Jerusalem, San Francisco, and the meaning of eyewitnesses

In the comments on my post on worship and atheism, FVThinker is trying to argue (among other things) that “all the conflicting stories re: his resurrection” constitute sufficient reason to deny the Resurrection of Christ. Now, in the first place, I deny the assertion, which is just one more tired leftover from liberal German scholarship of a century and more ago; but let’s suppose, for the sake of argument, that we grant the point. Does this in fact constitute a compelling argument against the historicity of the Resurrection?No, it doesn’t. To understand why, consider a more recent historical incident, the San Francisco earthquake of 1906. If you’ve read Simon Winchester’s excellent book A Crack in the Edge of the World: America and the Great California Earthquake of 1906, then you probably remember that in the Prologue, Winchester quotes from five eyewitness accounts of the quake. Consider the following.

At the precise moment when the members of this quintet—three of them very distinguished men of science and two others of relatively modest social standing—were undertaking their very mundane activities . . . it was twelve minutes after five o’clock in the morning.However, this was a matter of provable fact only for the Englishman, so far as the record relates.  His name was George Davidson, and he, like his fellow scientists, wrote about the event that was to follow with a certain icy detachment.  He took care to mark the time that he first noticed something happening:  Suddenly and without warning his room, his house, and the very land all was standing upon began to shake, with a great, ever-increasing, and uncontrollable violence.It was, he knew full well, an earthquake.It came, he later reported,

from north to south, and the only description I am able to give of its effect is that it seemed like a terrier shaking a rat.  I was in bed, but was awakened by the first shock.  I began to count the seconds as I went towards the table where my watch was, being able through much practice closely to approximate the time in that manner.  The shock came at 5.12 o’clock.  The first sixty seconds were the most severe.  From that time on it decreased gradually for about thirty seconds.  There was then the slightest perceptible lull.  Then the shock continued for sixty seconds longer, being slighter in degree in this minute than in any part of the preceding minute and a half.  There were two slight shocks afterwards which I did not time.

Professor Davidson must have been as terrified as anyone, but he was a man trained to observe, and he knew in an instant what was taking place. . . .  the first full series of hard shocks, say his notes, lasted until 5h 13m 00s.  The shocks were slightly less from that point until 5h 13m 30s, then there was a slight lull, and by 5h 14m 30s all was quiet again. . . .  The official report on the earthquake said, in a tone that brooked no dispute, “We shall accept Professor Davidson’s time as the most accurate obtainable for San Francisco.

The second eyewitness account Winchester considers is that of the meteorologist Alexander George McAdie.

Professor McAdie was an ambitious and a punctilious man, and at the very moment that he was awakened . . . both his ambition and his scrupulous regard for factual observation . . . came promptly to the fore.  As had been his custom ever since he went through the Great Charleston Earthquake of 1886 (“for twenty years I have timed every earthquake I have felt,” he was later to write”), the instant he awoke and felt movement he clicked on his flashlight, noted the time on his fob watch, and recorded in his notebook everything that transpired.

I have lookt up the record in my note-book made on April 18, 1906, while the earthquake was still perceptible.  I find the entry “5h 12m” and after that “Severe lasted nearly 40 seconds.”  As I now remember it the portion “severe, etc.” was entered immediately after the shaking.

The only snag was that poor Professor McAdie somehow managed to misread his watch during all the confusion, and he wreathed himself in a magnificent maze of complications as he tried to explain the mistake.  He wrote that the day before the earthquake,

my error was “1 minute slow” at noon by time-ball, or time signals received in Weather Bureau and which my watch has been compared for a number of years.  The rate of my watch is 5 seconds loss per day; therefore the corrected time of my entry is 5h 13m 05s AM.  This is not of course the beginning of the quake.  I would say perhaps 6 or more seconds may have elapsed between the act of waking, realizing, and looking at the watch and making my entry.  I remember distinctly getting the minute-hand’s position, previous to the most violent portion of the shock.  The end of the shock I did not get exactly, as I was watching the second-hand, and the end came several seconds before I fully took in that the motion had ceased.  The second-hand was somewhere between 40 and 50 when I realized this.  I lost the position of the second-hand because of difficulty in keeping my feet, somewhere around the 20-second mark.However, there is one uncertainty.  I may have read my watch wrong.  I have no reason to think I did; but I know from experience such things are possible.  I have the original entries untouched since the time they were made.

The official report accepts that the unfortunate man did effect an error in making what was probably the most critical observation of his career—but, out of courtesy, adds that such a mistake would have been very easy to make.  The one-minute error is, then, officially compensated for, and Alexander McAdie enters the lists as having, essentially, timed the Great San Francisco Earthquake as beginning at 5h 12m 05s, recorded that it became extremely severe at 5h 12m 25s, and noted that it tailed off into bearable oblivion at 5h 12m 50s.  The whole event, in McAdie’s eyes, extended over little more than forty seconds—about half the time that Davidson had computed, from his observations that were made a little bit closer to town.

One of the other eyewitnesses Winchester cites is Fred Hewitt, a reporter for the San Francisco Examiner.

It was some minutes after five o’clock when he and his two friends crossed Golden Gate Avenue, spent five minutes talking to a pair of policemen—”blue-coated guardians” as he later wrote for his paper—and said their farewells.  Hewitt had turned north, the policemen back south down Larkin, when suddenly:

The ground rose and fell like an ocean at ebb tide.  Then came the crash . . . I saw those policement enveloped by a shower of falling stone.It is impossible to judge the length of that shock.  To me it seemed like an eternity.  I was thrown prone on my back and the pavement pulsated like a living thing.  Around me the huge buildings, looking more terrible becasue of the queer dance they were performing, wobbled and veered.  Crash followed crash and resounded on all sides. . . .The first portion of the shock was just a mild forerunning of what was to follow.  The pause in the action of the earth’s surface couldn’t have been more than a fraction of a second. . . . Then came the second and more terrific crash.

Now, in this collection of testimony from three different observers—including two professional scientists, people trained to observe, measure, and record things with uncommon precision—we see discrepancies in the details.  Indeed, between the two scientists we see discrepancies in their accounts of the start time and length of the quake which, given the level of precision to which they were trained and which they were attempting, can only be described as significant; and we have another witness who declares, “It is impossible to judge the length of that shock,” and offers another differing account of the quake’s progress.  We have here, at the least, “conflicting stories re:  the earthquake.”The question is, what can we conclude from these discrepancies?  Specifically, can we conclude that the earthquake didn’t happen?  Clearly, we can’t; the inference is logically unjustifiable—a point which is made helpfully obvious in this case by the fact that the earthquake is recent enough that we still have lots of other evidence as well which bears witness to it.  Even if several hundred or thousand years in the future, it somehow happened that the only record of that earthquake was these three statements, scholars of that future time would in no way be justified in concluding that because of these discrepancies, they could dismiss the San Francisco earthquake of 1906 as ahistorical—and if they insisted on doing so anyway, they would be arguing illogically to reach a false conclusion.What needs to be understood here is that whatever differences there may be in the details of these three reports, they agree on the core facts:  some little time past 5am in the cold morning of April 18, 1906, a major earthquake hit San Francisco, California, and their world was shaken, and their lives were never the same again.  Whatever they disagree on, they testify to that much with firm unanimity, and so their collective statements in fact provide strong support for the existence and significance of that event.The same may be said of the accounts of Jesus’ resurrection.  Even if we grant, for the sake of argument, actual discrepancies and contradictions in the details of the accounts, they agree on the core facts:  Jesus died on a Roman cross; his body was sealed in a rock tomb behind a heavy stone door; the following Sunday, the stone was found moved away from the tomb, and the tomb was empty; no one ever produced his body; and in fact, he appeared again alive on various occasions to various of his followers.  Whatever they might be said to disagree on, the reports agree that some time that Sunday morning, Jesus was raised from the dead, and their world was shaken, and their lives were never the same again; they testify to that much with firm unanimity, and so their collective statements in fact provide strong support for the existence and significance of that event.  To seize on alleged discrepancies as an excuse to conclude otherwise is every bit as logically unjustifiable as it would be to conclude from the eyewitness statements quoted above that there was no earthquake in San Francisco in 1906.The fact is, eyewitness testimony always varies—always. People see different things, perceive things differently, assign different levels of importance to various details, and yes, make mistakes and misremember things, even if they’re doing their best to be accurate.  Variance in eyewitness testimony is therefore to be expected.  Indeed, if you have a group of eyewitnesses who all tell the exact same story with no variation, that’s a pretty good sign that they’ve gotten together to get their stories straight, and thus that their testimony is probably unreliable in some way.  What the differences in the scriptural accounts primarily demonstrate is that there was no collusion between the witnesses—which is, on the whole, a good thing, and speaks more to their basic reliability than the reverse.

The absolute sovereignty of God

I am the Lord, and there is no other;
besides me there is no God.
I equip you, [Cyrus,] though you do not know me,
that people may know, from the rising of the sun
and from the west, that there is none besides me;
I am the Lord, and there is no other.
I form light and create darkness,
I make well-being and create calamity,
I am the Lord, who does all these things.
—Isaiah 45:5-7 (ESV)The Lord is in control in everything that happens—everything.  This is not to say that God desires bad things to happen, as if he enjoyed them; but it is to say that nothing happens apart from God’s power and his sustaining will. There is nothing good that does not come from his hand, and there is no trouble and no disaster that does not happen on his sufferance. God could, for instance, have prevented 9/11; he could have given Osama bin Laden a fatal accident years ago, or changed Bill Clinton’s mind to green-light bin Laden’s assassination, or had him knifed in the back by some Afghan tribesman. He didn’t choose to do that. He could have prevented our current economic crisis—fairly easily, in fact; he didn’t choose to do that either. I don’t know his reasons, for these or for any other disasters, and I won’t presume to declare the mind of God; but whether he decreed them for judgment or permitted them for other purposes, the testimony of Scripture is clear that they happened only by God’s will. Indeed, Scripture is clear that nothing happens, for good or ill, that is not in some way an expression of the sovereign will of Almighty God.This is a hard word for us. That God sends good things—yes, of course.  That only God deserves the credit for the good things that come to us—which is to say, that we can’t take credit for them ourselves—is usually not something we want to consider. Indeed, for many people, that’s a painfully hard idea to accept. But that God sends bad things—that’s something else again. Does that make God the author of evil?There are those who have believed so, and who have responded either by rejecting God or by rejecting the biblical testimony to his power and lordship. But the truth is, it doesn’t. God did not create evil—he could not do any such thing, because it’s completely contrary to his nature—nor did he ever desire that evil things should happen. However, when our first ancestors fell into sin, he chose not to obliterate them, toss out the world he’d made, and start over, but rather to put a plan in motion to redeem their sin; as a consequence, while he may at times prevent us from sinning and forbid disasters from occurring, there are other times when, for his own purposes, he doesn’t. The important thing is that there is no evil he permits in which he is not in some way at work in order to redeem it—and there is no suffering he allows in which he does not share, in the body of his Son our Lord Jesus Christ on the cross. God is not aloof from the pain of this world; in Christ, he has borne it all.(Excerpted from “God’s Mysterious Way”)

God’s Mysterious Way

(Isaiah 44:24-45:13Romans 9:14-21)

Thus says the Lord, your Redeemer, the one who formed you in your mother’s womb: “I am the Lord, who made all things; I alone stretched out the heavens above you, and no one helped me spread out the earth beneath your feet. I am the one who reveals false prophets for the fools they are and brings their predictions to nothing, and who makes nonsense of the knowledge of those who consider themselves wise, while I confirm the words of my servants and cause their predictions to be fulfilled. I am the Lord, and there is no other; apart from me there is no God. I form the light and create darkness; I bring well-being and create disaster. I am the Lord who does all these things.”

This is the word of the Lord. In this passage, God gets down to details about how he’s going to set his people free from Babylon—he even names names: he’s going to raise up a conqueror named Cyrus, the king of a pagan nation, and use this pagan who doesn’t even know him to return the Jews to Jerusalem and begin the process of rebuilding the city and temple of God. Such a claim invites two different reactions from two different groups of people. One, what right does he have to claim to do this? And two, how dare God use a pagan conqueror to accomplish his purposes? Why doesn’t he raise up another Moses, another hero of Israel, to lead this second Exodus? The answer to both questions is this star-blasting affirmation of the absolute sovereignty, the absolute lordship and the absolute right of rule, of God. This is of course something that’s been stressed a few times already in the chapters leading up to this one, but it reaches a new level and a new pitch of intensity here. Just consider the levels on which God’s sovereignty is asserted in this passage.

One, the Lord is the one who formed you in the womb. He made, specifically, you. Your character, your body, your gifts, your strengths and weaknesses, the things you value and the things you dislike, aren’t simply the semi-random product of your genes and your environment; sure, God used your genes, and he used the environment in which you grew up and in which you live, but he is the one who created you and who made you who you are. He gave you the gifts you would need to do the work for which he created you, and he gave you the character and temperament he desired you to have to be the person he wants you to be. Granted, to be human and not God is to be sinful, and so you also have traits that aren’t what God wants for you—but even those have been allowed for, and even in those, he’s at work to teach you to trust him and depend on him, and to trust and depend on others. The point is, God knows you far better and far more deeply than you know yourself, because he is wholly responsible for making you who you are, and he is Lord over your life not just at the superficial level, but all the way down to the deepest wellsprings of your character and nature.

Two, the Lord rules all creation because he made all of it. He is the Author of the story, and it’s his word that brought all things into being; as the author, he has absolute authority over everything that is in the same way as I have, under him, absolute authority over this sentence. Indeed, his is far greater, not only because his authority is over me and working through me as I author this sermon, but also because at any given point I might trip over my tongue and say something other than what I intend, while God never does such things. His authority is not only complete, unrestricted by any limitation whatsoever, it’s also perfect, unflawed by any error of any kind, and perfectly sufficient, not shared with anyone or anything beside himself. It’s not just that no power can compete with God’s—it’s that, as he declared in chapter 40, beside him there is no other power. He is the great Author of everyone and everything else that exists; there is nothing capable of rising off the page and wresting the pen from his hand. Any resistance or opposition to him lasts only as long as he permits it, and only within the bounds that he sets.

Three, the Lord rules over all things because there is no one else who can compare to him. There is no one else who has the power to do what he has done, and can do; he is unequalled in might. There is no one else who has the wisdom and understanding even to see the future, let alone to bring it about; others may try, but he frustrates their attempts and exposes their futility with no difficulty whatsoever. Only God can declare the future and then bring it about, and he can do so in any way he chooses; only he can raise up Cyrus and then open the way to conquest before him, such that no one will be able to resist his armies until he has accomplished all that the Lord intends for him to accomplish. Only the Lord formed the earth and set the sun, the moon and the stars in motion above it, and only he keeps it all together and keeps it all moving; he is unmatched in power, in wisdom, and in glory, and he has no rival, nor anyone even close.

Four, the Lord is in control in everything that happens—everything. “I am the Lord, and there is no other,” he declares. “I form the light and create darkness, I bring prosperity and I create disaster. I, the Lord, do all these things.” This is not to say that God desires bad things to happen, as if he enjoyed them; but it is to say that nothing happens apart from God’s power and his sustaining will. There is nothing good that does not come from his hand, and there is no trouble and no disaster that does not happen on his sufferance. God could, for instance, have prevented 9/11; he could have given Osama bin Laden a fatal accident years ago, or changed Bill Clinton’s mind to green-light bin Laden’s assassination, or had him knifed in the back by some Afghan tribesman. He didn’t choose to do that. He could have prevented our current economic crisis—fairly easily, in fact; he didn’t choose to do that either. I don’t know his reasons, for these or for any other disasters, and I won’t presume to declare the mind of God; but whether he decreed them for judgment or permitted them for other purposes, the testimony of Scripture is clear that they happened only by God’s will. Indeed, Scripture is clear that nothing happens, for good or ill, that is not in some way an expression of the sovereign will of Almighty God.

This is a hard word for us. That God sends good things—yes, of course; that only God deserves the credit for the good things that come to us—which is to say, that we can’t take credit for them ourselves—is usually not something we want to consider. Indeed, for many people, that’s a painfully hard idea to accept. But that God sends bad things—that’s something else again. Does that make God the author of evil?

There are those who have believed so, and who have responded either by rejecting God or by rejecting the biblical testimony to his power and lordship. But the truth is, it doesn’t. God did not create evil—he could not do any such thing, because it’s completely contrary to his nature—nor did he ever desire that evil things should happen. However, when our first ancestors fell into sin, he chose not to obliterate them, toss out the world he’d made, and start over, but rather to put a plan in motion to redeem their sin; as a consequence, while he may at times prevent us from sinning and forbid disasters from occurring, there are other times when, for his own purposes, he doesn’t. The important thing is that there is no evil he permits in which he is not in some way at work in order to redeem it—and there is no suffering he allows in which he does not share, in the body of his Son our Lord Jesus Christ on the cross. God is not aloof from the pain of this world; in Christ, he has borne it all.

In dealing with all this, we are of course in very deep water, looking into mysteries which are beyond our ability to comprehend; which is at least part of the reason why God’s plans are so often mysterious to us, and even at times seem to make no sense at all to us. This is particularly true when we think we have a better idea for what God could and should be doing; if he would just do this thing, we think, everything would be so much better than it is—so why isn’t he doing it our way? That seems to have been the response of some, perhaps many, in Israel when God declared that he would return his people to their homeland through the work of a conquering pagan king, rather than through the heroic leadership of one of his own people; and to them, God directs one further statement of his lordship: “Who do you think you are to argue with me? Does the clay have the right to complain about what the potter makes from it? Does the pot have the ability to question the potter’s skill? Or does anyone have the right to go to a parent and question whether their child has the right to exist? Please, feel free to give me your orders—I’m only the creator of the universe, after all; I’m sure you have much to tell me that I don’t already know.”

This is, of course, a potent blend of irony and sarcasm designed to give a real kick to God’s point: we don’t know enough to question his plans and his decisions. God alone sees everything, and he alone is aware of everything that has to be considered, and it’s on that basis of his total awareness and infinite understanding that he has set his plans in motion; we only see a part of the picture, and a small part at that, where he sees the whole. If he chooses to advance his purposes not by giving us success, but by giving success to someone we don’t like, someone who doesn’t even know him or give him credit, that might not make sense to us—but God sees a lot more of the picture than we do. If he chooses to show mercy to some and not others, to bless some and not others, that’s not unjust, because the truth is that none of us can claim to deserve his mercy and his blessing; God is not capricious and he doesn’t act for no reason, but he has perfectly good reasons for everything he does. We just don’t see them. The mystery of God’s ways really isn’t in God at all, it’s in us—in our limited perceptions, and the limitations of our minds and our ability to understand what’s really going on.

I said last week that the first lesson God tries to teach his people—over and over and over again—is “Trust me. Trust me. Trust me”; and that’s ultimately the point of this passage. In the easy times, when you have plenty of money and everything’s going well, trust God that he’s providing for you, and giving you extra to give away to those in need, and to store up for the hard times when they come. In times of disaster, trust God that he’s still with you and still working for your good, that he’s allowed the disaster and that he’ll bring you through it—that even though you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you need fear no evil, for he is with you, and the rod of his strength and the staff of his guidance comfort you. In times when the way before you is clear, trust God that he has opened the way, and in times when you can’t see where to go, trust him that he’s holding you by the hand and leading you on, one step at a time. As the poet and hymnwriter William Cowper wrote, “You fearful saints, fresh courage take; the clouds you so much dread are big with mercy and shall break in blessings on your head.”

Those aren’t just words on Cowper’s part, either; the story behind that hymn is an interesting one. Cowper battled mental illness for years, and the story is told that finally one day he decided to drown himself in the Thames. He called a cab and told the driver to take him down to the river, but the driver got lost in a thick London fog and couldn’t find his way; after driving around London blind for quite a while, the cabbie finally stopped and let Cowper out. Much to Cowper’s surprise, when he dismounted from the cab, he turned and found himself standing on the doorstep of his own home. God had allowed the illness with which he wrestled, but when it drove him to kill himself, that, God prevented; he had sent the fog to save Cowper’s life. Even in our blackest moments, God watches over us.

Usual order: read bill, then vote on it

The Democratic Party thought it could get away with reversing that order when it came to the so-called “stimulus” bill (all 1000+ pages of it)—but there really is a reason for the usual order, as Sen. Charles Schumer (D-NY) found out:

Sen. Schumer has pledged to undo a provision included in the stimulus package that will make it nearly impossible for New York’s banks to hire foreign workers through the H-1B visa program.The amendment to the stimulus bill, proposed by Sens. Bernie Sanders, I-Vt., and Chuck Grassley, D-Iowa, originally would have banned the visas for any company that received money from the Troubled Assets Relief Program, or TARP. A compromise lifted the ban, but companies will still be required to hire from the growing pool of laid-off American workers first. Advocates say that the mandate is so onerous that it will virtually stop banks from bringing foreign workers into the country.According to a report released last year by the Partnership for New York City, roughly 13,000 workers in New York, New Jersey and Connecticut are here on H-1B visas. The top visa sponsors in the area are the very same banks that have received TARP money. Those banks also have significant overseas operations, says Kathy Wylde, and this provision will hurt most when the economy turns around and the banks look to hire talent to tap new markets.“When they require someone with a language or other skill who they feel is the best person for the job, if they can’t bring them to New York, they will move the function,” says Wylde. “That’s what’s happened in the past when we’ve had a shortage of the H-1B visas.”Since the bill was signed with the provision included, Schumer will need to undo it in another bill, which could be tough sledding.“This is a counterproductive amendment that could hurt New York’s economy, and we are going to work hard to change it,” Schumer says.

As Moe Lane notes, the problem here for Sen. Schumer is

the banks in his state that would be affected by this are international . . . so if they can’t bring the workers into the country, they can take the work out of the country. Which is important because they’ll also end up sending other people’s work out of the country. Work done by people who are registered to vote in the State of New York, which is why Schumer’s now going full guns to get this rule reversed in future legislation.You know what would have stopped your little problem cold, Chuck? Reading the . . . bill in the first place. Which is your job, and the only one that an indulgent nation has ever required you to have. So lose the swarmy attitude next time and, you know, actually do some work for a change.

Act in haste, repent at leisure . . .

Audio from the Symposium

I decided to wait to post my last reflections on the Worship Symposium, and especially on Craig Barnes’ workshop, until I could post the audio along with it; the audio still isn’t available for everything yet, but I hope it will be soon.  In the meantime, the audio is up for, among other things, the workshop I attended with Dr. Simon Chan, which was truly a remarkable session on the work of the Holy Spirit in the worship of the church; I’ve added it to the original post, and it’s below as well.

Simon Chan, “A Theological Understanding of the Liturgy as the Work of the Spirit”


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No other redeemer

“You are my witnesses,” declares the Lord, “and my servant whom I have chosen,
that you may know and believe me and understand that I am he.
Before me no god was formed, nor shall there be any after me.
I, I am the Lord, and besides me there is no savior.”—Isaiah 43:10-11 (ESV)Then Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, said to them, “Rulers of the people and elders, if we are being examined today concerning a good deed done to a crippled man, by what means this man has been healed, let it be known to all of you and to all the people of Israel that by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead—by him this man is standing before you well. This Jesus is the stone that was rejected by you, the builders, which has become the cornerstone. And there is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among humanity
by which we must be saved.”—Acts 4:8-12 (ESV, alt.)This is the church’s message, it’s the word God has given us:  there is no other god in heaven and no other redeemer on this earth; there is no other name in heaven or on earth or under the earth by which anyone may be saved. There is no one else in whom we can put our hope and faith and trust. There is no other. Period, full stop, end of sentence.  That’s our message, to each other and to the world—and make no mistake, we always need to begin by reminding ourselves of that, because it’s so easy to get off into putting our trust in other things. We always need to make sure that we’re really living in the good news ourselves before we try to share it with others.It can be difficult to keep that focus, whether in hard times or in easy ones; but I do think that hard times like the ones we’re experiencing now are particularly opportune times to preach this good news.  Anyone who reads the headlines and watches the news has figured out something they might not have figured out before: they’ve come to the realization that the economy isn’t going to save them. Their jobs, their resumés, their paychecks, aren’t going to save them. The banks aren’t going to save them, and if they have any investments, those aren’t going to save them either.They’ve figured out that Congress isn’t going to save them; and judging by the opinion polls, folks are starting to figure out that the president isn’t going to save them either. With some of the rhetoric that got thrown around last year, I think a lot of people really believed we’d elected a new messiah; I think it’s starting to register that all we did was all we ever do, which is elect another politician. Which is something we should also remember two years from now, and four years from now—even if we end up with a new president and a whole new Congress, they aren’t going to save us either.  Regardless of party, politicians are still politicians—even the best of them.What’s more, we aren’t going to save ourselves. Our plans won’t save us. Our possessions won’t save us. Our big ideas won’t save us, and neither will our little ones. Our inspirations won’t save us, and our inventions won’t do the trick either, even if we can come up with any. All these are good things, and necessary; none of them are enough, even if we put them all together. We cannot save ourselves, and we cannot save each other; and none of the things we value can save us either. There is only one Savior, and he is Jesus Christ the Son of the Living God; there is only one God who redeems, and there is hope for the future—and for the present, for that matter—in nothing and no one else. This is the message God has given us for the world; our call is to share it freely.Interestingly, the importance of this was made clear recently by the great stage magician and avowed atheist Penn Jillette, of Penn & Teller.  I agree wholeheartedly with what the Anchoress had to say when she posted this clip last December:

With some understandable reservation, I have always liked Penn Jillette. Intelligence sizzles off of him the way I imagine it did with John Quincy Adams. He is articulate, urbane, insightful, mischievous and acerbically funny, and he manages to be all of those things without going into the condescension, dismissiveness and arrogance that some (think: Bill Maher) latch onto in college and extend into a sort of perpetually adolescent sneer-and-kneejerk.He is also, clearly, a guy who thinks—you cannot come up with an act like Penn & Teller with a closed mind—and, perhaps because his schtick is all about illusion and unreality, one gets the impression that Penn Jillette does work to keep the world around him, and himself, “real” by his own lights.So it is interesting, and moving, to watch this gifted man struggle to bring words and context to something that surprised him—to keep things as “real” as he can, while engaged in mild (but also real) wonder and awe.I like this video because it is a rare thing to see any man or woman expose themselves in this way—in a way that says, “I had a wow-experience and I am not afraid to tell you about it, even though half of you may say I’m a sentimental chump and the other half of you will say I’m hell-bound chum.” I like it because even though he resolutely insists that he’s still a good atheist, he is not too proud to say he was moved by a “good man” who believes very differently. I like it because he is not afraid of a fight, or to show us a moment where his intellect and his heart are engaged in a bit of a tussle.That’s courageous. It’s rare. Left or right, believer or atheist, it’s rare, and so I admire it.There is a message to Christians, here; two, actually. The first is passive: make note of the fact that it was a gentle Christian who was willing to accept Jillette where he was, as he was, with openness and a positive mien, who was able to touch him. Aggressiveness and negativity won’t get you there, which is why Christ eschewed it.The second message is as far from passive as you can get, and it comes from Jillette himself: “How much do you have to hate somebody to believe that everlasting life is possible, and not tell them that?”

Penn’s right. If we really believe this, we need to act like it.(Excerpted, edited, from “No Other Redeemer”)

A thought on worship and atheism

I haven’t put up any posts on atheism in a while, so it’s been some time since I’ve gotten into a wrangle with an atheist (for some reason, though, that always does seem to happen when I post on atheism; there always seems to be an atheist blogger or two who finds it and drops in to complain); there have been a couple things I’ve intended to post on, but neither was available online when I went looking for them. The last go-round that way was on my post on “The atheism of presumption and the case for God,” which was last July; that one was primarily with a chap going by the handle FVThinker (who also seems to be, inter alia, someone else who’s bought the phony media narrative about Sarah Palin). I looked back at that thread for something else and noticed he’d made a comment which I failed to register at the time, and also that I had planned a follow-up post which, in the business of last summer, I never finished. I need to put up a post soon to address those lapses on my part.

This, however, is not that post. Rather, I want to comment on another approach he took which I didn’t address at all in that comment thread.  : In that conversation, FVThinker tried to frame his argument against Christianity by comparing God to the ancient Greek and Norse gods. That comparison doesn’t really hold water (as I tried to point out to another interlocutor in an earlier comment thread), because Christianity operates in a fundamentally different way, on a profoundly different basis, than the old pagan religions.

In the ancient world, people believed in religion about the way they believed in magic: you do the ritual the god requires, and you get the results you want. Worship was essentially a form of manipulation; its purpose, as the Old Testament scholar John Oswalt puts it, was “to appease the gods and satisfy any claims they may have on us so that we may use the power of the gods to achieve our own goals.” That’s not the worship God wants. The rituals he had commanded were essentially symbolic; what mattered was the spirit in which they were performed. What he wanted was for his people to give him their lives and hearts so that he could have a true friendship with them.

The problem is, they were taking their cues from the nations around them, and they thought all they needed to do was to do the ritual correctly, and they were fine. That didn’t work because it wasn’t the point at all, and so they complained that God was wearing them out with all his pointless demands. To that, God says, “No, I’m not burdening you, you’re burdening me, because you aren’t really doing this for me at all! You’re doing this for yourself. All you’re giving me is your sins and offenses—and I’m sick to death of them.”

Israel didn’t get it because they’d bought into the idea that worship is just a way to manipulate God—you do the thing, you pull the lever, and you get the treat. They’d bought the idea that our worship is all about us, and what we want, and what we can get out of it. They didn’t understand that worship begins with submission—with laying aside our pride, and our independence, and our own desires, and our own ideas of what we need and what we deserve. They’re not alone; too often, we don’t get it either. This is a universal human problem, because it’s a universal human tendency; it’s just another reflection of the desire to be in control of our own lives that drove our first ancestors into sin to begin with. This is the primal human error, that declares in the smuggest tones Frank Sinatra could possibly manage, “I did it my way.”

This is the reason, I think, that so many atheists really don’t understand Christianity; there are exceptions, of course, but most of the atheists I know or have had dialogues with have an essentially pagan understanding of religion, and don’t get that Christianity doesn’t fit that (or isn’t supposed to, anyway). I don’t blame them for that; all too often, the church in this country doesn’t give them any reason to think otherwise. Having people like Joel Osteen out there on the airwaves certainly doesn’t help. This is fundamentally not a problem with atheism, or with the arguments for atheism, but with Christianity and Christians: we can’t expect atheists to be open to believing in God if we only show them a version of God that isn’t worth believing in.

(Partly excerpted from “No Other Redeemer”)

And in other news, man bites dog

Here’s a neat story out of Bellevue, Washington:  a former Washington Mutual employee turned the tables on burglars who were trying to rob his house, sneaking out the back door and stealing their getaway van.  Results:  two startled burglars, all his electronics left in a pile by the door (since the burglars weren’t going to try to carry his stuff away on foot), and a bunch of high-fives from the police.  To be sure, he got lucky, but still—you have to applaud his quick thinking and presence of mind.

Why do we never seem to learn?

Granted, there are certainly individuals who learn from their mistakes—and, just as importantly, from the mistakes of others—and occasionally organizations that do; but if you take human beings as a whole, if you look at the national level and the world level, the record just isn’t good. The Spanish-American philosopher George Santayana is famous for teaching us that those who do not learn from the past are condemned to repeat it; the great British historian Arnold Toynbee is famous for his insight that history is essentially cyclical, the same patterns repeating over and over. What does this tell you? Nothing you didn’t already know, that’s what. To take one example, appeasement worked so well with Hitler in the 1930s that we tried it again with the Soviet Union—for a while—and then we tried it with Iran . . . and we kept trying it with Iran . . . and now we’re trying it even harder with Iran, apparently on the theory that we just haven’t groveled enough to make them play nice.  Meanwhile, the government of Iran just keeps getting crazier and crazier, so you do the math on that one.  But do we learn anything from this? On the evidence, no.This is not, of course, a new phenomenon—not even close. The disinclination to learn lessons we really don’t want to learn is very, very human, and we can always find some way to rationalize that disinclination, some sort of excuse to justify it. The thing is, though, when rationalizations meet reality, what happens? You ever dropped an egg on a hard floor? If you went up to the top of the courthouse building and threw that egg at the road, do you think the extra momentum would help it break through the pavement? No—you’d just get a bigger explosion. When we refuse to learn from what went wrong the last time—when we convince ourselves that this time, it will be different—that’s what we get. Those who do not learn from the past are condemned to repeat it.