And yet us look upon this...as a kind of journey or voyage to our native land

...And let us look upon this purification as a kind of journey or voyage to our native land. For it is not by change of place that we come nearer to Him who is in every place, but by the cultivation of pure desires and virtuous habits...

But of this we would have been wholly incapable, had not Wisdom condescended to adapt Himself to our weakness, and to show a pattern of holy life in the form of our own humanity. Yet, since we when we come to Him do wisely, He when he came to us was considered by proud men to have done very foolishly. And since we when we come to him become strong, He when he came to us became weak. But "the foolishness of God is wiser than men; and the weakness of God is stronger than men" (1 Cor. 1.25). And thus, though Wisdom was himself our home, He made Himself also the way by which we should reach our home...

And though He is everywhere present to the inner eye when it is sound and clear, He considered to make Himself manifest to the outward eye of those whose inward sight is weak and dim. "For after that, in the wisdom of God, the world by wisdom knew not God, it pleased God by the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe" (1 Cor. 1.21). Not then in the sense of traversing space, but because he appeared to mortal men in the form of mortal flesh, He is said to have come to us. For he came to a place where He had always been, seeing that "He was in the world, and the world was made by Him." But, because men, who in their eagerness to enjoy the creature instead of the Creator had grown into the likeness of this world, and therefore most appropriately named "the world" did not recognise Him, therefore the evangelist says, "and the world knew Him not" (John 1.1o). Thus, in the wisdom of God, the world by wisdom knew not God. Why then did he come, seeing that he was already here, except that it pleased God through the foolishness of preaching to save them that believe?

...In what way did He come but this, "The Word was made flesh and dwelt among us" (John 1.14)? Just as when we speak, in order that what we have in our minds may enter through the ear into the mind of the hearer, the word which we have in our hearts becomes an outward sound and is called speech; and yet our thought does not lose itself in the sound, but remains complete in itself, and takes the form of speech without being modified in its own nature by change: so the Divine Word, through suffering no change of nature, yet became flesh that he might dwell among us."

Augustine, On Christian Doctine, Book I, Ch.10-13

God is Love

“The accomplishment of redemption is concerned with what has been generally called the atonement. No treatment of the atonement can be properly oriented that does not have its source in the free and sovereign love of God. It is with this perspective that the best known text in the Bible provides us: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life” (John 3.16). Here we have an ultimate of divine revelation and therefore of human thought. Beyond this we cannot and dare not go…

...It is necessary to underline this concept of sovereign love. Truly God is love. Love is not something adventitious; it is not something that God may choose to be or choose not to be. He is love, and that necessarily, inherently and eternally. As God is spirit, as he is light, so he is love. Yet it belongs to the very essence of electing love to recognise that it is not inherently necessary to that love which God necessarily and eternally is that he should set such love as issues in redemption and adoption upon utterly undesirable and hell-deserving objects. It was of the free and sovereign good pleasure of his will, a good pleasure that emanated from the depths of his own goodness, that he chose a people to be heirs of God and joint-heirs with Christ. The reason resides wholly in himself and proceeds from determinations that are peculiarly his as the “I am that I am.” The atonement does not win or constrain the love of God. The love of God constrains to the atonement as the means accomplishing love’s determinate purpose.

It must be regarded, therefore, as a settled datum that the love of God is the cause and source of the atonement…”

John Murray, Redemption Accomplished and Applied, Ch.1, p.9-10

James K A Smith's Refreshing Vision of Reformed Theology

Just this morning, I happened to pick up Letters to a Young Calvinist: An Invitation to the Reformed Tradition by James K A Smith, Christian philosopher and aesthete extraordinaire. Having only invested a half hour or so reading through the pleasingly brisk content of his letters, I have already been struck by Smith’s refreshing take on Reformed theology. Nothing new, per se; simply a reemphasis on what lies at the very heart of the Reformed tradition. Smith has already written a bevy of books I am keen to read. His latest published work, Thinking in Tongues, explores the constructive dimensions of Pentecostal theology. In the youtube clip above Smith touches on this briefly, examining aspects of Reformed thinking through the lens of Pentecostal theology. His argues that Pentecostalism can restore a holism to contemporary Reformed tradition that is largely lacking. Food for thought. Smith is as stimulating as ever. Below are two segments from Letters to a Young Calvinist, short pithy paragraphs I thought well worth reproducing.

“Finally, while these letters are written as an invitation to the Reformed tradition, such an invitation can only be instrumental, a way station of sorts. For the fount and end of the Reformed tradition is God himself as revealed to us in Jesus Christ and present with us in the person of the Holy Spirit. In other words, these letters are an invitation into the life of God. In his fifth century manual for preachers, Teaching Christian Doctrine (De doctrina Christiana), Augustine notes how strange it would be if a traveller to a distant country became so enamoured with his means of conveyance that he never got out of the boat, even though the whole purpose of the ship was to convey him to another shore. The Reformed tradition is a way, not a destination; it is a means; not an end; it is a way onto the Way that is the road to and with Jesus. It is a ship that conveys us to the shore of the kingdom of God and propels us to an encounter with the Word become flesh. These letters are just little brochures spreading the news about the journey” (from the Introduction, p.XV)

“That’s a tall order: to sum up Reformed faith in one word! I suspect that you’re trying to bait me, expecting my answer to be a strange one: TULIP – that felicitous turn of phrase…I know you’ve already heard it put that way, but I would answer your challenge a little differently. In a word, Reformed theology is fundamentally about grace. Let me explain.

At its heart, Calvinism is simply a lens that magnifies a persistent theme in the narrative of God’s self-revelation: that everything depends on God. Everything is a gift. This doesn’t just apply to salvation – it’s true of creation itself. God created the world out of – and for – his pleasure, as an act of love. There’s no hint of necessity or requirement here: God could not have created the world. The world exists (and is sustained) only because of God’s sovereign action; and creation is still radically dependant on God’s gift of existence (Col. 1.16-17). So we might say that grace goes “all the way down.” To merely exist as a creature is to be dependant on the gift of existence granted by a gracious God: to be is to be graced. “In him we live and move and have our being,” as Paul put it (Acts 17.28 – quoting a philosopher, by the way).

This theology of radical grace is captured in one of Augustine’s favourite verses, 1 Corinthians 4:7: “What do you have that you did not receive?” The answer, of course, is nothing; or, stated positively, everything we have is something we have received as a gift. So we have no reason to “boast,” Paul says, as if anything was “ours” in the first place” (Letter IV, Grace All the Way Down, p.14-15)

Dispatches From Elsewhere #3: The Resurrection - a Bizarre Belief?

Follow the link below to getserious.ie - Ireland's very own burgeoning apologetics website. Essential reading. This particular link will take you to Professor Stephen Williams' excellent article on the resurrection, entitled The Resurrection of Jesus: A Bizarre Belief? Stephen Williams is the Professor of Systematic Theology at Union Theological College, Belfast.

http://www.getserious.ie/?p=185#more-185

Haworth's 10 Ways #6: The Moral Argument (Part 2)

The most persuasive advocate of the moral argument Keller sets forth in the post below was C. S. Lewis (1898–1963). The following is a summary of the argument he articulates in his book Mere Christianity:

There must be a universal moral law, or else: a) Moral disagreements would make no sense, as we all assume they do. b) All moral criticisms would be meaningless (for example, ‘The Nazis were wrong.’) c) It would be unnecessary to keep promises or treaties, as we all assume that it is. d) We would not make excuses for breaking the moral law, as we all do.

But a universal moral law requires a universal Moral Law Giver, since the Source of it: a) Gives moral commands (as lawgivers do). b) Is interested in our behaviour (as moral persons are).

Further, this universal Moral Law Giver must be absolutely good: a) Otherwise all moral effort would be futile in the long run, since we would be sacrificing our lives for what is not ultimately right. b) The source of all good must be absolutely good, since the standard of all good must be completely good.

Therefore, there must be an absolutely Moral Law Giver.

It is often argued against the moral argument that the moral law is simply an expression of our in-built “herd-instinct”. In response so such an objection, we can point out that if the moral law was just an expression of herd instinct then the herd would always be right. But herd instinct is not always right (and everyone will agree with that). For example, even the actions prompted by nationalism or ‘love’ can be very wrong. If the moral law was the result of herd-instinct, the stronger instinctive impulse in us would always win out. But, as it is, that is not the case; people often choose not to act from instinct in selfless ways that go against the ethic of the herd.

Similarly, it is often said that the moral law is simply social convention, what we learn from parents and schooling. But, not everything learned through society is based purely on social convention. For example, we learn about maths and logic through the social institutions of schools and universities, but few people insist they are merely social conventions.

Importantly too, the moral law is not to be identified with the laws of nature. The laws of nature are descriptive (is) unlike moral laws which are prescriptive (ought). The way things are is not always right. The moral law does not simply describe the reality of things but demands a moral action on our part that often causes us to act against the way things are. We are compelled by the moral law to hate injustice. Just because the government of a country may be causing its people to starve for lack of food and facilities does not make it right. In fact, such actions are criminal. The way something is can be morally wrong. When people act in accordance with their nature (for example, basic appetites for power and so on) they can act in morally wrong ways. Is is not always right. The moral law does not simply describe us as we are but demands we live in accordance with a law that often challenges and contradicts who we are. In that sense, the moral law often contradicts what nature dictates. It transcends biology and as such, is founded on something more profound than merely genetics, survival of the fittest and personal selfishness.

Perhaps the main challenge that can be levelled against the idea that there is a moral law giving God is the argument from evil or injustice in the world. The world is full of violence, hatred, murder, rape, abuse and so on. Does that not contradict the idea that there is a good God who has established moral laws? The answer, in a sense, is simple: the only way the world could possibly be imperfect is if there is an absolutely perfect standard by which it can be judged to be imperfect. Injustice only makes sense if there is an absolute standard of justice to appeal to. Injustice can only be recognised if we have internalised a standard of what is just and unjust. Such a standard is, of course, the moral law. In the same way, if we intuitively recognise the world as being intrinsically imperfect, there must be a standard by which perfection is known. The fact that we recognise evil as evil presupposes a perfect standard of morality. In that sense, the argument from evil, rather than disproving a morally perfect Being, actually presupposes and points to his existence.

Of course, the question of evil is deeply complex and challenging. Ultimately, however, only Christianity is nuanced enough to properly and adequately answer the vexing question of evil. As Lewis writes in Mere Christianity:

“…the problem (of evil) is not simple and the answer is not going to be simple either. What is the problem? A universe that contains much that is obviously bad and apparently meaningless, but containing creatures like ourselves who know that it is bad and meaningless. There are only two views that face all the facts. One is the Christian view that this is a good world that has gone wrong, but still retains the memory of what it ought to have been. The other is the view called Dualism. Dualism means the belief that there are two equal and independent powers at the back of everything, one of them good and the other bad, and that the universe is the battlefield in which they fight out an endless war…”

Lewis goes on to explain that Dualism commits us to the belief that good and bad existed from all eternity, opposing oneanother. What do we mean by calling one a Bad Power and the other a Good Power? We are either saying we prefer one and not the other, or we are saying that one is actually wrong and the other right. It is not purely a matter of what we prefer; the moral categories of bad and good are irrelevant if we are simply going to make a choice between the two on the basis of what suits us. As soon as we are trying to discern which is the Good Power, we are aiming to live in accordance with it, whether it suits us or not. The Good Power would not deserve to be called good if “being good” simply meant joining the side you happened to like. The moment we make a distinction between which of the two powers is actually wrong and which is actually right we are

“…putting into the universe a third thing in addition to the two Powers: some law or standard or rule of good which one of the powers conforms to and the other fails to conform to. But since the two powers are judged by this standard, then this standard, or the Being who made this standard, is farther back and higher than either of them, and He will be the real God. In fact, what we meant by calling them good and bad turns out to be that one of them is in right relation to the ultimate God and the other is in wrong relation to Him.”

In a sense, then, according to Lewis, as soon as we evaluate what is right and wrong, what is good or bad, we are invoking the standard of the moral law that is itself a reflection of the moral nature of God. In calling something good or bad at any time we are judging their right or wrong relation to the ultimate God who is the ground of our being.

Tim Keller: The Problem of Evil and Suffering

David Bentley Hart : Suffering and the Problem of Evil

Haworth's 10 Ways #6: The Moral Argument

The moral argument is likely to be one of the most persuasive ‘proofs’ we can use to demonstrate the existence of a good, loving God. Essentially, this argument seeks to show that if there are morals and laws in the world then there must be a Moral Law Giver. Of all the arguments we can rally on to help demonstrate the existence of God, this one is perhaps the most emotionally compelling and persuasive.

People do have an internal compass of moral sensibility. Whether they admit it or not, people do believe certain things are objectively wrong. As Tim Keller writes in The Reason for God:

“All human beings have moral feelings. Moral obligation is the belief that some things ought not to be done regardless of how a person feels about them within herself, regardless of what the rest of her community and culture says, and regardless of whether it is in her self-interest or not…Though we have been taught that all moral values are relative to individuals and cultures, we can’t live like that. In actual practise, we inevitably treat some principles as absolute standards by which we judge the behaviour of those who don’t share our values. What gives us the right to do that if all moral beliefs are relative? Nothing gives us the right. Yet we can’t stop it...We do not only have moral feelings, but we have an ineradicable belief that moral standards exist, outside of us, by which our internal moral feelings are evaluated. Why?”

Keller goes on to answer the question by pointing out that we are convinced that every human being possesses inviolable dignity. But how can we be sure? If all morals are simply the products of whatever culture we happen to be part of, who is to say one culture’s morality is better than another’s?

Generally, theorists who are trying to establish a foundation for morality have discounted the existence of God as a basis for human dignity. However, it is still believed that every human being has inherent dignity and must be treated as such. Having discounted the existence of God as the basis for human moralty, two major alternatives remain:

1. Natural Law: In the place of God, an analysis of human nature and the natural world yields binding rules of moral behaviour. When all is said and done, this is very problematic. Nature simply does not provide us with a satisfying ground for morality; it thrives on violence and on the survival of the fittest. Similarly, the human species, though sometimes noble and good, can also be shockingly cruel, greedy and amoral. The concept of the dignity of the human individual simply cannot be based on the way things work in nature.

2. We Create Moral Laws: Again, problems very quickly arise when we take this approach. If we create moral laws then who decides how they ought to be written? What if the most powerful body of people writes laws to satisfy themselves at the expense of a minority group? Ultimately, without God, moral law is based on human whimsy. And this is not a satisfying alternative. As Keller writes:

“If there is no God, then there is no way to say one action is ‘moral’ and another ‘immoral’ but only ‘I like this’. If that is the case, who gets the right to put their subjective, arbitrary moral feelings into law? You may say ‘the majority has the right to make the law’, but do you mean that then the majority has the right to vote to exterminate a minority? If you say, ‘No, that is wrong,’ then you are back to square one…Why should your moral convictions be obligatory for those in opposition? Why should your view prevail over the will of the majority? The fact is…if there is no God, then all moral statements are arbitrary, all moral values are subjective and internal, and there can be no external moral standard by which a persons feelings and values are judged.“

Despite their lack of belief in God, people will continue to insist that objective moral beliefs exist. However, ultimately, if there is no God, there is no fixed foundation for moral laws. We only know things are wrong in relation to an absolute standard above ourselves. If we do not have something by which to measure morality, it is really not worth anything. It is something we conjure up. Therefore, as Keller concludes:

“If a premise (‘There is no God’) leads to a conclusion you know isn’t true (‘Nepalming babies is culturally relative’) then why not change the premise?”

In other words, if you insist that there are moral absolutes, why not embrace the only truth that will permit the true foundation and authority of such absolutes – the existence of the God who created them in the first place? As William Lane Craig remarks in his book Reasonable Faith, “Unless we are nihilists, we have to recognise some ultimate standard of value, and God is the least arbitrary stopping point.”