Category: Theology

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Oxford Study on Religious Belief

By Jim Spiegel

A three-year long Oxford University research project has recently concluded that religious belief “comes naturally, even instinctively.”  The study, led by Oxford University Professor Roger Trigg, was a transcultural mega-project that actually incorporated data from forty different studies around the world.  Trigg notes that the findings reveal that children and adults alike naturally think in religious terms, demonstrating a readiness to believe in an afterlife and divine purpose in life and the cosmos.

This study appears to confirm John Calvin’s notion of the sensus divinitatis—the idea that there is an innate awareness of God hard-wired into human beings.  As Calvin puts it, “to prevent anyone from taking refuge in the pretense of ignorance, God himself has implanted in all men a certain understanding of his divine majesty” (Institutes, I.III.1).  If Calvin is correct, and I think he is, then atheistic dreams of eliminating religious belief in society could never be realized.  In Roger Trigg’s words, the “secularization thesis…[is] hopeless.”

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Love Wins and Logic Loses: The Fallacies of Rob Bell (part 4)

By Jim Spiegel

In this last installment of this series, I will highlight some of the insights and flaws of the last few chapters of Love Wins.

Chapter five, entitled “Dying to Live,” deals with the doctrine of the atonement.  Bell points out that there are multiple theories about the atonement—that is, various accounts about what the work of Christ exactly accomplished in order to achieve salvation for human beings.  These include the Ransom theory (Christ’s death paid a price to free us from bondage to devil), the Christus Victor theory (Christ’s death and resurrection demonstrated God’s triumph over sin and evil), and the Penal-Substitutionary theory (Christ’s death served to pay the penalty for sin on our behalf), among others (125-129).  Bell correctly suggests that each of the theories has its insights and biblical warrant.

In chapter six, “There are Rocks Everywhere,” Bell explores how Christ is redemptively active across all times and cultures and that no people group can claim him as exclusively their own.  Moreover, Bell correctly observes that it is possible for someone to become “anaesthetized to Jesus” through lifelong, routine Christian religious practices.  Consequently, one’s “’nearness’ can actually produce distance” (152).  Bell also wisely cautions us against “making negative, decisive, lasting judgments about people’s eternal destinies” (160).

And in chapter seven, “The Good News is Better Than That,” Bell again reminds us that the Gospel is not merely about getting us to heaven.  This, he says, “reduces the good news to a ticket, a way to get past the bouncer and into the club” (178).  This “entrance understanding of the Gospel,” Bell adds, “does not inspire good art or imagination.  It’s a cheap view of the world, because it’s a cheap view of God.  It’s a shriveled imagination” (179-180).  These are strong, and I think insightful, words.  However, it should be noted that Bell is being rather dogmatic and judgmental here.  Not that there’s anything wrong with making strong judgments.  But given Bell’s repeated calls to oppose dogma and judgmentalism, such assertions are, well, a bit ironic.

There are also several logical fallacies in the last few chapters.  Here are some of them:

1. False Dichotomy (or Begging the Question) on page 129: After noting the variety of ways that Scripture speaks of the atoning work of Christ, Bell concludes: “The point, then isn’t to narrow it to one particular metaphor, image, explanation, or mechanism.  To elevate one over the others, to insist that there’s a ‘correct’ or ‘right’ one, is to miss the brilliant, creative work these first Christians were doing when they used these images and metaphors” (129).  Here Bell mistakenly assumes that one must either affirm a particular atonement theory as exclusively true while completely rejecting the others or else accept them all as equally valid (which is to diminish them as mere interpretive images).  But why assume this?  Why not take a more nuanced view that affirms one theory—say, the penal-substitutionary view—as providing the primary explanation and affirms some or all of the others as capturing secondary functions of the work of Christ?

2. Begging the Question (or Non Sequitur) on pages 173-174: Towards the end of the book, Bell returns to the issue of hell to give the traditional view one more spanking.  He notes that on this view God may lovingly yearn for a person to turn to Him, but if, say, that person dies in a car accident, then God suddenly must (hatefully) condemn them to hell.  Bell complains that this implies a “volatile” God who is “loving one moment, vicious the next.  Kind and compassionate, only to become a cruel and relentless in the blink of an eye” (174).  But notice that Bell’s rant here presupposes (1) that God loves everyone—something that Calvinists firmly deny—and (2) that God changes and is bound by time such that His emotions and attitudes alter according to events that occur in the world.  Now, of course, it is conceivable that each of these assumptions is true.  But since both are rather controversial theological ideas, it is incumbent on Bell to defend them or, at the least, explicitly assert what he is taking for granted.  Otherwise, he runs the risk of hoodwinking the unsuspecting reader.

3. Overlooking Alternatives on pages 181 ff.: Towards the end of the book Bell extensively contrasts the “entrance understanding” of the Gospel (as just concerned with getting us to heaven) with what he calls the “enjoyment” view, which sees life as ultimately about “thriving in God’s good world.  Its about stillness, peace, and that feeling of your soul being at rest, while at the same time it’s about asking things, learning things, creating things, and sharing it all with others who are finding the same kind of joy in the same good world” (179).  Astonishingly, throughout the chapter these are the only views he entertains.  What Bell never considers is the deeply biblical emphasis on personal transformation that is essential to heavenly existence (See 2 Cor. 3:18 and Phil. 3:20-21, for example).  Bell is rightly critical of the “entrance” view but by preferring the “enjoyment” view, he has merely affirmed another perspective that emphasizes personal, subjective experience while ignoring the sanctifying end of objective, abiding change of character.  Will heaven be a condition of ineffable joy, peace, creativity, and learning, as Bell proposes?  Of course.  But this will only be possible because we will be made new, perfected in our humanity.  We will experience what theologians call “glorification”—our final transformation into the likeness of our Savior.  And this lasting change is why we will be able to experience both entrance into heaven and find enjoyment in all that heaven entails.  So here, it seems, Bell is the one guilty of being exclusionary when it comes to apparently competing views.  Given the more fundamental concept of personal transformation (sanctification culminating in glorification) we may affirm the insights of both the entrance and enjoyment views.

Bell’s oversight regarding the need for personal transformation is not an isolated problem with Love Wins.  It is an overarching issue and, I would say, its biggest doctrinal flaw.  In short, Bell teaches what Bonhoeffer called “cheap grace,” a gospel void of the call to repentance.  This is evident in the fact that Bell never identifies turning from sin as a condition for salvation.  It is also evident in such passages as this:  “God isn’t waiting for us to get it together, to clean up, shape up, get up—God has already done it” (189).  Thus, Bell adds, “The only thing left to do is trust” (190).  Well, not according to Scripture, which places a strong emphasis on repentance (e.g. Isa. 30:15, Mt. 3:8, Mk. 1:4, Lk. 24:47, Acts 20:21, Acts, 26:20, 2 Pet. 3:9) and obedience (e.g., Jn. 14:15-24, Heb. 5:9, 1 Pet. 4:17, 2 Jn. 6).  For all of the controversy over Love Wins regarding the doctrine of hell, it is Bell’s penchant for cheap grace that should be the real scandal.  And the fact that his harshest critics—for whom doctrinal orthodoxy is professedly paramount—have missed this point is itself cause for concern.

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Love Wins and Logic Loses: The Fallacies of Rob Bell (part 3)

By Jim Spiegel

Chapter 3 of Love Wins is entitled “Hell.”  Given the fact that it is the most controversial chapter, it is perhaps ironic that it is also the most logically sound chapter in the book, at least in terms of the frequency of fallacies.  As in every chapter, Bell makes many good points.  He is certainly correct in acknowledging our ignorance about the details of God’s dealings with people in the afterlife, as he notes that the biblical witness is “fairly ambiguous at best as to just what exactly that looks like” (65).  Bell also drives home a powerful moral lesson in his analysis of the parable of Lazarus and the rich man in Luke 16.  He reminds us that it is because the rich man failed to properly die to himself in his earthly life that he missed out on “the only kind of life that’s worth living” (77).  Indeed.  We’d all do well to keep this in mind.  Thirdly, Bell observes that when teaching on hell, Jesus’ focus is not on a person’s beliefs so much as “how they conduct themselves, how they interact with their neighbors, about the kind of effect they have on the world” (82).  This is a powerful corrective for many evangelicals today, who are tragically prone to thinking that mere cognitive states (i.e., beliefs about Jesus) are sufficient for salvation.  On the contrary, Jesus says, “unless your righteousness surpasses that of the Pharisees and the teachers of the law, you will certainly not enter the kingdom of heaven” (Mt. 5:20).  Finally, Bell helpfully reminds us how God uses suffering and even Satan himself for redemptive purposes (85-90).  Such a view of God’s sovereign use of evil almost makes one wonder if Bell is warming up to a Reformed perspective.  Well, okay, not quite.

Anyway, here are two fallacies in chapter 3:

1. Equivocation on page 71: The fallacy of equivocation is committed when, in the course of making a claim or argument, one uses a key term in two or more senses  (e.g., “This is a liberal arts college, and all liberals are political leftists.  So this college must endorse leftist politics”).  Bell equivocates on, of all things, the word “hell.”  Through much of the chapter he discusses various source images of hell, such as that suggested by the term “Gehenna,” which referred to the Hinnom Valley outside of Jerusalem, a place that served as a garbage dump.  Bell notes as well the hellish nature of certain atrocities, like the Rwandan genocide of the 1990s, when some people would amputate the limbs of children just to spite their enemies.  Then at one point Bell says, “Do I believe in a literal hell?  Of course.  Those aren’t metaphorical missing arms and legs” (71).  Well, this is clearly a redefinition of the term “literal.”  Normally, when used to modify “hell” we understand this to indicate a supernatural dimension where souls are tormented.  But by reconceiving hell in physical terms, this permits Bell to use a different sense of “literal” accordingly.  It’s a clever but deceptive move that is more like a conceptual shell game than astute biblical interpretation.

2. Straw Man on page 70: In Part 2 of this series I noted an instance of Bell committing the straw man fallacy (representing a view in its weakest light so that it is easily refuted).  An even more severe instance occurs in chapter 3 as Bell responds to the objection that “the idea of hell is a holdover from primitive, mythic religion” (69).  Bell says, “I understand that aversion, and I as well have a hard time believing that somewhere down below the earth’s crust is a really crafty figure in red tights holding a three-pointed spear…” (70).  So this is the traditional view of hell that Bell wants us to get over?  Talk about an easy dismissal.  And, of course, by contrast, Bell’s naturalized view of hell as torture and injustice on earth looks incomparably more reasonable.  But wait a minute…  Later in chapter 3 Bell seems to affirm something like the traditional view of hell as a condition in the afterlife, declaring, “There is hell now and there is hell later, and Jesus teaches us to take both seriously” (79).  So why parody the traditional afterlife view, as Bell does, using the devil-in-red-tights description?  I haven’t a clue.

Chapter 4 is entitled “Does God Get What God Wants?” and it features a number of significant observations, not the least of which is the biblical reminder that “God wants all to be saved and to come to a knowledge of the truth” (1 Tim. 2:4).  Many people would say, presumably including Bell, that this is grounds for being a “hopeful universalist,” that is, someone who hopes that universalism is true (however implausible it might seem).  And surely this is a proper attitude—to want what God wants in desiring the salvation of everyone.  Bell also notes that many respected Christian thinkers down through history, including early church fathers such as Origen, Clement of Alexandria, Gregory of Nyssa, and Eusebius, were universalists.  So it is not a view that renders one a heretic, even if it is quite heterodox.

However, among the fallacies committed by Bell in chapter 4 are these:

1. Complex Question on page 108: The fallacy of complex question is committed when one asks a question that presupposes a particular (controversial or damning) view on some issue (e.g., “Have you stopped beating your wife?”).  In defending the possibility that eventually everyone will be reconciled to God, Bell poses this question:  “Could God say to someone truly humbled, broken, and desperate for reconciliation, ‘Sorry, too late’?”  The reader’s natural response to this is, of course, to say “no,” which naturally puts us in a sympathetic position with the universalist.  But notice the subtle assumption Bell slips into the question, specifically that some/all people in hell could really be “humbled” and “desperate for reconciliation” with God.  While this is certainly possible, we don’t know that this will be true of anyone in hell.  Many traditionalists, in fact, affirm a concept of hell in which pride, resentment, and other vices only grow more consuming and nefarious in the damned.  So we need not grant the assumption behind this question, tempting though it may be.

2. Unjustified Claims on pages 110-111: In one of the most interesting passages in the chapter, Bell compares the traditional doctrine of eternal conscious torment with the universalist view.  He asserts, “Telling a story in which billions of people spend forever somewhere in the universe trapped in a black hole of endless torment and misery with no way out isn’t a very good story” (110).  In contrast, he adds, “everybody enjoying God’s good world together with no disgrace or shame, justice being served and all the wrongs being made right is a better story” (111).  Bell doesn’t bother to argue for this bold, and crucial, claim, besides declaring that the latter is “more loving, more expansive, more extraordinary, beautiful, and inspiring.”  But why should we believe these claims?  He doesn’t even attempt to justify any of them.  Such unjustified assertions are especially exasperating, as far as I’m concerned, because, well, I think Bell is right.  The universalist story is more aesthetically pleasing overall than the eternal conscious torment story.  But so many of his readers are likely to find this claim controversial that he owes us some evidence to support it.  Moreover, once this claim is justified, it’s a huge step from here to the claim that the universalist story is actually true.

3. False Dichotomy on pages 110-111: While I’m at it, this critical passage also showcases the fallacy of false dichotomy.  Notice that Bell’s comparison involves just two views:  the traditional doctrine of eternal conscious torment and the universalist view.  He completely ignores an important alternative—conditional immortalism.  If the damned are ultimately annihilated in hell, then their torment is not “endless,” yet their destruction certainly satisfies the demand for just punishment for unforgiven sin.  Many scholars (e.g., John Stott, F. F. Bruce, and Edward Fudge) would argue that this story is “better” than both the traditional and universalist views.  Since Bell is so critical of eternal conscious torment yet also denies universalism, one would think he would welcome consideration of conditional immortalism.  But, alas, Rob Bell is a perplexing thinker.

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Love Wins and Logic Loses: The Fallacies of Rob Bell (part 2)

By Jim Spiegel

Chapter two of Love Wins is entitled “Here is the New There” and is about heaven.  Bell’s principle concern in the chapter is to correct some popular misconceptions about the point of the Christian life, especially the notion that redemption is all about moving on to the next life, particularly when it is conceived as static, ethereal, and immaterial, as is often the case.  Bell rightly notes that, instead, the next world will be active and productive, full of creativity and learning.  Moreover, true Christian redemption doesn’t begin after we die but starts here and now, as the chapter’s title asserts.  I applaud this message, and it is a corrective that I, too, strive to offer in many contexts where I encounter the misconception of heaven that he describes.  I also appreciate many other good points Bell makes in the chapter, such as his observation that the Greek term aion, often translated as “eternal,” actually has multiple meanings, including “of the ages” or a long period of time (a fact that has bearing on some of the key New Testament passages pertaining to hell).  I also appreciate his defense of the notion that God judges sin (p. 37) and his insistence that “taking heaven seriously…means talking suffering seriously” (p. 45).  These are all significant insights that Bell makes in this chapter.  Unfortunately, he also makes many logical mistakes along the way.  Here are just a few of them.

1. Straw Man on page 23: The “straw man” fallacy is committed when one critiques a distorted or weak version of a view, thereby creating the illusion that s/he has refuted the actual view.  Bell is a chronic offender when it comes to this fallacy, and there are several instances of this in chapter two of Love Wins.  Bell opens the chapter by describing a painting of his grandmother’s which pictures an oddly surreal vision of heaven where throngs of people traverse a giant cross suspended above a great chasm, on the other side of which lies “a gleaming, bright city with a wall around it and lots of sunshine” (21).  This, of course, is an image of heaven—an especially creepy and kitschy image, that is.  Bell notes that “crosses do not hang suspended in the air that you and I call home.  Cities do not float” (23).  Throughout the chapter Bell uses this image to represent the popular “story” that heaven is essentially happening “somewhere else.”  He goes on to make many good points about the importance of living here and now in a way that realizes Christ’s teachings.  Amen to that.  But why degrade and parody the very biblical teaching that heaven does also transcend this fallen world?  In fact, to insinuate that we must take one view or the other (heaven is here and now or heaven is somewhere else) is actually to commit another logic error—the fallacy of false dichotomy.  More on that shortly.

2. Appeal to Pity on page 25: The ad misericordium fallacy is committed when a person appeals to a person’s emotions to persuade them of a view.  Bell does this at several points in chapter two, such as when he relates some disturbing cases of insensitive responses to people who are grieving over their deceased loved ones, including that of a pastor who tells a woman that she won’t miss her lost loved ones in heaven because “she’ll be having so much fun worshipping God that it won’t matter to her” (25).  This, of course, makes us sad for her and naturally invites us to be less sympathetic with the pastor’s view, which is that some people are eternally separated from God.

3. False Dichotomy on page 43 (and pp. 23, 26, and 52): A false dichotomy (or false dilemma, as it is sometimes called) is any presentation of two views as if they were the only two options available on a particular issue (e.g., “Joe must have voted for the Democrat, because I know he wouldn’t vote Republican.”)  Repeatedly throughout chapter two, Bell commits this fallacy when he insinuates that we have just two options—the simplistic view of heaven with its “static” rewards, a sort of “Beverly Hills in the sky,” including “Ferraris and literal streets of gold” (p. 43).  We have already noted how such descriptions constitute a flagrant “straw man” fallacy, but by suggesting that it’s either this view or the notion that heaven is (primarily? entirely?) here and now, this rules out a possible (and I would say likely) third view that is more nuanced, namely that the Kingdom of Heaven does indeed start here and now but that it culminates in a wondrously transcendent reality that, even if only because the New Earth is so fundamentally changed, really is Somewhere Else.

4. Unjustified Claims on pages 48 and 51: One commits the fallacy of unjustified claim when one makes a significant assertion of fact without providing supporting reasons or evidence.  Given that the subject of chapter two is heaven and that Bell spends so much time critiquing (or parodying) what he regards as a problematic view of heaven, it is naturally significant when Bell presents what he regards as the proper view.  He declares, “Heaven is both the peace, stillness, serenity, and calm that come from having everything in its right place—that state in which nothing is required, needed, or missing—and the endless joy that comes from participating in the ongoing creation of the world” (p. 48).  Now, in fairness to Bell, he does go on to provide some scriptural support for the very last part of this description of heaven, regarding “ongoing creation.”  But he gives no justification (scriptural or otherwise) for the rest of his claims in this passage, important as they are (and plausible though they may be).  Elsewhere, Bell apparently rejects the notion that “in the blink of an eye” we will become “totally different people.”  His reason:  “our heart, our character, our desires, our longings—those things take time” (p. 51).  Well, yes, that is certainly so in this earthly life.  But how does Bell know that instantaneous dramatic change of character is impossible even in the next world?  This claim needs support, but he doesn’t provide it.  And given what the Apostle Paul says in 1 Corinthians 15 about the dramatic differences between our earthly perishable body and our resurrected spiritual body and that “we will all be changed…in the twinkling of an eye,” I’d say Bell has a lot of supporting to do.

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Love Wins and Logic Loses: The Fallacies of Rob Bell

By Jim Spiegel

Rob Bell’s book Love Wins isn’t just popular.  It’s a cultural phenomenon.  With an extremely effective pre-publication ad campaign, the book sold like hotcakes weeks before its release.  And since its release it has perched high on the New York Times bestseller list.  But unlike most bestsellers, the book is the source of significant theological controversy, so much so that it prompted last week’s cover story in Time magazine.  So what’s all the hullabaloo about?  Well, that question itself is somewhat controversial.  Fans insist that the book is encouraging, refreshing, and illuminating, while critics complain that Love Wins is an irresponsible, unbiblical, and even heretical espousal of universalism.  Bell denies that he’s a universalist.  But the accusations still fly, and given the many questions he asks and the claims he makes, it is easy to see why.

I’ve decided not to offer yet another review of Love Wins.  The Internet is already swirling with them, some of the best of which include those by Mark Galli and Kevin DeYoung (on the critical side) and Julie Clawson and Richard Mouw (on the sympathetic side).  I found myself torn in reading the book.  I appreciate Bell’s sincerity and compassion for those for whom the doctrine of hell is a stumbling block, his courage to wade into such treacherous theological territory, and even his calling into question the notion that the damned are tormented forever.  (I personally believe Scripture teaches that those in hell are indeed tormented but are ultimately annihilated, a view known as “conditional immortalism,” which has been affirmed by John Stott and Edward Fudge, among others.)  At the same time, I am disappointed by Bell’s exegetical method, his distracting writing style, and, most of all, his many logical blunders.  It is this last concern that will be the focus of my remarks about the book.  And, unfortunately, the fallacies in Love Wins are so plenteous that I will need to make this a series.  I will also affirm many of Bell’s insightful observations along the way, so that we don’t forget that, for all of his logical missteps, the book does have some good qualities.

There are several dozen fallacies in Love Wins, and I will highlight many of these, chapter by chapter.  While some of them might seem insignificant or trivial given the context or the role a particular argument plays in his overall project, I would emphasize that logical errors are never trivial or insignificant.  Why?  Because they are indicative of a person’s general reliability when it comes to critical thinking and rational judgment.  If a person is inclined to commit logical fallacies on lesser matters, then why should we regard him/her as trustworthy on bigger issues?

CHAPTER ONE

In the first chapter, Bell correctly notes that the necessary conditions for salvation, as far as the human response goes, are very difficult, if not impossible, to specify.  Insist on a cognitive condition (such as “belief in” or conscious “acceptance of” Christ), and this seems to imply that all who die as infants or even as fetuses go straight to hell, not to mention those who’ve never heard of Christ, including everyone who lived before Jesus’ time.  Add a behavioral condition (e.g., a certain degree of obedience) and this seems to make salvation a matter of works rather than faith (though such stipulations are apparently made in numerous passages, including Mt. 5:20, Mt. 18:35, 1 Cor. 6:9, and 1 Tim. 5:8).  Then there’s the question of how much faith is necessary for salvation.  Faith, after all, comes in degrees.  One may have more or less faith.  How much is enough?  And how does one know when one has enough?  Such are vexing questions, and Bell rightly shines the light on our ignorance about many of them.

Despite these insights, I counted five fallacies in the (very brief) first chapter.  Here are three of them:

1. Non sequitur on page 4: A non sequitur is simply a conclusion that does not follow from the premise(s) of one’s argument.  Bell rightly challenges the dubious extra-biblical notion of an “age of accountability,” something that is also a pet peeve of mine.  But his critique of the idea is spurious, to say the least.  He says, “If every new baby being born could grow up to not believe the right things and go to hell forever, then prematurely terminating a child’s life anytime from conception to twelve yeas of age would actually be the loving thing to do, guaranteeing that the child ends up in heaven, and not hell, forever.  Why run the risk?”  What?  His conclusion here doesn’t follow unless he makes several questionable assumptions:  1) that there aren’t significant upsides which would make this a worthwhile “risk” (after all, the positive value of eternal bliss in the presence of God is incalculable), 2) that there even is such a thing as “risk” when it comes to the providence of God and the ultimate eternal fate of human beings, and 3) that there isn’t much to be gained in terms of rewards in heaven by living a full life of obedience and faithful service as a Christian in this life.

2. Vacuous Claim on page 6: Bell also rightly challenges the idea that “all that matters is whether or not a person is going to heaven.”  But then he says, “If that’s the gospel, the good news—if what Jesus does is get people somewhere else—then the central message of the Christian faith has very little to do with this life other than getting you what you need for the next one.”  If Bell is saying that the “all-that-matters-is-heaven” view implies that our earthly existence is not meaningful at all, this does not follow since what we do here has a tremendous impact on our eternal condition.  So this would be a non sequitur.  However, he adds the phrase “other than getting you what you need for the next [life]” which does qualify his claim.  But notice that this only qualifies it to the point of making it an empty claim, essentially this:  Those who take the heaven-is-all-that-matters view believe that life on earth is only important to the extent that it impacts heaven.  Well, yes.  That is precisely what this view assumes.  But Bell seems to think he is refuting the view somehow, rather than simply stating it, as evidenced by what he says afterwards: “Is that the best God can do?”  As if using our earthly existence to eternally impact the heavenly condition of billions of people is a small thing.

3. Overlooking Alternatives on page 9: The fallacy of overlooking alternatives is committed when one draws a conclusion or makes an insinuation that fails to take into account a reasonable alternative view (e.g., “My hammer is missing from my workbench, so it must have been stolen.”).  Bell commits this fallacy when he addresses the issue regarding those who do not hear the gospel.  At one point he declares, “If our salvation, our future, our destiny is dependent on others bringing the message to us, teaching us, showing us—what happens if they don’t do their part?”  And he goes on to raise “disturbing questions,” such as whether, then, our future is in someone else’s hands and whether the fate of others rests in our hands.  These are disturbing questions only if one rules out a high view of the sovereignty of God.  If God is truly sovereign in human salvation, then neither your fate nor anyone else’s is really in another human’s hands.

In my next post, I will discuss chapter two of Love Wins.

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This Saturday Life

By Amy Spiegel

Yesterday, our family observed Good Friday. I say, “observed” because it seems a bit inappropriate to say “celebrated.” Though I certainly rejoice in the forgiveness and new life purchased for me at Calvary, one doesn’t want to be cheery about it. “Gee, Jesus, sure glad You died on the cross and all.” Somehow, throwing a birthday party for Jesus on Christmas, though having often struck me as a bit patronizing to the Son of God, seems far more appropriate than celebrating the day of His death.

Anyway, I am afraid that we didn’t do much observing either. Mostly I cleaned the house after a delicious sleep-in (as no one had school) and yelled at the kids to clean up the mess in the basement (“I’m sure Jesus cleaned up His toys when He was done playing with them!”). But after dinner, we did read the story of the crucifixion and talk about how amazing it was that Jesus not only died for us rebel ingrates, but that He also lived a perfect life without sinning once. This part pricked my conscience a bit when looking back on the yelling and all. Hopefully, the kids were thinking about the eye-rolling they had been doing throughout the day.

I also “observed” that it was two days ’til Easter and went hog wild at the grocery, buying everyone those things that they gave up for Lent. I love Easter morning even more than Christmas because, yes, it’s great to partake of whatever we have voluntarily abstained from over the past forty days, but I also feel so happy to remember that, for Jesus, the trial of His earthly existence is over. He carried such a heavy burden for us and now “It is finished.”

But for us that isn’t the case. Though we have hope, we haven’t reached the finish line yet. If we are believers, then we’ve gotten past Friday, with all its earthquakes and dark skies. We have come to the cross, received forgiveness, been freed from the bonds of sin, and been given the promise of things to come. But that promise isn’t reality yet. We are still at Saturday, longing for Sunday morning. And Saturday can be hell.

In our Saturday existence, we do things that leave us full of regret, like, I don’t know, let’s say, yelling at our kids. Or forgetting to pray for that person who so desperately needs our prayers. On Saturday, Friday seems like a lifetime ago and Sunday seems as though it will never dawn. I’m not quite sure what to do with Saturday. I was full of sadness and gratitude on Friday; I know I will be full of joy and praise on Sunday. But Saturday? It feels like an oversight, something to be skipped and gotten over with.

It makes you wonder, what was Jesus doing on Saturday? No longer on earth but not yet in heaven. No longer bound by death but not yet seated in glory. I suppose that latter part describes me pretty well too, though I am quite sure my estate will be far less glorious than His. For now I am called to live a life not bound by sin and death, not afraid of what is to come. With tears still wet on my cheeks but with the knowledge that chocolate bunnies and Diet Coke are just around the bend. I suppose, if nothing else, this Saturday life makes our mouths water for Sunday morning, when we, like Mary, will see our Savior in the garden, only this time it will be forever.

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The Greatest Undercover Boss

By Jim Spiegel

Have you ever seen the television show Undercover Boss?  Since we don’t get TV broadcasts and have to access shows via Netflix, I was late to the party on this one.  But I’ve taken the time to watch a few episodes, and each one hit me hard.  For anyone unfamiliar, the premise of the show is that the chief executive or owner of a large company goes “undercover,” posing as a regular employee or as someone applying for a menial job in the lower echelons of the business.  In this way s/he is able to observe the employees with their guard down, whether its those doing grunt work for an hourly wage or supervisors and those in middle management.  After a week or so of doing this, the executive reveals his or her true identity to everyone and has one-on-one conversations with those s/he got to know best during the experience.  At this point the show climaxes, as we see how the executive’s attitude has changed toward the employees and perhaps the company as a whole.  We also see how the bad employees receive their come-uppance for poor work, whether because of negligence or mean-spiritedness toward fellow employees.  But most satisfying of all is the way the faithful employees are rewarded for their dedication and commitment, as they receive raises, promotions, special bonuses or all of the above.  The show is very compelling viewing, much more so than other reality TV shows.  I think the main reason for this is the fact that it always culminates with a just outcome and enlightenment for all involved.  The vicious workers get disciplined, the virtuous workers are rewarded, and the executive gains sympathy and understanding.

Recently, it struck me how the show’s basic narrative structure illustrates some biblical ideas.  For one thing, it displays a central moral theme in Scripture, and that is the notion that the proud will be humbled and the humble will be exalted (cf. 1 Sam. 2:7, Ps. 18:27, Ps. 147:6, Pr. 3:34, Luke 14:11, James 4:10, 1 Pet. 5:6, etc.).  Undercover Boss consistently provides powerful images of this idea.  Of course, as compelling as its stories are, they are but mere hints of the final doling out of rewards and punishments that awaits us on Judgment Day (cf. Eccl. 12:13, 2 Cor. 5:10).  Second, and more profoundly, it occurred to me that Jesus Christ is the ultimate Undercover Boss.  In taking on human flesh and dwelling among us, his divine identity was effectively masked.  In doing so, you might say, he demonstrated an existential acquaintance with the human condition, in all its absurd and painful reality.  But, of course, our Cosmic Executive was not, nor could He ever be, restricted in his understanding and sympathy for our plight.  Rather, he is completely aware of each of our lives.  And he fully empathizes with us and perfectly understands our struggles (Heb. 4:15).

With these images in mind, I’m more inspired than ever to be a “good and faithful servant” for the Company.  Because the Boss really loves me, and he’s always watching.

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What if No One There Likes Me? (and Other Thoughts on Heaven)

By Amy Spiegel

With all the stir lately regarding Rob Bell’s book on hell and what heresies Bell may or may not be promoting, I have chosen to confront some of my own “heresies” regarding, not hell, but heaven. I am not sure where Gandhi is spending the hereafter but I am confident I will be singing with the angels in the sweet by and by. This is, for the most part, something I look forward to but must confess, I have a few misgivings about passing through the pearly gates. So I thought in a spirit of authenticity which I am sure Mr. Bell and his emergent friends will appreciate, I would like to share a few of my heaven fears and hopefully I can convince myself of their errancy.

1. I am a big bluegrass fan and love to listen to men with names like Sparky singing in rattly voices about the day when they will fly away from their lives of toil and sorrow and be with Jesus. The trouble is that as stressful as my life is at times, I like it here. I love my husband and kids; my family; Costco pizza (both cheap and delicious) and Diet Coke. I am blessed that in heaven I will be reunited with many loved ones but if I were to die today, I fear I would miss out on seeing my kids grow up not to mention all the things I still hope to accomplish, see and do. I suppose this is arrogance on my part. If God has numbered all my days then surely He has given me enough to achieve all that I am meant to. And if I trust in His love for me than I can know that when I crossover the river Jordan it will be to something better, better even than the love of my family, the soft fleshiness of my kids’ hugs and even of hot Costco pizza for $2 a slice.

2. Okay, so now I am arriving in heaven. Jim has done quite a bit of research on near-death experiences and for those who are believers, they all seem to start off pretty well. Grandmother is there and maybe my favorite dog. I just died so odds are my body wasn’t feeling so great on earth and that is now all a thing of the past. A significant number of these experiences, however, also include a life review and this is the part that has me squirming in my heavenly robes. First of all, I hate looking at myself. I don’t like having my picture taken or my voice recorded. I run to catch the phone as quickly as I can in order to avoid hearing myself on the answering machine. Now here I am with Grandma and Murdock (I was a big A-Team fan growing up) and Jesus and we are all sitting down to watch my life’s home movies. All the times I yelled at the kids, rolled my eyes behind Jim’s back, the time I kicked a kid in the shin at Christian summer camp. I don’t want to say that this is my idea of true hell but it certainly has a purgatory-like element to it. Of course, Jesus already knows these things. He was there when they happened. They were the reason He was tortured, nailed to a cross and died. Grandmother babysat me enough to know I am no angel, so I guess that just leaves me (and the dog, who I think will love me anyway). My fear isn’t exposure to others but rather finally being confronted with myself—my selfish, corrupted self. But the life review isn’t the end. Confronted with my unworthiness in its full glory, I get to see Jesus with His mercy in His full glory. That seems well worth the embarrassment of everyone seeing me cheat on my second grade math test.

3. My final fear is that no one will like me in heaven. I have lots of heroes to meet up with in paradise. I have visions of myself walking the streets of gold, map in hand, tracking down all those who went before me; a heavenly version of “See the Stars’ Homes.” “On your left is Jane Austen’s palace—built for her by Jesus, of course. And coming up on your right is Charlotte Brontes’ residence.” I have read these women’s books like letters from a friend, but who am I to them? Or what about my relatives? The Bible says there is no marriage in heaven but I like hanging out with Jim and what if we get to heaven and he just wants to kick back with his homeys, Berkeley and Edwards? How do we get face time with Jesus? Is there a sign up sheet? A seniority system? For this fear, I can only hearken back to times of true fellowship with my sisters and brothers and that feeling that the Spirit was binding us all together. If there are no tears and no sorrows then there is no loneliness or envy. Still, just so you know, if I get there before you, I call Austen for at least the first hundred years.

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Something to Look Forward To

By Amy Spiegel

Sometimes I wonder if I have a secret power to influence the weather. Not control it outright, just give it a nudge or two in the general direction of my mood. I wake up feeling bright and sunny and low and behold, not a cloud in the sky. Or, like today, I wake up feeling burdened and gloomy and sure enough, it’s dreary and damp out. Of course, the more logical explanation is that I am influenced by the weather rather than the other way around. But today, it isn’t just the weather that has put me in a somber mood. With the scent of brownies and celebration still hanging in the air from last night’s “Fat Tuesday Feast”, I now am looking out at forty days of famine. Okay, not literal famine, but rather, beverage famine.

You see, each year about two or three weeks before Ash Wednesday, I search my heart and try to come up with the most challenging abstention I can think of. Looking past a mere enjoyment of chocolate and shoving aside an intervention-worthy caffeine addiction, I bravely choose something that makes me shiver with ascetic anticipation; something that would make the desert fathers nod in approval. It’s easy to do, of course, two weeks prior, but as Lent approaches, my heart begins to squirm a bit under the building pressure and the negotiations begin. The serpent of my undisciplined spirit begins whispering in my ear and my conviction wavers. “Perhaps a bit of modification is in order, just to guard against legalism, ya know.” Then the day arrives and it’s too late and so for the next forty days the grey clouds will hover as I do battle with my freakishly strong will.

Having done this for several years now, two things strike me as interesting bookends to the experience of Lent. The first is that no matter how much self-indulgence I practice the day before, it is never enough. I could stay up ’til midnight stuffing my face or watching film after film, and I would still wake up on Wednesday longing for just one more hit of chocolate or one more chick flick. I suppose it is a symptom of our fallen state that we are always wanting more and yet a remnant of our previous glory that even brownies, no matter how tasty or plentiful, aren’t what we are really longing for. Whenever I voluntarily relinquish something that I normally enjoy, I am confronted with the depth of greed and utter ingratitude. After all, I have only given up one thing and am left with a myriad of other choices. Yet the knowledge that there is one thing I can’t have irritates me to no end because I realize how childish it is. Recognizing my weak and petty nature, my only refuge must be at the feet of God’s mercy. So in the end, what should be a rather depressing realization of my shortcomings is transformed into an acknowledgment of His endless grace.

The other observation I have made about fasting, whether from a food or activity, is that the end never lives up to hype. Several years ago, I was expecting our daughter and had given up sweets for Lent. Maggie was born on Good Friday and my sister brought me a Tupperware container full of one of my favorite treats to celebrate with on Easter morning. I stared at that container day and night, only to forget to eat one come Sunday morning. When I finally did eat one, sure it was good (okay, really good), but like an itch that refuses to be scratched, it was not truly satisfying. Whatever it is I have given up, I am left saying “This is what I was longing for all this time?” What a happy thought it is to know that one day I will leave behind this world of half pleasures and live forever in complete contentment. What a mind-blowing thought to know that Jesus did the reverse, giving up all the delights of heaven to live and die and live again in order to bring us home. Now that is truly something to look forward to.

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Unreasonable Doubt—Answering Some Critics

By Jim Spiegel

An article of mine, entitled “Unreasonable Doubt,” appeared in last month’s issue of Christianity Today.  It is now available on-line here.  In the article I discuss the major themes of my book, The Making of an Atheist, which aims to explain and apply the biblical account of atheism.

With the publication of the CT article, a few more folks have written me to say that I commit the ad hominem fallacy or that my book is offensive or that my argument is circular because I assume that the Bible is divinely inspired.  (Perhaps the next issue of CT will run some readers’ letters that make such protests.)  These were the main complaints among my atheist critics when the book was first published last year.  Because I’ve grown weary of rebutting these objections one by one in emails, I’ve decided it would be a good idea to address them in a blog post.  So here you go.

As regards the ad hominem fallacy accusation, my book may contain its share of mistakes, but this is surely not one of them.  The ad hominem fallacy is committed when one insists upon the rejection of a position because of some fact (or alleged fact) about the person who holds that view.  I do not argue that we should reject atheism because of any facts about atheists.  In fact, in my book I review many of the objective evidences for theism.  Rather, my thesis concerns the moral-psychological roots of atheism.  So, to use an analogy:  It would be ad hominem to say that we should reject Capitalism because Adam Smith was a bad guy.  But it would be perfectly appropriate to argue that Smith came to affirm his view because of X, Y, and Z.  The argument in my book is like the latter, not the former.

As for the supposed offensiveness of my book, well, that depends on what one means by “offensive.”  If this is intended to mean that I am insensitive, cruel, or have attacked others without justification, the charge is unfounded, even ridiculous.  I simply offer a moral-psychological account of the roots of atheism, and I do so as fairly and sensitively as I can manage.  In fact, my account parallels what Feuerbach and Freud proposed in suggesting that belief in God is a sort of psychological projection.  (I argue that atheists, as it were, “project” the absence of God, due to a combination of moral and psychological factors.)  While deeply mistaken, I would never say—nor have I ever known a fellow theist to claim—that the Feuerbach/Freud account is offensive (in the sense defined above).

Now if my critics’ claim is that my account is offensive in the sense that it is likely to be met with anger or resentment on the part of some people, then I plead guilty.  Of course it bothers atheists to be told that their worldview is irrational and that, furthermore, it is a consequence of willful rejection of God rather than an objective assessment of evidence.  So why defend the thesis at all?  Why write a book that will incite atheists?  Well, because it is an important and biblical truth that has many significant practical implications with regard to ministry, apologetics, and personal spiritual formation.  My account of atheism is really just an unpacking and filling out of what Scripture says in Romans 1:18-32, Ephesians 4:17-18, and John 3:19-21, among other passages.

So, then, in building my account of atheism on the Bible am I guilty of arguing in a circle?  No, because I am not appealing to Scripture to build an argument against the truth of atheism (or in favor of theism).  I would never cite any biblical passage as an argument for God, as this would indeed be blatantly circular.  But, assuming that God exists and that the Bible is divinely inspired, it seems appropriate to consider what, if anything, Scripture says about the causes of atheism. This is all I do in my book.  Offensive to some it may be, but it’s an important truth that needs to be heard.