes and touching him with their hands.  There is no other reason for this to be in the account unless it really happened.

This passage shows us several things.  It is a warning not to think that only we modern, scientific people have to struggle with the idea of the miraculous, while ancient, more primitive people did not.  The apostles responded like any group of modern people -- some believed their eyes and some didn't.  It is also an encouragement to patience.  All the apostles ended up as great leaders in the church, but some had a lot more trouble believing than others.

The most instructive thing about this text is, however, what it says about the purpose of Biblical miracles.  [They are not just a challenge to our minds, but a promise to our hearts.] They lead not simply to cognitive belief, but to worship, to awe and wonder.  Jesus' miracles in particular were never magic tricks, designed only to impress and coerce.  You never see him say something like: "See that tree over there?  Watch me make it burst into flames!"  Instead, he used miraculous power to heal the sick, feed the hungry, and raise the dead.  Why?  We modern people think of miracles as the suspension of the natural order, but Jesus meant them to be the restoration of the natural order.  The Bible tells us that God did not originally make the world to have disease, hunger, and death in it.  Jesus has come to redeem where it is wrong and heal the world where it is broken.  His miracles are not just proof that he has power, but are also wonderful foretastes of what he is going to do with that power.

Jesus' miracles are not just a challenge to our minds, but a promise to our hearts -- a promise that the world we all want is coming.

Come, Lord Jesus.

RE: Zack Hunt -- Biblical Inerrancy and Why It's Important

Prior to Charles Darwin's 1859 publication, On the Origin of Species, there was never a need to "defend the faith" the way that there is today.  In the 150 years since that monumental release, there has been a slow burn of anti-Bible sentiment -- ripples of the bitter stone hurled into the lake of religious worldview.  Since the snowball began, the modern scientific community has grown up refining the evolutionary theory, and their collective doubt has led other schools of thought to similarly challenge the authority of the Bible.  A&E specials on the Gnostic Gospels, The Bible, Dan Brown thrillers, and even 80's rock operas have all called into question the legitimacy of the Scriptures by presenting alternate interpretations and "disregarded" information.

All of these factors combined have contributed to the cloud of "reasonable doubt" which sneers in the face of Christianity.  The agnostic-flavored question, "How do you know that the version of the Bible you have is the correct one?" is perhaps one of the most common objection to any discussion of the divine authority of Scriptures.  In fact, most people aren't opposed to the idea of a Bible handed down from on high, but they are concerned with getting the right one -- the one that's fair, reasonable, and cutting-edge culturally speaking.

Unfortunately, there are structural problems from within the Christian faith as well.  This article appeared today on the Red Letter Movement website: a post by Zack Hunt, a student of Yale Divinity.  Sardonically establishing himself as a martyr for his claims, Hunt dives into his argument concerning the imperfections of the Bible, how they are self-proclaimed, and how the incompleteness of the Scriptures is the foundation for faith.  His concluding statement is the most painful section of all to read -- not because it is convicting as intended, but because it is so grossly mistaken:

When we affirm inerrancy, we create an idol fashioned out of the same need for certainty and control that drove Adam and Eve to snatch divinity away from God.  Simply put, Biblical inerrancy isn’t Biblical.  Now, I’m not naive enough to think that someone who believes in BIblical inerrancy will read this post and suddenly "see the light."   Our fear and ingrained need for control are not overcome that easily.  So, if you are reading this post and you do affirm Biblical inerrancy, please know that not only are you breaking away from Church tradition, you are also rejecting the imperfection the Bible claims for itself, the very imperfection that is necessary for faith.

Great.  So, by esteeming the Bible as the inspired, infallible Word of God, I've made it an idol?  Might as well put my ESV study Bible on a pedestal and start wringing birds' necks in front of it.

Unfair, perhaps, but the punishment fits the crime.

The biggest problem with Hunt's assertions lies in his misconceptions.  First of all, he is writing under the assumption that it is okay to question the Bible in terms of literal interpretation.  Halfway through his article, he questions the logical reasoning behind the story of Noah's ark and how childish it is to believe in a literal interpretation of the account as an educated adult.  In so doing, he opens the door for all kinds of literal/metaphoric interpretation problems:

"So if Noah's story is dubious, then what about Jonah in the belly of the whale?  It's certainly improbable, so let's say that one's a kid's tale also, simply included in the Biblical texts to remind us not to disobey God's will.  Well, what about Peter pulling a coin out of a fish's mouth at Jesus' command?  Nothing more than an allegory about God's provision, nothing more.  How about Jesus on the cross?  What about His resurrection?  Is the Holy Spirit even a real thing/entity/being?"

Honestly, where does the line of questioning stop?  By questioning the authenticity of one account, you absolutely question the authenticity of the rest.  That's the way trustworthiness works.  That's the way our judicial system works.  One lie invalidates a testimony.

Dangerous footholds aside, Hunt further invalidates his own argument through the following non sequitur.  Because, he claims, our mothers gave us good instructions but aren't perfect, we can therefore conclude that the Bible (somehow equated with motherhood?) -- since it also gives good advice -- likewise can't be regarded as infallible.  I understand that he's establishing a metaphor to make a point, but it's a faulty one at best.  Motherly instruction may teach a lesson about faith, but we're talking about the Scriptures, not parenting style.

Hunt's second misconception arises partly from a misunderstanding of the word "perfect" and partly from a shallow understanding of the way God interacts with man.  Operating under the premise that there are only two things "God-breathed" in Scripture -- Scripture itself (2 Tim 3.16) and man (Gen 2.7) -- Hunt argues that a). because God is perfect, He b). couldn't create anything else that is perfect (because it would therefore be the same as Him), so c). Scripture (God-breathed like man) must therefore also be imperfect the same way man is imperfect.  The presumption of this part of his argument is that, in order for God to create something "perfect," He would have to duplicate Himself.  However, the fact of the matter is that God didn't create another God.  He created a human - an entirely different class, unlike anything He had yet created.

Apples and oranges.

Furthermore, as Hunt testifies, the Bible records that all of creation was "good" -- unfallen, unsullied, untainted.  MacArthur defines the usage of the word as "sufficient for the purposes it was intended to serve" -- which, by the way, is virtually synonymous with "perfect."  Something doesn't have to possess divine quality to be flawless.  Of course, there is no longer anything flawless in our world today, but in the beginning, God created our world itself in a state of absolute perfection - to His own specifications and standards.  To doubt that God, in all His power and wisdom, could create a perfect human being (simply because the Spirit moved Moses to use the word "good" instead of "perfect") is to doubt His sovereignty and omnipotence.

Furthermore, despite the fact that man, now broken by the sin he chose, became once again the vessel for God to breathe life into, does not mean that the Word came out imperfect as a result.  In fact, Scripture proclaims that God chose to use "earthen vessels" so that His glory might be revealed by contrast (2 Cor 4.7; 1 Cor 1.18-31).  How could we be so arrogant as to presume that we could mess up God's Word?  How could man possibly distort the will of God, because it was clearly God's will to share His gospel with us?  How could the Word that became flesh, the perfect Son of God, misrepresent himself in His own autobiography?  Furthermore, as Peter records, the prophetic Word of God is "more fully confirmed" than even His own presence here on earth.  That doesn't lend itself to a fallible interpretation of Scripture.  The bottom line is that God, because of His nature as God, simply would not give an imperfect, incomplete, man-stained picture of Himself.  As our Shepherd, He would not mislead us.  As our Heavenly Father, He would not give evil gifts to His children (Luke 11.13; Jas 1.17).

Mr. Hunt, we don't need faith to believe that the Bible - despite its "inadequacies" -- is God's Word, because there are no inadequacies.  On the contrary, a biblical definition of faith is not synonymous with "hope" in the sense that it invokes an element of uncertainty.  Biblical faith is necessary to believe in things expected and unseen, not things that are uncertain (Heb 11.1-3).  Mr. Tillich is correct in his claim that faith "requires an element of doubt," but it's not because we don't have confidence, but because we a). cannot prove by logical standards the claims that we uphold, and b). because we -- as fallen human beings -- can't fully understand the perfect wisdom of Almighty God.  Paul wrote that we only "see in part" now because we are limited, not because the Word of God is (1 Cor 13.12)  We need faith not because God didn't communicate His Word perfectly, but because our understanding is so limited, shackled by our own damning pride and intrinsic fallibility.

Contrary to what you may think, biblical faith leaves no room for doubt.  Biblical faith is absolute confidence -- "conviction" as the writer of Hebrews termed it - derived from the absolute perfect Word of God alone.

Faith in anything less than that isn't much faith at all.

Faith, Confidence, and Sanity: The Christian Worldview

One of the more significant changes shaping my immediate future is the fact that my band will be headed down to Nashville in just a few short weeks to record our debut album with Jerry Guidroz of Radiant Records (the producer behind Neal Morse and Transatlantic).  Without going into too much detail, the album we're working on is very much concerned with the legitimacy of faith (specifically the Christian faith) as a worldview.  It's essentially a microcosm of the world's pursuit of knowledge: the quest for true enlightenment which explores all avenues of thought, but that can only be found  -- as we believe -- in the person of Jesus Christ.  Geoff (keys and vocals) is the frontman and primary writer of The Twenty Committee's material, but as we got into the heart of the project, he and I began partnering on the lyrics -- especially those depicting the grungy independence of man and his scorn for all things intangible, things that even include faith, love, and hope.

As I stared at the blinking cursor on my computer screen, pondering the instability of faithless existence, I found myself reminded of a simple statement made by Dr. David Powlison during the 2011 CCEF conference.  A very simple statement -- three words, unrefined, no pretense.

"Prayer is sanity."

So concise, and in its directness, so poignant.  In the grandiose Louisville ballroom in which my wife (then, not yet my fiancé) and I were sitting, surrounded by thousands of counselors-in-training, the simple phrase passed over us like a wave -- not a whitecap which crashes over a swimmer and leaves him stunned, but a warm swell which buoys him gently above the sandy ocean floor.  As I remember that moment now, and realize the echoed sentiment in the rough lyrics of our nearly completed concept album, it strikes me that arguments for faith severely underemphasize one of the most important and most beautiful elements of the Christian belief.

Faith, even as an objective principle, is one of the most misunderstood concepts of our modern age.  Portrayed as mysticism at its worst and irrational confidence at its best, faith pertaining to any religion has become antithetical to educated thinking.  To the modern scientific community -- a generation raised during the era of Wikipedia, genetic cloning, and subsequent failed Harold Camping prophecies -- faith-based living is as quaint and outdated a practice as bloodletting.  To the post-Christian society in which we live, archaic religious thinking may at best hold some worthwhile grains of truth, but ultimately remains the equivalent of retaining belief in Santa Claus as an adult.

Understandably, popular misconceptions arise from the fact that faith as a principle always incorporates some form of not-knowing.  In other words, faith necessarily requires some element of trust which supersedes understanding.  Calvin's decision to go back inside and watch TV in the unsettling face of the unknown is a perfect example: man wants concrete proof that he is not alone in the universe and cannot accept the possibility that his own eyes might not be able to observe a supernatural reality.  Furthermore, when the overlooked plights of our world are taken into consideration -- our indomitable pride, our idol of independence and our obsession with control -- it isn't surprising that the world would rather place its belief in something concrete like science which defines the universe by expressly non-theistic standards.  It's terrifying to place confidence in something external to ourselves when what we value is our own knowledge and ability.  To sacrifice that for something which is intangible, something that you know in your heart but cannot prove beyond a shadow of a doubt to anyone (not even yourself) is tantamount to declaring mental instability.  In that regard, the popular debate between faith and science -- above all else -- is an argument over control.  It is a war between man's sense of pride and his dependence upon something greater than himself.

But the fact of the matter is that faith is not simply taking a step out into nothingness.  Biblical hope retains no element of uncertainty - it is a hope that knows and trusts, and ultimately experiences true peace.  That is the truth which forms the bedrock upon which the Christian stands.  Faith is not hoping God can, it's knowing that He will, which is certainly a pithy saying worthy of a wall plaque, but it is also the truth which allows us to see the rain as a blessing and the storm as an instruction manual.  Hebrews 11 defines faith as the "assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen."  In other words, while faith acknowledges that there are things we do not understand, there is so much more that we do.  In the same way that you know you have money in the bank (or don't), in the same manner that those numerals on that paycheck represent a quantifiable amount and you know you earned, despite the fact that your boss didn't hand you raw chunks of gold to carry home on the subway, faith also incorporates a trust that supersedes what we see and experience.  Invariably, this is the kind of discussion which arouses the arguments for evolution, for intelligent design, for the notion (or lack thereof) that we can't possibly know for certain what this life is about.

The issue around which all of these schools of thought circle is the problem of evidence.  Contemporary science denies the possibility of the supernatural because equations cannot calculate deity.  Intelligent design counters evolutionary claims due to the absence of transitional forms in the fossil record.  So-called agnostics simply shrug and insist that there's not enough to go by to choose one side of the court or the other.  The consistent back-and-forth banter of "Prove it's true" and "Prove it's not" is unending, because no one has the trump card which invalidates the other arguments.  Embracing a side, therefore, is inevitably a matter of faith, because regardless of what camp you find yourself in, the evidence does not conclusively add up.  Evolution ultimately boils down to the same faith-based mechanics as any other devised religion.  It has no testable hypotheses to make it a recognizable science (no, you cannot watch evolution happen), and it lacks insubstantial evidence to verify its claims.  The Christian likewise cannot point to any evidence which the scientist would not deem circumstantial or hearsay.  It is by faith that we acknowledge the universe as God's handiwork, attributing to Him authority over nature and ascribing to Him authorship of the scientific laws which govern the universe.

But frankly, I'm tired of all the talk.  I'm tired of Christian apologetics who hint at the possibility of proving God's existence through their archeological approach and their intentional use of big scientific words.  I'm tired of evolutionists who raise their noses to the notion that someone embraces a worldview which subjects science to deity, because they themselves are unable to wrap their brains around the notion that an all-powerful god (which is, by objective definition, a supernatural and supreme being) would not be limited by the clockwork regularity of the universe He created.  And I'm really tired of people misusing the "agnostic" label simply because they don't know what they believe and don't want to be labeled as an atheist, which would be too extreme.  We stand in a room crowded with stubborn debaters, all shouting to be heard, and no one is convincing anyone of anything.

This post is not an argument for equality of thought or a demand for coexistence.  It is, however, a request for greater understanding of and a respect for what the other guy thinks.  It's a call to listen more and speak less (and I'll be the first one to admit failure in that department).  We need to stop adding to the argumentative noise.  What I also want to communicate is that faith (intelligent design, Creationism, or whatever other label you'd prefer) is not an unrealistic perspective of the world.  It is not a denial of scientific research, nor is it divorced from logic, reason, or education.  It is simply a different perspective and a different order of priorities.  Faith is a legitimate worldview because it is based upon confidence in the reality and veracity of the Bible.  Yes, it certainly takes faith to believe in a God who cannot be seen or defined with scientific instruments, a God who created man and gave him a mind of his own, and then chose out of His lovingkindness to redeem that man rather than destroy him for his ungrateful independence.  However, it also takes tremendous faith to look past the gaping holes in the evolutionary theory, just like it takes faith to answer the question "If God does not exist, then what is this all for?" with some apathetic defense of nature's prerogative.

The bottom line is that, if evolution is an educated and respected school of thought, despite its uncertainties, then intelligent design must also be held in the same regard.

In all of this, in my frustration with internet forums and the conversations which take place in so-called collegiate-level classrooms, I find myself coming back to Dr. Powlison's statement, an idea which is so fundamental and so grade-school in its simplicity, and yet we constantly overlook it.  Prayer is not the spiritual equivalent of groping blindly in the dark: it is leaning into the one dependable lifeline we have in a universe which spins out of our control, out of our finite comprehension.  Prayer is sanity because of the reality, the omnipotence, of the One upon whom we depend.

To me, the most beautiful aspect of the Christian faith is the fact that despite our wickedness, we may boldly approach the throne of grace -- boldly, not with trepidation, not with uncertainty, but with absolute confidence.  I know beyond the shadow of any doubt that my Savior will one day welcome me into His open arms, and that all mysteries of life, the universe, and everything will one day finally be answered -- but not until I come into His presence.  In the meantime, I intend to live a life which celebrates that confidence, knowing that man's pursuit of knowledge and understanding begins and culminates with Christ Himself.

~*~

Psalm 18.1-3: "I love you, O LORD, my strength.  The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.  I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised."

~*~