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Foetus in the womb

Abortion: Objections to the Pro-Life Position (Pt 1)

In my previous series on abortion[i], I outlined the pro-life position and argued that the unborn are distinct, living, and whole human beings who possess intrinsic value and a right to life. In this post, and the ones that will follow, I’m going to address common objections to the pro-life position and attempt to show how they fail to refute the pro-life case I’ve offered. Firstly, let’s address the question of whether pro-life advocates should attempt to persuade others of their view and fight for pro-life legislation.


  • “I oppose abortion personally, but I don’t want to force my view on others.”
  • “You’re entitled to a pro-life opinion about abortion, but you shouldn’t force it on others by trying to make abortion illegal.”
  • “If you don’t like abortion, don’t have one”.

If you’ve ever read news reports, articles, or had conversations about abortion, chances are you’ve heard statements such as these. In an age of “tolerance”, many of us like to avoid conflict regarding controversial topics, and abortion certainly fits that description. As such, statements like the ones above appeal to many people. Most would agree that, to a certain extent, we must allow others to act as they wish, even if we consider their actions immoral and therefore detrimental to their wellbeing. To attempt to control every action of every individual would lead to despotism of the worst kind. With this in mind, one might ask whether abortion is an action that we should tolerate, even if we consider it immoral. Just as we allow people to smoke cigarettes even though we know that doing so is detrimental to their health and, some would say, wrong, shouldn’t we allow people to have abortions, even if we consider it immoral? In the following paragraphs I’ll argue that, if the pro-life case is sound, the answer to such questions is a resounding “no”.

The first question that comes to mind when considering the statements above is “why do people personally oppose abortion?”. Take a moment to pause and see what answers you can think of. Chances are you’ve thought of an answer along these lines: most people who oppose abortion do so on the grounds that it kills a valuable human being who has a right to life. Since possessing a right to life entails that others have a moral duty to avoid intentionally killing you, those who oppose abortion typically believe that we have a duty not to intentionally kill the unborn.

Following such reasoning, we can take the statement “I oppose abortion personally, but I don’t want to force my view on others” and fill in the “why” behind it. Doing so, we end up with the following proposition: “I oppose abortion because it kills a valuable human being, thereby violating their right to life. However, I’m okay with allowing other people to violate that right to life if they choose, because I don’t want to force my view on others”. Such a stance appears inconsistent when examined in this light, for if unborn human beings are intrinsically valuable (which the statement affirms), then we should do our utmost to defend their right to life—even if others fail to recognise their value (which the statement denies). As such, this view is internally inconsistent and should be rejected.

Perhaps an analogy is in order. Imagine you are a white American, living during the 18th century when the slavery of African-Americans was widely accepted. Furthermore, imagine you believe that African-Americans are valuable human beings (as I’m sure you really do), despite the fact that the majority of your fellow countrymen believe otherwise. Due to your beliefs, you oppose slavery. Would it make sense to say that, although you personally oppose the slavery of African-Americans on the grounds that slaves are valuable human beings, you don’t want to force your views on others? (After all, if you don’t like slavery, then don’t own a slave). Or would it be more consistent to argue that, due to the fact that the enslaved are valuable human beings, we should fight for their right to freedom? It seems that when human rights are at stake, such as the right to freedom or the right to life, we are amply justified in enforcing measures that prevent the violation of those rights. This principle applies just as much to abortion (assuming that the unborn are valuable human beings) as it does to racism and slavery.


In addition to this line of reasoning, there’s another problem with the statements above. The declaration that a pro-life advocate shouldn’t force their opinions on others appears to be founded on the assumption that we shouldn’t force opinions regarding controversial topics onto other people. This can be summarised as follows:

(1) We shouldn’t force views/opinions regarding controversial topics onto other people.

(2) When pro-lifers argue that abortion is immoral and try to legislate against it, they are forcing a view/opinion about a controversial topic onto other people.

Therefore,

(3) Pro-life advocates shouldn’t argue that abortion is immoral and try to legislate against it.

Take a moment to process (1). Then, turn your attention to (3), and reflect on these questions: is (3) a view/opinion? If so, what is (3) a view/opinion about? (Obviously it’s an opinion about abortion). Is abortion a controversial topic?

Evidently, (3) is a view/opinion about abortion, which is a controversial topic. However, if we believe that (1) is true, then it appears that we shouldn’t force (3) onto others. In other words, the statement “you shouldn’t force your pro-life views about abortion on others” is itself a view on a controversial topic, and thus we shouldn’t impel it upon pro-life advocates. Why should we allow a pro-choice advocate to “force” their view of abortion on a pro-life advocate, but not the inverse?

In fact, it’s not difficult to provide a counter-example to the assumption that we shouldn’t force our views regarding controversial topics on other people. Many would argue that guns should be more strictly regulated in the United States. Gun control is a controversial issue, and if advocates of stricter gun control were to succeed in passing appropriate legislation, they would be “forcing” their views on others. Nonetheless, from their perspective they would be entirely justified. Why? Because doing so would presumably protect valuable human lives—which is exactly what’s at stake with abortion.

All of this underscores a crucial point—the most important question to answer pertaining to abortion is whether the unborn is a living, valuable human being. If so, then pro-life advocates should contend for their views in the public square, and should fight for laws that protect vulnerable unborn human beings. If not, then no justification for abortion is required. This question lies at the root of all moral reasoning around abortion, and answering it brings clarity to questions and statements such as those outlined above.

For further reading please see my previous series (links below), as well as Part 2 of this series, which addresses rape and abortion.


 

Endnotes:

[i] See Pt 1, Pt 2, and Pt 3

The world we deserve

We have this strange sense of justice buried deep within us that constantly screams out for satisfaction at all the wrongs we witness. But where does this sense come from? Why do we feel entitled to demand that these wrongs be made right, that justice be brought to the unjust?

A cursory glance at the history of Western civilisation teaches us that concepts of morality and justice sprout from societies built on notions of absolute truth, or God. This isn’t to say that these societies perfectly followed their own standards, but they did have a framework in place which made sense of these concepts.

“Why do bad things happen to good people?” “I’m not perfect, but I definitely don’t deserve this.” Cliches pour forth as we attempt to defend ourselves from the constant attacks that life throws at us. Who exactly we are yelling at, nobody knows. Chance, the universe, God or god (us) – it doesn’t really matter. We just want to make it clear to whoever is listening that this isn’t fair.

We can only be justified in our cries for justice if there is some sort of imbalance going on around us – something has ripped in the fibre of reality and affects us all. Today, however, the prevailing worldview of functional atheism (or as Michael Horton calls itt, ‘the Sovereign Self’) provides no such foundation. If there is no God or sense of objective morality in the world, then no legitimate appeal to cosmic justice can be made. Suffering would be blind bad luck, with every person subject to the disposition of nature, others, and themselves.

But we know that this is all wrong, don’t we? We know deep within ourselves, whether we like to admit or not, that this call for justice is legitimate. We know this because there is something much more to humans than meets the eye. We are much more than a squishy collection of quarks, floating around the universe with nowhere to place our feet.

Do we really know what we are asking for when we beg for justice? The justice of God is absolute, righting the wrongs not only of genocide and racism, but also the diseases of gossip and early morning crankiness. If there is ultimate justice, then there is an ultimate standard – one which we all fall far short of.

Keeping the reality of our depravity in mind will help Christians immensely in our evangelistic efforts – if we remember that this present evil age is our crime, then we will be more likely to seek answers outside of our ourselves, at the cross of the Judge and Justifier.

Dragon Speak (Or, What is Theology?)

You have nice manners for a liar and a thief  (Smaug in the Hobbit)

A few weeks ago I went to a lecture at Otago University. The lecture commemorated five hundred years since Martin Luther kicked off the Reformation. Written on the desk that I sat at where the words, ‘there is no god.’ Yet here I was listening to a lecture about Luther and his god, and believing in that same god. Clearly there was a vast gulf between the theology of the scribe and my own.  

The serpent said to Eve, ‘did God really say, “you must not eat from any tree in the garden”?’ And so begins one of the most famous (or infamous) dialogues in all of human history. Whether you identify as a Christian or not does not take away from the power of this story. It is a universal story: a utopian existence lost through folly. Everybody – Christian, Buddhist, and Jedi alike – has lost someone’s trust through failure or deceit. Humans fail. And their failure hurts them. And it hurts those around them. ‘O Adam, what have you done? For though it was you who sinned, the fall was not yours alone, but ours also who are your descendents’ (2 Esdras 7.11). Some call it sin, others, evil. C. K. Chesterton commented that sin ‘is the only part of Christian theology which can really be proven,’ and is also a ‘fact as practical as potatoes’ (Orthodoxy).   

The third chapter of Genesis is a strange story. The main actors in the previous two chapters – God and Adam – are in the back-ground: God is passive and Adam pretty much invisible. Instead, two new actors – Eve (then unnamed) and the (until then unmentioned) serpent – are introduced as principal characters. Theirs is a fleeting scene: between them they only say a handful of words and some of those are quoting God. Yet the echos of this event thunder down through the ages, obscuring the First Story: we can now barely imagine life in Eden, walking and communing with our creator, without thinking of Eve and Adam’s folly. Ours is a view of a high mountain peak from deep in a shadowed valley.

When we thought and talked about God we did so from the shadows. Long ago we lost our footing and fell off the precipice. David wrote of the ‘valley of the shadow of death’ (Psalm 23.4). We could only look up, and when we did so we saw the silhouette of a dragon circling far above, casting its shadow over us and obscuring our view of the sky. Between us and God was a dragon, ‘that serpent of old’ (Rev 12.9, 20.2).

So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their endings (Bilbo Baggins in the Hobbit)

This changed after the first Easter. Through his life, death, and resurrection Jesus overcame the separation, the expanse between humanity and God. After Easter humans could both know God and know about God in a way that they could not before. Theology as we know it was born. We can know God because he has revealed himself to us through Jesus (Hebrews 1.3a). The historical reality of Jesus, then, makes theology possible. But what  if you don’t believe in Jesus?

Theologians refer to the noetic effect of sin on the human intellect (from the Greek noe?tikos, relating to mental activity or the intellect). The human intellect is affected by sin. This effect is overcome by the work of Jesus in the life of the believer, but not the non-believer. Abraham Kuyper wrote that ‘regeneration [salvation] breaks humanity into two’ – the regenerated mind and the non-regenerated mind (Moroney, 1999:434). While Emil Brunner added that, ‘the more we are dealing with the inner nature of man, with his attitude to God, and the way in which he is determined by God, it is evident that this sinful illusion becomes increasingly dominant’ (439). That is, Christians can both know God and about God because God, through Jesus, has regenerated their minds, while non-believers cannot because their minds remain un-regenerated.

He who fights too long against dragons becomes a dragon himself, and if you gaze too long into the abyss, the abyss will gaze into you (Friedrich Nietzsche).

Consider the following words from some secular thinkers. Protagoras, an epistemological agnostic,  wrote that, ‘concerning the gods….many things prevent knowledge including the obscurity of the subject and the brevity of human life’ (On the Gods). Thomas Paine, the American revolutionary, charged that ‘the study of theology…is the study of nothing; it is founded on nothing; it rests on no principles; it provides no authorities…it admits of no conclusion’ (The Age of Reason). Ludwig Feuerbach, the atheist philosopher, suggested that Christianity was a ‘web of contradictions and delusions’ (The Essence of Christianity). While the logical-positivist A. J. Ayer wrote that ‘all utterances about the nature of God are nonsensical’ (Critique of Ethics and Theology).

Meanwhile author and evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins, who clearly hasn’t read much good theology, accuses theology of never being of the ‘smallest use to anybody’ and only talking about ‘pestilence as the wages of sin.’ In his opinion theology is an empty ideology: ‘The achievements of theologians don’t do anything, don’t affect anything, don’t achieve anything, don’t even mean anything. What makes you think that ‘theology’ is a subject at all?’ (Scientific Versus Theological Knowledge). (Perhaps Dawkins should check the history of both his profession and institution.)

But does this mean that the non-believer can have no theological insight? No. It is probably better to understand it in general terms rather than an precise statement true in every situation. There has been some very flawed theology from redeemed minds (by ‘redeemed’ I do not mean ‘perfect’) just as there has been some good theological insight from unredeemed minds.

The Dutch Reformed Church’s (DRC) support of apartheid in South Africa is an example of believers getting theology very wrong. Founded in 1652, it was the theological teaching of the DRC that some races were superior to others that helped pave the way for racial segregation in South Africa. It needs to be noted that while the DRC was expelled from the World Alliance of Reformed Churches in the 1980s (an action that showed that other churches believed the theology, on this point, to be wrong), it was re-admitted in 1986 for welcoming black members and preaching that all members of all racial groups should meet and pray together.

St. Augustine wrote that ‘the Platonists realized that God is the creator from whom all other beings derive’ (City of God, VIII, 6). This is a theological insight. The Platonists were not  Christians, though Augustine seemed to have suggested as much, yet they came to a conclusion compatible with a simple reading of Genesis. Paul wrote in Romans 1.19, which Augustine quoted regarding the Platonists, that, ‘what can be known about God is plain…because God has made it plain…’ Perhaps the Platonists were such ardent searches for the truth that God made plain that which they sought? Either way these non-Christians came to the same conclusion as Christians regarding Creation: that one god did it – though they didn’t know which one.    

It might be deemed by some as offensive to hold that non-believers have un-regenerated minds, and it may be so, but some of those un-regenerated minds have no problem accusing believers of stupidity – surely a more offensive claim.

Different conclusions are reached about God because different people are coming from diametrically opposed positions – a point that needs to be remembered. One position says that there is a god, and that that god has revealed himself through Jesus two thousand years ago. Another position sees the notion of a god as foolish from the beginning, and comes to very different conclusions: Richard Dawkins even suggests that Jesus would have been an atheist had he lived today. One mind sees the son of God, the other sees merely another muggle.    

References:

Moroney, S. K. (1999). How Sin Affects Scholarship: A New Model. Christian Scholar’s Review , XXVIII(3), 432-451.     

The death of Truth

You can’t handle the truth

In 1882, Friedrich Nietzsche pronounced the death of God. In 1900, God pronounced the death of Nietzsche. In the years between, this German philosopher sought to open the eyes of the masses to the sheer pointlessness of existence using his biting, nihilistic rhetoric.

In 1966, TIME Magazine’s cover echoed Nietzsche’s sentiment, albeit in question form. “Is God Dead?” in giant red letters has become an icon of 20th century history. Nietzche’s intellectual descendants were proud of their his voice now influencing on an even grander scale. Hopelessness bred hope.

To commemorate the 50th anniversary of this iconic cover, TIME published some new red letters – same style, different subject. “Is Truth Dead?” was the question for 2017. As a keen cultural observer, my ears were pricked. The subject matter of this piece was the Trumpian concept of truth as a malleable tool – an important conversation, no doubt. But I can’t help but think that TIME Magazine missed an opportunity to be truthful about truth.

Good job, TIME. Bad job, TIME.

TIME’s critique of truth massaging is both warranted and hypocritical. Warranted because language of fact and truth, right and wrong should never be distorted for any form of personal gain. Plain and simple – truth is good, falsehood is wrong. The Great Truth Masseuse of Washington would do well to listen.

On the other hand, TIME has missed a contradiction. A bad one, right in their blind spot. TIME refer to “binary distinctions between truth and falsehood” in the Trump piece, yet they represent a culture that flagrantly denies these same distinctions in areas of personal preference. TIME claims the moral high ground on matters of truth and falsehood while representing the wider cultural norm of relativizing truth whenever it suits. 

I guess I would find it hard to see this if I too had a tree in my eye.

Binary – not just for nerds

Abortion and the transgender revolution are two examples of this – the suppression of self-evident truths in favour of Sovereign Self decrees.

Despite this organism inside me being a human, I will disregard its value and kill it. I make the rules.

Despite being a man, I will declare myself a woman. I have spoken.

Despite no supporting evidence, there are surveillance devices everywhere listening to every word my administration says. That is that.

How are these things different from each other? How is one worthy of critique and the others are not to be questioned? You either keep your cake or eat it. You can’t have both.

This 50 year slide from the death of God to Truth is telling – after all, if there is no God, no Ultimate Truth Giver, can things really be said to be true in any meaningful sense? Obviously, we use ‘truth’ and its derivatives daily to convey meaning but are we appealing to our own subjective sense of meaning, or are we rooting these words in something objective, something that is, regardless of who believes it – something greater than our own unstable circumstances and desires.

If TIME are receiving answers to their pointed cover question, I have one – Yes. Truth died a long time ago. But it has risen and reigns.

stars

Thinking matters – What’s in a Worldview?

Welcome to the third instalment of my series – Thinking matters. If you are a newcomer to this ongoing conversation, I recommend reading here and here to catch up. Moving right along to the next reason why thinking matters. If we do not think seriously about what we believe and why we believe it, we are left with a hollow worldview. Before we delve deeper, let’s define some terms.

What is a worldview?

I searched far and wide for a good definition but alas. So, here is my best shot at what encompasses a worldview –

Worldview: the framework of presuppositions, ideas and beliefs through which an individual or group interprets reality.

To put it simply, a worldview is the personalised lens through which you see and understand the world around you. From this definition, we pick up on one really important aspect of worldview – everyone has one. Whether you are a sleek and smooth investment banker, or a member of an unreached Amazonian tribe, you interpret the world and everything you see in it through the lens of your own presuppositions.

What does it then mean if a worldview is hollow? Just as you knock on someone’s head to ensure there is indeed something inside, a close examination of a hollow worldview will reverberate emptiness. Presuppositions can be groundless and therefore lead to a false conclusion or vice versa, with hopeful beginnings leading to absurd endings. Sometimes, the starting and finishing lines of a worldview can tickle the ears and appeal to our deepest human desires, but when challenged by the harsh realities of life, they fall like a house built on sand.

Hollow examples may include:

  • A naturalist is in awe at the wonder of the physical world in all of its intelligibility. The logical conclusion for worship is the Designer behind the design, but their naturalistic presuppositions closed the door on this option before the conversation even starts.
  • The spiritual type who turns his back on evil and suffering in an attempt to rid them of their power and influence. They are quickly found out in this painful world.
  • The nihilist, disillusioned by the excessive agony he sees around him, intellectually denies meaning or purpose in life, but struggles to practically live in a way consistent with his conclusion.

And probably the most common:

  • The average secularite who seeks to treat others as they wish to be treated while refusing to acknowledge the source of such universal truths.

If you have read my previous two articles, you will have heard me wax repeatedly on the tendency for Christians to have their minds and actions influenced by the dominant thought trains of the day. Regarding the development of worldview, this is no different.

The harm of a hollow worldview

In a standard marketplace, goods and services are purchased with cash and if the consumer is pleased, he or she will often recommend the product to others. This increases the influence of the retailer, enabling them to spread their product through larger client bases and make more money. In an analogous way, Christianity, like any other view of reality or belief system, is competing in a global marketplace of ideas. Interpretations of reality and the meaning of life are legion and the competition is often fierce. These products are not bought with physical or digital capital, but with our allegiance

Christians stand in the midst of a world with some heavy baggage. Open them up and you will find objections of various types – intellectual, emotional, moral. Today’s idea consumers simply walk past the Christian stall, oblivious to what it has to offer. Not just oblivious, but convinced that it has nothing to offer. By not thinking seriously about what we believe and how it makes sense of the world around us, we add more fuel on an already raging fire seeking to purify the world of the Christian voice.

Towards a Christian worldview

What is the solution? How do we develop a cohesive Christian worldview that is credible, answers people’s questions, and brings honour and glory to the name of Jesus? I am in no way in a position to give exhaustive answers to these questions, but can offer a few suggestions that I am convinced are part of getting back on track.

Philosopher Douglas Groothuis proposes 8 criteria to evaluate a worldview

  1. Able to answer life’s big questions
  2. Internal logical consistency
  3. Coherence
  4. Factual adequacy
  5. Existential viability (doesn’t shy away from our everyday experience)
  6. Intellectual and cultural fruitfulness
  7. Does not make radical ad hoc readjustment
  8. Simple is better than unnecessarily complex.

An entire article could (and probably should) be written on the importance of each of these criteria, but for now they provide a good starting point for exposing the flaws of today’s dominant worldviews, and demonstrating the power of the Christian alternative.

There is one more thing we can do to begin to see change – we can pray. The task before us is enormous and we simply will not see success if we rely solely on our own ability and inventions (including the criteria above). When it comes to articulating the jaw-dropping panorama that is the Christian worldview, we desperately need the God at its centre to help us.

Are logical arguments evidence?

It is said that an argument will convince a reasonable man, and a proof will convince even an unreasonable man. So why do so-called atheists insist upon evidence? In a previous discussion, a claim was made that logical arguments are not evidence. Here I want to unpick that comment and see if we can find a way of thinking about the relationship between evidence and logical arguments that is helpful.

First I want to draw a distinction between two different types of evidence. First there is physical-evidence. This would be material stuff, such as bullet shells, exit wounds, DNA, photographs, lab results, etc. All of these would be available, either directly or indirectly to the five senses.

I take it that it was this type of evidence that was meant by the claim logical arguments are not evidence – that is, physical-evidence. Such as an arrowhead in cave can be said to be evidence for human habitation of that cave. Or that a shivering of a body can be said to be evidence it is cold.

What is troubling is that if physical-evidence is a necessary for knowledge, then we should know nothing of moral truths, aesthetic values, and meta-physical intuitions. Yet surly we do know that torturing babies is wrong, open graves are macabre, waterfalls are sublime, that the past is objective and other minds do exist. The Achilles heal of this particular epistemological theory is it is self-referentially incoherent. If its reasonable, then its unreasonable by its own merits. For no physical evidence is able to to reveal that evidence is required for reasonable belief. If it could be rationally affirmed and were true, then the Christian would be in an awkward position, for a further implication would be there is no hope for reasonable belief in non-physical entities. In fact the criteria, if adopted, would rule out the possibility of attaining reasonable belief in non-physical entities before any discussion or debate began.

There must therefore be something terribly wrong then with the criteria. Which is why I’d like to draw our attention to another type of evidence called argument-evidence. Evidence is broadly speaking that which lends support to a proposition or claim. Argument-evidence is any reason given for believing something is true or false. That is not to say that all argument-evidence is good evidence. That is just to say that arguments can count as evidence, in that they too give support for believing some proposition or claim. There can of course be counter-evidence that could dissuade belief.

For those not inclined to accept this distinction I have drawn between and physical-evidence and argument-evidence, and those who disagree with me that arguments can count as evidence, it will be useful to consider the following.

Physical evidence doesn’t speak. That is to say, all physical-evidence passes through the filter of an interpretative lens, and, perhaps unnoticed by the advocate, acquires certain meaning that was not intrinsic to the object or event itself. More colloquially, material objects have no voice to tell you what they signify. Everything is interpreted by a person who brings with them additional premises from their world view and store of experiences.

We have all gone through what its like to say one thing, and for two people to hear totally different things. A fossil will tell a paleontologist one thing. The same fossil will tell the next paleontologist another thing – sometimes even used to support mutually exclusive theories. Yet if physical-evidence was all there was available for investigation, how is it then that disparate theories can arise over the same object or event?

What happens is that somewhere between an objects discovery and its interpretation additional premises are added. These premises combine to form arguments. One hopes of course that these arguments are logical. Different premises given by different perspectives lead to different conclusions. Thus, in a way, all evidence is argument-evidence, for the physical-evidence, if left to itself, remains silent and tells us nothing.

An Interview with J.P. Moreland on Christian Worldview Integration

One of the greatest challenges for Christians in the academic world is to think faithfully and consistently as Christians. Too often, the knowledge claims of the Bible and the intellectual resources of Christianity are ignored or squandered by Christians themselves. While many Evangelicals may be involved in the academic world and in the common human project of understanding ourselves and the world, many do not make an impact as Christians because of a failure to connect and integrate their theological beliefs with the knowledge claims of academic disciplines.

InterVasity Press have launched a new series of books aiming to address this need and equip Christians in the task of integration. Edited by J.P. Moreland and Frank Beckwith, the Christian Worldview Integration series will cover topics from economics to biology, showing how the knowledge claims of Christianity might be blended with the knowledge claims of one’s own academic discipline to form a coherent, satisfying worldview. So far, two in the series have been released: Education for Human Flourishing: A Christian Perspective by Paul Spears and Steve Loomis (read Frank Sanders’ good review here) and Psychology and the Spirit: Contours of a Transformational Psychology by John Coe and Todd Hall, with Politics for Christians: Statecraft as Soulcraft by Frank Beckwith on the way. The other anticipated topics and authors are:

The Evangelical Philosophical Society blog has posted a great interview with J. P. Morealand on the series (part 1 and part 2) that is worth reading.

Here are some of the questions:

  • In its best and most sincere effort, how do Christian worldview integration endeavors with academic disciplines tend to go? How does the approach of the series differ from what is typically published in this area?
  • Is “integration,” ultimately, a philosophical issue with bearing upon other disciplines? How should theology contribute to the conceptual work of philosophy in the area of “Christian integration”?
  • The “integration of faith and learning” has become a slogan, if not a fad of sorts, for many Christian intellectuals and educators. But I get the sense that “integration” as a vision and an endeavor is far more than a slogan or fad for you and this series.
  • Christian work at the intersection of the sciences is an important area of integration, especially given the authority that scientific knowledge has within Western cultures. Are the positions of “theistic evolution” and “Christian physicalism” the result of proper integration or a failure to understand genuine integration between Christian truth and other disciplines?
  • How should Christians approach, use and present the teaching of scripture when engaging in genuine integration between what the Bible claims and what is claimed by extra-biblical sources of knowledge?
  • Does the holistic character of discipleship and spiritual formation demand integration? If so, how and why?
  • How and why is integration work interrelated with Christian apologetics work?
  • If Christians neglect to engage in integration work, what are the costs or consequences?
  • What are the top three issues or concerns that Christian faculty should confront when attempting to integrate their Christian beliefs with their discipline?
  • In the years to come, what would you like to see happen in the area of integration and this series among self-identified Christian universities, colleges, and seminaries?

Key Terms: Doctrine, Theology and Worldview

Today I want to give you a few definitions that I think you’ll find helpful and then give to an analogy as a way to think about them. All are welcome to comment, ask questions and disagree with the definitions, but I will be strict on this post to make sure the comments are topical to what is written here.

First is the word doctrine – a belief. It could be any single belief about anything, or it could be a set of beliefs about a particular subject. Here we’re mostly interested in the set of Christian doctrines, which will be beliefs affirmed by Christianity. Think of a doctrine as a brick, or a collection of bricks stacked on top of each other.

The next word is Theology. This is made out of two Greek words; Theos, that your Bible translates “God,” and Logos, which is “rationality” or “the study of.” So theology is the study of God and by extension, the study of God’s revelation. If a doctrine is a brick, then a theology is a wall. Now your wall can be as big as you want. It could be one brick! You might think that there is no God and theology is worthless. But you see, that is a belief about God and therefore a theological belief. So in other words everyone is a theologian – because everyone has some opinion about God or the Bible.

Theology is that first order discipline which studies God and his revelation, and that second-order discipline which that seeks to form a coherent worldview from all sources of available knowledge. While philosophy employs reason and experience, theology also considers the possibility of specially revealed knowledge. Thus theology is oft called the Queen of the sciences.

On this definition anyone with an opinion about God or some aspect of his revelation is a theologian. Ironically this means Richard Dawkin’s disdain for the discipline can be directed at himself also, for even fundamentalist atheists are theologians. He who thinks that God cannot be known is doing theology, making him an agnostic theologian. There are folk theologians aplenty. Examples multiply. The issue is not if one is a theologian, but is ones theology is correct.

For practical reasons, sometimes people find it helpful to define theologian in a more narrow fashion. They reserve the title for those who study and intentionally reflect on theological thought. The sort of theologians we want to pay attention to and become are those who take time to examine their beliefs about God and his revelation. In other words, we want to make an effort to construct a wall that is made of the same quality of material (true beliefs), that all fit well together (are coherent), and have a strong foundation (is correspondent to reality).

Where does Christ fit in the analogy? Perhaps he is a particular brick or a section of the wall; the foundation stone; the mortar that holds everything together, or all of the above. Perhaps here the analogy is pressed too far and begins to fall apart.

The higher you build your wall, the better the view you have of the surrounds. Your worldview is the way you view the world – or the set of beliefs that influence your perspective. The Christian worldview is, we’d contend, the strongest tower. Perhaps some bricks in your wall are missing, damaged or unconnected. Well, like Nehemiah, lets set about fixing it together.