The Christian Mind and Christian Worldview Education

“There is no longer a Christian mind,” writes Harry Blamires.

This is a rather bold statement at the beginning of a volume titled, The Christian Mind, but Blamires makes a fairly convincing case over the course of his pages.

He goes on:

“There is no longer a Christian mind. There is still, of course, a Christian ethic, a Christian practice, and a Christian spirituality. As a moral being, the modern Christian subscribes to a code other than that of the non-Christian. As a member of the Church, he undertakes obligations and observations ignored by the non-Christian. As a spiritual being, in prayer and meditation, he strives to cultivate a dimension of life unexplored by the non-Christian. But as a thinking being, the modern Christian has succumbed to secularization. He accepts religion––its morality, its worship, its spiritual culture; but he rejects the religious view of life, the view which sets all earthly issues within the context of the eternal view which relates all human problems––social, political, cultural––to the doctrinal foundations of the Christian Faith, the view which sees all things here below in terms of God’s supremacy and earth’s transitoriness, in terms of Heaven and Hell.“

Perhaps another way to say this is that there is too little contrast between Christians and the remainder of the world.

This is readily apparent in the world of politics in the United States where political affiliation is a pre-determining factor in which political candidates and, more significantly, which policies they will support. A progressive Christian will be robustly anti-GOP and oppose policy that sounds “conservative,” whatever the content. On the other side, there are “conservative” Christians whose definition of conservative has more to do with economic libertarianism and globalization than faithfully adhering to the orthodox teachings of the Church.

There is no Christian mind because Christian has become an adjective that describes our lifestyle brand instead of the noun that encompasses the reality we seek to fulfill.

Catechesis and Christianity

Catechesis has traditionally been a central plank of making robust Christians. It was often a function of both the local congregation, particularly the clergy, in partnership with the family.

However it was accomplished, passing on the doctrines of the faith to the next generation was considered a significant goal. At least, it was considered so on paper. What we have documented are often the idealized instances where it actually occurred (as with John Newton teaching the local urchins, etc.).

But, perhaps more significantly in the Anglo-American tradition, society typically functioned as part of the catechetical system. There was inarguably a general consensus of society that the Judeo-Christian thought-world was normative. Thus, stealing was considered universally wrong and sexual promiscuity, while often tolerated to a significant degree, was seen as below standard. The point is not that people effectively lived out a Christian life, but that there was a tacit assumption of the truthfulness of Christian doctrine and practice.

Catechesis in an environment that assumes the Incarnation was a fact, for example, has a radically different feel than catechesis in a culture where only “truths” that bring immediate comfort to the individuals are deemed worthy of consideration.

Passing on Christian doctrine and teaching children to think as Christians is difficult in our world of constant entertainment and distraction, but that is why it is so very important. The lack of a Christian mind is a failure of discipleship.

Catechesis and Christian Worldview Education

One attempt at catechesis, especially in theologically conservative circles, has been by teaching curricula on a “Christian worldview.”

There is consistently a good intent in most attempts at spiritual formation, but often the product and practice is deficient. There are likely many contributing causes, but three seem to be more significant to me.

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First, a great deal of the Christian Worldview curricula significantly over-simplifies various contrary viewpoints. This is necessary at some level because to have a conversation the students and teacher need to have some common definition of what a theological liberal, a Hindu, or a Muslim is. Then, when the individual gets out into the wild, they find significant variations in the actual beliefs and much of the worldview curriculum seems to crumble.

Second, many Christian Worldview curricula reduce acceptable Christian beliefs to a very narrow stream of Christian orthodoxy. It has come to the point where there is a strong overlap between Christian Worldview education and what amounts to a particularly American brand of Fundamentalism. You’ll often find an absolute emphasis on a six-day creation with a young earth, on separation of church and state, and on the rights of the individual. None of these are outside of the streams of orthodox Christianity, but in some circles they are treated as clear boundary markers of the apostolic faith.

Sometimes, it seems our efforts at discipling our children is more concerned with transmitting our second-order opinions than reinforcing the central Christian truths of the faith. We can become more concerned that our child will become a socialist than that they will have the tools to sift through the canons of Christian orthodoxy to embody a lively faith.

Third, some Christian worldview curricula tend to make over-confident prigs out of our children. Then, when they get destroyed in a later debate over their poor assumptions and pat arguments, many reject the faith or raise up a bunker of Fundamentalism to defend their opinions. Both are unhealthy responses, and neither reflects the Christian mind.

Teaching worldview can be helpful, but it needs to be done carefully, with nuance, and often needs local teaching that can be tailored more than canned curricula.

Toward Reinvigorating a Christian Mind

If we are to reinvigorate a Christian mind, I believe it will have to be done on a small scale by careful discipleship. But it will also have to have spaces for healthy conversations and controversy in public, as well.

The current knee-jerk mood of our culture is unsuitable to cultivating deep thinking of any stripe. For example, a Christianity Today article advocating against the sitting president on moral grounds was met by a bi-polar response along distinctly political lines, even among people with nearly identical doctrinal beliefs. But many of the supports and rebuttals were phrased as doctrinal rebukes. Politics was the driving force behind what people thought the magazine ought to publish, rather than doctrinal concerns.

To have a Christian mind, we have to be willing to have people disagree with us in public. We have to be willing to be proved wrong. We have to be willing to have our minds changed. This doesn’t mean we need to court every conspiracy theory and spend time debunking the obvious fringe theories, but it does mean that discussions can’t begin as anathemas.

As a population of individuals called to live as salt and light in our communities––as a contrast community within a community––the first step to having a Christian mind is to be able to have a Christian conversation. This is the sort of conversation where Christian orthodoxy is central, and doxology is perpetual, but where peripheral disagreements are possible with good will.

If a robust, white-hot, doctrinally orthodox Christianity is to be the reality of our lives, then we need to explore what that means in our local communities and public. We should be able to have disagreement on implications of Christian faith in public as we ask honest questions about the thought processes that led to those implications. Our Christianity, therefore, needs to be more robust than a lifestyle brand and become the character that defines how we think and live.

Perception, Reality, and Failed Epistemology

Someone shared a post on Facebook. It’s one of those half-thoughtful pieces of writing from a website that make its living getting clicks that lead to them betting paid for the ads that dominate every page.

In this case, the article was more substantive than most, because it dealt with the way photos can manipulate public perception. In this case, they show a series of images in the article (it isn’t actually one of those annoying slide shows) of people apparently too close together in a line, except a different angle shows that the people are really about 6 feet apart. Then there are people that are “obviously” sitting closely together, but another photo shows they are actually a reasonable distance apart.

The purpose of the article is to show that images can mislead. And it does demonstrate that photographic evidence can misrepresent the actual circumstances. Good enough, as far as it goes.

However, the title and the first line of the article reveal a radical failure in epistemology (i.e., how we know things) that I believe is too common and is problematic. The fact that the article got through whatever editing process shows that someone actually thinks that reality—not simply our perception of it—is flexible.

Failure in Epistemology

The title of the article is wordy in that attention-grabbing inconclusive way: “Photographer Takes Pics of People in Public From 2 Perspectives and It Shows How Easily the Media can Manipulate Reality.” Unlike many titles it actually communicates the gist of what the post tries to argue. But the assertion that you can actually “manipulate reality” is the problematic phrase.

The article opens, “Everyone knows that reality is subjective. Our perception may change in an instant depending on how much and exactly what we know.”

The second sentence is exactly correct. Our perceptions will change radically depending on the facts that we are given. But “perceptions” in sentence two functions as a synonym for “reality” in sentence one. That is an epistemically horrifying statement, which is reinforced by the miserable generalization in the first line that “Everyone knows that reality is subjective.”

Given that this is a click-baity website post, I’ll forgive the Valley Girl tone of the piece. In fact, I am thankful for this little piece of unsophisticated folk-epistemology, because it reveals what I believe to be a commonly held perspective.

Reality is Fixed, Perception is Subjective

The authors of the article in question understand the rudimentary fact that reality is fixed, even though they state the opposite. “Everyone knows that reality is subjective” makes no sense as a statement in article whose point is that camera angles and lenses can be used to misrepresent true reality. Reality isn’t subjective, it is objective. The camera angles show how the misunderstanding can evolve.

But the subjectivity of reality, as it were, is a basic tenet of contemporary epistemology. It shapes the way many social sciences present their findings. It is the foundation of so many movements that center around identity.

“My perception is reality,” is the battle cry of social media, which has largely shaped our view of the world.

Early in the Corona Virus pandemic a medium sized Twitter-mob was mobilized by a video claiming that a white woman was racist, because she covered her face and moved away from an African-American man (we presume, based on who posted it and claimed to film it) who was filming her and began coughing in her vicinity. His caption stated that she was a racist and provided the video to prove it.

Knowing nothing about the person who took the video or the woman in the video, I have little to go on. She may, in fact, be a KKK member on weekends. But that video provided no evidence of it. In fact, all that is showed was that an exceptionally nasty individual was attempting to ruin someone else’s life by making accusations without evidence.

The video showed someone covering her face and moving away from someone who was coughing. It isn’t clear where or why that would qualify as a racist act in the middle of a pandemic.

At the point when we understood very little of how the virus spreads, it was wise for someone to cover their face and move away from someone coughing, when the subway was mostly empty and there was plenty of room to spread out.

But the “reality” of the Twitter-mob was shaped by their false perception created by the words over the video. She was a racist because (a) she was white, (b) because the videographer said so, and (c) because she moved away from someone when there is significant concern over life-threatening airborne pathogens. That was the scenario that lead to hundreds of people commenting on the video about the bodily harm they would like to inflict on the woman, how much they hate white people, racists, and anyone who might think to disagree.

Many of these people have been conditioned to believe that perception is reality. Thus, when the national news posts a picture of an activist beating a drum in the face of a teenager in a MAGA hat and tells us that the boy is harassing the elderly activist, there are some people that truly believe that, despite other photos, video evidence, eye witness testimony, and personal statements from the activist that contradict that initial reading. Perception is reality, especially if that perception supports my prior assumptions.

Or, consider the nakedly false assertion by Planned Parenthood and its supporters that the Center for Medical Progress’s undercover videos that exposed them selling dismembered parts of babies is deceptively edited. This narrative is conclusively believed because it has been asserted by a favored group (who is deeply invested in arguing that point), despite the posting of the full, unedited videos online for anyone to verify. For many people, perception, especially if it supports the right conclusions, is reality and nothing can shake that.

This is an epistemic nightmare that has been inflicted on society by people seeking to change society—sometimes for the better–– but has come to be adopted by the majority of the culture regardless of party affiliation or place on the political spectrum. Reality is not subjective. Our perception of reality is, though.

The Fruit of Bad Epistemology

In the midst of the COVID-19 pandemic, we are reaping the fruit of this bad epistemology.

There is legitimate confusion about a new disease, possible preventative measures, potential treatments, etc. The confusion isn’t necessarily the result of a failure on anyone’s part, it is often driven by people drawing early conclusions from insufficient information. Sometimes its just the best guess from what we know. Leaders are trying to make decisions to protect people with very little information, which may (and does) get contradicted by new information that comes weeks or even days later. It’s an unenviable position.

But as confusing information gets promulgated to a population primed to believe that reality is subjective, it is no wonder that different groups choose their preferred understanding of reality. That is exactly what the culture has conditioned people to do.

If feeling oppressed is the essence of oppression, even apart from any evidence of personal or systemic bias, then protest over a feeling of oppression is just as legitimate as anything else. If there is conflicting information or data from different settings that supports a desired action, then we have been told we can believe that absolutely as long as it is the politically preferred version. If labelling someone as racist or pathologically afraid of a sexual minority is enough to make it true, then excluding expert testimony that is based on the best data available is permissible if it comes from someone that can be labelled as part of the non-preferred group.

A large percentage of the major intellectual institutions have invested the past decade trying to convince people that obvious physical observations about sex and gender can be overridden by the approved intelligentsia with questionable pseudoscientific studies. It’s little wonder that now, when it comes to life and death, people have come to accept that epistemology. This time it’s working against many of those who want control and may, in fact, be working against the common interests of our communities.

Society has invested a generation or more in teaching people that reality is subjective. Now that it matters, we’re reaping the fruit of that position. We are due for an epistemological revolution.

Hope for Recovery

The answer is not to revert to the very modern idea that we can absolutely know objective truth.

The closest we can get to absolute truth is divine revelation, which still requires interpretation and systematization. Absolute truth exists and we should pursue it, but we’re not going to get it this side of glory.

One of the failures of modernity was that it presented an epistemology that ignores the position of the observer. There are roots to this perspective in ancient history, but, in part, they took off because of a shift toward placing humanity at the center of all knowledge during the Enlightenment. The Modern folk-epistemology that developed out of that teaches that reality is objective and that we can know it absolutely and objectively.

Post-modernity brought some blessings in that it reminded us that we are subjective people with biases. We stand in a particular place to observe. There is no way for us to totally step outside of our own viewpoint to see things perfectly as they are. This is helpful, because modernity often steamrolls those who view thing outside the accepted perspective.

But many people take that helpful revelation of post-modernity too far and argue that their viewpoint is reality. That is the folk-epistemology evidenced in the BoredPanda article that inspired this post. Thus, the media can “easily” “manipulate reality.” That leads to an even more unlivable society than the strictures of modernity.

We need a more incredulous people who are willing to question their assumptions before grabbing the pitchforks and torches or undermining millenia-old understandings of the world. We also need more honest curators of the news that make a faithful attempt to present reality as it is, rather than trying to score clicks and political points. Until our world has a better epistemology, we are in for perpetual conflict. We may also be in danger of an enduring pandemic because of deeply faulty epistemology.

Boredom and Heresy

One the central questions at the heart of debates over modern theological liberal Christianity and orthodox Christianity is the definition of the term Christian. The wide variance between the definitions tends to confound dialog because liberals (I will consistently use this term theologically, in a descriptive sense) have a radically different understanding of the word’s meaning than do orthodox believers.

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There were, of course, points in the historic Christian faith at which boundary lines were drawn based on ongoing debates. Those early moments resulted in our statements of orthodoxy, such as the Nicene Creed, which contains the kernel (though not the totality) of orthodoxy.

These creedal statements that define Christian orthodoxy were often surrounded by heated debates as leaders and theologians parsed through Scripture with a critical mind. This has led some to conclude that they were arbitrary statements and that some sort of arbitrary (likely political) power was the determining factor in setting the boundaries of orthodoxy. That, of course, fuels much of contemporary theological revisionism, because Christian doctrine shifts from the faith once and for all delivered to the saints (Jude 3) to oppressive imposition of the ideas of a bunch of patriarchal dead guys.

In this case, I tend to agree with Dorothy L. Sayers, the modern mystery writer and a significant mind of the first half of the 20th century. In her essay, “Creed or Chaos?,” she writes,

“Teachers and preachers never, I think, make it sufficiently clear that dogmas are not a set of arbitrary regulations invented a priori by a committee of theologians enjoying a bout of all-in dialectical wrestling. Most of them were hammered out under pressure of urgent practical necessity to provide an answer to heresy.”

Compare Sayers’s perspective with that of the so-called father of the social gospel, Walter Rauschenbusch, who argues in his book, A Theology for the Social Gospel,

“The dogmas and theological ideas of the early Church were those ideas which at that time were needed to hold the Church together, to rally its forces, and to give it victorious energy against antagonist powers. To-day many of those ideas are without present significance. Our reverence for them is a kind of ancestor worship.”

There is certainly some similarity between the two. Both Sayers and Rauschenbusch recognize that there was often drama when the doctrines of orthodoxy were outlined and that resolution was needed for cohesion. The difference comes in that Rauschenbusch has very little respect for the formulations arrived at by the councils, whereas Sayers understands them to have been largely successful at arriving at an expression of the truth. Thus, Sayers regularly called believers back to orthodox Christian belief, while Rauschenbusch associated doctrinal orthodoxy with a form of “ancestor worship.” Rauschenbusch is  spiritual father of John Shelby Spong, who argued that Christianity must change or die.

Beneath this discussion is a radically different perspective on the ability of lay-people to grasp Christian doctrine. Both Rauschenbusch and Sayers recognize that many Christians are relatively uninformed about Christian doctrines, which results in doctrinal deviations.

According to Rauschenbusch, “When people have to be indoctrinated laboriously in order to understand theology at all, it becomes a dead burden.” This is a dubious statement, but it shapes the trajectory of Rauschenbusch’s attack on Christian orthodoxy.

This comes several pages after his assertion that,

“[The business of theology] is to make the essential facts and principles of Christianity so simple and clear, so adequate and mighty, that all who preach or teach the gospel, both ministers and laymen, can draw on its stores and deliver a complete and unclouded Christian message.”

The second statement is actually quite helpful. Theology certainly should be clear and simple as much as possible, but to eliminate teaching doctrine as a function of the church because some doctrines are complicated seems counter intuitive.

There is an implicit assault on the intelligence of laypeople in Rauschenbusch’s theology. He assumes that people are simply too intellectually dull to understand Christian doctrine. As a result, he argues, “If we seek to keep Christian doctrine unchanged, we shall ensure its abandonment.”

Rauschenbusch decided he would like to avoid the abandonment of Christian doctrine by changing it. I suppose that is one way of cutting out the middleman. No need to make the laypeople leave doctrine, when you can simply eliminate all the inconvenient parts that matter. This is a way of dumbing down the faith because you don’t think people are smart enough to understand doctrine.

Sayers, however, has a much more positive view of laypeople. She, too, recognizes that many laypeople are ignorant of Christian doctrines, but that is not entirely their fault.

She writes,

“It is not true at all that dogma is hopelessly irrelevant to the life and thought of the average man. What is true is that ministers of the Christian religion often assert that it is, present it for consideration is though it were, and, in fact, by their faulty exposition of it make it so.”

This is exactly what Rauschenbusch does and he encourages others to do the same.

Again, Sayers rejects the need to modify Christianity to make it relevant,

“If the average man is going to be interested in Christ at all, it is the dogma that will provide the interest. The trouble is that, in nine cases out of ten, he has never been offered the dogma. What he has been offered is a set of technical theological terms that nobody has taken the trouble to translate into language relevant to ordinary life.”

The Christian mind is shaped by the wonder of God’s goodness and the nature of the world he has made. One of the central elements of the Christian mind is an interest in those things outside of ourselves. Sayers understands the Christian mind, while Rauschenbusch did not.

Rauschenbusch’s assumption was that his disinterest in orthodox Christian doctrine and inability explain it to others did not subvert the value of it. The wonder and mystery of a wholly other God whose existence and work are unlike our daily experience makes Christianity so much more relevant and exciting.

Sayers gets at the heart of the problem: ignorance and lazy teaching. Laypeople are not stupid; they have often simply never had teachers who took the time to explain Christian doctrine in terms that they understood. Teaching is a bridging strategy to make truth plain.

Instead of creating heresy as we give way to boredom, faithful Christian teachers need to explain the most exciting story that ever was: Christianity. That story is carried by the doctrines that modernists think people too bored, lazy, or stupid to understand.

The role of theologians and pastors is not to reshape Christianity into something that we find interesting, but to uncover the exciting truths within orthodox Christian theology. Once that happens, based on my experience, the doctrine sells itself.

Media Intake, Praiseworthiness, and Fear in a Pandemic

Toward the end of his theologically rich exhortation to the Philippians, Paul penned these important words to the church in Philippi that have been given as a gift to us a couple of millennia later:

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Phil 4:8)

When Paul wrote these words he was in prison (Phil 1:7), likely in Rome, and certainly feeling the pressure of his captivity and uncertain fate (Phil 4:12–14). He was writing to a church in a culturally hostile situation, facing an unknown future, with their leader facing potential execution.

Paul was writing to a group of people who had every reason to dwell on everything that is wrong with the world and run through a million hypothetical futures as they waited for decisions from others or news from distant parts of the Roman world.

In other words, this is a great example of God inspiring a human author to write a message that would be applicable to humans in every age of this world, and especially in our current time.

“Always On” Information

One of the miracles of our age is that we have all the information in the world available at our fingertips at every moment of the day.

To quote Adrian Monk, “It’s a gift and a curse.”

The news streams in constantly on multiple channels and the talking heads on those channels have to find a way to fill those hours of time in a way that will keep people tuned in and keep the advertisers spending millions of dollars.

This is a recipe for stress, worry, and maybe even panic.

Pillars of Creation. Public Domain. https://webbtelescope.org/contents/media/images/2022/052/01GF423GBQSK6ANC89NTFJW8VM

It also provides opportunity for confusion as networks look for different opinions, the situation changes, and people look at the issue from different angles. When news anchors and talk show hosts—who usually know nothing about the issue they are discussing—riff for an extended period about things they are ignorant of, a lot of unfounded opinion has a way of making its way into people’s homes and can be interpreted as fact.

Non-experts battle experts for airtime. People seek positions that support their biases. Meanwhile we are desperately curious, stuck at home with little diversion, and hopeful for something that shows an end is insight.

It may be that we need to rethink our media absorption strategy.

Look for the Durable and Good

If the COVID-19 shutdown teaches us one lesson, I hope it is that we should spend our time thinking about true, honorable, pure, and excellent things.

Paul’s admonition to the congregations in Philippi is good advice for us all at all times in our media saturated age, but especially so when we our normal occupations are not available.

If you find yourself scrolling through social media and reading your tenth COVID-19 article for the day, then put down your phone, turn off your computer, and pick up a good book. If you recognize that you are watching the fourth hour of your favorite network’s coverage of this issue, with little new information other than different perspectives on the body count, then it’s time to turn the TV off and head toward Scripture.

As Neil Postman astutely noted in his book, Amusing Ourselves to Death, information takes the form that it is presented in. Television is, by definition, a transient medium that you have to experience in real time. Websites demand new traffic, which requires updated content with new numbers, slightly different perspectives, and combative arguments. Headlines are pitched with exaggerations, unfair generalizations, and misrepresentations in them to get you to click or stay tuned to bring the numbers up.

Look for something that is durable and good.

When your life is over, there is very little chance you will look back on the hours of cable news you read in these days and think they helped you grow spiritually. There is little chance that one more human-interest story from the crisis will really have made you a better person.

However, memorizing a passage of Scripture, reading another book of the Bible, studying an edifying book, picking up the work of literature you’ve been putting off, or doing something with your family will all be worthwhile.

Find a way to use this time for something that will have a lasting positive effect.

A Range of Options and Need for Discipline

Everything about the internet isn’t bad. It’s great that many knowledge workers can continue to do their jobs remotely. It’s a wonderful thing that we can connect with friends, families, and neighbors through instant communication. There are millions of valuable resources that are available for free (or a minimal charge) right now. We just need to be disciplined enough to put the candy (i.e., infotainment about the pandemic) down to pick up solid things.

We have a range of options, we just need to exercise them.

For example, I previously released a list of resources for the week leading up to Resurrection Sunday that would be helpful as a distraction in this time. Some of them can be ordered quickly. Others can be found online.

There are sermons from sound pastors available online for you to watch or listen to. Be discerning, but there is a lot of good material out there. Pick something that will expand your knowledge.

Conference lectures, academic presentations, and other instructional content has flooded the internet. Now is your chance to learn about Astrophysics, Classical Theism, or a million other topics.

We typically talk about starting a Bible reading plan at the beginning of the year, but now would be a good time to kick off. The most durable thing to think about is the eternal Word of God; consider investing some time into your Bible knowledge.

The challenge for us is not a lack of information, but a lack of discipline in focusing on the things worth learning. It’s important that we make the best use of our time, focus on spiritual disciplines, and avoid media that leads us into sinful worry and despair.

Our interests may differ, but the mandate from Paul is clear to focus on durable things that are excellent, praiseworthy, and commendable.

Theological Retrieval for Evangelicals - A Review

There have been several recent volumes published by Evangelicals on the use of historical theology within the Evangelical tradition. This comes at a time when there is a non-trivial movement of younger Evangelicals toward more “historically rooted” traditions. Examples such as Kenneth Stewart’s volume, In Search of Ancient Roots, and books like Christopher Hall’s, Living Wisely with the Church Fathers, come to mind.

According to some critics, Protestant theology has roots that reach no further back than 1517. They argue that some aspects of Evangelical theology are an even more recent innovation. This perception has been augmented by the prevalence of recency in contemporary Evangelical theologies.

Significantly contributing to the apparent recency of Evangelical theology are standard works in the field, like Wayne Grudem’s Systematic Theology, which makes almost no reference to historical theology and required a companion volume by another author to gain a sense of the historical arc of the doctrines Grudem advocates.

The relationship between contemporary Evangelical theology and church history is the strong dependence among evangelicals and the supreme authority of Scripture over historical doctrinal formulations. Given the variegation of theology across history, arriving at a theological method that takes voices of previous ages seriously without ascribing too much authority to them has been difficult.

Gavin Ortlund’s book, Theological Retrieval for Evangelicals: Why We Need Our Past to Have a Future is a helpful book in carving out a theological method that values Scripture supremely, but also listens to the voices of the Christian past.

Summary

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The book is divided into two parts. The first part, a manifesto for theological retrieval, has three chapters that advocate for including careful research into historical theology as a path forward for contemporary Christians. Ortlund first asks whether Evangelicals can use Patristic and Medieval theology. Then he argues that we need to engage in theological retrieval through the use of historical theology. Finally, he outlines some of the pros and cons of theological retrieval. This is a balanced perspective that demonstrates there is certainly a wrong way to study and use the early church, but that we cannot afford not to do so if we are to remain faithful to the faith once and for all delivered to the saints (Jude 3).

In part two, Ortlund offers four case studies in theological retrieval. First, he examines the use of theological metaphor in the writings of Boethius, Calvin, and Torrance. This would be an interesting essay in its own right as Ortlund wrestles with the creation/creator distinction, but it makes a solid case study because it reveals how engaging with minds across time can be fruitful. The next case study reaches further back into a discussion of divine simplicity through medieval and patristic theology. In the third case study, Ortlund looks at a balance between models of the atonement. Here he does good work in showing that while substitution is central, necessary, and historically embedded, it does not exclude other ways of understanding Christ’s work on the cross. Here, one of the sharpest debates between theological progressives and orthodox Christians is clarified by reading those who argued about the topic centuries before. The final case study shows some of the practical and devotional benefits of reading theology from deep in Christian history as Ortlund mines wisdom from Gregory the Great on being an effective pastor in a world with many demands.

Analysis and Conclusion

One of the more engaging aspects of this book is the way that Ortlund utilizes the ideas of both C. S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien to frame some of his discussions. Those familiar with the work of those two Inklings will quickly recognize how deeply embedded in the historic Christian faith they both were. As they exemplified the Christian mind through their writings, they were both drawing extensively on a wide range of patristic and medieval sources. In Theological Retrieval for Evangelicals, Ortlund shows how their imaginative portrayals of deep, historical theological truths can enrich our Christian experience. This is by no means the central thrust of the book, but it is a sub-plot that enriches the volume significantly and gives it a pastoral bent.

For those Evangelicals engaged in theological discourse, this volume provides a solid starting place for faithfully retrieving the doctrinal truths discussed in earlier ages. It does so without losing the unique gospel-focus and bibliocentricity of Evangelical theology.

This book should be included in courses on theological method. It can be a resource for pastors seeking to deepen their faith and help young Evangelicals looking for rootedness to mine the riches of the Christian faith.

This book alone does not answer the challenge of recency that many Roman Catholics and high church Protestants levy against Baptists and other free church Christians, but it does provide a way for a conversation to begin through research, preaching, and teaching that will result in a robust, organic response to those challenges.

An Invitation to Glory

This post is an excerpt from The Christian Mind of C. S. Lewis: Essays in Honor of Michael Travers (Wipf and Stock, 2019). It was written by Dr. Michael Travers. It was presented to the C. S. Lewis Society of New York in 2013 on the 50th anniversary of Lewis’s Death and again at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary on January 30th, 2014. Today, March 2nd, is the anniversary of Michael’s passing into the glory that he deeply longed for.


In his apologetics and fiction, C. S. Lewis invites his readers to hope for heaven and God. His great contribution is his reminder to twentieth-century western culture, which has lost its mooring, of what it means to be humans who were made for God and to long for him all our lives. C. S. Lewis reminds readers that this longing for God, this hope of heaven, is the proper state for all of us in a fallen world. He offers to readers a vision of the Christian mind.

Our culture needs to remember what it means to be human: we are created in the image of God and for the purpose of praising God. At the very outset of his Confessions, St. Augustine gives voice to the essential human need––and desire––to praise God:

Great art Thou, O Lord, and greatly to be praised; great is Thy power, and of Thy wisdom there is no number. And man desires to praise Thee. He is but a tiny part of all that Thou hast created. He bears about him his mortality, the evidence of his sinfulness, and the evidence that Thou dost resist the proud: yet this tiny part of all that Thou hast created desires to praise Thee.

Thou dost so excite him that to praise Thee is his joy. For Thou has made us for Thyself and our hearts are restless until they rest in Thee.[1]

Because we were made for God, we cannot be satisfied apart from Him. Nothing in this world can satisfy the ultimate desire of the human soul to be satisfied in God. Human culture, particularly that inspired by Christianity, incarnates this desire for God in manifold ways, and, what is more, Scripture attests to it as well. The desire for God is a key element of the Christian mind.

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The idea that we all desire God and hope for heaven is expressed in both the Old and New Testaments. In Ecclesiastes, the wisdom writer states that God has put “eternity into man’s heart” (Ecc 3:11), and evidences the implications of our desire for God in that nothing in this life ultimately satisfies the soul. The writer speaks of good things––such as work, food, and relationships––that we enjoy in this life, but he teaches that ultimate wisdom is to seek God and rest in him. Everything else is “vanity,” or futility. The Psalmist writes that the ancient Hebrews longed for rest in the Promised Land. But, because of their unbelief and sin, they had to walk the wilderness pathways for forty years before they were allowed to enter that rest, and then it was only the next generation that was allowed to do so (Ps 95:1–11). In the New Testament, the writer of Hebrews applies the temporal rest of the ancient Hebrews in the Promised Land figuratively to the spiritual rest Christians have in Christ and then to the eternal rest we ultimately will enjoy in the new heavens and the new earth (Heb 3:7–4:11).

In this life, we are not yet at rest, and we cannot be at rest until our faith becomes sight in heaven. We hope for future glory. In the New Testament, the apostles often write of a hope that looks forward to eternity. The apostle Peter admonishes us to be “ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason for the hope that is in you” (1 Pet 3:15). Peter speaks this instruction to Christians, admonishing them to give a witness to non-Christians about heaven and eternity with God. For Peter, as for the other New Testament writers, this hope is not wishful thinking; rather, it is settled and certain hope, for it is predicated on the character of God as evidenced by the Word of God––“Christ in you, the hope of glory,” as Paul has it in Col 1:27. Paul speaks elsewhere of our hope in Christ, for Christ has paid the debt of our sins and granted us eternal life (Cf. 2 Cor 1:10; 1 Tim 4:10). In the earthly life of Christ our longing for God is made concrete in the transfiguration, when Peter, James, and John see Christ revealed in all his glory. The transfiguration follows immediately after Jesus tells his disciples that he will come again in great glory, thereby prompting longing for that glorious kingdom; it is then that he is transfigured before the three men, and they are given a glimpse of the future and the one on whom their hope is founded. In Romans 8, Paul writes that the Christian’s whole life is oriented toward this hope when we will be glorified in the presence of our Savior, Jesus Christ.

Michael Travers

Michael Travers

The Bible often expresses this hope in narrative form. Almost two-thirds of the Bible is narrative. From Genesis to Exodus, through the history books and prophets in the Old Testament, to the Gospels, the Book of the Acts of the Apostles, and even the book of Revelation in the New Testament, the story of redemption is just that––a narrative. The writer of Hebrews symbolizes this life as a pilgrimage. He writes that we “desire a better country, that is a heavenly [one]” (Heb 11:16), and “for here we have no continuing city, but we seek one to come” (Heb 13:14). A pilgrimage is not just a wandering journey; rather it is a teleological journey with a destination. For Christians, that destination is heaven with Jesus Christ, our ultimate beatitude. It is no accident, then, that the Bible incarnates a grand metanarrative that encompasses the whole of the created order and our place as humans in that story.

Giving voice to the Christian narrative of hope is what Lewis did in his writings at a time when others had lost sight of that hope. He presented a vision of the Christian mind. Austin Farrer writes of the voice Lewis gives to Christianity:

It was this feeling intellect, this intellectual imagination that made the strength of his religious writings. . . . His real power was not proof [as in apologetics]; it was depiction. There lived in his writings a Christian universe that could be both thought and felt, in which he was at home and in which he made his reader at home.[2]

There is the note: Lewis invites his readers to come along home with him––to God and heaven. He knew that we longed for something beyond this world, and he invited us to join him in the search for our eternal home.[3] Lewis’s method for inviting others to put on the Christian mind, through his prose, poetry, and narrative, was to put the metanarrative of the Bible on display.

C. S. Lewis reminds readers in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries of a truth that pre-modern western people knew as part of their culture and we have largely forgotten today: we were created to worship God. Lewis encourages his readers to worship God again––that is, to put on the Christian mind. He invites them to accept that “weight of glory.” Lewis embodies the heart of Christianity in this invitation, for the metanarrative of the Bible tells the same story: creation, fall, redemption, and recreation. Lewis incarnates this metanarrative in his apologetics, his poetry, and his fiction. It is by developing a Christian mind that Lewis fulfills his role as worshipper.

For Lewis, the original creation is the normative mode of existence for human beings, in fellowship with each other and God. In this created condition, there was no need for longing to escape and go to heaven, no need for hope, for all things were as they should be. Lewis invites his readers in all of these books to participate in the glory of things as they were meant to be. In the fall into sin, however, humans were plunged into a pathological condition, producing a sense of exile because we were cut off from God and therefore long to be reunited with him. It is this undesirable state of sin and exile that forms the foundation of Lewis’s apologetics and fiction. Our innate longing for a remedy finds expression in his novels, in the form of a pilgrimage, or quest––a journey that inherently incarnates longing and hope in its form and structure. This longing is for renewal of all that has been tainted by sin; it is a longing for a new life.

Lewis’s fiction provides descriptions of this coming renewal, which begins with a sense of release from sin’s effects. He expresses the sense of beginning a new and glorified life in heaven this way in The Last Battle:

“There was a real railway accident,” said Aslan softly. “Your father and mother and all of you are––as you used to call it in the Shadowlands––dead. The term is over: the holidays have begun. The dream is ended: this is the morning.”   

And as He spoke He no longer looked to them like a lion; but the things that began to happen after that were so great and beautiful that I cannot write them. And for us this is the end of all the stories, and we can most truly say that they all lived happily ever after. But for them it was only the beginning of the real story. All their life in this world and all their adventures in Narnia had only been the cover and the title page; now at last they were beginning Chapter One of the Great Story, which no one on earth has read, which goes on forever, in which every chapter is better than the one before.[4]

All of Lewis’s writings encourage his readers to long for God and to hope for heaven; this is a central characteristic of the Christian mind. And it is fitting that this is so, for the longer we live in communion with Christ, the more we long to see him face to face. Lewis knew that longing well and it shaped everything he wrote. This longing for the transcendent is what makes the Christian mind so beautiful.

[1] Augustine, Confessions, 3. Emphasis original.

[2] Farrer, “In His Image,” 384–85. Farrer was Chaplain of Trinity College, Oxford, from 1935 to 1960, and a good friend of Lewis.

[3] Cf. Lewis, Mere Christianity, 143.

[4] Lewis, The Last Battle, 210–11.