Should We Rejoice At the Death of Christopher Hitchens?

Since the death of the renowned atheist, Christopher Hitchens, the Christian blogosphere has been a-buzz with pronouncements of hate for him and literal delight at his demise.  To justify their attitude of inner pleasure people point to Psalm 139:21-22, which declares, “Do I not hate those who hate you, LORD, and abhor those who are in rebellion against you?  I have nothing but hatred for them; I count them my enemies.”

It is also being said that Jesus’ words “But I tell you, love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matthew 5:44) comport with David’s words this way: when your enemy hates you, you must love him, but if he hates God, then it is permissible to hate him.

This answer only raises more questions. As a Christian how can a person hate me but not hate God? Jesus said “You will be hated by all because of My name” (Mark 13:13). According to Jesus’ view of things, people hate me for being a Christian because they first hate God. Their hatred of me is a byproduct of their hatred for God. So the possibility of somehow surgically loving others who hate me while simultaneously hating those who hate God is problematic, to say the least.

But perhaps the more important matter is the meaning of Psalm 139:21-22 and its relationship to Matthew 5:44. In ancient times, suzerainty treaties were struck between rulers and vassals. Such treaties date to the 2^nd millennium B.C., and have been discovered among ancient Hittite kings.

Without going into the intricacies of such treaties, it will be sufficient here to note that the dominant entity is called a suzerain. Among other things, he provided his vassal(s) lands and limited self-rule. In return, the vassal paid a form of tribute to the suzerain. The treaties were often convenient ways overlords kept potential enemies mollified. In medieval times the practice continued, though modified greatly in form, to include feudal lords and vassals. Here the giving of lands and titles by Kings to powerful gentry was a hopeful means of keeping the peace.

Central to the covenant between the suzerain and the vassal was also a pledge of loyalty on the part of the vassal. This most often took the form of a vow to be on the right side of warfare should the suzerain be attacked. A typical pronouncement of such loyalty was “With my friend you shall be friend, and with my enemy you shall be enemy.” Another way to put this is “Your friend shall be my friend and your enemy my enemy.”  The customary pledge of fidelity did not call upon the vassal to sit around all day hating those whom hated the suzerain. It simply meant that should the King or Lord be attacked, the vassal was prepared to spring to his defense.

What does any of this have to do with whether or not we should hate Christopher Hitchens? Returning to Psalm 139:21-22, we find here the inclusion of covenantal terms that mirror the ancient and customary pledge of vassal loyalty. Now we wish to be brief so here is the point. In the New Covenant, Jesus is the vassal “servant” who fulfilled all of the stipulations of that covenant. In essence, at the cross he went to war for the King. There he overcame all haters of God, including the devil, and freed his elect by giving himself an atoning sacrifice for our sins (Hebrews 2:14-15). Indeed, “For He must reign until He has put all His enemies under His feet. The last enemy that will be abolished is death.  For HE HAS PUT ALL THINGS IN SUBJECTION UNDER HIS FEET” (1 Corinthians 15:25-27). 

Now that God’s righteous demands have been met in His Son, we are instructed to “Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you” (Matt. 5:44). The surgical interpretation of Psalm 139:21-22 and Matthew 5:44 is simply unnecessary and confusing.

The loyalty pledge of the Psalmist is a prophetic indicator of Jesus’ Messianic mission. Its completion in history means that by his obedience we are free to love our enemies. By way of analogy, it also means that should our God and his gospel be attacked we are not to stew in hatred of God’s enemies but are always to be ready to spring in defense. We are to “sanctify Christ as Lord in your hearts, always being ready to make a defense to everyone who asks you to give an account for the hope that is in you, yet with gentleness and reverence” (1 Peter 3:15).

John Barber, PhD

Immigration and the 6th Commandment

The western nations in particular are struggling to keep pace with the implications of increased immigration of foreigners coupled with lax immigration policies. Anders Breivik’s July 22^nd 2011 murder spree in Oslo, Norway was fueled largely by anti-immigration fury. Problematically, his perspective was endorsed by Francesco Speroni, a leading member of Italy’s Northern League.[1] 

Jacques Coutela, a member of France’s National Front party, referred to Breivik as an “icon.”[2] Clearly, immigration of Muslims throughout Western Europe, and of Hispanics mainly to the U.S., is fostering a new cleavage in societies in the move toward globalization. As the protectionist mindset of mainly the nativistic “right” entrenches itself in ethno-nationalistic and cultural fervor, the national and cultural identity of “outsiders” is viewed suspiciously if not contemptuously. If some reports are correct that the drift toward multiculturalism and religious syncretism is actually helping groups such as The Muslim Brothers of Europe in their quest for “Eurabia,” and the Reconquistas to take back part of America’s great Southwest, then suspicion is warranted, but not contempt.[3]

What can the sixth commandment offer Western countries that are to a greater extent worried about this issue?  Theologian John Frame goes right to the Scriptures to say that “The Mosaic law does extend the commandment of love to ‘strangers,’ people sojourning within Israel (Lev. 19:34). But it is the New Testament that extends the covenant community to all nations. The Great Commission mandates love to all peoples as we bring good news to them.”[4]  Frame does not mean to diminish the need for strict immigration policies. He means to augment our mandate by divine law to share the Good News of Jesus with strangers, regardless of their legal status or motives. 

In our haste to criticize illegal immigrants, let us remember, as Frame has said, that the commandment, because it speaks universally to all “sin and righteousness” and thus to all life and death issues, points first to our own sin; that we were all at one time without life in God, “strangers to the covenants of promise, having no hope and without God in the world” (italics added, Eph. 2:12). The human response ought therefore to be one of shard identity with our Lord: “I was a stranger, and you did not invite Me in” (italics added, Matt. 25:43). 

Moderns see the biblical remedy as a castle in the air. But history proves that the gospel alone can tear down walls of suspicion and contempt between severely divided people groups. Can anyone reading this present a comparable solution from history?

---

[1] John Hopper, Ex-Berlusconi minister defends Anders Behring Breivik, http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2011/jul/27/ex-berlusconi-minister-defends-breivik (July 27, 2011).

[2] Associated Press, French party suspends man over Oslo suspect praise, http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5gngH6Fi6DG-QerFHrCy4cjZfdWRQ?docId=eef6198a611f4b80840c691c429d7ba0 (July 27, 2011).

[3] On the motives of the Muslim Brotherhood, see Brigitte Maréchal, The Muslim brothers in Europe: roots and discourse, (Leiden, The Netherlands: Brill, 2008). For a general overview of European perceptions of the Muslim advance across Europe, see Raphael Israeli, The Islamic Challenge in Europe (New Brunswick & London: Transaction Publishers, 2008). A book that includes a large section on the Reconquista movement is Patrick J. Buchanan, The Death of the West: How Dying Populations and Immigrant Invasions Imperil Our Country and Civilization (New York: St. Martin’s Press. 2002), esp. 123-146.

[4] DCL, 691.

Sin and Grace

Sin enslaves several ways. Let’s look at just two. First, sin enslaves us by producing compelling desires. The Bible declares, “Don’t you know that when you offer yourselves to someone as obedient slaves, you are slaves of the one you obey—whether you are slaves to sin, which leads to death, or to obedience, which leads to righteousness” (Rom. 6:16).

Sin enslaves by making anything look more desirable than Jesus. That's what sin is: desiring something above Jesus and then acting on it. And the second way sin enslaves is that it eventually damns us. In Mark 9:46, Jesus Christ says about hell, “Where their worm does not die not, and the fire is not quenched.” Unless something intervenes, it leads to hell. I call this slavery because someone might say, “I'm fine with desiring things more than Jesus. Sounds free to me.” But you wouldn't say that if you saw clearly that the end of that road was destruction.

But thank God freedom comes in two forms. First, he frees us from the desire for sin by changing our nature through the new birth. Paul writes, “For by grace you have been saved through faith; and that not of yourselves, it is the gift of God” (Eph. 2:8) And the essence of it is that he gives us eyes to see that our Savior is more to be desired than anything in the world.  Second, He frees us from the damnation of sin by being condemned for us. Paul says, “Christ redeemed us from the curse of the law by becoming a curse for us” (Gal. 3:13). When our sins are forgiven, and God's wrath is taken away, and we see Jesus as a greater Treasure than all the world, we are freed from both the desire and the damnation of sin. We are free indeed. By grace, that’s what Jesus holds out to you today.

Socrates and Christianity

What, exactly, did Socrates teach? Well, among other things, he
fervently believed that everyone should be serious about the
question as to what sort of life a person should live. Plato
recorded the teachings of Socrates in his DIALOGUES. At the very
end of GORGIAS, one of these dialogues, Socrates said, "You may
let anyone despise you as a fool and do you outrage, if he
wishes, yes, and you may cheerfully let him strike you with that
humiliating blow, for you will suffer no harm thereby if you
really are a good man and an honorable, and pursue virtue. . . .
This is the best way of life--to live and die in the pursuit of
righteousness and all other virtues. Let us follow this, I say,
inviting others to join us." Socrates lived these truths and he
did so even unto death, thereby causing the truths which he
taught to make an indelible impression upon his society, and upon
all future societies that would be influenced by Hellenistic
culture.

The story of the life and death of Socrates, as described by
Plato, Xenophon, and others, was therefore of vital importance in
shaping the values of Western civilization. Justin Martyr, the
ancient Christian Father who had been a student of philosophy
before he became a Christian, continued to wear the pallium, the
philosopher's cloak, for the rest of his life, because he saw in
Christianity the fulfillment of the very things that Socrates had
stood for. By the time of the Renaissance, people were still
talking about the life, trial, and death of Socrates as though
these were among the most important events of history. Northern
Renaissance Humanism placed a high premium upon these values, and
for that reason, sought to collect, study, preserve, and publish
the manuscripts of ancient Greek philosophy, of the New
Testament, and of the early church fathers. The primary concern
of these scholars was to return to the high values of ancient
classical civilization, and to the teachings of the Bible. The
work of these humanists laid the groundwork for the Protestant
Reformation in such an obvious way that it was soon said of one
of them, Erasmus of Rotterdam, that he had laid the egg that
Luther hatched.

Vos Against Two-Kingdoms Mentality

*Perhaps you already know that the surname of one of America’s premier twentieth-century Reformed-Presbyterian theologians is the Dutch word for “fox.”

“Vos” was his name. Geerhardus Vos.

A friend supplied me this “foxy” quote as an encouragement in clarifying the issues surrounding NL2K (a modern construal of Natural Law + 2 Kingdoms):

[87] From this, however, it does not necessarily follow, that the visible church is the only outward expression of the invisible kingdom. Undoubtedly the kingship of God, as his recognized and applied supremacy, is intended to pervade and control the whole of human life in all its forms of existence. This the parable of the leaven plainly teaches. These various forms of human life have each their own sphere in which they work and embody themselves. There is a sphere of science, a sphere of art, a sphere of the family and of the state, a sphere of commerce and industry. Whenever one of these spheres comes [88] under the controlling influence of the principle of the divine supremacy and glory, and this outwardly reveals itself, there we can truly say that the Kingdom of God has become manifest.

But “the Fox” has just begun. Read on:

[88] And what is true of the relation between church and state, may also be applied to the relation between the visible church and the various other branches into which the organic life of humanity divides itself. It is entirely in accordance with the spirit of Jesus’ teaching to subsume these under the kingdom of God and to co-ordinate them with the visible church as true manifestations of this kingdom, in so far as the divine sovereignty and glory have become in them the controlling principle. But it must always be remembered, that the latter can only happen, when all these, no less than the visible church, stand in living contact with the forces of regeneration supernaturally introduced into the [89] world by the Spirit of God. While it is proper to separate between the visible church and such things as the Christian state, Christian art, Christian science, etc., these things, if they truly belong to the kingdom of God, grow up out of the regenerated life of the invisible church.

For your files, the complete bibliographical reference is: Geerhardus Vos, The Teaching of Jesus Concerning the Kingdom of God and the Church (Nutley, NJ: Presbyterian and Reformed Publishing Co., 1972 [repr.]), 87-89.

*Thanks to Nelson Kloosterman for this information from Geerhardus Vos. 

Resolving Life's Paradoxes

Central to Reformed theology is its proper commitment to the authority of Scripture. The role of Scripture is not tangential, but is a prima presupposition upon which Reformed theology is predicated. The predominant concern given to the importance of Scripture is set forth in the first chapter of the Westminster Confession of Faith, titled, “Of Holy Scripture.”

Although the light of nature, and the works of creation and providence do so far manifest the goodness, wisdom, and power of God, as to leave men unexcusable; yet are they not sufficient to give that knowledge of God, and of His will, which is necessary unto salvation. Therefore it pleased the Lord, at sundry times, and in divers manners, to reveal Himself, and to declare that His will unto His Church; and afterwards for the better preserving and propagating of the truth, and for the more sure establishment and comfort of the Church against the corruption of the flesh, and the malice of Satan and of the world, to commit the same wholly unto writing; which makes the Holy Scripture to be most necessary; those former ways of God's revealing His will unto His people being now ceased.

Despite the fact that God has revealed His will and ways to us in the Old and New Testaments, there exist a whole series of issues in theology, which are almost universally accepted as “tensions.” These tensions include such areas as particularization and abstraction (in older theology this tension is called the “one and the many”), the age-old question of the relationship of God’s sovereignty and human responsibility, the catholicity and individuality of the Church, the dual natures of Christ, and the three persons of the Trinity. 

In the history of theology these tensions have sometimes been made to stand out even more as theologians have superimposed on the Bible intellectual frameworks, which themselves are dualistic in nature. Here I am thinking of the inherent dualism of reason and revelation in the nature/grace schema of Thomas Aquinas, the mechanical philosophy/theology of Descartes, and the view of Wittgenstein that religious language need not be True truth.  In addition, there is the alleged dichotomy of reason and metaphysics as seen in modern theology and philosophy, and the mental split in post-modern thought between individualism and multiculturalism (the emergence of this problem is more recent but actually predates Lyotard by centuries as it has appeared in different forms).

These tensions, regardless of how they are framed by the jargon of Western theology and philosophy, have, in many cases, provided a helpful set of qualifiers and quantifiers for the direction of cultural beliefs and values. Yet, upon closer analysis, these same helps are largely responsible for creating more unanswered questions. In modern times, the Dutch Reformed theologian, Cornelius Van Til, for example, attempted to settle the issue of dualisms in Scripture and in theology generally arguing that they represent a series of unexplainable “paradoxes.” Despite my high regard for Van Til as a theologian, his explanation reminds me of the proverbial dog chasing its tail. It provides a direction without really taking us anywhere.

Contra Van Til, other theologians insist that the Bible does not contain paradoxes, but only the “appearance” of paradoxes, which can be resolved by spending more time in the study of Scripture. In other words, this group argues that the persistent claim to paradoxes in the Bible is simply the lazy man’s way to justify his poor hermeneutic. 

Problematically, both groups of theologians have ventured down the wrong tracks in their attempts to address the problem of supposed theological tensions. The fact is that there is no such a thing as a theological tension arising out of the Bible.[1] The thought that such exist is the result of a long-held deficiency in Reformed epistemology. Once this deficiency is addressed the tensions are resolved.

Hebrews 11:1 records, “Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.” Here the writer presents us a biblically-based, intellectual framework for one’s thoughts. Already a clue has surfaced regarding how best to solve theological riddles. The fact is that theologians who refer to theological tensions do so out of a misguided commitment to the high role of natural reason in the work of theology. In other words, they begin with the wrong intellectual framework. What theologians have a tendency to see as theological tensions are not tensions at all, but the implications of looking at Scripture from a far too temporal and rational viewpoint.  Theological tensions are understood quite easily when we enlist a different intellectual framework: faith, grounded in the very Word of God. This is not to suggest that faith is a-rational or anti-reason. Faith enables us to see all of life itself from God’s supra-temporal perspective, a place where intellectual tensions do not exist.

These facts have far-reaching significance for Reformed theology. They suggest that the faith is not of secondary concern in theology, but is of principle importance. In fact, faith is intimately connected with what it means to have “the mind of Christ.” To have the mind of Christ results in many good things, but for our argument the mind of Christ enables us to see life as God sees it: as a unity rather than as a set of paradoxical pieces of a puzzle that reason cannot solve. This is not to disregard the diversity of the universe; but it places such diversity in the context of a created world of meaning without the problem of internal disassociation.

This last point should be of special interest to Reformed theologians who are skittish about faith in abstractio, which is not our point. Faith is always dependent on its object and as such maintains the key to resolving the so-called paradoxes or dualisms that typically confront us in the ongoing work of theology.

---

[1] Note that I am not referring to alleged textual discrepancies in the Bible such as the several accounts of the resurrection of Jesus Christ as recorded in the synoptic gospels, and which theologians have tried to harmonize. The issue at hand is theological and includes areas already mentioned: the sovereignty of God vs. human responsibility, the dual natures of Christ, the catholicity of the Church vs. the particular church, and more.

What Can Christians Eat?

In 1 Cor. 8 Paul discusses meat sacrificed to idols. Here we find that some immature believers were concerned that to eat such meat engaged them in idolatry. Paul’s main point is that there is no such thing as an idol; they are only wood and stone. Thus our consciences are at liberty to eat the meat. However, should there be present a “weaker brother” who has not yet grown beyond the point of superstition (v. 9-13), one should defer to him or her and not eat. 

 

A theological term that arises in connection with Paul’s discussion in 1 Cor. 8 is adiaphora. It comes from the Greek, ἀδιάφορα— “indifferent things.” Adiaphora in Christianity refer to matters not regarded as essential to the faith, but nevertheless as permissible for Christians or allowed in church. What is specifically considered adiaphora tends to depend on the specific theology of a Church in view.

In our day much is said about foods, especially in America, where a growing movement is a foot and that teaches abstinence from meat. People say that since God created Adam to eat food from the ground, and we are restored in Christ through salvation, and thus to our pre-fall condition, that the consistent Christian will eat only foods that come from the ground, as did Adam.

The argument is flawed on more levels than I will take the time to innumerate. However, the Bible, rather than restrict our diets, permits foods of all sorts (Acts 10-11; Col. 2:16; Gal. 4:9-10), bearing in mind that our bodies are the temple of the Holy Spirit—a fact that ought to caution us against over indulgence regarding food. The world imposes many rules on us. But Christianity liberates our conscience. Nonetheless, our freedom ought not to be used as an opportunity for the flesh. If the choice is between acting according to our freedom of conscience and offending a brother or sister, we must decline the use of our freedom and think more highly of others (“Love your neighbor as yourself”).

Romans 1 and Covenant Breakers

In a comment on Facebook (1/14/11), I made this observation: “Most of us have misunderstood Romans 1:18-21. The unbeliever not only knows THAT God exists but WHO God is; his covenant head. Suppression of the truth therefore takes on a far deeper meaning."

The passage in view teaches that fallen men know THAT God is. But their knowledge is also knowledge of his “invisible attributes” and “divine nature” (v. 20). And it should be added that they also have a personal knowledge of God—i.e., they know HIM, not just information about him (v. 21). And of course this includes knowledge of God’s ethical standards (see the rest of chapter, esp. v. 32).

Like Van Til, I think it is silly to say that someone knows THAT God is but is completely ignorant about WHO he is. How can you know the existence of something without knowing anything at all about its nature? On that premise, you can’t even specify what it is that you know the existence of. If I say I believe in the existence of mountains in Alaska, my belief certainly includes a claim to know what a mountain is.

In the language of Romans 1, the non-Christian denies the existence of mountains in Alaska. Yet his denial of mountains in Alaska still assumes that he knows what a mountain is (via negative). Likewise, the unbeliever’s denial of God assumes who he is denying.

So if someone says he believes in God, he must have some idea of what he means by God, what sort of God he believes in. For someone to say he disbelieves in God, he must have some idea of what he means by God, what sort of God he disbelieves in.

So the question amounts to “how much do fallen people know?” Or “what specifically do they know about God?”

“Eternal power,” “invisible attributes,” and “divine nature” (v. 20) are each very comprehensive phrases and Paul explicitly says the unbelievers’ knowledge includes these things, that is, God’s omnipotence and eternity. God’s love/justice is also implicit in what Paul says about the moral standards of God. And certainly the whole chapter pictures God as knowledgeable about what is happening in the world, giving up people to unbridled lusts, and so on.

But referencing the Facebook statement above, can we go as far as to say that fallen men know “deep down inside” that they are in covenant with God and therefore covenant-breakers? Paul never uses the term “covenant” in Rom. 1, although Isaiah 24:5 may allude to that. In any case, it’s important here to formulate some understanding of what “covenant” means. Covenant is a Lord/servant relationship, and clearly the sinners of Rom. 1 understand that. Further, covenants in Scripture all have the same essential elements: God’s name, historical prologue (grace), stipulations, sanctions, and administration.

In Rom. 1, fallen men know who God is (the name). They have the responsibility (stipulations) to obey and worship God—always a covenantal responsibility in Scripture. Those responsibilities are accompanied by blessings for obedience, curses for disobedience (covenant sanctions). Clearly what happens in Rom. 1 is that God administers curses for disobedience.

Now there is no “historical prologue” in Rom. 1, but interestingly Paul brings in something like this in Acts 14:17 and 17:24-30: the historical prologue (previous grace) is the fact that God has given to people the benefit of living in his world within fixed “bounds of habitation” and “fruitful seasons.” They ought to be grateful for such unmerited favor and should worship the true God alone.

Is Our Knowledge of God Analogical of Univocal?

As a matter of first principles in apologetics, we can ask, “What does the unbeliever know about God?” However, the biblical apologetic is shaped not only by what Scripture says the unbeliever knows, but also by what it reveals he can know; is capable of knowing, as a believer. So we might also ask, “Is it our hope that the unbeliever can know God as God knows himself or that he can know God reflectively, in a creaturely way?” This is the univocal/analogical problem in Christian epistemology. 

The question arises in the context of the structure of human thought. It bears its own unique dilemma. If we stress too excessively that knowledge of God is univocal we run the risk of lowering the incomprehensible God to the level of the finite and make God as one of us. But if we stress too emphatically knowledge of God per analogiam we may very well deprive God of all likeness to the humanity he has created with the result that all we are left with is a barren, abstraction.

To a considerable extent the argument took fertile shape in the debate of the 1940s between Cornelius Van Til and Gordon H. Clark. At issue was God’s incomprehensibility with both men claiming biblical precedent minus the faux pas of excess. It is a matter of regret that we can only provide an abbreviated review of the controversy. Van Til was jealous to protect the Creator/creature distinction both in reality, or what Frame calls “two-levels of reality,” and in knowledge.[1] “All [man’s] knowledge is analogical of God. God is the original knower and man is the derivative re-knower.”[2] John M. Frame stands with Van Til. Thus “To be a creature is to be limited in thought and knowledge.”[3] And “God’s thoughts are the originals of which ours, at best, are only copies, images.”[4] Earlier, Herman Bavinck said, “There is no knowledge of God as he is in himself. We are human and he is the Lord our God . . . he infinitely transcends our picture of him, our ideas of him, our language concerning him. He is not comparable to any creature.”[5] This led Bavinck to verify a staple of Continental Reformed thought: the archetype/ectype distinction. “Of course, all our knowledge of God is ectypal or derived from Scripture. Only God’s self-knowledge is adequate, underived or archetypal.”[6]

 Clark, on the other hand, feared that if man’s knowledge was derivative of God’s then this would lead to skepticism. “It seemed to him that if there was some discrepancy between man’s ‘This is a rose’ and God’s (concerning the same rose). Then the human assertion must somehow fall short of the truth, since the very nature of truth is identity with God’s mind.”[7] Van Til, however, insisted that analogical sapentia though incomprehensive and derivative is nonetheless true knowledge.[8] “We may safely conclude then that if God is what we say he is, namely a being who exists necessarily as a self-complete system of coherence, and we exist at all as self-conscious beings, we must have true knowledge of him . . . All this we express theologically when we say that man is created in God’s image. This makes man like God and assures true knowledge of God. We are known of him and therefore we know him and know that we know him. God is light and therefore we have light.”[9]

In addition to our knowledge being analogical, Van Til held that it is also partial—or as he used to say, “non-exhaustive.” Phrased in a question, “What is the correspondence between God’s self-knowledge and the created reflection known by man?” Strictly speaking, does ectypal theology contain everything that is contained in its archetypal counterpart or do we know only what God wants us to know?” According to Clark, God knows more than we do, but the quality of our knowledge can be the same as his. Van Til argued that both the quality and the quantity of God’s archetypal knowledge differ from our ectypal knowledge.

Finally, both men agree that all knowledge is given by natural and special revelation. But for Clark, that revelation is propositional in the sense that it always conveys univocal truth. Per Van Til, God’s revelation to man is accommodated truth. Accommodated revelation is coherent to man, but true coherence does not afford identity of content between the revelation God gives and what man receives. “Van Til, therefore, insisted that even when God and man were thinking of the same thing (a particular rose, for example), their thoughts about it were never identical—God’s were the thoughts of the Creator, man’s of the creature.”[10] Here we see a precursor to Frame’s covenantal lordship principle. Because man cannot know the essence of God one-to-one, but always and forever as a servant (analogically), even now in the face of Scripture “Man knows in subordination to God; he knows as the covenant-keeper.”[11] Scripture, then, is better thought of a “system of truth.”[12] This is really what Van Til meant by “analogical”—our knowledge must accept God’s revelation as the ultimate standard of truth.[13]

Clark’s seminal idea is that “The intelligibility of the Scriptures presupposes logic.”[14] Clark interprets and paraphrases John 1:1 to mean, “In the beginning was Logic, and Logic was with God, and Logic was God . . . In logic was life and the life was the light of men.”[15] Clark, then, makes the stunning admission that “Logic is God.”[16] Clark does not mean that human logic is God, but that God thinking is logic and that the connection of his logic to ours is univocal. By virtue of this, knowledge of God in se is possible. The source of univocal knowledge is the Bible. Contra empiricism, Clark maintained a very wary view of what we can know through sense experience, arguing instead that knowledge of God was what we learn from Scripture. So then there is a direct correlation between God’s thought and Scripture. “What is said in Scripture is God’s thought”[17] and since our logic is univocal of God’s there exists a direct continuum from God’s thought, to Scripture, to us.[18] Van Til and Frame deny such an epistemological continuum between man and God.

Anticipating a critique of his views based on Isaiah 55:8-9, which stipulates that God’s thoughts are not our thoughts, Clark replies, “If for example, we think that David was King of Israel, and God’s thoughts are not ours, then it follows that God does not think David was King of Israel. David in God’s mind was perchance prime minister of Babylon.”[19]

In an essay, Nathan Pitchford succeeds in countering Robert Reymond’s exact exploitation of Clark’s example. “On the contrary, given the basic legitimacy of the system, it is entirely possible to prove that God’s knowledge is in actuality analogical to what we understand by Nebuchadnezzar’s being King of Babylon; because God himself framed the symbolical/analogical essence of human language as well as the corresponding and uniform human apprehension of that absolute knowledge, he is entirely capable of making the analogical an accurate reflection of the absolute.”[20]

Pitchford charges Clark and Reymond with twisting the Nebuchadnezzar motif. Their point is at base unfair because Van Til nowhere suggests that actual reality and analogical reality are substantially different, as their critique portrays. “On the contrary, Van Til means that every human perception of actual reality (uniform and consistent to the whole race), although not absolute, nevertheless reflects that pure truth in a unique way that corresponds precisely to that real truth, much as the image in a mirror corresponds precisely to the actual thing it reflects, even though it is not that thing . . . Thus, analogical knowledge does not cast one into the morass of ambiguity as Reymond suggests.”[21]

We agree with Pitchford's assessment wholeheartedly and, generally speaking, side with the analogical interpretation of human knowledge as expressed by Van Til.

---

[1] “Christians believe in two levels of existence as derived from the level of God’s existence as self-contained and the level of man’s existence as derived from the level of God’s existence. For this reason, Christians must also believe in two levels of knowledge, the level of God’s knowledge which is absolutely comprehensive and self-contained, and the level of man’s knowledge which is not comprehensive but is derivative and re-interpretive” [Van Til, An Introduction to Systematic Theology, vol. 5 In Defense of the Faith, 12].  

[2] Cornelius Van Til, An Introduction to Systematic Theology, vol. 5 In Defense of the Faith, 167.  

[3] Frame, The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God, 21.

[4] Frame, The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God, 23.

[5] Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, Vol 2. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009), 47.

[6] Ibid. 95. Peter J. Wallace, in a review of Timothy Phillips’ work on Francis Turretin’s (1623-1687) theological method, notes that “Crucial to Turretin’s discussion of theology is his distinction between archetypal theology and ectypal theology; and the further distinction between the ectypal theology of vision, which is the theology of the saints in heaven, and the ectypal theology of the traveler—‘the theology of revelation’—with which we must remain content” [Peter J. Wallace, “The Doctrine of the Covenant in the Elenctic Theology of Francis Turretin,” http://www.peterwallace.org/turretin.txt.The Turretin reference is in the first volume of his Institutes of Elenctic Theology (Phillipsburg, NJ: P&R Publishing, 1992), 4-5.] The distinction was also significant to Amandus Polanus (1561-1610). “Archetypal theology is the exemplar: ectypal theology is the exemplum, which ought to agree with, correspond with, and resemble the exemplar. Thus ectypal theology is, in rational creatures, a part of the image and likeness of God according to which they were created” [Quoted by Richard A. Muller, Post-Reformation Reformed Dogmatics, Vol. 1 (Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1993), 135]. In Divine Discourse by Sebastian Rehnman, the author notes the use of the archetypal/ectypal theology distinction in the puritan divine, John Owen (1616-1683), in which God’s knowledge of Himself (in se) is understood to be related to, but different than, our knowledge of God (pro nobis). In his Reformed Dogmatics, Heppe says of the older dogmaticians that “Regularly they discuss the distinction between theologia archetypa (i.e. ‘the knowledge which God has of Himself and in Himself’) and theologia ectypa (i.e. ‘man’s knowledge of God’). The latter they divide into theologia beatorum and theologia viatorum, the second being theology proper” [Heinrich Heppe, Reformed Dogmatics, (1861, repr., Grand Rapids, MI: Baker Book House, 1978), 5].

[7] Frame, The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God, 22.

[8] Bavinck puts it like this, “Ectypal knowledge must not be seen as merely symbolic, a product of poetic imagination . . . While our knowledge of him is accommodated and limited, it is no less real, true, and trustworthy” [Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics, Vol 2. (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2009), 95]. On the fact that accommodated knowledge is nonetheless true knowledge, R. Scott Clark, says, “Ectypal theology, as the adjective suggests, is a reflection of the archetypal theology.  It is true, but it is accommodated to human creatures” [R. Scott Clark, foreword to The Free Offer of the Gospel, John Murray].

[9] Cornelius Van Til, Defense of the Faith (Phillipsburg: P&R Publishing, 1967), 57.

[10]Frame, The Doctrine of the Knowledge of God, 21-22. In an extreme polemic against univocal reasoning, Van Til therefore states, “The distinguishing characteristic between every non-Christian theory of knowledge on the one hand, and the Christian concept of knowledge on the other  hand, is, therefore, that in all non-Christian theories men reason univocally, while in Christianity men reason analogically” [Van Til, An Introduction to Systematic Theology, vol. 5 In Defense of the Faith, 11]. Similarly, Augustine gave expression, “We are speaking of God. It is any wonder if you do not comprehend? For if you comprehend, it is not God you comprehend. Let it be a pious confession of ignorance rather than a rash profession of knowledge. To attain some slight knowledge of God is a great blessing; to comprehend him, however, is totally impossible” [Augustine, Lectures on the Gospel of John, tract. 38, NPNF (1), VII, 217-21].

[11] Van Til, An Introduction to Systematic Theology, vol. 5 In Defense of the Faith, 167.

[12] Van Til, An Introduction to Systematic Theology, vol. 5 In Defense of the Faith, 173.

[13] Indeed, Van Til often says that unless knowledge from Scripture is analogical, there is no possibility of knowing the truth; for all truth is a revelation of the incomprehensible God. The man who thinks he comprehends truth as God does, has made himself out to be God, which in turn precludes the possibility of his knowing the truth.

[14] Gordon H. Clark, An Introduction to Christian Philosophy. 2^nd ed. (Jefferson, Maryland: The Trinity Foundation, 1993 ), 64.

[15] Ibid. 67.

[16] Ibid. A favorite retort of Clark’s focused on the consequences of the analogical position that verified coherence but not content. So he asked if God has a different arithmetic, in which 2+2=5? [Ibid. 76]. Van Til replied that to know 2+2=clearly, as Clark suggests, is to know it exhaustively, which violates the incomprehensibility of God. But we can know that 2+2=4 on the basis of an “identity of reference point” [Van Til, An Introduction to Systematic Theology, vol. 5 In Defense of the Faith, 167].  

[17] Gordon H. Clark, An Introduction to Christian Philosophy. 2^nd ed. 77.

[18] Followers of Clark are thus given to say that there are no paradoxes or discrepancies in Scripture. If such are thought to exist it is only due to a breakdown in the logical and exegetical study of Scripture. See W. Gary Crampton “Does the Bible Contain Paradox?” The Trinity Foundation (November/December 1990). http://www.trinityfoundation.org/journal.php?isbn=76.

[19] Clark, An Introduction to Christian Philosophy. 76.

[20] Nathan Pitchford, “Van Til: His Logic, Epistemology, and Apologetic,” http://www.reformationtheology.com/2006/06/van_til_his_logic_epistemology.php.

[21] Nathan Pitchford, in a personal email to the author, dated September, 28^th, 2010.

Rousseau and Social Contract

Long before Arendt, we have Jean-Jacques Rousseau attempting freedom without authority in society. Once Rousseau experienced the conversion of his soul from academies and culture to the freedom and warm sentiment of nature, in 1750, he wrote his Discourse (First Discourse), in which he tried to show that the arts and sciences were the result of human vice, not virtue, and the cause of the slippery slope in Europe toward moral decline. He developed this thought further in his second Discourse on the Origins of Inequality, where he set over and against the genuine misery of the social conditions of his day the ideal of the “nature state.”  Here the potential for people living together with the charm of nature as the central defining emblem of life compelled them to live as a free, sane, and good; in peace and solidarity, not in warlike aggression. 

 In his Social Contract, he envisions the state emerging from a hypothetical contract in which the citizens do not surrender their rights, but instead combine forces into one voluntary sovereign entity. In this romanticized fiction the people, rather than limit freedoms, allow freedom to flourish at its optimum level, they curb crime, and live for neighbor with unfeigned love.

The religious inclination of Rousseau was to see redemption, then, as a turning from culture to nature; from complex society to its original state of innocence and feeling. He posited the existence of God, but the problem is that according to him very little can be known of God. Rejecting the authority of Scripture, Rousseau argues that the Creator can only be known by observing nature and looking within one’s self. He also argues that humanity does not need the Bible, but will naturally worship the Creator, stating, “I do not need to be taught this worship; it is dictated to me by nature itself” (Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Emile: or, On Education, ed. Alan Bloom [Basic Book, 1979], 278). 

In Rousseau’s opinion, to seek any other source than nature for how to worship God would be to seek the opinion and authority of men, which he rejected as harmful. As such, Rousseau contends that that humans are autonomous creatures, and that humanity is free to do evil, but that doing evil detracts from satisfaction with oneself. Rousseau thanks God for making him in His image so that he can be free, but it is hard to determine from Rousseau if this God” if his is not nature. Frame remarks, “. . . Jean-Jacques Rousseau (1712-78), the father of Romanticism, thought that everything good in the world is the outworking of good feelings” [John M. Frame, The Doctrine of the Christian Life (P&R Publishing), 77].

Will Evangelicalism Die or Revive: An Excerpt from My Almost for His Highest

Evangelicalism is dying. The glory of God is ready to depart. As a movement, we're growing more and more content in the world. Rather than preferring to be absent from the body and present with the Lord, far too many of us prefer to be present with the body and with our future plans. We attend church. But mainly our interest is to learn how to improve our own lots in life. We're repeating the error of the impenitent thief on the cross to whom Jesus was only a matter of convenience. You can hear it in our prayers. Entreaties and petitions that once reflected verses of the Bible are now strangely at odds with Holy Writ. The way He taught us to pray, with hearts submitted to his Kingdom rule, are more and more becoming images of modern man and his quest for successful living. 

What has become of the spirit of brokenness and humility in our churches? We are forgetting to bow the knee. What has happened to the cry of the penitent thief who, in unassuming contrition, cried from the depths of his sin-sick soul, "Jesus, remember me when You come in Your kingdom!" We are forgetting we are thieves. Daily repentance and walking in true faith and holiness before God are being pushed aside to make room for the idols of personal relevance and the settled life.

What has become of our commitment to the crucified life? Have we forgotten His promise that we'll be persecuted for the sake of righteous­ness? To scores of Protestant believers the cross is a symbol, but that is all. What was once our joy to bear His cross turned to apprehension of it, and in our apprehension of it, we soon came to revile the very thought of losing face for His gospel. We are losing our saltiness.

Once there was a highway to heaven, full of born again souls set on pilgrimage to their heavenly Zion, a place not of this world. But now the highway is quickly being paved over with the veneer of casual Christianity. Other than the remaining trappings of ecclesiastical tradi­tion found in some of our churches, or the name of Jesus heard through the loud speakers of culturally-sensitive extravaganzas called worship services found in others, very little evidence remains in the evangelical movement of what might be coined "evangelical."

What is the cause of our sickness? Evangelical leaders, and their followers, are relinquishing their commitment to the fundamentals of the Bible in order to induce church growth, regardless of the cost to the purity of the Church. As a result, though many of our churches look prosperous on the outside, they are dying on the inside. What's so very sad is how few know it, and if they do know it, are unwillingly to admit it.

But there is hope for the future. Spiritual awakening is on the horizon. Though modern evangelicalism is dying, God is com­ing to revive His people. God is already at work raising a people with a Christ-centered and Christ-focused theology and manner of life. This move of God will bring reformation to many churches, ignite personal and proclamation evan­gelism, convert scores of people -- many of whom have been members of churches for years -- and kick off a fresh wave of missionary activity. The concerned Protestant is therefore incorrect to interpret the swelling tide of worldliness, which is now overtaking our churches, as the final word. No power on earth can resist almighty God when He flexes His awakening muscle.

This very moment God is preparing a generation of people like John the Baptist, reared in the wilderness, who truly grasp the anoint­ing of the Holy Spirit and are fathered, mentored, and taught by God Himself through servants who proclaim His Truth. Their theology will be both scriptural and supernatural. They will feed on the works of the Reformers of old while contending for the wonders of Acts, not for the sake of spectacle, but for the unveiling of a Living, Holy God who can only be beheld through the sin-demolishing blood of Jesus Christ, the Son and Savior. It all goes back to the cross, however. When that becomes central in the body of Christ again, the sleeping giant, the Church, will arise and will be one army, united behind one cause -- the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

How will God bring revival? Precisely the way He's done it in the past. He will cleanse the house of Israel of its cultural carnality and vindicate His name among the nations. In this special season, we will em­brace the "words in red" -- which we've conveniently quarantined under the "hard sayings of Jesus" -- the way an asthmatic embraces oxygen. The waste places shall be restored. The ancient fields replanted. He will put a "new Spirit" within us. No longer will we permit the culture to set the agenda for the Church. The Church will again set the agenda for the culture.

If you doubt my anticipation of a great coming revival, then consider the following historical facts. The 16^th-century European Reformation had a profound impact on virtually every area of European life. However, the spiritual danger facing Europe of the early 17^th century was one that the magisterial Reformers Luther and Calvin would not have predicted. The rising sun of the Reformation that had shown such promise of being the standard-bearer of the light of the gospel to the nations had, within just several decades of their deaths, been eclipsed by a false gospel -- the "light" of reason. In the hands of Descartes and Locke, this light was said to aid men in their search for the truth of Christianity. In the hands of Tillotson and Toland, however, this light became the grid through which all revelation was to be judged.

By the mid-18^th century, the gloves were off. When Voltaire and Rousseau referred to their activities as promoting the "Enlightenment," they meant that they were replacing what they per­ceived as the darkness, ignorance, and grip of Christianity that had ruled men's minds from the Middle Ages to the Thirty Years' War with the "light" of human reason, autonomy, and tolerance.

It took but a short time for the doctrines of the Enlightenment to reach the shores of America. By the late 18^th century, the "best and brightest" of our still young nation were being captivated by its se­ductive grip. It's believed that by the time Timothy Dwight became the eighth President of Yale in 1795, there were fewer than twenty Christians in the entire college. Yet did God wring His hands in desperation? No. In response to the prayers, fasting, and supplications of godly men and women in Scotland and America, He raised up mighty, Spirit-filled preachers of the gospel, men such as Daniel Baker and Asahel Nettleton, to usher in the Second Great Awakening.