Author: Jim Spiegel

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Book Review: nuChristian

By Jim Spiegel

I recently reviewed David Kinnaman’s UnChristian (see my September 7 post), which I found to be enlightening as well as misleading.  This week an interesting response to Kinnaman’s book hits the shelves: Russell Rathbun’s nuChristian (Judson Press).  Rathbun is an emergent pastor at the House of Mercy in St. Paul, Minnesota.  He is doing a blog tour and asked if he could make a stop here at Wisdom and Folly, so I’ve included below a short conversation.  But, first, a quick summary of the book…

NuChristianRGBIn nuChristian Rathbun aims to inspire a redemptive response to the grim statistics that Kinnaman discusses in UnChristian.  For the most part, Rathbun accepts the charges leveled against Christians by “outsiders,” as Kinnaman dubs unbelievers.  Yes, we are often hypocritical, judgmental, homophobic, and more concerned with making converts than loving people.  And in response to this we should seek to be open and honest about these failings, to be more authentic in our relationships with others, and to be more welcoming toward others, regardless of our differences.  Above all, we should seek the transforming love of God rather than an impossibly high standard of moral perfection.  To take such an approach, says Rathbun, is what it means to be a “nuChristian.”

Rathbun does, however, reject some of the charges in Kinnaman’s surveys.  For example, in regards to the notion that Christians are sheltered, Rathbun rightly finds the idea preposterous.  Given the media saturation of all Westerners, through television, Hollywood films, and the internet, Rathbun asks, “how could anyone remain sheltered from the world?” (62).  At the same time, he observes, too many churches make superficial efforts at being “culturally relevant,” only to reveal their ignorance about culture.  Here Rathbun makes an insightful distinction between cultural relevance and cultural literacy.  Even if one can achieve the former, this far from guarantees the latter.

Rathbun also challenges the claim that Christians are too involved in politics.  On the contrary, he says, “it seems to me that the problem isn’t that Christians are too political; it may be that they’re not political enough.  The Christian political spokespeople who make the most noise and have received the most media coverage are not engaged in true politics, but in incendiary ideological rhetoric” (72).  Well put.  If only we could hear more from the likes of Marvin Olasky, Jean Bethke Elshtain, and Jay Budziszewksi, then outsiders might clamor for more, not less, Christian political input.

Finally, I especially appreciated Rathbun’s take on evangelism.  As he puts it, “We are not called to save people; we are called to love people.  You don’t love people by trying to sell them something or convince them of something….  Love does not have an ulterior motive” (40).  And elsewhere, he comments on the Great Commission in Matthew 28, saying “Making disciples sounds a lot more like the process of loving people, serving people, being with people, and teaching them…than it does getting someone to make a verbal commitment…regarding the eternal state of his or her soul” (41).

As is always the case when I read emergent stuff, I found myself disagreeing with some of aspects of nuChristian as well.  However, rather than simply state my criticisms here, I decided to give the author an opportunity to respond to my critical points, which I offered to Rathbun as challenges in our conversation below.  As you’ll see, his responses are thoughtful and gracious.

Spiegel: You say “a nuChristian does not seek moral or ethical perfection any more than he seeks to love perfectly of his own accord” (p. xi).  So how does this square with Jesus’ admonition to “be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Mt. 5:48) as well as many other biblical passages which so strongly emphasize moral sanctification (cf. 1 Cor. 9:24-27 and 1 Tim. 4:7-8)?

Rathbun: I think it is a good point.  The context of that verse in Matthew is that Jesus is telling them to love their enemies and then goes on to tell them not to practice their righteousness in public like the Pharisees.  Are we supposed to do that on our own?  I don’t have the ability.

Spiegel: In chapter two you propose looking at Scripture “not as a book of answers, but as a book of really good questions” (p. 18).  While this is an interesting angle of approach, don’t you commit the (rather modern) fallacy of false dichotomy in suggesting that we must take one of these two approaches (as opposed to seeing the Bible in neither of these ways but rather, say, as a collection of literary genres in which God’s truth is made known in a variety of ways)?  Or, to challenge you in another way, isn’t the notion that the Bible is a book of questions just as reductionist as the “answer book” approach (and for this reason just as problematic)?

Rathbun: Yes, it is.  You are right.

Spiegel: Having written a book on the subject of hypocrisy, I was especially interested to read chapter 3 of nuChristian, in which you deal with this topic.  I appreciated many of your points and insights.  However, I was concerned that you miscategorized Peter’s sin of denying Christ as hypocrisy (cf. p. 33).  It seems to me (as I claim  in my book) that Peter’s problem is actually moral weakness rather than hypocrisy.  The difference is that a hypocrite intends to deceive others rather than to do the good, while someone who is morally weak intends to do the good but succumbs to temptation because of a weak will.  What do you think about this?

Rathbun: I haven’t read your book, but it sounds interesting.  One can define a word in many different ways.  Of course words have different shades of meaning and a writer or a thinker or a preacher emphasizes different shades to explore a particular issue in a particular way.  I was exploring the idea that most people don’t actually try to deceive others but are unclear about an issue themselves.  I think we act out of self-interest and lack of self awareness.  What is moral weakness?  We all give in to temptation because of a weak will.  I don’t know if I even believe in the notion that we have a will that can be strong or believe that if we could have a strong will that would be a good thing.  God is weak, continually goes back on his commitment to justice and what is morally right by not punishing humanity for our transgressions.  God destroys the world by flood because of humanity’s wickedness.  Then when humanity continues to be wicked after that, God basically says, “Well, I don’t want to destroy them, even if they continue to act wickedly”  We might think of that as giving in, lack of consistent consequences, maybe even moral weakness.  Of course we are not God and my particular take on the subject is just one.

Spiegel: In chapter five you discuss judgmentalism and emphasize that as Christians we should not judge others, that judging is the “opposite of love,” etc.  But there are two senses of judgment:  1) judgment as condemnation (cf. Luke 6:37) and 2) judgment as discernment.  The former is inappropriate, while the latter is essential to the moral life, as is evident in Paul’s admonition to judge others in the church in such passages as 1 Cor. 5:3, 12; 1 Cor. 6:2-5.  Shouldn’t this be borne in mind when we consider that “outsiders” often criticize Christians for being judgmental?  Perhaps they are sometimes judging us (in the sense of condemnation) for simply using good judgment (in the sense of discernment)!

Rathbun: I personally don’t have the capacity to judge people without acting self interestedly.  I am judgmental and I lack discernment.  Also, I say there are many other things to work out in our own faith before we get to discerning the actions of others.

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Hodgepodge #2

By Jim Spiegel

Reflections by Jim of different sorts—on music, nature, books, and sports

In the last few weeks I have attended two excellent concerts.  On September 12 I saw U2 in Chicago, as they commenced their 360° tour—a predictably fine show by the beloved Irish foursome. This was my fifth time to see them live, and while falling short of the magic of the Joshua Tree tour (what could live up to that?), they remain the greatest live band on the planet.  Also, last week I attended my first Kings of Leon show—at the Verizon Center in Noblesville, Indiana.  Lead singer Caleb Followill said it was the biggest crowd they’d ever played for.  Indeed, it was a sprawling sea of humanity, half of us slip-sliding in the muddy lawn area.  K.O.L. played a strong 20-song set, living up to their reputation as the heir-apparent to U2’s throne.  We’ll see about that.

250px-Orb_weaver_black_bckgrnd03_cropLast week Amy and I were back in Chicago, this time for her best friend’s wedding.  We stayed high atop the downtown Holiday Inn overlooking the Chicago River.  Just outside our 17th story window an Orb Weaver spider (Araneidae family) was perched in the middle of a giant web, which we measured at 3 x 2.5 feet.  Judging by the spider’s bulky appearance, s/he had managed to catch plenty of bugs way up there.  Early the next morning I marveled at the massive buildings in downtown Chicago.  In doing so, I looked through that Orb Weaver’s giant web, and then it struck me.  Both were magnificent feats of engineering, and they shared some of the same structural features: footings, girders, and symmetrical design.  And both ultimately testify to the genius of our common Creator.

I recently posted a review on David Kinnaman’s book unChristian, which has generated a lot of conversation in the last year or so.  Among the authors responding to this book is Russell Rathbun, who has recently authored unChristian: Finding Faith in a New Generation.  (Judson Press).  I have been invited to participate in Rathbun’s blog tour, so I will comment on the book and interact with him the week of October 12.  Rathbun is an emergent church pastor and author, so I’m very curious to see his response to unChristian.  Stay tuned.

Finally, the major league baseball season is drawing to a close, and as I write this my Detroit Tigers’ lead in the American League central division has dwindled to one game, with two games left in the season for both the Tigers and the Minnesota Twins, who have been hotly pursuing them the last three weeks.  Having had my baseball heart twice broken by the Twins—in ’87 when they drubbed Detroit in the ALCS and in ’91 when they squeaked by the Braves (also a rooting interest of mine)—I am quite keen on seeing the Tigers return the favor, if just for this season.  Will they do it?  Time, as they say, will tell.

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The Discipline of Fasting

By Jim Spiegel

Recent years have seen a significant increase of interest among evangelicals in spiritual formation.  Authors such as Richard Foster, Dallas Willard, and John Ortberg have led the way in reminding us that personal sanctification is not properly a passive affair.  Spiritual growth demands intentional practice, active exercise of the spiritual disciplines, such as prayer, worship, study, confession, sacrifice, confession, and frugality.  Each of these disciplines is useful for uniting the believer with God and building moral strength.  When used with the proper devotional attitude—aimed at growing in obedience in response to divine grace rather than to earn God’s favor—the spiritual disciplines are extremely powerful.  However, one of the most powerful disciplines remains tragically underappreciated by Christians today:  fasting.

Historically, fasting has been practiced by the great Christian leaders and theologians, including Augustine, Martin Luther, John Calvin, John Knox, John Wesley, Jonathan Edwards, and Charles Finney.  Biblical figures including Moses, David, Elijah, Esther, Daniel, Paul, Jesus and his disciples fasted as well.  Yet today I suspect that only a small minority of American Christians fast with any regularity.  This is a tragic irony given that one of the besetting sins of our culture is overindulgence.  If ever there was a time and place in history where the church desperately needed to develop self-control, this is it. 

In case you haven’t thought much about the discipline of fasting, let me address a few basic questions: 

1. What exactly does fasting involve? 

Fasting is the intentional abstinence from food, and possibly drink, for the sake of spiritual growth.  It can be extended to other contexts (e.g., technology, recreation, etc.) and can be applied to particular foods (e.g., meat, coffee, sweets, etc.). 

2. Why is fasting important?

Regular fasting:  a) builds moral strength (through the practice of self-control), b) trains us to maintain our focus on God through suffering, c) makes a statement of our moral-spiritual earnestness (especially in combination with prayer), and d) reminds us that our bodily comforts are not what is most important.  All of these benefits serve to make the believer more Christ-like in character, which of course leads to many other blessings. 

3. What is a good occasion for fasting?

Some common occasions for fasting include:

a) Seeking God’s forgiveness – Lev. 23:27 (Day of Atonement); 1 Sam. 7:2-6 (Israel’s repentance of idol worship); Jonah 3 (the repentance of Ninevah); Acts 9:1-9 (Paul’s repentance)

b) Seeking God’s counsel or blessing – Acts 13:2-3 (the commissioning of Paul and Barnabas); Acts 14:21-23 (Paul and Barnabas’ commissioning of elders at the churches of Lystra, Iconium, and Antioch) 

c) Seeking God’s strength – Matt. 4:1-2 (Jesus fasted when “he was led by the Spirit into the desert to be tempted by the devil”); Matt. 17:20 & Mark 9:29 (in some manuscripts Jesus says “this kind can come out only by prayer and fasting”).

But it is wise for Christians to fast even aside from these occasions.  Fasting is powerful for building self-control, and we all need to improve in that area. 

4. What about the problem of abuses?

Abuse is no argument.  The distortion of a good thing does not justify our throwing it out.  Sex, prayer, worship, and even religion itself are constantly abused, but we don’t properly reject those things.  However, two concerns deserve special attention: 

a) Eating disorders:  Those who have had this problem may be advised to avoid fasting for a time, to do so only with strict accountability, or to practice only selective fasting (e.g. refraining from sweets, meats, or other particular foods).

b) Legalism:  We don’t allow legalistic abuses of the other spiritual disciplines to discourage us from practicing them, nor should we when it comes to fasting.  But we should be on our guard against the legalistic mindset and pride which might ensue, especially if we are unique among our friends in fasting. 

5. What approach should I take in learning to fast?

Start with short fasts, one or two meals.  Do this dozens of times before going on to longer fasts.  You might want to begin by fasting once monthly and perhaps increase in frequency to 2-4 times per month.  Many people prefer to pray more often while fasting in order to maintain focus and request spiritual strength.  If you get discouraged as you learn to fast, this is normal.  As with all spiritual disciplines, observable benefits typically emerge only as a cumulative effect of repeated practice.

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Learning Obedience Through Suffering

By Jim Spiegel

This weekend I will am scheduled to speak at a church retreat near Knoxville, Tennessee.  My topic is “Growing the Church from the Inside Out,” and my focus will be on the role of spiritual formation in building the church, both in maturity and, secondarily, in numbers.  I give frequent talks on the spiritual disciplines and the concept of training for godliness (cf. 1 Cor. 9:24-27 and 1 Tim. 4:7-8).  This is a recurrent theme in Scripture, yet somehow it is a foreign concept to many evangelicals these days.  So I am always eager to speak on the subject, especially since I can count on a strongly positive response from audiences. Given the moral decay in the contemporary church, there is a deep need here, and judging by people’s responses, it is also a felt need.

One of the biblical themes I emphasize is the notion that we must be intentional about learning to obey, hence the critical role of such disciplines as fasting and sacrifice in order to build self-control.  I also highlight the role of suffering, unpleasant as it is, to discipline us and make us more obedient.  Regarding this latter theme, I have been revisiting one of the more fascinating (and cryptic) passages in the New Testament, Hebrews 5:8-9, which says regarding Jesus that “although he was a son, he learned obedience from what he suffered and, once made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him…”  Now what does this mean?  Before venturing a positive answer, let’s first get clear on what it doesn’t mean.  It can’t mean that Jesus was ever disobedient or morally corrupt and that his suffering somehow brought him out of this condition.  Jesus neither had a sinful nature (because he was conceived by the Holy Spirit) nor did he ever perform sinful actions.

So what does this passage mean?  In what sense might a God-man “learn obedience”?  A few possibilities come to mind.  First, though morally impeccable, Jesus still might have had to develop the skill of obedience in diverse contexts.  One can only become proficient at resisting  certain kinds of temptation when one has actually been tempted in those ways.  And such virtues as self-control and humility become fully formed only when one has had to display them in a variety of circumstances.  Second, Jesus’ moral perfection would not rule out the need to practice obedience in the face of increasing degrees of difficulty.  Given his mission to be publicly humiliated and die an excruciating death, before ultimately conquering death through his resurrection, the suffering he experienced throughout his life no doubt prepared him to endure his torturous final hours.

Perhaps there are other ways to make sense of this passage, but one thing is clear:  suffering played a constructive role in helping even the God-man to grow in obedience.  And if suffering served Jesus’ moral development in this way, then how much more must we suffer in order to grow morally?

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UnChristian: A Book Review

By Jim Spiegel

I just finished reading UnChristian (Baker, 2007), a book authored by David Kinnaman, President of the Barna Group.  In the book Kinnaman presents the results of several years of research into what outsiders to the faith think about Christianity.  A common reaction among those he surveyed is summed up in the book’s title.  Outsiders, says Kinnaman, “think Christians no longer represent what Jesus had in mind, that Christianity in our society is not what it was meant to be” (p. 15).  By “outsider” Kinnaman means anyone who is not a “born-again Christian,” including atheists, agnostics, and devotees of other faiths.

bookUnchristianAccording to Kinnaman’s research, Christians in our society are increasingly viewed by outsiders as hypocritical, judgmental, anti-homosexual, sheltered, and too political.  For example, 85% of American outsiders ages 16-29 described Christians as hypocritical. 87% called Christians judgmental.  91% described Christians as anti-homosexual.  And 75% said Christians are too involved in politics.  Thus, says Kinnaman, “Christianity has an image problem” (p. 11).  More than this, he emphasizes, if this trend continues our faith will increasingly be regarded as irrelevant.  The practical upshot of this study, according to Kinnaman, is that we Christians need to do things a lot differently.

Kinnaman’s book devotes entire chapters to each of the above negative descriptors.  Chapter three deals with the perception of Christian hypocrisy—the notion that there is a significant gap between Christians’ beliefs and behavior.  This subject is especially interesting to me, since my first book was devoted to this complex and challenging issue.  However, I was disappointed to find that Kinnaman’s treatment of the issue is rather shallow from a moral-theological standpoint.  While his survey results are certainly interesting and potentially useful, some of the assumptions he brings to the subject are problematic and ultimately undermine the force of his claims.  For example, some of his data suggest that “Christians are increasingly permissive in their moral beliefs” (p. 53).  Specifically, among born-again Christians ages 23-41:

  • 33% believe viewing pornography is morally acceptable
  • 44% believe sex outside of marriage is morally acceptable
  • 59% believe cohabitation is morally acceptable

Now this raises two crucial questions.  First, given these moral convictions (or lack thereof), why should it surprise us that the behavior of born-again Christians is also morally lax?  That’s not hypocrisy but a sad sort of consistency between belief and practice.  Second, just what is meant by the designation “born-again Christian” in these Barna polls?  Here is Kinnaman’s answer:  “To be classified as a born-again Christian, a person has to say he or she has made a personal commitment to Jesus that is still important and that the person believes he or she will go to heaven at death, because the person has confessed his or her sin and accepted Christ as Savior” (p. 46).  Kinnaman uses this definition in his surveys for subjects to self-identify (as either born-again or not) and, presumably, to identify others (as born-again or not).  He recognizes that this approach is “not perfect,” but he doesn’t see just how flawed it is.  For one thing, this definition completely ignores the biblical emphasis on obedience as definitive of genuine saving faith (see John 14:21-23, James 2:14-26, and Gal. 5:22-23).  To use this unbiblical definition as the crux of one’s research into Christian behavior and perceptions of Christians is, to say the least, problematic.  Using such a restrictively belief-oriented concept of faith could only exacerbate the disturbing findings in Kinnaman’s poll data regarding the perception of Christian hypocrisy, not to mention some of the other negative descriptors discussed in his book.

Another chapter, entitled “Get Saved,” treats the perception among outsiders that Christians are so consumed with making converts that they are not sincerely interested in those who do not share their faith.  Here Kinnaman is at his best, and his data reveals what we should have known all along.  Evangelism is often a turn-off to most outsiders, particularly when a Gospel presentation “method” of any kind is used.  Most people can tell whether someone is interested in them for who they are rather than merely being the object of their evangelistic “pitch.”  However sincere such efforts might be by those who devise and teach them, the cumulative effect is that two-thirds of young outsiders believe that Christians who share their faith don’t genuinely care for them.  It’s hard to imagine a perception that could more significantly undermine the Christian quest to make converts.  This fact should prompt us to reconsider how we might better fulfill the Great Commission. Some other data revealed by Kinnaman should do so as well:  more than two-thirds of Americans say “they have made a commitment to Jesus Christ at some point in their life” (pp. 74-75) and “in America, the vast majority of people (even outsiders) are exposed to the message of Christianity many times throughout their lives” (p. 74).  Apparently, the problem is not lack of exposure to the Gospel message but lack of sound training in Christian living or discipleship of those who have made a commitment to Christ.  Kinnaman’s data also reveal that only 3% of self-identified Christians possess a biblical worldview (defined in terms of belief in such things as the moral perfection of Christ, the omnipotence and omniscience of God, salvation by grace, the reality of Satan, moral absolutes, and the authority of Scripture).  This, too, underscores the need to focus on proper discipleship of those who already believe rather than aggressive evangelism of those who do not.  This lesson, at times hinted at by Kinnaman, should have been emphasized in UnChristian.

In chapter five Kinnaman discusses the perception that Christians are anti-homosexual.  Along the way, he rightly distinguishes between being “against homosexuality” and being “against homosexuals” (p. 96), which is of course an application of the “love the sinner, hate the sin” maxim to this issue.  Unfortunately, Kinnaman fails to consistently apply this distinction throughout his discussion.  No doubt there are many outsiders who interpret any opposition to homosexuality as opposition to homosexuals.  Knowing what percentage of those surveyed fall into this category would be very helpful.  Evidently, Kinnaman did not seek this data—data which could potentially show that Christians are essentially being blamed for holding a biblical view on homosexuality.  This is not to say that there are no Christians who do effectively hate homosexuals as opposed to simply believing the lifestyle is immoral.  But by failing to survey in light of this distinction, Kinnaman’s results conflate the two categories and thus create the most negative impression.  To be fair, however, most of the “biblical responses” to homosexuality proposed by Kinnaman (pp. 104-107) are sound, and we would all do well to follow his guidelines (e.g., to acknowledge the complexity of the issue, to treat others respectfully when dealing with the issue, to show compassion to those who struggle with homosexuality, etc.).

Chapter seven deals with the common perception that Christians are “too political.”  As Kinnaman puts it, outsiders “think of us as motivated primarily by political goals and as promoting a right-wing agenda” (p. 154).  Now let’s consider these two perceptions in turn.  To say that evangelicals, as a group, pursue a “right-wing agenda” just doesn’t fit the facts, as Kinnaman himself notes, “among the evangelical segment, only a slight majority are registered Republicans (59 percent) . . . .  the Christian community is more diverse, less cohesive, and less unified than is typically assumed” (p. 160).  It would appear, then, that the perception that we’re all about right-wing politics is simply mistaken, perhaps partly reflective of the leftist predilections of many survey respondents.  As for the perception that Christians are “motivated primarily by political goals,” this seems to be a more legitimate concern.  As Kinnaman rightly observes, Christians should never rely on politics to solve problems that only God can solve by changing human hearts.  Kinnaman’s research also reveals that outsiders sometimes declare “that Christians seem ugly and rude toward political opponents” (p. 169), and there is simply no excuse for this.  But as I read this chapter I couldn’t help but think back to the late 1980s when the “religious right” movement began, through the influence of Pat Robertson and Jerry Falwell, among others.  In those days evangelicals were excoriated for being apathetic about politics, and these Christian leaders set about to changing this.  Now evangelicals are blasted for being “too involved.”  Oh well, you just can’t win.

Finally, in chapter eight Kinnaman deals with the perception that Christians are judgmental, noting that survey data shows outsiders “believe Christians . . . [try] to justify feelings of moral and spiritual superiority” (p. 182).  Once again, although Kinnaman makes some helpful observations, the entire discussion is confused by a failure to make a critical distinction.  There are two senses of “judgment.”  (See my 8/3/08 blog entry for a detailed discussion of these.)  There is judgment in the sense of condemnation.  This is the sense of the term in those New Testament passages where Jesus tells us not to judge, lest we be judged ourselves (cf. Mt. 7:1-5).  And this is the sense in which Kinnaman uses the term throughout the chapter, as is evident in his statement that “to be judgmental is to point out something that is wrong in someone else’s life, making the person feel put down, excluded, and marginalized” (p. 182).  But there is another sense of the term, and that is judgment in the sense of moral discernment.  This is the sort of judgment that is not only permissible but mandatory for the Christian, as Jesus tells us in Luke 7:43 and John 7:24 and as the apostle Paul makes clear in 1 Corinthians 5.  One can only wonder how Kinnaman’s poll data might have been improved by alerting respondents to this distinction.

I have noted numerous problems with UnChristian, but I do want to emphasize that there is much that is valuable in Kinnaman’s study, most notably in (1) giving us a sense of some outsiders’ negative perceptions of Christians, (2) providing insights regarding certain cultural trends both within and outside the church, and (3) highlighting some areas in which we Christians really do need to improve.  If nothing else, the book is worth reading for these reasons.  But I lament the fact that UnChristian could, and should, have been a much more insightful and helpful book.

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Obama’s Fading Celebrity Factor

By Jim Spiegel

As President Obama has been taking heat for his economic policies and health care plan, his approval ratings have plummeted.  According to the most recent Rasmussen poll, Obama’s approval index rating has now dipped to -14, as compared to his +28 rating earlier in the year.  Whereas in January 65% approved of the job he was doing, now that number is at 48%.  This is a dramatic change of national opinion since Obama took office just seven short months ago.   But no one should be surprised at this.  As American politics has morphed into a celebrity show (even as celebrities have become politicians), this has changed many aspects of our political process.  And one of the more outstanding impacts is in the turbulence of public opinion regarding those who hold public office.

ObamaCelebrities, of course, are here one day and gone the next.  Today’s most popular singers and TV stars are quickly forgotten, even reviled as passé seemingly overnight.  Once a star isn’t “cool” anymore, he or she is dismissed.  Or if, like Ozzy Osbourne or Paris Hilton, they refuse to be dismissed, they become objects of public ridicule.  So when politicians leverage the entertainment world and take their campaigns to late night TV, effectively becoming celebrities themselves, it should not come as any shock if in a short period of time the public turns on them because, well, they’re just not “cool” anymore.  And because they cannot be so easily dismissed or forgotten, since they (usually) serve their full terms, they must suffer public ridicule—almost as a matter of course, notwithstanding the merits or demerits of their policies.

Long before the 2008 election I predicted Obama would win, if only because he was the more telegenic of the two candidates.  (Since 1960 the more telegenic candidate has won in every U.S. presidential election.  So much for substance when it comes to American presidential politics….) I also expected that the Obama “cool” factor would wear off early in his term so that his policies would have to stand or fall on their own merits.  Obama’s declining approval ratings and the furor over his health care plan have confirmed this.  It appears that from here on out very little will come easy for this president, amazingly despite the Democrat majority in both houses of Congress.  It will be interesting to see how he negotiates the rough road ahead when his celebrity currency of “cool” has all been spent.

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Midlife, Mortality, and Faith

By Jim Spiegel

I recently turned 46, which happens to be the average age of onset of midlife crises for American men.  As for signs of this event in my own life, so far so good.  I haven’t experienced any sudden impulses to change my career, purchase a yacht, get a tattoo, or skip out on my wife for a younger woman.  But I must admit that the last five years or so I’ve found myself doing more assessment of my life to this point and my goals for whatever time I have left on this planet.  And being a philosopher, of course, I’ve also been reflecting on just what a midlife crisis is. 

The phrase “midlife crisis” was first used by psychologist Elliott Jaques in 1965 to describe that phase of psychological and behavioral turmoil which is experienced by about 15% of middle-aged adults in Western societies.  (Interestingly, some Eastern cultures, such as in Japan and India, show no evidence of midlife crises.)  Classic psychological symptoms include feelings of self-doubt, disappointment over goals not achieved, and obsessive preoccupation with staying young.  Such feelings sometimes prompt extreme behaviors, from extravagant purchases to adulterous liaisons.

Psychologists have proposed a variety of theories as to the ultimate causes of midlife crisis, regarding everything from Jungian self-actualization to the “sandwiched caregiver” effect of having to simultaneously care for children and aging parents.  But from what I’ve seen there is insufficient attention paid to the simple fact that it is often during midlife—in one’s 40s and 50s—that one is first acutely struck with the fact of his or her own mortality.  Whether it is hair loss, menopause, loss of youthful appearance, decline of athletic ability or, most likely, some combination of such factors, the imminence of one’s earthly demise becomes increasingly apparent during this period.

So how does one respond?  Obviously, some folks do not respond very well at all—essentially resisting the inevitable in a pathetic, vain, and sometimes laughable or even tragic attempt to hold on to one’s youth (or the Western accoutrements of youth) as long as one can.  As I see it, this is nothing other than a refusal to accept one’s mortality.  It is as if one’s body is declaring “Take note: I am approaching death—very slowly, perhaps, but quite assuredly,” and the midlife crisis prototype replies, “Don’t be silly.  You’ll be young forever.  Come on, body, let’s prove it by doing X, Y, and Z.” 

Other people, for whatever reason, respond very well to midlife physical decline.  They are able to “age gracefully,” allowing their youth to pass without desperately resisting the cosmetic symptoms of the aging process.  Nor, however, do they give up on healthy living.  They practice dietary discipline and get regular exercise but do so more for the sake of maintaining productivity and because they see their body as the sacred gift that it is.

These are, of course, extremes on the spectrum of responses to the midlife symptoms of mortality.  Perhaps most people fall somewhere in the middle, struggling to resist aspects of the aging process without denying it altogether.  One thing that has helped me is the realization that midlife is, like every other stage of life, essentially a moral trial.  Sudden or unexpected physical decline of any kind, whether due to disease or injury, has a way of bringing character issues into sharp relief.  And one can either respond with acceptance or resistance.  The physical decline of midlife just happens to be natural and gradual, but the response options are the same.  The way of wisdom is that of accepting one’s lot while working hard to make the best of it, and the way of the fool is that of resisting it to the point of preoccupying oneself with the impossible task of avoiding it.  So midlife decline presents two basic paths:  1) moral growth and maturing in virtue or 2) moral degeneration and reversion to immaturity and vice.  The classic midlife crisis could be simply defined in terms of the latter, at least from the standpoint of moral development.

Another way of analyzing midlife challenges is as a trial of faith.  Physical decline tends to prompt one to look heavenward or to become obsessed with preserving one’s earthly existence.  Yes, some folks do seem to blithely accept their physical fate, at least for a while.  But this is really just a form of denial.  I have seen such people fall very clearly into one of the other categories—heavenly-mindedness or earthly obsession—with the near approach of the angel of death.  And I suppose it is this way with nearly everyone.

As I see it, the physical decline of midlife is in many ways a gift, a blessed admonition that this world is, as Bob Dylan says, “a passing through place.”  God grants us many signs along life’s road to remind us that we are approaching that final turn, so to speak.  Even the most morally and spiritually devout among us can benefit from these reminders.

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A Defense of Conditional Immortalism

By Jim Spiegel

Conditional immortalism is the view that human beings are not naturally immortal but are only granted immortality (eternal life) by God as part of our salvation.  In other words, immortality is conditional upon divine grace.  Thus, those who are saved in Christ live forever with him, while those who are damned suffer in hell for some finite period and are eventually annihilated.

Conditional immortalism should not be confused with other versions of annihilationism which say that the damned are immediately destroyed upon death and do not suffer in hell.  And conditional immortalism contrasts with the traditional view (since Augustine) that the damned suffer eternal conscious torment.

Six Arguments for Conditional Immortalism

1. The Language of Destruction — Numerous biblical passages refer to the wicked and the damned being destroyed or perishing (Ps. 37:38, Ps. 68:2, Ps. 145:20, John 3:16, Phil. 3:19, etc.).  But if the damned live forever, then they are never destroyed.  Also, the biblical imagery of fire  (Isa. 34:10-11, Ezek. 20:47-48; Amos 5:6, Mt. 3:12, Mt. 13:49-50, Rev. 20, etc.) suggests obliteration of the wicked, since fire consumes what it burns.

2. The Opposing Concepts of Damnation and Eternal Life — In Scripture the eternal life promised to Christians is opposed to the damnation of the wicked.  But if the damned live eternally in hell, then their fate also is eternal life.  After all, they never die.  Theirs is a painful eternal life, but it is still eternal life.  The conditional immortalist view makes much better sense of the biblical contrast between damnation and eternal life.

3. Reconciliation of All Things to God — The Bible says that God will reconcile all things to himself (Col. 1:20).  If the damned live forever in hell, then they are not reconciled to God.

4. Matthew 10:28 — In this passage Jesus says that God can “destroy both body and soul in hell.”  This suggests that hell is indeed a place where souls are destroyed.

5. The “Second Death” — Conditional immortalism makes the best sense of the concept of the “second death” referred to in Rev. 20:14-15 and Rev. 21:8.  If the damned soul lives forever in hell, then there is no second death, thus contradicting Scripture.

6. The Argument from Justice — If all of the damned suffer in hell eternally, then this constitutes an infinite penalty for finite sins, which is profoundly unjust.  Some traditionalists insist that sins against an infinite and holy God require a temporally infinite penalty.  But this is a non-sequitur.  It does not follow from the fact that God is infinite and morally perfect that punishment of those who sin against him must be infinite in duration.

So where did the doctrine of eternal conscious torment come from, if not Scripture?  It appears that the culprit is the Platonic concept of natural immortality.  Socrates and Plato affirmed the notion that the human soul is naturally immortal.  This idea found its way into Christian theology in the late second century and later through Augustine.  It should be noted that while Augustine had most things right, he was not infallible.  He read the Platonic doctrine of the soul’s indestructibility into Scripture, and the church followed his cue.

Replies to Counter-arguments

1. Matthew 25:46 — In this passage Jesus says the wicked “will go away to eternal punishment” which suggests eternal conscious torment.

Reply:  The word translated here as “eternal” is aionias, which literally means “of the ages” (cf. Rom. 16:25).  However, even if aionias is taken to imply an everlasting state, conditional immortalism is not contradicted in this verse.  Those who go to hell are eventually annihilated and they remain destroyed forever.  This is a perfectly natural understanding of “eternal punishment” in this verse.

2. Revelation 20:10 — As commonly translated, this passage declares that the devil, the beast, and false prophet “will be tormented day and night forever and ever” (NIV).

Reply:  These are special cases and should not be taken to represent the fate of all of the damned, particularly human beings.  More importantly, the phrase often translated “forever and ever” (again involving aionias) is better translated “for ages upon ages,” as it is in some Bible translations.  This signifies a much longer torment but hardly that which is everlasting.

For an extensive discussion and defense of conditional immortalism, see Edward Fudge’s classic work The Fire that Consumes.  And for an informative scholarly dialogue between proponents of the traditional and conditional immoralist views, see Two Views of Hell, co-authored by Edward Fudge and Robert Peterson.  Also, check out this interview with Fudge about his view.  Lastly, the eminent evangelical biblical scholar John Stott defends conditional immortalism view in his Evangelical Essentials.  In fact, it was Stott’s arguments that finally persuaded me to embrace conditional immortalism.

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Thoughts on Providence and Hell

By Jim Spiegel

I hold to a high view of providence—what is sometimes called the “Augustinian” perspective.  This is essentially the view that God actively governs the entire cosmos, including human beings.  The Augustinian view jives well with the Calvinist doctrine of salvation, which I also espouse, but it is much broader than this, affirming that everything that happens in history is somehow part of the divine plan.  The Augustinian view of providence is strongly affirmed in the Westminster Confession of Faith, which declares that God ordains all things that come to pass.

This is a hard teaching, and frankly I can see why many Christians reject it.  The two principal objections to the Augustinian view appeal to human freedom and the problem of evil.  And between these two, the latter seems to me to be the stronger objection by far.  How could God ordain such terrible evils as the Holocaust or that a small child should suffer from a brain tumor?  Good questions indeed, and I certainly feel their force.

My wife, Amy, is also an Augustinian when it comes to providence.  (I distinctly recall when I first learned that this was her view.  It was early in our dating relationship, and this revelation, combined with her usual thoughtful articulation of her perspective, floored me.  Like so many other issues, she arrived at the same conclusion as I, but via a more intuitive path than my more logical-theoretical approach.  This was probably the clincher for me—when I knew I was falling for her.  Or was it when she turned me on to the band Cake?  Hmm…  Anyway, I digress.)  Recently, Amy had a long discussion with a friend about providence, and naturally, her friend posed the objection from evil, specifically challenging Amy to explain why God would allow a little child to have cancer.  Amy responded by noting that God does everything he does for greater goods, such as to glorify himself and bless others.  And sometimes this involves or even requires intense suffering.  And if God can bring greater goods through the crucifixion of Jesus, which is the worst evil in history, then why can’t he bring greater goods through lesser, though still horrific, evils, such as cancer?  Amy’s friend was not convinced, and they went on to discuss other things.

Later, when recounting their conversation, Amy noted how this same friend of hers affirms the traditional view of hell, known as the doctrine of “eternal conscious torment.”  This is the view that those who are condemned to hell suffer eternally.  Not only are the pains of hell unspeakably intense, but they last forever, according to this view.  One of the many reasons that Amy and I reject this doctrine (in addition to the fact that it is not biblical) is that such endless suffering constitutes infiniteevil for which there is no redemption or sufficiently greater good.  (Traditionalists, of course, argue that the greater good is that it demonstrates the justice of God.  But how can infinite punishment for finite sins be just?  In case you were wondering, we affirm “conditional immortalism,” the view that the damned are eventually annihilated in hell and that only those in Christ live eternally.)  Ironically, many of these traditionalists who believe God tortures the damned forever in hell are the same people who reject the high view of providence because it implicates God in our finite suffering here on Earth.  As Amy put it, some people can’t accept a God who allows cancer but they glibly confess that he allows infinite suffering in hell. 

I suppose part of the explanation for this inconsistency lies in the fact that all (or most) of us have known cancer victims and have witnessed its awful ravages.  None of us, however, have personally witnessed the horrors of hell.  So, in the end, the problem is that of an existential gap.  It’s easier to understand or appreciate what one has experienced than what one has not experienced.  And it often takes tremendous effort to close this gap.  When it comes to comparing the sufferings of the damned and suffering in this life, I suppose that gap could never truly be closed.  We just can’t imagine the pains of hell, while the suffering we witness here among friends and family is all too real and, at times, overwhelming.  But we can always do better to put these things into proper perspective, and if we do so, I believe it will help us to better formulate our views on the doctrines of providence and hell, among other issues.

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Lagidorp’s Playbook

By Jim Spiegel

There once was a football player named Lagidorp who deeply loved his team’s playbook.  He not only studied it diligently but encouraged his teammates to do the same.  Lagidorp—or “Lag,” as he came to be called—was a running back, and his many duties included blocking and short receiving routes as well as carrying the ball.  His first year with the team, Lag worked enthusiastically to fulfill his responsibilities.  But during his second year, the difficulty of some aspects of his job began to get to him.  While he loved carrying the ball, he found route running to be tiresome and blocking for the quarterback to be downright unpleasant.  “Why should I be stuck with picking up defenders that get past our offensive line?” he thought to himself.  “I’m a running back, not a blocker.”  Soon Lag found that some of his teammates had misgivings of their own about the duties laid out for them in the playbook.  And they would sometimes share their criticisms with one another.  So Lag’s love for the playbook waned, as did his respect for Coach, who devised the playbook.  Whereas earlier in his career Lag could trust Coach about the demands the playbook placed on him, now he found it very difficult to do so.

Eventually, Lag decided to ignore or de-emphasize some of the more demanding or “unreasonable” plays—those which required him to block for the quarterback.  “This is just too ‘old school,'” he would say.  “Today everyone should know that running backs shouldn’t have to block huge defensive lineman.”  Predictably, however, Lag’s approach resulted in some quarterback sacks, including one that cost his team a game and another that injured the quarterback.  Naturally, several teammates and assistant coaches chided Lag for his poor play.  While he  publicly acknowledged his mistakes, Lag privately resented their “arrogance” in correcting him.

As time went on, Lag found others outside the organization who shared his resentment toward his coaching staff, teammates, and especially Coach, for their unreasonable expectations.  Lag would often consider ways the playbook could be improved and how, if he were Coach, he would do things very differently.  By the end of his fourth year Lag had had enough, and he quit the team.  The last straw came when several teammates confronted him about his refusal to “play by the book.”  “You guys are part of the problem,” he told them.  “If you want to blame me for thinking for myself, then so be it.”

So Lagidorp joined another team—a team in a different kind of league where players wrote their own playbooks.  By some strange coincidence, though, all of the players’ playbooks ended up looking very much the same in this league—with very few responsibilities for helping teammates and where most plays emphasized “doing what comes naturally on the field.”  However, while the players claimed to enjoy this freedom, they did not improve as players but deteriorated in their skills.  Nor did they work well as teammates—if you could call them such—especially since they had no Coach.

There were also many more injuries in this alternative league.  This did not bother Lag much at first, but as the casualties mounted, he began to recognize that something was wrong.  Still he continued to play for his new team—until he had an injury of his own.  In the middle of his second season on the new team, Lag blew out his knee.  The injury called for reconstructive surgery, which meant a long rehabilitation.  During this time away from the game, Lag reflected on the previous five years.  He realized how foolish he had been in questioning his Coach and the playbook.  He also saw how unfair he had been to his teammates who, for all their flaws, were really doing the right thing in admonishing him. 

So as Lag did his rehab he resolved to return to his original team.  He contacted one of his former teammates, who was thrilled to hear this.  Eventually, Lag humbly approached Coach, apologizing for his irresponsible behavior and asking if he could try out for the team again.  “I was very foolish in the way I behaved,” he said.  “I’m ready to be a good teammate and play by the book.  In fact, at this point, I think I’d rather be a water boy than play in that other league.”  Coach forgave him, saying “We’d love to have you back on the team, assuming you really are ready to do all of the work.  It’s too bad it took an injury to get you to see the light.  But, in the end, you’ll probably be better for it.”

So Lagidorp tried out for his former team and made it back on the roster.  This time he didn’t seek the limelight, but he played a crucial role on the team and was especially pleased to block for his quarterback.  “Anything to help the team,” he would often say—and not just in public but even privately to himself.