Reading the Bible in Light of Scot McKnight’s Blue Parakeets

By Roy Ciampa, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

If you read Christian blogs you are probably already familiar with Scot McKnight’s popular and insightful blog, Jesus Creed. I don’t always read blogs, (Christian or otherwise), but when I do, I prefer Jesus Creed… That is, whenever I go there I find good, sane wisdom. Scot McKnight’s writing is always worth your time. I just came back from a week’s vacation. I brought three books along with me and although I spent some time with the other two books the one book I read straight through (years after everyone else already read it, probably including you) was Scot McKnight’s The Blue Parakeet: Rethinking How You Read the Bible (Grand Rapids, Mich.: Zondervan, 2008).

I think it is a wonderful and even very important and easy book on the interpretation of Scripture. It is an easy read and is not the kind of book that is likely to persuade anyone who is already committed to a different way of reading the Bible, but for those who are not already committed to a different way of reading the Bible, who are looking for some initial guidance and/or are willing to let Scot serve as their insightful guide, this will be a very helpful book. (Scot teaches undergraduate students at North Park University and this book is filled with material reflecting that context and clearly would be very useful for students in a context like that, as well as for many other kinds of readers.) The book discusses the tendency to read the Bible as a law book or a rule book or to treat it like a puzzle, and argues for the need to understand it as God’s story in which God spoke to (and through) different people in their days and their ways.

“Blue parakeets” (a reference explained through an observation of bird behaviors at a birdfeeder in the McKnight’s yard) are texts in the Bible or questions that people ask about them that cause us to stop and think again about our understanding of Scripture and how we use it today (see pages 24-25). Scot asks us to face up to the fact that readers pick and choose (or adopt and adapt) which texts we will obey and apply (and he provides plenty of evidence that that is indeed the case) and he seeks to uncover the unwritten and unconscious process of discernment that would explain how we go about that process of picking and choosing so that we can think more clearly about what we are doing and why. Along the way the book emphasizes a number of themes that have become dear to my own heart (and which I have addressed in some of my earlier posts here), including, among other things, Augustine’s promotion of a hermeneutic of love. He also emphasizes the importance of learning to read the Bible with the Great Tradition (but not through the Great Tradition).

I am slightly uncomfortable with some of the language used here and there (like “Is this passage for today or not?”; page 25), but Scot clarifies (I think) that it isn’t ultimately about some passages being for today or not but about whether they are to be applied/obeyed/practiced today and in our culture (or in other times and cultures) in the same way as would have been expected for the original audience or if they may serve as “blue parakeets” that can lead us to stop and think and point us to something beyond the original context and inform our understanding and behavior in different ways that are also informed by the rest of Scripture and our ever-developing understanding of creation and culture. (Scot would compare and contrast “our days and ways” with “those days and ways.”)

How Should We Respond?

By Maria Boccia, PhD
Professor of Pastoral Counseling and Psychology
Director of Graduate Programs in Counseling Charlotte campus

Last week, I was on our South Hamilton campus, teaching my Human Sexuality course. In the airport on the way up, I read the story in the NY Times about NY State passing its “gay marriage” law. The part that I found most distressing was the description of how the law came to be passed. Several key Republicans had to be won over. One wanted to change his mind because the woman he was living with had a gay nephew, and she was making life at home difficult for him. Several others changed their votes because the governor rallied rich donors who made them offers they could not refuse. The article admitted there was little political rationale for passing this law, as there was little support for it in the majority of the state. But the Gay Lobby wanted it and the governor wanted it, so it happened. And so NY State went the way of 6 other states in our country to endorse “gay marriage.”

I found myself thinking about this story during my week of teaching. Here are some of my thoughts:

Homophobia - throwing this word out is an ad hominin argument. When you cannot make a rationale defense, you attack the person, which ends the discussion. This has been used very effectively to silence the opposition to “gay marriage.”

So far in this arena, our society, and Christians, have let the gay lobby set the agenda. They have, for example, framed this as a “civil rights” issue. This requires homosexuality to be like race and gender: biologically determined and fixed & unchanging. They will shout down any information to the contrary (and there is plenty), because that would undermine their argument for seeing them through the lense of civil rights. However, this is permitting them to set the agenda. In apologetics, one should never let the opposition set the agenda; they will on this basis invariably win the argument. In this kind of debate, whoever sets the agenda has a significant advantage over the other and usually wins, in this case, at great cost to the witness of the gospel.

Grace and Truth. As I was teaching on the subject of homosexuality, I talked about Grace and Truth. The church has erred in two ways on the question of how to relate to individuals who identify as homosexual or gay. One has been to completely capitulate to their demands, emphasizing grace to the exclusion of truth, and ending with licentiousness. The other is to violently oppose them, erring on the side of truth to the exclusion of grace, and ending with legalism. If we are to be faithful to the truth of the Bible and the God who authored it, we must always balance grace and truth. We must walk that fine middle line, loving the sinner while hating the sin. My students asked how we should respond to homosexuals. I suggested we should love them, genuinely and honestly, while holding fast to God’s truth on how we should live. We can trust God for the rest.

The Bible in the World: Abolitionist, Contemporary and Future Perceptions

By Roy Ciampa, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

I just returned from the 2011 iteration of the Nida School of Translation Studies and the second residency of our new D.Min. track in Bible Translation, which took place in Misano Adriatico, Italy.

Faculty and Associates of the Nida School come from diverse places and perspectives with some coming from the field of Bible translation and others from the wider academic field of Translation Studies, with special affinity to Post-Colonial criticism and other ideological criticisms. For many people on one side (you can guess which one) the positive impact of the Bible in people’s lives and in society is perfectly obvious and the thought that Bible translation could contribute to injustice or oppression in the world is hard to believe. For many people on the other side (again, you can guess which one), it is obvious that the Bible and its translation have been part of oppressive imperialistic and colonizing powers and movements and that the Bible has shown itself to be a dangerous book with a problematical reception-history.

I think this is another of those instances where each side tends to be correct in what it affirms but reductionist in what it denies. That is, the Bible has led millions of people to peace, forgiveness, grace and hope, and have led to the establishment of hospitals, schools, orphanages, and innumerable charitable ministries around the world. And it has also been used through the centuries to support unjust and oppressive institutions, relationships and behaviors.

On the flight home from Italy I began reading Allen Dwight Callahan’s The Talking Book: African Americans and the Bible (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2006). Although I’ve only read the first four chapters so far I can say I highly recommend it (for what I have read so far). But it has also provided a remarkable parallel to what I had just observed at the Nida School.

Callahan discusses the opposing positions of Frederick Douglass (whom I have mentioned in an earlier ETC post) and Henry Highland Garnet in a debate that took place in New York in 1849:

“Douglass and Garnet were both African Americans. Both had escaped slavery from Maryland’s Eastern Shore. But their respective experiences of slavery, literacy, and religion—and so their respective experiences of the Bible—were profoundly different, and those differences crystallized in diametrically opposed views of the Bible's liberating power…. Garnet saw the liberating power of the Bible as self-evident. It was so for him: he assumed it would be so for slaves in the South who might manage to read or have read to them a contraband copy of the holy scriptures that he knew so well” (page 22).

Callahan reminds us that “the abolitionists of the North and the planter class of the South read from the same Bible. Long before Lincoln, Douglass had learned that the Bible was the highest authority of American slavery and the strongest link in the chain of oppression and violence that warranted slavery as the sacred basis for the Christian culture of what would become the Confederacy” (23).

“Bitter experience had taught Douglass and other slaves and former slaves that the master class of the United States bore a whip in one hand and a Bible in the other. It was this Bible that Garnet and his colleagues were now proposing to send to the South” (23).

“Douglass anticipated that the Bibles sent to the South would become raw material for proslavery propaganda” since he “knew intimately what Garnet's limited experience with slavery could not teach: that the justice of the Bible was not self-evident. Douglass had begun to learn the Bible as a slave, and he knew that some people reading the Bible under the slave regime remained tone-deaf to its message of justice” (24).

The two former slaves held dramatically different perceptions of the Bible’s role in either combating or supporting injustice and oppression in ways that directly parallel perceptions found today (over 160 years later) among those who also see the Bible as naturally supporting one side or the other of this justice/injustice divide. So abolitionist and contemporary perceptions of the Bible are similarly divided. What will it take if future perceptions of the Bible are not to be similarly divided on this crucial point?

We who love the Bible cannot afford to be naïve about the fact that while it does and should do great good in people’s lives and in the world (including supporting battles against slavery, prejudice and other social evils) it has also been used to promote and/or justify oppressive relationships, institutions or cultural realities, including crusades, inquisition, slavery, apartheid, genocide, the abuse of women, children and minorities. It has been used to empower the powerful at the expense of the powerless.

How can we work to make sure that it serves as a weapon of justice rather than an accessory to injustice? Callahan points out that “none of Jesus’s words have been more influential—and more troublesome for the ideology of American slavery—than the Golden Rule: ‘Do unto others what you would have them do unto you’ (Matt. 7:12). Simple observance of this simple principle would have rendered American slavery impossible” (35). Of course, the Golden Rule turns out to be a paraphrase of the command to love our neighbor as ourselves (found in Leviticus 19:18 and repeatedly cited by Jesus and his apostles [Matt. 5:43; 19:19; 22:39; Mark 12:31; Rom. 13:9; Gal. 5:14; Jas. 2:8]). So we are brought back again to Jesus’ own hermeneutic of love.

In his teaching On Christian Doctrine (1.36-37), Saint Augustine of Hippo stressed the importance of a hermeneutic of love. He argued that “[t]he fulfillment and end of scripture is the love of God and our neighbor.” Furthermore, “[t]hat interpretation of Scripture which builds us up in love is not perniciously deceptive nor mendacious, even though it be faulty…. Whoever, then, thinks that he understands the Holy Scriptures, or any part of them, but puts such an interpretation upon them as does not tend to build up this twofold love of God and our neighbor, does not yet understand them as he ought. If, on the other hand, a man draws a meaning from them that may be used for the building up of love, even though he does not happen upon the precise meaning which the author whom he reads intended to express in that place, his error is not pernicious, and he is wholly clear from the charge of deception.”

What if future generations could not look back (as I have just done with Callahan’s help) and continue to see that the same contradictory patterns continued through the 21^st century? What if the hermeneutic of Jesus, Augustine, abolitionists and others, a hermeneutic of love for God and neighbor might become so widely accepted that those that continue to interpret the Bible abusively would find themselves without any significant following due to a widespread awareness of such tragic abuse?

It is my prayer that God might bring that about and glorify himself through the church in that way… “Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen.” (Ephesians 3:20-21; ESV)

Bibleconomics?

By Sean McDonough, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

Granted, Freakonomics it’s not. But the title is meant to raise the question – does the Bible have anything to do with Economics? My answer, as you probably expected, is yes…but how that should play out in pastoral ministry may be somewhat unexpected.

There are three basic approaches one finds with respect to economics in the American pulpit. In perhaps the majority of churches, economics is more or less ignored, apart from the occasional mention of the need to “help the poor” when the day’s Scripture reading makes that conclusion unavoidable. The second approach, more familiar in mainline churches, is to stress concern for the poor much more frequently, with “concern for the poor” generally defined as supporting left-ish economic policy. In reaction against this, one encounters churches which mount a robust defense of capitalism, often as part of a right-leaning political package.

The latter two approaches tend to rest on (at least) three assumptions: 1. The Bible engages with economic issues; 2. The Bible clearly encourages one approach to modern economic practice; 3. The Pastor’s job is to know the correct answer to point 2.

The first assumption, as I have already indicated, is a pretty good one. The Bible regularly addresses economic concerns, from the command to Adam and Eve to fill the earth and subdue it, right through to the kings bringing their glory into the New Jerusalem in Revelation (on the supposition that their “glory” includes the products of culture). It surfaces in obvious ways in the commands in Deuteronomy to permit gleaning, and in more subtle ways in places like Revelation 18, where “Babylon” is condemned for its luxurious self-indulgence and its exploitation of subject lands.

But the latter two assumptions are highly questionable. Let us start with point 2. The economic world of the Bible does of course have some connections with modern economies, but there are significant differences as well. A caricature may help make the point. We can imagine a toga-clad forebear of Scrooge McDuck swimming in a sea of gold coins as a paradigm for the ancient view of wealth. I have it, you don’t, and it’s all stashed away in my vault far from your prying hands. This is significantly different from a modern person with a stock portfolio, whose wealth is in fact active paying salaries, funding factory building, and doing all sorts of other things. This hardly frees the modern rich person from the need to be generous and self-sacrificial. But it does raise interesting questions as to how loving your neighbor works itself out in a complex global economy.

Assumption 3 is even more questionable. Unless you happen to have an especially handy pastor, you wouldn’t typically call upon them to fix your burst pipes. You would call a plumber. Why do we imagine it is any different with economics? The minister’s job is to orient people to the landscape of God’s word, not to imagine she can traverse every square foot herself. Rather than promulgate half-baked economic theories, pastors need to equip economists and business people and NGO activists to be the sorts of Christians who can use their unique abilities to further God’s kingdom.

A Glimpse into Jesus’ Hermeneutic

By Roy Ciampa, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

One of my growing passions over the past few years has been to address the scandal of the use of the Scriptures for the support or promotion of oppression, injustice and the abuse of power in the world. I have commented on this in several previous posts (see, e.g., this post on Fredrick Douglas and this post on confronting the Bible’s “double life”).

I was reminded of this theme again (as it seems I almost always am when reading Scripture!) when I was reading Mark 3 just the other day. It offers a sharp comparison between Jesus’ own hermeneutic and that of some of the scribes and Pharisees of his day:

Mark 3:1-6 (NRSV): ¹Again he entered the synagogue, and a man was there who had a withered hand. ² They watched him to see whether he would cure him on the sabbath, so that they might accuse him. ³ And he said to the man who had the withered hand, "Come forward." ⁴ Then he said to them, "Is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to kill?" But they were silent. ⁵ He looked around at them with anger; he was grieved at their hardness of heart and said to the man, "Stretch out your hand." He stretched it out, and his hand was restored. ⁶ The Pharisees went out and immediately conspired with the Herodians against him, how to destroy him.

Those Pharisees wanted to use the Scriptures as grounds for marginalizing (or doing worse to) those who disagree with or differ from them. A cure on the Sabbath would be a good thing, since it would allow them to condemn Jesus. They were not concerned about the man with a withered hand. He may be useful to them. They are interpreting the Scriptures literally, woodenly and in a way that fits their ideological interests.

Why does Jesus ask about whether it is lawful to do good or harm to save life or kill on the Sabbath? Because he seems to be interpreting the Scriptures in light of the two great commandments – love of God and love of neighbor (which is a proper manifestation of true love for God).

Jesus’ anger relates to the hardness of heart and the fact that their interpretation of Scripture was not guided by the same love for people and fundamental commitment to their wellbeing that mark the God who revealed himself to his people through the Scriptures in the first place.

Upon seeing the remarkable way Jesus loves his neighbor and interprets the law of the Sabbath in a way that rejects the idea that it should be understood to prohibit doing good to others or saving others those (particular) Pharisees decide he must be destroyed.

For too long much of the Christian church (and perhaps my/our evangelical wing in particular) has been content to think that it was merely responsible for reading the scriptures and doing what they say, and the consequences or implications for others were beyond our responsibilities. So abused wives were told to stay home and simply do a better job of submitting to their husbands. And slavery was defended as being condoned by the Scriptures. And Jews in general (and of every generation) could be condemned based on what John the Baptist and Jesus had to say about some of the hostile Jews that they had encountered (despite my love of Martin Luther, it must be admitted that some of his statements about the Jews, in which some biblical statements are applied globally to all Jews as a people, are blood curdling and had a horribly regretful impact on some Christian attitudes towards Jews for many centuries).

We thought we were good at recognizing hard-heartedness in others, but were abysmally weak in recognizing our own hard-heartedness and that of our own leaders and peers. We are now at a stage of history when the rest of the world is fully aware of some of the areas in which the Christian church has failed to reflect true love of neighbor in its interpretation of Scripture, and of ways in which those who brought the message of the gospel, and translated the Scriptures, also communicated harmful cultural prejudices and ideological interests despite their good intensions.

Again, it is easiest to see how other people in other places and other times may have fallen short in this area. What I need, and perhaps we all need, is for God to help me/us see the extent to which I continue to be blind to the ways in which my own interpretations of Scripture are informed by my own interests or the interests of my own kind of people. What could tear at the hearts of Christian people who love the Bible more than knowing that the revelation intended to bring light and life to people’s lives is being or might be used in ways that do harm rather than good to others? May God give ever greater wisdom so that people’s use of and engagement with Scripture become ever more consistent with both the love of God and the truest love of our neighbors, for the sake of Christ, who was willing to give his own life so that others might find freedom, life and the righteousness and justice of His kingdom and reign. May we learn to interpret God’s word as Jesus did, with a concern to make sure it is only used to do people good, and never harm…

Falling in Love

By David Horn, ThD
Director, The Ockenga Institute

Let’s call her Martha Kavinski. She was my first secretary at the first church I served as pastor just out of seminary. When they invented New Englanders, they carved her in New Hampshire granite and pointed to her thereafter as the model for the rest of us. She was tough as nails, she was utterly undiplomatic, and most of all, she did not like me. She met me at the stairways leading up to my office at the church on my first day, and right then and there, I felt like a first grader on the first day of class looking up at raw authority.

It did not take me long to realize that Martha was not the only one not immediately enthralled with my presence. The congregation was peppered with individuals who had been at the church a long, long time, and they wanted to make it clear to me early on that life had gone on reasonably well before I arrived and probably would go on just as well after I departed.

My experience, I am sure, is not unusual to most of you in ministry. Although my first years were not a disaster, they were not easy. Who would have thought that moving the church library to a more public location so that it actually could be used by the children of the congregation would provoke three meetings and an act of the full board of the church?

In hindsight, perhaps the only thing that saved me was what many would consider a grave liability on my part. I entered into the world of this three hundred year old church without a clear set of ambitions for the congregation. Perhaps too naïve for a clear plan, I fell back on something far more basic: Gradually, unconsciously, seemingly against my will, I found that I began to fall in love with this congregation, Martha and all.

In working with students and young pastors these past years at the seminary, I have noticed a growing trend that hints at good news and bad news. Perhaps buoyed by a cottage industry of church resources, pastors are entering their ministries with a growing awareness of the envisioning process required for healthy congregational life. That’s the good news. The bad news is that often time these well-intended visions of what a congregation should become comes with airtight, tone-death agendas.

A look at these agenda-driven processes from the inside looking out bears reflection. As a person who is now facing his mid-fifties, I can more readily fit into the skin of the long-time parishioner who has committed years of labor and well-intended, if often misguided, leadership in a church. The parishioner’s kids may have been born and nurtured in the church; he or she may have helped to develop and taken ownership of a program that at one time clearly met the needs of the congregation; he or she may have spent countless Saturday mornings toiling over the church lawn.

What does that parishioner see and feel when a pastor enters into the life of a church with a satchel full of good ideas on how his or her church needs to change. Change the worship service. Eliminate the hymnal. Get rid of a timeworn program. Re-organize the committee structure of the church. No doubt many of these things might benefit the church greatly and might be essential for new growth, both spiritually and numerically. But, on the face of it, what do these things say to those who, apparently, are in need of change?

I am convinced that churches are less in need of pastors’ well-designed agendas than their love. Falling in love with a congregation is an amazing legacy to give to a church. The measure of that love, like marriage, involves loving churches exactly as they are, with all their imperfections, before seeking more of them.

Martha died at 75 and I count one of the high moments of my ministry at that church the eulogizing of her at her funeral. We became fast friends in Christ. In the end, she saw what I saw in the subsequent six years of our ministry together. That creaky old church grew ten fold. I am convinced it changed and grew in large measure because the congregation genuinely felt loved by its pastoral staff. It is amazing what love can do when love comes without strings attached.

Thoughts on Theological Polemic that Honors Christ

By Roy Ciampa, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

In Matthew 7:3 Jesus asked his disciples, “Why do you see the speck that is in your brother's eye, but do not notice the log that is in your own eye?” The answer, it seems, is very simple! Because I actually think the thing in my brother’s eye is a log, and I only have a tiny speck of dust in my own eye. I’ve been thinking lately about how we tend to get so comfortable with our own views that we begin to think that our perceptions of things are “natural” while those of other people are not. In theology we often go through an early stage or period where we see strengths, weaknesses and problems with both or various sides of some issue. We wrestle through those issues, deciding which strengths outweigh which weaknesses and which problems are easier to resolve than others and we decide where we stand on the issue. We may decide tentatively initially, or we may decide with the zeal of the convert who has made a definitive commitment and who now believes they have finally come to the truth of the matter.

After we live from within the position we have adopted for a while, we tend to become more and more comfortable with the arguments we found in favor of our position and against the alternative(s). This is often to the point that we eventually fail to remember that the position we hold had and has problems of its own (which is why godly and intelligent people do not all agree on the issue and why we had to work through the issues and challenges in the first place.)

So the Arminian forgets that there are some biblical passages that seem to more easily support a Calvinist position and the Calvinist forgets that there are some biblical passages that seem to more easily support an Arminian position. Similarly, the egalitarian forgets that some biblical texts do seem to point towards a more complementarian position and the complementarian seems to forget that there are some that seem to support a more egalitarian position. Of course the number of issues could be limitlessly expanded to include various solutions to the problem of evil, the proper mode and subjects of baptism, the meaning and practice of the Lord’s Supper, Christian views on war and the use of violence, eschatological views, understandings of sanctification, and many, many more.

The longer we live within the viewpoint we have adopted the harder it becomes to recognize that what we originally thought to be branches of more or less equal thickness have over time begun to seem more like specks on one side and logs on the other. That’s not quite true. In many cases we don’t think ours are even specks any more, but the biblical and theological problems in the other person’s position clearly look like logs – obvious, embarrassing, ugly logs. I’m getting to the age where I need to visit the eye doctor on a regular basis. My vision is changing over time. Our intellectual and theological vision also changes with time. It may not deteriorate in general, but we may begin to have difficulty seeing problems with our own positions that once were not quite as difficult to see. Theological debate is made more difficult when we fail to realize that the advantages and normative status we attribute to our own positions, the positions which provide us with such a clear view of the deficiencies in others’ ideas, are not readily apparent to those with whom we differ.

When or if we enter into debate about any of the issues that have divided brothers and sisters in Christ it is important to remember that arguments and evidence that we now consider clear and obvious are not so clear and obvious to others, who are perhaps even more attuned to other arguments and evidence that we might tend to neglect or downplay. It is also important to make sure we practice love of neighbor and its proper application in the context of theological debate.

Roger Nicole, professor emeritus of theology at Gordon-Conwell Theological Seminary, has written an excellent article reminding us of our obligations to those who differ from us. As he puts it, “what we owe that person who differs from us, whoever that may be, is what we owe every human being--we owe them love. And we owe it to them to deal with them as we ourselves would like to be dealt with or treated. (Matthew 7:12)”

Nicole helpfully reminds us that, “we owe it to our opponents to deal with them in such a way that they may sense that we have a real interest in them as persons, that we are not simply trying to win an argument or show how smart we are, but that we are deeply interested in them--and are eager to learn from them as well as to help them.”

Nicole provides a wonderful model for the way we ought to present the views of those with whom we disagree:

One method that I have found helpful in making sure that I have dealt fairly with a position that I could not espouse was to assume that a person endorsing that view was present in my audience (or was reading what I had written). Then my aim is to represent the view faithfully and fully without mingling the criticism with factual statements. In fact, I try to represent them so faithfully and fully that an adherent to that position might comment, “This man certainly does understand our view!” It would be a special boon if one could say, “I never heard it stated better!” Thus I have earned the right to criticize. But before I proceed to do this, it is only proper that I should have demonstrated that I have a correct understanding of the position I desire to contest.

D. A. Carson shares a helpful excerpt from Bryan Magee’s book, Confessions of a Philosopher: A Personal Journey through Western Philosophy from Plato to Popper (New York: Modern Library, 1999), 152-3, about what he learned about argumentation from Karl Popper. It takes the approach recommended by Nicole in the previous paragraph one step further:

I had always loved argument, and over the years I had become quite good at identifying weak points in an opponent’s defense and bringing concentrated fire to bear on them. This is what virtually all polemicists have sought to do since ancient times, even the most famous of them. But Popper did the opposite. He sought out his opponents’ case at its strongest and attacked that. Indeed, he would improve it, if he possibly could, before attacking it. . . . Over several pages of prior discussion he would remove avoidable contradictions or weaknesses, close loopholes, pass over minor deficiencies, let his opponents’ case have the benefit of every possible doubt, and reformulate the most appealing parts of it in the most rigorous, powerful and effective arguments he could find—and then direct his onslaught against it.

One could argue that Popper’s approach is most consistent with the Christian ethic of love for one’s neighbor (although the word “onslaught” may not be the best description for a Christian approach to debate!). All too often one walks away from a debate sensing that one person’s (or neither person’s) strong and valid points were ever acknowledged or that many of the points of criticism that were made were completely valid but that they addressed secondary or non-essential aspects of the opponent’s arguments rather than the key planks in the foundation or essential points of their argument.

I highly recommend a careful reading of Nicole’s whole argument to all who might ever enter into any kind of theological debate. It is full of wisdom and grace. I’ll just cite two more paragraphs, regretting those that I must omit.

To raise the question, “What do I owe the person who differs from me?” is very important, for otherwise any discussion is doomed to remain unproductive. The truth that I believe I have grasped must be presented in a spirit of love and winsomeness. To do otherwise is to do detriment to truth itself, for it is more naturally allied to love than to hostility. (Eph. 4:15) Belligerence or sarcasm may, in fact, reflect a certain insecurity that is not warranted when one is really under the sway of truth. It may well be that God's servant may be moved to righteous indignation in the presence of those "who suppress the truth by their wickedness" (Rom. 1:18)…. But when dealing with those we have a desire to influence for the good, we need imperatively to remain outgoing and gracious.

When we give due attention to what we owe those who differ and what we can learn from them, we may be less inclined to proceed in a hostile manner. Our hand will not so readily contract into a boxing fist, but will be extended as an instrument of friendship and help; our feet will not be used to bludgeon another, but will bring us closer to those who stand afar; our tongue will not lash out in bitterness and sarcasm, but will speak words of wisdom, grace and healing (Prov. 10:20, 21; 13:14; 15:1; 24:26; 25:11; James 3).

Of theological debate, like the making of many books, there is no end. In fact, healthy theological debate is vitally important for the health of the church and so it is tremendously important that the church learn to do it well, in a way that honors God and edifies the church. May God help us, as we seek the truth and its benefits, to recognize our own logs, and to be people in whom Christ’s own love, grace, wisdom and patience may be seen, so that (although this may seem a stretch to some) even our theological arguments could be perceived as having been practiced in such a fair and gracious manner that they may be seen as light shining before others who might recognize them as (Christ-inspired) good deeds and glorify our Father in heaven (Matt. 5:16).

Everything I Needed to Know I Learned from My Puppy

By Sean McDonough, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

Not literally, of course: my five-month old puppy is no help when it comes to parsing Aramaic verbs, or understanding the history of the Quakers, or finding the perfect sermon illustration. (She has written an interesting paper on economic factors leading up to the Maccabean revolt, but that is a story for another day.) But I did want to pass along a few life lessons I have learned sojourning with our little canine companion:

Love Keeps No Record of Wrongs: Well, yes, I actually learned this from 1 Corinthians 13:5; but it is nice to see it lived out on a daily basis. Step on her toes, be late with her meals, keep her in her “gated community” in the kitchen away from the rest of the pack: do what you will, she still wakes up each morning delighted to see you. “Hey! It’s you! Awesome! I am so totally stoked to see you! I love you!” What makes this especially appealing is the fact that it stands in such stark contrast to a culture in which keeping a record of wrongs is something of a national pastime. Real or imagined slights dominate the headlines and percolate down to every level of society. People are forever worried about whom they might offend, and so we endure treacly talk high on affirmation and low on content. Paying attention to what we say is a crucial life skill and a core biblical value; but paying attention to how we listen is equally important. We need to listen charitably, and we need to get rid of the little Book of Slights we all carry around in our hearts.

Alpha Dog Shakedown: Don’t worry: I didn’t learn this from our puppy; it’s something we do to our puppy…and we do it, I must add (see prior paragraph) with the full approval of ultra-dog-loving trainers. The Alpha Dog Shakedown consists of grabbing the puppy by the scruff of the neck and holding them down until they know, with Tony Danza, Who’s the Boss. The ADS has become a nice way for me to capture the sense of many of God’s Old School dealings with his people. God is not simply a nice guy, as many popular portraits make him out to be.

The Bible describes God not only as kind (which he undoubtedly is) but also as our Master who is perfectly willing to shake us up and pin us down as the need arises. The best personal example may be Jacob wrestling with the angel. While Jacob “prevails” in some sense, the dislocation of his hip is a painful and perpetual reminder of who is in charge.

Boundaries Can Be a Good Thing: We are repeatedly told nowadays to “color outside the lines”. What we once would have called “bad coloring” has now become a metaphor for the need to unleash the creative genius within all of us. We are likewise encouraged by everyone from pop stars to car manufacturers that there are “no boundaries” in life. Well, try driving your Ford Explorer off a cliff and see how far that gets you. The fact is, there are boundaries to what we can do, and attending to the boundaries God puts on our lives is a way of ensuring happiness, not restricting it. Our puppy would love to roam freely about the house; she would less love ingesting Lego pieces, so for now she stays in a clear and limited space. She would equally enjoy dashing headlong into the wide world outside. Since this would also involve dashing headlong into oncoming traffic, we keep her on a leash. Legos and automobiles are both good things, but there are rules that govern their use, and if you don’t learn those rules you will have some serious problems.

Help From Above: Franz Kafka is best known for his disturbing stories of personal paranoia and nightmarish bureaucracy. But he is also the author of the charming “Investigations of a Dog”, in which the title character tries to probe the mysteries of dog life. His task is made almost impossible, however, by his inability to recognize the role of humans in caring for and carrying around his canine kindred (hence investigations of “floating dogs” and food dropping from the sky). Whatever Kafka’s intent might have been, I have found it to be one of the most winsome shakedowns of atheism in modern literature. I am grateful that our own puppy has advanced well beyond Kafka’s dog in her understanding. While in the early days she did stare at the floor waiting for bits of popcorn or cheese or toast to magically appear, now she looks up at us. She knows where her daily bread comes from. Do we?

Nasty Neighbors at the Lost and Found

By Sean McDonough, PhD
Associate Professor of New Testament

My favorite quiz show moment came years ago on the late, lamented “Tic Tac Dough”, hosted by the effervescent Wink Martindale. A map of the United States was displayed on the screen, with one state lit up in red. The contestant was asked to identify the state. With that peculiar confidence born of complete cluelessness, he answered soberly, “I believe that’s Ohio, Wink.” While memory fails me as to precisely which state was in fact lit up, I do remember that it was one of the most un-Ohio-like of the fifty – perhaps California, Texas, or Montana.

Sometimes apparently easy questions can trip us up. Imagine, for instance, that Wink Martindale were to pop into your living room just now and ask, “For fifty points: what is the unifying theme of the stories of the lost sheep, the lost coin, and the lost son in chapter 15 of Luke’s gospel?” Most of us would immediately reply, “I believe that’s, ‘lost things get found’, Wink.” And we would be correct. Mostly.

I say, “mostly”, because when you look a little more closely at Luke 15 as a whole, you will see that God’s love for the lost is, strictly speaking, the premise for Jesus’ main point, rather than the main point itself. Notice how the chapter begins: “Now the tax collectors and ‘sinners’ were all gathering around to hear him. But the Pharisees and the teachers of the law muttered, ‘This man welcomes sinners and eats with them.’ Then Jesus told them this parable.”(Luke 15:1-3 NIV). We would expect the parables that ensue to be directed as much to the Pharisees’ grumbling as to the fact that sinners are coming to Jesus.

This is exactly what we find. About half of the parable of the lost sheep takes place after the little lamb is already safe and sound: “Then he calls his friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost sheep.' I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent” (15:6-7). The parable of the lost coin ends the same way: “And when she finds it, she calls her friends and neighbors together and says, 'Rejoice with me; I have found my lost coin.' In the same way, I tell you, there is rejoicing in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner who repents” (15:9-10). And we are all familiar with the elder brother in the story of the prodigal son, whining that he never gets to have a party with his friends.

It is not difficult to see Jesus’ point: rather than grumbling like the elder son, the Pharisees and teachers of the law ought to be like the neighbors who rejoice with the shepherd and the woman. We don’t lose the familiar blessings of the parables by noting this: the fact remains that God really is on the hunt for sinners. It is still perfectly appropriate to wrap up an evangelistic meeting with a thoughtful reflection of the prodigal son’s return home (though even there we might ask whether in the world of the parable the son is driven more by pragmatic food-based incentives rather than a heartfelt longing for dear old dad).

What we gain, meanwhile, is a valuable lesson for all of us who have been in the fold for a while. While we would of course never come out and grumble, “Why are all these sinners becoming Christians?”, it is all too easy for veteran saints to slip into the habit of downplaying the “shallowness” or “emotionalism” of new converts. Just as parents have to make a concerted effort to remember what it was like to be child, so older believers have to make a concerted effort to remember the undercurrent of pure joy that accompanies a genuine turning to God. May we rejoice with God and his angels for his continual work to seek and to save the lost.