Tag: logic

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.

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.

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.