Roman but Not Catholic Review

I am a Protestant who has a deep appreciation for Catholicism. I have been to Mass a few times and, like most Protestants, got a bit lost in the liturgy, but still had positive experiences. I have read a number of Catholic authors for whom I’m grateful, people like Pope Francis, Robert Barron, Gregory Boyle, Richard Rohr, Frances MacNutt and Henri Nouwen. I’ve dabbled with St. John of the Cross, Thomas a Kempis, Teresa of Avila, and Thomas Merton, and I’ve read the Catechism of the Catholic Church. I have Catholic friends and some former Protestant friends who have converted to Rome. I love Catholicism’s deep appreciation of history, its penchant for beauty and mystery, and its spiritual life. While I have holy envy about some aspects of Catholicism, I have not had a deep desire to become Catholic. Lord knows my own tribe of United Methodism has issues, but there is much about it that I love, and it has been a good boat from which to fish.

I recently finished reading Roman but Not Catholic by two United Methodist scholars, both of whom either are or have been affiliated with Asbury Theological Seminary. Kenneth Collins is a former Catholic and a professor of historical theology, and Jerry Walls is a philosophical theologian who got his PhD at a flagship Catholic institution, Notre Dame. This is a polemical book, and they critique some of the claims of Catholicism, past and present. The clever title gets at their thesis, that some of the claims of the Roman Catholic Church actually prevent a more fruitful unity that could be enjoyed among all Christians. 

I’d give the book 4 stars. Where it’s good, it’s very good. There were a few parts that were a bit overboard or annoying. The book has an academic bent to it, but the strength of that is the authors deal with some of the best arguments made by some Catholic scholars. If you’ve been to seminary, you probably won’t have any issues, but this book could be a tad difficult if you haven’t. It's also 410 pages, so it's not the quickest read.

Unlike some less charitable Protestants, Walls and Collins wholeheartedly affirm that Catholics are fellow Christians. I think it’s unfortunate whenever Protestants or Catholics assume the other doesn't have a saving relationship with Jesus. Walls lifts up commonalities between Catholics and Protestants. We all believe Jesus is our Savior and Lord who died for our sins. We all believe salvation is by the grace of Jesus. Most all of us affirm the early creeds given to us by church tradition, like the Apostles’ Creed, the Nicene Creed, and the Chalcedonian Definition. We perform the same practices and understand God to be involved in them, though we may label them differently. We share in the mission of making disciples of Jesus, and we all are empowered by the presence and power of the Holy Spirit. What we share is deeper than our differences, but the differences still remain and it can be helpful to explore them.

Collins maintains that the main disagreement between Protestants and Catholics comes in the role tradition plays in shaping the church. To be sure, only some of the Radical Reformation (the Anabaptists), not the Magisterial Reformers (Lutherans, Calvinists, and Anglicans), sought to get rid of tradition altogether, in the sense of an ongoing interpretive deposit that must be passed on from generation to generation. So then, the great debate between most Protestants and Roman Catholics over the authority of Scripture and tradition is actually in the end a dispute, to use [Heiko] Oberman’s own language, over “two concepts of tradition” (p. 26). 

Collins goes on to say Protestants view the Bible as the primary, most authoritative source of revelation, with tradition also being useful, though not on the same level. Protestants hold that later tradition is worthy of being critiqued by the earliest Christian traditions found in Scripture. Catholics view Scripture and tradition as having equal value, and that tradition itself is what gave us the Bible, showcasing that tradition is at least on par with Scripture when it comes to its authority. Most Protestants would acknowledge that yes, God did give us the Bible through tradition, but that doesn’t mean church tradition has the same level of authority as those initial inspired writings. Rather, it means God led the early church to recognize that which most clearly represented God and was inspired by him. Walls devotes chapter 5 to how Protestants can make a case for biblical authority and the importance of the early creeds without having to hold to the claims of the magisterium or view tradition on the same level. This chapter was probably the one I wrestled with the most, and I'm not sure if I'd use the same language as Walls on some things.

In chapter 4, Walls does a good job critiquing John Henry Newman’s book An Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, particularly how Newman forces things into an all-or-nothing argument when it isn’t required, and how Newman’s own rhetoric gets away from him at times. In chapter 8, Walls also deals adeptly with Catholic critics who claim that Protestants are their own popes, sifting everything through their own individual interpretations, while Catholicism can claim an intellectual high ground. He replies that most Protestants, like Catholics, are formed and make interpretations in community, and that Catholics make individual judgments and interpretations too.  There is no convincing basis for Catholics having an epistemic high ground.

Another interesting tidbit is a question lifted up by Collins: if a Catholic converts to Protestantism, does paragraph 846 of the Catechism teach they will be damned and lost? The paragraph reads as follows (emphasis mine):

Basing itself on Scripture and Tradition, the Council teaches that the Church, a pilgrim now on earth, is necessary for salvation: the one Christ is the mediator and the way of salvation; he is present to us in his body which is the Church. He himself explicitly asserted the necessity of faith and Baptism, and thereby affirmed at the same time the necessity of the Church which men enter through Baptism as through a door. Hence they could not be saved who, knowing that the Catholic Church was founded as necessary by God through Christ, would refuse either to enter it or to remain in it.

In other writings the blow is softened a bit for those who are born or raised in a Protestant church and never become Catholic, but for those who have been baptized Catholic and convert to Protestantism, the teaching of paragraph 846 seems ominous indeed, implying such people will be damned. Collins plays with the logic here: 

…since Ulrich Zwingli and John Calvin both left the Roman Catholic Church, whereas John Wesley did not, having been born into the Church of England and baptized as an infant, Zwingli and Calvin are both schismatics and therefore likely lost (bearing in mind Rome’s earlier language of “hence they could not be saved…”), though Wesley may yet be in heaven since he is by no means personally chargeable with the sin of schism (p. 119)!

This sounds a particularly sour note for the many Latinos today who have left Catholicism for Pentecostal Protestantism.

Collins is good at calling into question some of the historical claims of Rome, showing that some of the church’s assertions are not present in Scripture and the earliest traditions of the church fathers and mothers. He says Rome is often guilty of anachronism, of reading later understandings back into earlier times where those understandings were not present. He does this effectively concerning apostolic succession, the papacy, mariology, transubstantiation, the priesthood, and more. Collins is also the one I got frustrated with the most, however.

His calling the adoration of the host idolatrous (p. 167) is over the line. He is too nitpicky in chapters 17-19 on justification, where aside from some salient points, Collins passionately splits hairs. This could’ve been one chapter instead of three. I don’t think he grapples sufficiently with some of the representatives of the New Perspective on Paul–he dismisses N. T. Wright’s conception of justification in a paragraph. Having delved through Wright’s Romans commentary, I’m more sympathetic to his view over Collins’, who may be shaped more by the reformers than by Paul himself. I like how Fleming Rutledge writes of justification in her book The Crucifixion: Understanding the Death of Jesus Christ. She uses the term rectification (we are not just seen to be right, but made right within, rectified) as a better way of capturing more of what Paul means by justification. Collins seems very intent on keeping justification and regeneration as separate concepts and works, while nothing is lost if the concepts bleed into each other. He would affirm that justification and regeneration always come together anyway, so I grew a bit puzzled by his insistence on keeping them conceptually separate.

One could almost get the impression in the justification chapters that Collins doesn’t have a synergistic (working together) view of God’s grace, but a monergistic (working alone) view. Calvinists tend toward monergism, claiming that God alone sovereignly works salvation according to his will, and there is nothing humans can do to accept, reject, or change it. Wesleyan/Arminians tend toward synergism, that God’s prevenient, preceding grace enables us to receive and respond to God and make decisions to receive more of God's grace or resist God. United Methodists have a synergistic conception of God's grace, and are probably more similar to official Catholic teaching in that regard than to our Reformed Protestant sisters and brothers. Collins does highlight some nuance between Methodist and Catholic conceptions of sin and grace, but in many ways the practical nuts and bolts of our theologies in this regard are very similar. He fails to celebrate the commonality of synergistic grace and comes across as overly critical. He also has some comments pertaining to sacramental theology that seem out of step with his own tradition. Collins has a lot more good than bad, but these things detract from the book.

In chapter 20, Walls explores the divisions within Catholicism, calling into question the assertions about it being the one true church with unbroken historical consistency. He makes the case that even though the RCC talks a good game about infallibility and being the one, true, holy, and apostolic church, in reality it is a deeply divided church. He compares Roman Catholicism to a pluralist Protestant denomination, in which many of its people either disagree with or violate official church doctrine. At times laity, priests (Richard Rohr and Gregory Boyle, for all their pluses, are examples of this), professors, and bishops push against the official teachings of the church. A very striking example of this is the church’s total ban on all forms of contraception. A worldwide poll of Catholics indicated 78% supported the use of contraceptives in some form, with some countries getting results of over 90% (p. 382). There are further disagreements around divorce, the ordination of women, same-sex intimacy, the validity of Vatican II and the popes after that time, when it is appropriate to serve someone Holy Communion, and more. Walls shares a quote from Carl Trueman that rings true: “At least Protestantism has the integrity to wear its chaotic divisions on its sleeve” (p. 394). Here’s another quip from Walls on the topic: “Protestant converts to Rome who imagine they are joining a church that is free of the divisions and disagreements that plague Protestantism are quite mistaken. Indeed, far from escaping those problems of Protestantism they disdain, they are in fact joining a church that is functionally a radically pluralist Protestant denomination” (p. 399).

I’m a Protestant, so this book is preaching to the choir. Still, it’s good at exploring some of the fault lines that still exist between Protestants and Catholics 500 years after the Reformation, and to look at some of the deeper arguments made on both sides. I think some of Collins and Walls’ suggestions to Rome could lead to a wider catholicity among all Christians if implemented. At the very least, even if we never think alike, couldn’t we at least join together in celebrating at the Table of the Lord?

Album Review: Peopled with Dreams by John Mark McMillan

One of my favorite artists, John Mark McMillan, released his new album, Peopled with Dreams, on Valentine's Day. I've had some time to digest it over the past few days, and I'm quite impressed. I appreciate musicians who work on their craft, pushing themselves to explore new sonic and lyrical territories while staying committed to an emotional connection with the listener. This feels more accessible to me than his previous record, Mercury and Lightning, which had an eighties electronic feel to it. John Mark continues some of that instrumentation here, but several songs have a strong R&B vibe thrown into the mix. I listened to a podcast in which he was sharing about the sound of this record and his love for nineties R&B artists, and I admit I was a bit skeptical on if he could pull off this musical cocktail. John Mark's vibe in the past has sounded mostly like white boy folk, rock, and electronic music. I was pleasantly surprised on listening, however. I find him believable and enjoyable throughout the record.

What I love about this record is that it's joyful without being naive. John Mark is no stranger to the problems in our world. He hasn't been afraid to raise awareness and money within the Christian community for sustainability projects over the past few years. He also hasn't shied away from writing on the usual hard, heavy stuff artists have been drawn to for years–you'll hear some of that on this record too. That being said, this sounds like his happiest record thus far. He sounds like someone who has found God's joy and is delighting in it even in the face of the brokenness of our world.

The song that stood out to me the most initially was Unbroken Horses, which is a good ol' pop rock song. I have to say, though, my favorite from the record is Pilgrim. It unlocks a whole host of emotions for me, and has brought tears to my eyes as I've listened in the car and at home. John Mark uses the travel metaphor to talk about the limited time we have in life, bringing focus to enjoying and sharing what is beautiful until we go to be with God. I also heard somewhere that John Mark had his daughter sing on several tracks with him, and I hear her voice in this one. Maybe it's because I'm a dad to a daughter, but inviting your daughter to sing with you in a song about the limited time you have to love each other seems like a magnificent gift to share now and to leave behind after you're gone.

Other great tracks are Juggernaut, Everything New, and The Road, The Rocks, and the Weeds.

Check out the album if you're looking for some good tunes. I highly recommend it.

Father Robert Barron on Beauty

I recently finished Robert Barron and John Allen's book To Light a Fire on the Earth. This book is part memoir of Barron's life and part nuts and bolts for 21st century evangelism. Originally from Chicago, Barron is a Catholic priest, an auxiliary bishop of the diocese of Los Angeles, and the founder of Word on Fire, a media ministry Barron uses to promote Catholic thought and teaching. Barron reviews tv shows, events, and books, he teaches on certain topics, and occasionally gets interviewed or invited to speak (Facebook and Google have invited him to give presentations at some of their organizational gatherings). Barron is someone who strikes the fine balance of being both intelligent and accessible.

Barron has a PhD in theology and helped me understand some of the lay of the land when it comes to recent Catholic theologians, connecting them to what would be some of their Protestant counterparts. [Warning: The next few sentences are for theology nerds]. Barron spends some time talking about two theologians in particular: German Jesuit Karl Rahner, who is like a Catholic Friedrich Schleiermacher or Paul Tillich, and Swiss theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar, who is like a Catholic Karl Barth. Barron identifies with Balthasar over Rahner, and styles himself as "postliberal," which he is quick to say doesn't necessarily mean antiliberal. Rather, he thinks making too much of our experience can thin out what God has revealed about himself and how that might shape our experience. 

While Barron covers many topics, the idea that struck me most is Barron's encouragement for the church to give more emphasis to beauty in its evangelistic task. Something beautiful seizes the one who beholds it, it moves them, inspires them. It can lead someone to ask: What leads to this beautiful work, or this beautiful life, or this beautiful act? This invites them to love and cherish that which is sublime, and helps them learn about the beliefs and actions that give rise to beauty. It paves the way for more thoughtful and receptive conversations around truth. It also is an impetus for sharing with others. If we find a band's music majestic, we'll share it. If we think a certain sport is awe-inspiring, we'll talk about it. We share with others with the things we find beautiful.

I wish Barron would've addressed how our sense for wonder can be marred by sin and corruption, so that we find attractive and appealing things that in fact are not fully beautiful, but only deceptively so.  He also gives separate definitions for beauty and goodness. In my view, much of the meaning of those two words in Christian vocabulary overlap as to be almost synonymous. Still, he makes an interesting case that warrants some thought.

What is beautiful about the church? Of course, Jesus is the center of beauty in the church. When the church looks like Jesus, many will find him beautiful. When we serve others like Jesus, his beauty is put on display. When we are faithful in prayer, Jesus' beauty is made known in mysterious ways. When we do our jobs well, Jesus' beauty is glimpsed. When we show God's love to our families, Jesus' beauty is revealed. When we make great music and art, tell great stories, forgive others, act as peacemakers, overcome great obstacles, are generous, are kind... Jesus' beauty and the beauty of the church community are put on display. 

His words are a reminder to me that beauty matters, and that God speaks to us through both the head and heart. 

Where do you see God's beauty? How do you think beauty should shape the church?

My Top 8 Books from 2019

Hi everyone, I know I'm a few days late, but I still wanted to share some of my favorite books I read in 2019.

#8–Exclusion and Embrace: A Theological Exploration of Identity, Otherness, and Reconciliation by Miroslav Volf

This book was a bit of a slog and is written at a fairly high philosophical level, but it had some bright moments, particularly in Volf's reflections on the biblical accounts of Cain and Abel and the Prodigal Son. His writing about Christian justice always providing provisional space for forgiveness, embrace, and redemption for sinners who repent was enlightening. Also his frankness on Jesus being the bringer of final justice and divine violence were stimulating as well.

#7–The Crucifixion: Understanding the Death of Jesus Christ by Fleming Rutledge

Much like the previous book, this book also was a slog in places and really is too long–I didn't finish it even though I read ~350 of its pages. Rutledge gives ample space for spelling out exactly how she disagrees with what seems like every theologian she's ever read, thus coming off as a bit crotchety at times. That being said, she had some important reflections on the centrality of the cross in Christian preaching and teaching. As an Episcopal priest and preaching professor, she comments on the neglect of many churches, particularly mainline churches, in preaching the cross of Christ. She examines the different motifs Scripture uses to talk about the cross, makes a defense of Anselm's satisfaction theory which she thinks many dismiss without actually understanding it, and ends up being a big fan of Karl Barth. I agree with what my friend Justin said about Barth: I appreciate the effect he had on 20th century theology, but I never much enjoyed reading him. Sorry, Barth fans. There is a lot of good material for Lent, Good Friday, and a cross sermon series in this book. I'm glad I read most of it :).

#6–First Corinthians in the Interpretation series by Richard Hays

Hays, a United Methodist Bible scholar and the former Dean of Duke Divinity School, has some wonderful insights into Paul's first letter to the Corinthian church and the nature of love. This is one of the few commentaries I've actually read in its entirety. Hays draws out Paul's willingness to identify with the weak and his challenges he was posing to Corinthian elitists, whether over matters of wealth, social standing, sexuality, food sacrificed to idols, perceived spiritual status and spiritual gifts, or the resurrection of the body. I also think he helped me understand why Paul devotes three chapters to food sacrificed to idols, which can be lost if you're not paying attention to the context of the letter (8-10), and some of the ideas and language that was floating around in Greco-Roman culture at the time. The whole commentary is very strong, though I was a bit disappointed in how he handled the portion on women's head coverings in chapter 11 and on the "women should learn in silence and submission" portion of 14:34-35. Thankfully one of my old profs, Dr. Craig Keener, is much more useful for teaching on those passages in his book Paul, Women, and Wives. This is a very good commentary that I'd highly recommend if you're preaching a series or doing a Bible study on First Corinthians.

#5–When Life Gives You Pears: The Healing Power of Family, Faith, and Funny People by Jeannie Gaffigan

Jeannie Gaffigan is an author, comedy writer, producer, and mother of five. She is married to famed comedian Jim Gaffigan. Jeannie is hilarious and made me laugh throughout the book, though her primary subject matter is quite sober indeed. She was diagnosed with a pear-sized tumor in her brain stem that was significantly impeding her functioning. She had a surgery and a months-long, painstaking recovery process. She tells her story from just before learning the diagnosis on through to her recovery. She is a devoted Roman Catholic, and she regularly weaves in aspects of how God, family members, and other friends sustained her and helped her through this journey. She also reports a miraculous vision she had at an earlier point in her life. The book is well-written, reads quickly, and I liked her incorporation of pictures throughout. Good book.

#4–Canoeing the Mountains: Christian Leadership in Uncharted Territory by Tod Bolsinger

This is a very good Christian leadership book, and interestingly enough, Bolsinger came and spoke at the Kentucky Annual Conference this summer and I got him to sign my book. He uses the Lewis and Clark expedition as his commanding metaphor from which he pulls principles for leading in uncertain situations. I particularly liked some of his illustrations (you will probably hear about the crock pot illustration in a sermon in the next several weeks St. Paul). Adaptive capacity is necessary when the maps used to prepare us look nothing like the reality in front of us. This is one of my favorite leadership books I've read.

#3–Adopted for Life: The Priority of Adoption for Christian Families and Churches by Russell Moore

Russell Moore is the current president of the Ethics and Religious Liberty Commission of the Southern Baptist Convention, and is a public theologian that I respect a great deal. Moore's book is part theological, part autobiographical, and part nuts and bolts for the adoption process. He talks about Jesus was adopted into Joseph's family and David's line, and how adoption is one of the biblical motifs of what God does at our conversion–see particularly Romans 8 where Paul speaks of being adopted into God's family through God's Spirit of adoption, and other passages that use the phrase "children of God." We are taken from being orphans, covered in the corruption and isolation of sin, and placed by the Spirit into God's family of love, the church, through repentance and faith in Jesus. He shares of his family's own struggles with miscarriages and their journey of adopting two sons from a Russian orphanage. He also shares some good things to consider if you're praying and thinking about adopting, and some pitfalls to avoid (like child-stealing/selling organizations who purport to be international adoption agencies, but don't meet Hague accreditation standards). Moore makes a winsome case for adoption being something the church should continue to do and champion, as it has throughout its history. Adoption is a living testament to God's grace and the good news. This is a very good book.

#2–Beating Guns: Hope for People Who Are Weary of Violence by Shane Claiborne and Michael Martin

I admit, I have a soft spot for Shane Claiborne in my heart. His book Jesus for President was a game-changer for me when I was in college, and was probably one of the top ten most influential Christian books I've read in my journey. He helped me recognize some of the blind spots of the Christian subcultural water I'd grown up in, though I am very grateful for the foundation I received and still hold tightly to several of the treasures it imparted to me in my youth. I'm not sure I'd be as wholehearted in my agreement with him on a couple things today, but his work found me at a ripe moment in my walk with Jesus, and I greatly appreciate his ministry and voice. He has been devoted to inner city presence, relationships, and transformation for a long time, and he walks with integrity. Michael Martin is the founder of RAWTools (RAW is war spelled backwards), and he blacksmiths and turns disarmed weapons into garden tools. This is a creative, modern-day embodiment of Isaiah 2:4 and Micah 4:3, where those prophets had visions of the people beating their swords into plowshares. The idiosyncrasies of these two authors come together effectively for this very good book.

Beating Guns is a deep dive into guns in America, taking primarily a theological approach, but also involving a deep historical, economic, social, and political look into America's relationship with guns. Claiborne and Martin divulge revealing statistics and problems the United States has around gun violence, and they are convincing in their recommendations. The book is very artfully presented, incorporating pictures, cool graphics, artwork, memorials to lives lost in mass shootings, an overwhelming amount of statistics, and several moving stories of loss, anger, and forgiveness. It reads easily as well. Claiborne and Martin for the most part do a good job being respectful of those who hold a different view from them concerning guns. A couple times Claiborne came across as trying a bit too hard to look woke, but overall this is a very important book that gives biblical wisdom and some practical political recommendations to a very important issue in our day.

#1–A Tale of Two Cities by Charles Dickens

This is a classic that I hadn't yet read. It presents a fictionalization of both English and French folks who get swept up in the French Revolution, yet with powerful personal relationships and intrigues woven throughout. The book has some interesting twists and turns along the way. This was one of my two attempts in 2019 to combat my wife's accusation that I never read fiction. Great book!

Is the Chemical Imbalance Narrative for Depression and Anxiety the Best One?

I recently finished reading the book Lost Connections: Uncovering the Real Causes of Depression–And the Unexpected Solutions by Johann Hari, an English journalist (the most recent edition has a different subtitle). Hari comes from an atheistic perspective, and part of his book is autobiographical, part is based on social, medical, and psychological research. Hari was in a dark place for a long time as a teenager, so much so that his friends started commenting that they didn't think his emotional state was normal. He went to a doctor, who asked him very few questions about his personal life, and instead told him he had a neurochemical imbalance in his brain and diagnosed him with depression. He put Hari on the depression medication Seroxat, which is known as Paxil in the United States (p. 7). 

Hari remained on Seroxat for several years, but he noticed something strange. He would feel better for a little while, then a few months later, the sadness would be overwhelming again, he’d tell his doctor about it, the doctor would up his dose a little bit more, he'd feel another boost in his mood, but it seemed always to be temporary. There were negative side effects with that particular drug, like weight gain and sweating. This pattern of upping the dose and temporary relief continued for several years, but Hari’s therapist kept noticing that he was still very depressed and anxious in spite of years of taking an antidepressant. This started him on a journey of studying much of the latest research concerning depression, and it led him to challenge the story he had been given of depression only being a neurochemical imbalance. 

While Hari still maintains that biology is a factor that can predispose people toward being more susceptible to sadness than others, he and the researchers he cites argue that social and psychological factors are often the most substantial triggers for depression. One of the more interesting parts of the book was his research into the data behind a lot of antidepressant medications, and how many of the findings in their trials are modest at best, yet pharmaceutical companies have at times cherry-picked the data and perpetuated the chemical imbalance narrative because it's profitable for them. He cites research done by people like Harvard professor Irving Kirsch, Dr. Joanna Moncrieff of the University College of London, Dr. Lucy Johnstone of University of West England, Bristol, and several others, all of whom would like to modify the prevailing explanation of and treatment for depression and anxiety. Some research even indicates worse long-term effects for people who stay on antidepressants compared to those who don't.

Hari weaned off Seroxat at the lead of his doctor, and made some intentional changes in his lifestyle in an effort to combat depression and pursue a healthier, happier life. He does not recommend getting off medicine as the solution for everyone, nor is he against taking medicine. He writes, "I want to stress–some reputable scientists still believe that these drugs genuinely work for a minority of people who take them, due to a real chemical effect. It's possible" (p. 37). But he precedes those words with this sentence: "To me, this seems like the most crucial piece of evidence about antidepressants of all: most people on these drugs, after an initial kick, remain depressed or anxious" (Ibid.). If depression is only a neurochemical imbalance, then why are so many people still depressed after taking the drugs that are supposed to correct the imbalance?

If Hari and his sources are correct, then in some ways this can be a further burden for those who are already burdened by depression and anxiety. It challenges the notion of the quick fix, the thought that if I just find the right pill, my life will be happier and my problems will go away without any other significant changes to my life. It puts the responsibility for our mental health back on us, and may require some hard work of us. Yet Hari notes that in another way, the neurochemical imbalance narrative is a disempowering story that puts your body at war with itself: Your mind is defective, your distress is a meaningless screwup in your brain tissue, and your only hope is to drug your body into normalcy. There's nothing you can do to help. If the drugs don't work, you're trapped (pp. 154-155). But what if sometimes your darkness is pointing out something wrong, either in society, or your past, or in how others have treated you, or in how you're living? What if we're grieving lost connections that all of us need to live a fulfilling life?

Hari broadens the definition of an antidepressant from being a pill you take to being anything that relieves your sorrow. Where I find his book most helpful is in his articulation of things we need to be connected to in order to pursue happiness and satisfaction. Honestly, I see a lot of his recommendations as being present within Scripture and in the Christian life. If we get disconnected from these things, they can be a source of sorrow in our lives. Here's a brief overview of some of those connections he explores in depth, with me throwing in the occasional Christian linkage:

• Connection to Other People (Friendship; Hebrews 10:24-25)
• Connection to Nature (Psalm 8:3-4; 19:1-2; Romans 1:20)
• Connection to Meaningful Work (Purpose; 1 Corinthians 12:4-31)
• Overcoming Trauma and Abuse (particularly if you were abused as a child)
• Connection to a Secure Future
• Prayer and Meditation (the chapter is strangely titled "Sympathetic Joy, and Overcoming the Addiction to Self," though it is mostly about meditation and guided psychotropic drug trips. I commend Hari for writing this chapter as an atheist.)
• Connection to Meaningful Values

Now in many ways I’m way out of my depth here–I'm not a psychologist or medical doctor, and I’ll let the experts in the academic community discern if Hari and his sources are right. There also are some things I wish he would've addressed. He doesn't mention postpartum depression, in which it seems like there's a strong possibility that a chemical imbalance is at work. Further, I wish he would've addressed depression in the elderly and in the dying. I think Hari's worldview is limited in its ability to provide much in the way of resources for facing death. I also know folks on antidepressants and anti-anxiety medication who say the medicine has helped in a big way. I am not going to dispute their stories.

But questions and quibbles aside, Hari provides a more thorough exploration of the causes of depression and more holistic solutions from which all who go through dark seasons can benefit. He has encouraged me to have a more comprehensive approach when it comes to counseling others who are in darkness. I’d encourage you to get the book if you’re curious–there's much more to his argument than I've written.

Thoughts on Jehovah's Witnesses

I just got through reading parts (I confess, I didn't read the whole thing) of Reasoning from the Scriptures with the Jehovah's Witnesses by Ron Rhodes, a former faculty member of Dallas Theological Seminary. I didn't know a lot about Jehovah's Witnesses other than they like to do door-to-door evangelism, they have a publication arm called The Watchtower, and the places they meet in are called Kingdom Halls. This book mapped out some of the contours of their theology, practices, and history for me. I thought I'd share some brief takeaways.

Beliefs about Jesus

When it comes to Christian theology, one of the most important things you can talk about is Jesus. 

While the Trinity is involved in salvation, and the three persons of the Trinity are equal, Jesus is the one around whom God's work of salvation centers; therefore he tends to get most of the emphasis and discussion. What you say and believe about Jesus carries particular freight theologically.

Jehovah's Witnesses believe that Jesus is not equal with God, and is a creature that God made who has some god-like qualities. They also reject the historic Christian teaching of the Trinity.

A central feature of Watchtower theology is that Jesus is not Jehovah. They say Jesus was a created angel–Michael the Archangel, to be more specific. The Watchtower magazine suggests, "There is Scriptural evidence for concluding that Michael was the name of Jesus Christ before he left heaven and after his return." Indeed, "Michael the great prince is none other than Jesus Christ himself" (p. 52).

This actually is a variation of what came to be condemned in church history as a heresy: Arianism. It took the church a while to flesh out how best to understand God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit, and there were debates about this in early church history in the first few centuries. Arius believed that Jesus was not co-eternal with the Father, but was created at a certain point in time. He and his followers made much of the subordinationist passages pertaining to Jesus in the Bible (as Jehovah's Witnesses also do), but didn't seem to sufficiently grapple with the claims to divinity and eternality of the Son (see, for instance, John 1 or 10:30, along with several other places). Rhodes' book takes a deep dive into the biblical evidence if you're curious.

Also, Jehovah's Witnesses deny the physical resurrection of Jesus.

When Jesus died, He became nonexistent and was raised (or, more accurately, was re-created) three days later as a spirit creature–that is, as Michael the Archangel. A physical resurrection did not occur. In Studies of the Scriptures, we find this statement: "We deny that He was raised in the flesh, and challenge any statement to that effect as being unscriptural" (p. 71).

Rejecting a physical resurrection doesn't make good sense of several aspects of the different Gospels accounts, in which Jesus invites Thomas to touch his scarred hands and side (John 20:24-29), or when Jesus tells Mary Magdalene "Don't hold on to me" (John 20:17, implying that she had embraced or was holding him in some way). In Luke 24:37-43, Jesus invites the disciples to touch him and see his hands and feet, and he eats a piece of fish in front of them; he says in verse 39–"Touch me and see; a ghost does not have flesh and bones, as you see I have." Paul views the physical resurrection of Jesus as an essential belief to being a Christian in 1 Corinthians 15 (see especially verses 12-19, but the whole chapter is on resurrection). See also Romans 8:11, 23; 2 Corinthians 4:14 Philippians 3:20-21; it's also part of the Apostles' Creed. I like the way Richard Hays talks about it in his 1 Corinthians commentary: to deny a physical resurrection is to deny God's proclamation of goodness over creation in Genesis 1-2. God created human beings with bodies and said it was good. Yes, there is brokenness and sin in the created world, undeniably so. Some of that brokenness afflicts human bodies with frustrations and temptations, and sometimes we use our bodies to sin.  But if you try to make God's answer to sin and brokenness be a total destruction of the earth and the body, you end up turning God's earlier pronouncement of goodness in Genesis into a lie. Why destroy something good along with the bad? Paul talks about a resurrection "body," and not just a spirit in 1 Corinthians 15, as well as the liberation of all creation from decay in Romans 8. Full, final salvation will involve the healing and glorification of our bodies as well as the healing and glorification of creation (though that healing comes through purifying fire of God's judgment, see 2 Peter 3). God preserves and perfects what is good (creation, bodily existence), while disposing of what is bad (sin, death, evil).

New World Translation

Jehovah's Witnesses have their own translation of the Bible called the New World Translation, and there are some funny things going on with it. Many Bible scholars who are aware of all the data and manuscript evidence criticize it as being outright inventive and irresponsible. Bruce Metzger, one of the most famous textual critics and Bible translators of a previous generation who worked at Princeton Theological Seminary, "calls the New World Translation 'a frightful mistranslation,' 'erroneous,' 'pernicious,' and 'reprehensible'" (p. 96). There are instances where words are poorly translated or outright inserted into the text with no manuscript evidence at all. I'd be wary of those who simply insert things or change things in Scripture for their own purposes.

Blood Transfusions Banned

One of the more interesting practices concerning Jehovah's Witnesses is that they do not believe in receiving blood transfusions, even if a transfusion would save a life. Some Jehovah's Witnesses carry a signed card that instructs someone who might find them unconscious not to give them a blood transfusion. They believe that receiving a transfusion would be equivalent to "eating blood," which is forbidden in Genesis 9:4, Leviticus 17:11-12, and Acts 15:28-29. While several Christians would agree with the proscription against eating blood, they would challenge the notion that receiving a transfusion is the same thing as "eating." Medically, the body does not receive a blood transfusion as food. Also, the Watchtower organization has changed its mind twice regarding medical prohibitions in the past. Vaccinations were banned in 1931, but allowed in the 1950s, while organ transplants were disallowed in 1967 and labeled as cannibalism, but allowed in 1980 (p. 381). One wonders if they will eventually change their mind on blood transfusions as well.

No Birthday Celebrations

Jehovah's Witnesses refuse to celebrate birthdays because of Genesis 40:20-22 (the putting to death of Pharaoh's baker on Pharaoh's birthday in the Joseph story) and Matthew 14:6-10 (the beheading of John the Baptist on Herod's birthday). Because of these two accounts, the conclusion is drawn that birthdays are evil. But the conclusion seems silly: who were the sources of evil in the accounts: Pharaoh and Herod, or birthdays? What about a birthday would be corrupting? We should be thoughtful when it comes to making a prescription out of a description in Scripture, because sometimes it's not warranted. For instance, Judas killing himself is a description of how a conflicted man took his life, but not a prescription for us to go and do likewise. Yes, Herod and Pharaoh did something bad on their birthdays. So what? That doesn't necessarily mean birthdays are wicked and inherently evil things in and of themselves.

Conclusion

The book goes into much deeper detail. I found it to be helpful for having more of a grid when it comes to knowing what Jehovah's Witnesses believe. Maybe this will help you too. If you're a Witness, I'd encourage you to read the book, and consider coming to a Christian congregation more in line with historic Christian teaching, even at the threat of being disfellowshipped by your fellow Witnesses. I'd encourage the rest of us to treat Jehovah's Witnesses with kindness and love–the whole "love your neighbor as yourself" thing. And the next time one comes to your door or you come to theirs, maybe this will give you something interesting to talk about.

Can Christianity and Evolutionary Science Go Together?

One day a little girl started to get curious about where everything came from, so she decided to ask her parents. She went to her father and asked: “Dad, where did human beings come from?” He answered, “Sweetie, we are descended from apes, whom we evolved from.” She later went and asked her mother, “Mom, where do human beings come from?” She answered, “We are descended from Adam and Eve, made by God in his image, to have dominion over the earth and spread God’s reign and rule.” The little girl responded, “But Dad said we are descended from apes.” The mom replied, “I was talking about my side of the family, not his.”

Corny jokes aside, this is going to be a super, super long blog post, mainly because I’m synthesizing and updating some former posts I’ve written into this one post. The too long, didn’t read (TL,DR) version is I believe Christian faith and science can go together in a sensible way. I divide it into the following five sections: 1. A Brief History of Christianity and Science, 2. The Background of Genesis, 3. Questions for Young Earth Creationists, 4. A Potential Way Forward, 5. Conclusion

Different people would address this topic in different ways. There would be some pastors and churches who would disagree with how I talk about this, and I fully confess that I could be wrong on some things. How we answer the faith and science question is not essential when it comes to being a disciple of Jesus, but our answers still have consequences. Here’s a sobering quote from New Testament scholar Scot McKnight in Adam and the Genome: “The number one reason young Christians leave the faith is the conflict between science and faith, and that conflict can be narrowed to the conflict between evolutionary theory and human origins as traditionally read in Genesis 1-2.” (Venema & McKnight, 104-105). I’m not sure where he’s getting his statistics, but at the very least, the quote shows this topic carries a lot of freight with a lot of people. The two most enlightening books I’ve read on the intersection of science and Christianity are: Adam and the Genome: Reading Scripture after Genetic Science by Dennis Venema and Scot McKnight, and The Lost World of Adam and Eve: Genesis 2-3 and the Human Origins Debate by John Walton.

A Brief History of Christianity and Science: Framing the Questions

The history of the relationship between the church and the scientific community has largely been a harmonious one. Several great scientists throughout history were devout believers. Rene Descartes, famous for his phrase, “I think, therefore I am,” considered himself a devout Catholic. Blaise Pascal, the inventor of the syringe, was a devout Catholic and influential theological writer. Isaac Newton, the English scientist who we thank for the laws of gravity and who made huge strides in the field of optics, believed in God, though his version of Christian faith was admittedly unorthodox. Here is a quote from him concerning the planets: “Gravity explains the motion of the planets, but it cannot explain who set the planets in motion. God governs all things and knows all that is or can be done.” Gregor Mendel, who is considered the father of modern genetics with his pea plant experiments, was an Augustinian monk and later an abbot. Frances Collins, the man who led the team that sequenced the human genome in the early 2000s, is an evangelical Christian. So contrary to some popular narratives, Christianity and science have not always been in conflict. In fact, the very discipline of science requires a worldview that believes the world is orderly and will reward rational investigation. This is what you find in Christianity as well as other religions, and can help explain why you see scientific advances in societies shaped by religions/philosophies that believe in an orderly world.

Still, the most popular episodes that come to mind are when things haven't gone well between these two communities. Most people think of the conflict between Galileo and the pope. Galileo went with Copernicus, and said his findings were showing that the earth was not the center of our solar system. The church protested, saying that the heliocentric theory contradicted the clear, literal teaching of the Bible, which says that we live in a geocentric solar system. Heliocentrism remained controversial for quite some time. Geneticist Dennis Venema tells the story of John Edwards (not the famed American revivalist Jonathan Edwards of the First Great Awakening) who wrote an apologetic work in 1696 against heliocentrism, saying it clearly violates Scripture, which teaches the earth is the center of the universe. For, after all, Psalm 104:5 says, “the Lord set the earth on its foundations; it can never be moved,” and Ecclesiastes 1:5 says, “And the sun rises and sets and returns to its place.” And how else could God make the shadow go backwards for Hezekiah in 2 Kings 20:1-11, or stop the sun in the sky for Joshua in Joshua 10:1-15? Edwards also said heliocentrism is contrary to reason. I like one of his arguments that Venema quotes:

Nay, truly, if the earth were hurl’d about in a Circle (as these Persons assert) we should feel it to our sorrow, for we should not be able to keep our ground, but must necessarily be thrown off, and all Houses and other Buildings would be thrown down, being forcibly shared off from the Circumference of the Earth, as things that are laid on a Wheel are flung off by it when it turns round (Ibid., 10).

Knowing what we know today, it may be a bit humorous to read an argument for being slung off the earth like a ball from a fast-pitch machine if the earth is really rotating and orbiting as fast as those heliocentrists say it is. Copernicus’ ideas had been around for about 150 years by the time Edwards wrote, and some of the science was still coming in to confirm heliocentrism. The vast majority of Christians (and probably people in the West in general) had been geocentrists for a long time. Today, the tables have been reversed, and you’d be hard-pressed to find anyone who claims to believe the earth is the center of the universe. And what of John Edwards’ claims that the sun being the center of our solar system is contrary to Scripture and reason? Hardly anyone sees it that way now. Bit by bit, as more and more research confirmed heliocentrism, people started to wonder if they’d been interpreting those Scriptures improperly. Now that we’ve put people into space and on the moon, it’s against all reason to think otherwise concerning the sun being the center of our solar system. While initially some were against it because of Scriptural and rational questions, the church shifted.

Another famous conflict was the Scopes Trial that was argued in 1925 in Tennessee, where substitute high school teacher John Scopes violated Tennessee’s Butler Act, which prohibited the teaching of human evolution in a state-funded school. The trial brought to light a conflict within the church about the nature of how to interpret Genesis, and it also publicized conflict between certain sectors of the church and the scientific community. The trial garnered great attention and was even put on the radio. Largely (though not totally), the church identified with an anti-evolutionary stance during this debate and in the decades that followed. More and more evidence has come in confirming evolutionary theory, and just as the church wrestled when it came to heliocentrism, it has been in the midst of debate for some time in how to deal with evolutionary science. While a harmonious view between faith and science has been growing amongst those who are religious in our population, there is not currently consensus within the church.

Now I'm not a scientist, I’m a pastor. In seminary they focus on how to interpret the Bible, preach, do some counseling, think about leadership, spirituality, and so on, but going hard and heavy into science was not part of the curriculum, so I hope you’ll have some grace if I’m ignorant or not precise in some things. 

When it comes to the sciences, physicists are telling us that the universe didn’t originate a few thousand years ago from a six day creation, but from a big bang 13.8 billion years ago. Our universe took shape over billions of years (the earth is estimated to be about 4.5 billion years old), and evolutionary science is indicating that life on earth evolved slowly but surely over several billion years, with modern humans arriving on the scene about 250,000 years ago. It also shows that humans didn’t come from one original pair, but from a pool of about 10,000 hominins during a bottleneck about 150,000 years ago (Adam and the Genome, 44). 

Genesis 1-11 tells the story of a God creating all that exists in six days, an original human pair (Eve and Adam) who sinned in the garden of Eden, their exile from the garden, a murder of a brother, a worldwide flood, the building of a tower, the confusion of languages, and several genealogies. Elsewhere, the Bible depicts much of humanity being descended from Adam and Eve, including big names like Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, David, and Jesus (Luke 3:23-38). Paul teaches in Romans 5:12-21 that in Adam, sin was introduced into the world and because of that, death came to all people (see also 1 Corinthians 15:21-22).

It’s not hard to see the challenges. Which is it? Six days or billions of years? An original pair of humans or a pool of 10,000 hominins? Have organisms been dying for billions of years or did death only come into existence when humanity sinned? Were Adam and Eve real people? If they weren’t, how are we to understand sin and how Jesus might save us from it? Are these two worldviews irrevocably contradictory or can they go together? Can you believe in evolution and still take the Bible and Christian theology seriously?

These competing claims have led people to different responses. Person A will take science, its methodologies, its explanatory power, and its technological progress and leave behind a Christianity she or he considers intellectually vacuous. Perhaps another worldview, like atheism, agnosticism, Buddhism, or the like wouldn’t hold such dissonance as do the claims of science and claims of Christianity. Person B will live with the tensions and believe in Christian faith as well as evolutionary theory, though they're not sure how it all might go together. Person C will take God, the Bible, the morality it teaches, and the spirituality of a Christian faith walk, and reject science—at least evolutionary science—holding to a literal six day creation. This has often been labeled the young earth creationist perspective. Some have gone so far as to champion young earth creationist science, a banner carried by people like Ken Ham and the organization Answers in Genesis, centered here in our good ol’ state of Kentucky (there are others as well). Young earth creationist scientists deny some core aspects of evolutionary theory and any scientific data that goes against their literal interpretation of the Genesis creation narratives, and they work to prove their interpretation scientifically. I’ll say more on their position in the Questions for Young Earth Creationists below. Young earth creationists see evolution and the Bible as inevitably conflicting, and to unite the two into a synthesis is like trying to make oil and water mix—you can shake things up a lot, but in the end, they just don’t go together.

With tensions now revealed, let’s explore some background to Genesis.

The Background of Genesis

Genesis 1-3 are some of the most important chapters of the Bible. By anyone’s estimation, if you were given the exercise of compiling the 50 most important chapters of Scripture, I’m sure these chapters would make everyone’s list. They tell us much about God, human beings, the created world, and what’s wrong with the world. The question is, how are we to interpret these passages, especially in light of the findings of science?

For any close reading of the Bible, we need to work to understand the genre of a particular text and the background out of which that text arose in order to best interpret it. First, genre. Take, for example, Psalm 22:12-13, which says “Many bulls encompass me; strong bulls of Bashan surround me; they open wide their mouths at me, like a ravening and roaring lion.” Knowing that the genre of the Psalms is poetry makes me think that the psalmist isn’t giving a literal, historical account about an unfortunate instance where he was surrounded by bulls that gnashed their teeth at him, although I’m sure that’d have been an awesome story to share later with friends. Rather, he is using metaphor to tap into our emotions and carry us along with him, conveying a sense of fear, danger, and overwhelming odds against him. A good question we should ask of any text of Scripture is what genre it is. Knowing the genre helps us know how best to interpret.

Second, background. A good example of background informing our understanding of a text would be women’s head coverings in 1 Corinthians 11, a passage that strikes many modern Western readers today as odd. In Craig Keener’s The IVP Bible Background Commentary: New Testament, he writes “Women’s hair was a common object of lust in antiquity, and in much of the eastern Mediterranean women were expected to cover their hair. To fail to cover their hair was thought to provoke male lust as a bathing suit is thought to provoke it in some cultures today” (p. 475). There also were tensions between women of different socio-economic statuses in regard to head coverings and hair styles. Knowing the background might help us understand a bit better what Paul was dealing with and the reasoning behind his arguments. It also can help us ask the interpretive question of whether women wearing head coverings is a transcultural command for all times and places, or something which through cultural background work we can better understand the "why" behind Paul's commands in order to pull out principles from the text, though we may not apply the principles in exactly the same way in our culture. That's part of the work of cultural translation we do when we study the Bible. Cultural translation is why we don't greet each other with "holy kisses" in many churches in the West, though Paul repeatedly commands it. We pull out the principle of greeting each other warmly and kindly, but literally obeying that command could create a lot of wrong impressions in our culture which would not have been the case in Paul's culture. We need to be careful students of background to help us know how the original audience would've understood a text, and we need to be thoughtful on how that we might apply that text today.

Let’s look at some background concerning the world in which Genesis was written. The ancient Israelite concept of the cosmos was that the sky was hard (Genesis 1:6-8; Job 37:18) and held some waters above it, while the earth is held up by “pillars” or “foundations” (Psalm 18:7; 82:5) below. The earth is described as flat and having four corners (Ezekiel 7:2; Revelation 7:1). Whenever it rained, they thought God opened the floodgates (see Genesis 7:11; 2 Kings 7:2; Isaiah 24:18) to let the waters above out and then shut them to stop the rain. Sheol was the holding place of the dead, not quite as developed theologically as what we think of as paradise or hell. A good picture of how they viewed the world is in this image from Bible scholar John Walton:

With this background in mind, it behooves us to ask: Would God deliver a 21st century science lesson about a big bang, the evolution of life over billions of years, bacteria and cellular development, common descent, a round earth, etc. to people who didn’t have the foggiest idea about electricity, atoms, germs, or the sun being the center of our solar system? It’d be gibberish to them. In chapter 6 of Adam and the Genome, McKnight shows that Genesis 1-11 is probably fitting the genre of an Ancient Near Eastern creation narrative, and has similarities with others like The Epic of Gilgamesh, Atrahasis, and Enuma Elish, but also is different from them in some crucial respects. This goes to show that God speaks to his people in ways we can understand, accommodating our limitations in order to communicate critical truths to us. Also, the purpose of Scripture isn't necessarily to teach us science, but to teach us about God and how we can walk in faithfulness to him (2 Timothy 3:16-17). So Genesis may not be a modern scientific account, but based on the worldview people had at the time, Genesis 1-3 articulates some of the most important things we can know about God, humanity, and the rest of the world. Let a brief summary of some key points everyone agrees on suffice here:

God–God alone is the one supreme God and he is creator of all that exists. God creates by speaking and creates out of peace, not out of violence, unlike the other creation narratives. God wants to be in relationship with human beings and cares for his creation, unlike the gods of other creation narratives. God creates human beings with a purpose and is patient with a disobedient humanity, disciplining them for their mistakes but also tenderly caring for them.

People–Humans are God’s special creation, and both males and females are made in his “image.” In the context of the time, images had connections with temples and with kings. Idols were images that represented the presence of the divine, and in temples an image or idol of a particular god was put up as a representation of their nature. Similarly, kings would put up images of themselves throughout their empires to remind people of their rule. For human beings to be made in the “image of God” probably means that the earth is God’s temple/dwelling place, God is King over all the earth, and we are representations of something of God's nature to the rest of the earth, and are meant “to rule over creation” under God's authority, exercising something of his power and reign in the earth (Ibid., 129). Humans are called to work the created world for it to develop and blossom; they bring out some of the latent potential within creation and are co-creators with God in this way. People are gendered, husband and wife are designed for a “one-flesh” union, are created with the potential for procreation, and are called to mutuality with each other (Ibid., 133). Humans are endowed with a measure of freedom and have the capacity to choose something other than God’s desires–we can step outside of our God-given boundaries, which is part of what sin is. Choosing contrary to God’s will ends up leading to shame, fear, blame, the damaging of relationships, and loving discipline from God in order to limit the spread of the consequences of sin.

Creation–The created world–plants, animals, sea creatures, and all–is good. Human beings are supposed to rule over them like God does, with loving care, and to develop them. Human disobedience has led to damage and frustration in the rest of creation.

Questions for Young Earth Creationists

With some of the background of Genesis out on the table, I think there are both biblical and scientific questions that young earth creationists need to deal with.

Which Literal Account? The first issue you run into if you treat this as a scientific, historical account is that the chronologies of the two creation narratives are different. What do you do with the discrepancies? For instance, in Genesis 1, God creates the trees (1:11-13), then later sea creatures and birds (1:20-23), then the animals (1:24-25), and lastly he creates humans together (1:26-31). In our second creation narrative starting in Genesis 2:4, however, God creates the man first (2:7), then he creates the trees (2:8-9), and then in 2:19 he creates the animals and brings them before the man to name them, and lastly he creates woman out of man (2:21-25). The Hebrew word yatsar in 2:19 is past tense (formed), not pluperfect (had formed) like some translate it in an effort to try to infer an earlier creation and smooth over the differences (Ibid., 102). What we have are two separate creation narratives with different chronologies of creation. If God meant for us to read Genesis 1-3 as purely historical narrative, then couldn’t God at least get the sequence to agree between the two narratives?

Selective Appropriation of Scientific Claims in Scripture–If you believe in a literal view of Scripture concerning Genesis being a scientific, historical account–do you also believe the earth is flat and set on pillars? Do you believe the sky is hard and God has to open up windows or floodgates in the vault to make it rain? If you want to be fully literal, you probably shouldn’t just be a 6-day creationist. You need to be a 6-day, hard sky, geocentric, flat-earth-balanced-on-pillars kind of Christian if you want to make the Bible a science textbook. What gives you permission not to treat as scientific some claims from Scripture pertaining to the earth and cosmos while you do take seriously the early parts of Genesis?

Bad Science–The theory of evolution is not a theory in crisis in the scientific community. According to a study published by Pew Research Center, when they asked actively working PhD trained scientists who were members of the American Association of the Advancement of Science if they believed humans have evolved over time, and 99% of them responded yes. It seems safe to say that if 99% of those scientists trust in the theory of evolution, the matter isn't hotly contested or debated within the scientific community. It is widely accepted. Young earth creationist scientists sometimes try to claim that evolution is a theory that is losing ground in the scientific community because of some of their critiques. These folks are hailed by many in the scientific community as practitioners of pseudo-science, often presenting technical answers and challenges to largely non-scientifically trained audiences (people like me) who don’t have the foggiest idea about all the data out there. It would be like someone wanting to have an in-depth discussion with me about software programming or internal medicine. I might recognize a few words here and there, but largely I’m going to have no idea what you’re talking about and I’m going to trust that you know more than I do on this issue. But for those who do have more background in evolutionary science and are cognizant of the data, they recognize that something fishy is going on in many young earth creationists' scientific critiques of evolution. Venema is quite helpful in this regard in the Adam and the Genome book, demonstrating that yes, evolution actually can explain fish turning into primates, and lays out the genetic arguments for why that’s the case. Young earth creationist scientists are undoubtedly good-hearted in why they do this–they want people to trust in Jesus and take the Bible seriously. Unfortunately, if the church becomes a repository for straw-man arguments and bad science, it’s not hard to see why some people who have a genuine thirst for knowledge leave God and church behind. Why is the overwhelming scientific consensus arrived at through multiple paths of inquiry that that the earth is billions of years old, that life evolved, and that human beings evolved as well, if that’s not true? If God really did create the world in six literal days and everything’s only 6,000-10,000 years old, why doesn’t scientific dating and inquiry prove that? That’s why I like Biologos as an organization–they chart the course of holding some sectors of the church responsible when it perpetuates bad science and sloppy thinking, while also critiquing what they see as some of the limitations that come from a purely secular view of the world and of scientism–the belief that science is the only and best way to discern truth.

How would young earth creationism explain the details that point toward common descent? For instance, when it comes to our sense of smell, humans have some pretty damaged genetic material, which can help explain why our sense of smell is shoddy in comparison to a dog or a cat. What’s interesting is that when you look at the sense of smell of other primates, they too have a lot of mistakes, sometimes down to the very same malfunctioning genes that are in humans, which suggests common ancestry. Orangutans, our furthest primate relative, share one malfunction in common with us, guerrillas share two malfunctions in common, and then our closest ancestor, chimpanzees, share three malfunctions in common with us (Ibid., 34). That sure does look like some of the malfunctions happened to our common ancestors. If God created us 6-10,000 years ago, why did he create stuff like this, stuff that looks like common descent over millions of years? Or what about damaged genetic material in our bodies that used to have a function, but no longer does? McKnight tells the story of someone who noticed the “latent but inactive remains of the Vitamin-C producing gene” shared among humans and primates and wondered: If God created all there is a few thousand years ago, why did he put stuff like this all over the place that seems to point to evolution? Having a latent but non-functioning gene for producing vitamin C would make sense from an evolutionary perspective, but just seems baffling from a young earth creationist perspective. Why would God put non-functional, “junk” material in our bodies (Ibid., 172)?

A Way Forward

I've highlighted some questions I have for young earth creationism. But is there a better way to put everything together? It’s one thing to say you believe Christian faith and science can go together. It’s quite another to make a convincing case for how it might be so. Is it possible to be a Christian who takes the Bible seriously while also believing in evolution, or are these two things inherently incompatible? This is an exciting area of theological reflection and development at present, and the wider church hasn’t yet landed on a unified interpretation of how this all fits together. I want to offer some thoughts on what I see as a potential way forward.

There are varying degrees in how interpreters treat the opening chapters of Genesis. Most of them believe some degree of symbolism and poetry is present there, with some believing in a real, historic Adam and Eve, and others considering chapters 1-11 as being mythological or allegorical in nature. Myth doesn’t mean something is a lie or is irrelevant–Jesus’ parables were myths in the sense that they were stories that didn’t happen in real time and space. There was no prodigal son. There was no good Samaritan. These are stories that Jesus made up, but they teach profound truths. Novels are myths in the same sense, but we can learn a great deal from them. Something doesn't have to be historical for it to be "true." There can be some good reasons within the text of Genesis itself to think that some things we’re reading aren't literal history. This quote from Scot McKnight is very good in that regard:

Genesis itself awakens us to fresh reading of itself because the text itself has some mighty unusual features that make an honest reader wonder whether they are meant to be strictly historical. For example, the earth has a dome over it, the man is formed out of dust while the woman is formed from removing a rib (or more) from the man, their names are fraught with meaning (the Earthling and the Mother of All Living), a snake talks and fools two non-sinners into sinning, there is this majestic Garden of Eden (or “park”) with angels twirling swords at the entrance, Cain finds a wife when there was every reason to believe there weren’t any women other than sisters available, Cain is given a mark to distinguish him and protect him, the names Cain (“spear”) and Abel (“fleeting breath”) seem allegorical, people live to incredible ages, a flood covers the whole earth leading to nothing less than a cosmic do-over starting with eight human beings who immediately do stupid things, and then we get a group of humans intent on building a tower into the skies, and so God sorts them out into different languages. If these features don’t at least make you wonder about what kind of literature this is, then nothing will. (Ibid., 96).

That being said, I want to offer a word of caution when it comes to those who totally metaphorize Genesis 1-11, mainly around the topic of death. According to science, organisms have been dying for many millions of years, and long before humans showed up on the scene. Some take the more metaphorical route of interpretation concerning sin bringing death in Genesis 2:16-17, that death really refers to the death of innocence, the death of relationships, the death of peace, the death of reputation, etc. In essence, death is really a way of talking metaphorically about anxiety, guilt, pain, and shame brought on by sin. Those things certainly are associated with sin, but the death of Jesus on the cross inescapably implies that physical death is tied up with sin. Otherwise, if death is just a metaphor for pain, isolation, and anxiety, couldn't Jesus have come down from the cross after suffering a good deal of pain, isolation, and anxiety, and that have been enough to atone for our sins? But he physically died. And he physically rose again. In my mind, the death and resurrection of Jesus for us and our sins forms an irrevocable link to physical death being part of the badness and curse of sin. I wish McKnight would've dealt with death more thoroughly in Adam and the Genome, though much of the rest of it is quite illuminating. Also, denying a particular "fall moment" in history can call into question the goodness of God's creation–did God make the world evil? What would that say about God? It seems necessary to have some historical moment where humanity became responsible before God. It may not be insurmountable to have everything fit together in a totally allegorical understanding of Genesis 1-11, but I'd like to see proponents deal wisely and well with some of these issues.

Another stimulating author I’ve read is Old Testament scholar John Walton, who has written a very good book called The Lost World of Adam and Eve. I don't agree with him on everything, but he makes a surprising case for how a close contextual reading of the text can fit better with the findings of evolutionary science than many initially thought possible. He believes that Adam and Eve were a historical couple, though he does not deny that a lot of symbolism permeates Genesis 1-11. His modified historical approach would put some qualifiers in how we understand Adam and Eve. For one, they are not the first creatures, nor the first humans. Scripture itself seems to make room for this. Think of Cain’s wife (4:17)–where did she come from if Adam and Eve were the only humans around? Walton would encourage us to understand them as the first morally responsible humans, the first humans called into a special relationship with God that carried with it the potential for eternal life, though not the first humans.

What about death? There has been a long assumption in Christian theology and in interpreting Genesis 1-3 that people were made with an intrinsic immortality, and that sin led them to lose this immortality. John Walton contends that the intrinsic immortality idea is only an assumption, not a requirement from the text. The Bible never says humans were made immortal, and he contends that for Adam to be made from dust (Genesis 2:7) means that Adam was made from dying life, that he was made mortal. You see a clue in Genesis 3:19 on dust being connected to mortality–“From dust you are and to dust you will return.” Walton has this to say about that verse: “This association would make sense to an Israelite reader who was well acquainted with the idea of a corpse that was laid out on the slab in the family tomb and deteriorating to merely a pile of bones and the dust of the desiccated flesh within a year” (Ibid., 73). Adam coming from dust means he originated from dying life, and part of the curse of sin is that he will return to dying life. A further clue that humans were mortal is the presence of the tree of life in the garden–human beings would need access to this tree if they wanted immortality. “Immortal people have no need for a tree of life” (Ibid.). Thus, Adam and Eve originate from dying life and did not possess an innate immortality.

There was the potential for immortality in the Genesis narrative concerning the tree of life, but God keeps sinful humanity from it in 3:22-24. He doesn’t want corrupted, sinful beings to be immortal, but for their wickedness to pass from the earth. Immortality could have been a possibility since the tree of life was not denied the humans in the garden, but it only comes through a right relationship to God (similar to the knowledge of good and evil coming as a gift from a right relationship with God, and is not to be grasped after apart from God's will). The kicking out of the garden and separation from the tree of life needn’t be read as the loss of some inherent immortality of the first humans, but rather as the denial of the antidote to mortality. Life from the very beginning has been mortal and vulnerable, God offered the way to eternal life through a faithful relationship with him, yet humanity botched it and became corrupted, losing God’s solution to the problem. You see the tree of life show up again in the last chapter of the Bible, Revelation 22:2, an image showing that those who trust in Jesus will be given eternal life, the life that God always intended his people to have, and we will be purged from all sin by the grace of Jesus.

This is important because it shows that Genesis doesn’t necessarily teach people were originally immortal, which comports with what evolutionary science tells us: Life has been dying for a long time. It can dovetail with the notion that Adam and Eve aren’t the first humans, that they “come from dust,” from dying life, and that God provides the potential for eternal life through right relationship with him. This allows you to hold together two notions: 1.) that organisms have been dying for a long time before humanity arrived on the scene, and 2.) that death is still a consequence of sin–not as the loss of some inherent immortality, but as the loss of the antidote to mortality that God presented to the first responsible humans who blew it. This also helps us understand the physical death of Jesus Christ as a consequence of our sins.

Some would argue that God creating a world with death in it contradicts God’s declaration of creation to be good in Genesis 1, but just because something is good doesn’t mean its perfect or fully developed. Why else would God command human beings to subdue and have dominion over the earth if it was perfect with nothing more to be added to it? God has given us a call to be vice-regents and co-creators with him, helping bring out the latent potential in the earth, caring well for it, and establishing order. John Walton maintains that “good” in its usage in Genesis means “functioning as it should,” not totally perfect with nothing to be added (Ibid., 56-57). And doesn’t that sound a lot like what we see in the evolution of life–something starting off small and simple, but growing in complexity and potential? Doesn’t that sound a lot like Jesus’ parable of the mustard seed, that the kingdom of God starts off small, but then becomes the largest tree in the garden (Matthew 13:31-32)? Apparently God has a knack for starting things off small and developing and growing them into magnificent things. And he invites us into the process.

Conclusion

I’ve found Walton’s way of thinking about this illuminating and helpful, and while I may not agree with him on every minute detail, he has led me to modify some of my earlier thinking on the topic. He believes in a historic Adam and Eve, and I'm open to that. I'm also open to a sketch that James K. A. Smith articulates in his essay in Evolution and the Fall: "For example, [...] imagine a group of individuals, selected by God to represent the rest of humanity, receiving a special revelation and commissioning, 'good' (though not 'perfect') and able to obey God's just requirements, who through acts of disobedience over a discrete period of time (with a clear 'before' and 'after') fell into a state of sinful rebellion from God" (59). Whether Adam and Eve were real people or not, what seems necessary is a way to affirm goodness of creation, a moment where a special relationship between God and humans was formed and humanity became responsible to God, and a moment where human disobedience to God entered the world. To review:

• The majority of the history between Christian faith and science has been a harmonious one, though there have been some popular moments of conflict. A Christian worldview gives philosophical credence to the notion that the world is rational and worthy of investigation.
• We should interpret Scripture in light of its original context. God sometimes speaks through accommodating the categories and ideas of particular times, people, and places to accomplish his purposes. Being able to understand this can help us more faithfully interpret and apply the Bible today.
• We should be careful when it comes to treating Scripture like a science textbook, and those who do often do so selectively.
• Creationist science is motivated from a good heart, but often puts forth pseudo-science that damages the witness of the church.
• Some totally allegorize Genesis 1-11 as the best way to combine Christianity and evolutionary science, though I would like to see clearer thinking from proponents on how to talk sensibly about the physical death and resurrection of Jesus as stemming from only a metaphorical understanding of sin and death in Genesis 2-3.
• Walton's modified historical interpretation of Adam and Eve has a lot of explanatory power. Humans formed “from dust” implies that humanity originated from dying life. Cain finding a wife implies that Adam and Eve weren’t the first or only humans around. Adam and Eve had a special relationship with God that had the potential for eternal life (tree of life), but they sinned and lost the antidote God offered them for their mortality. This explains the reality of physical death happening before humanity arrived on the scene and before humanity became morally responsible to God, but also preserves the notion that physical death is part of the consequences of sin. It also preserves our ability to best make sense of Jesus dying physically in our place to bear the curse of our sin, and can shed light on how Jesus makes a way for our relationship with God to be healed, reopening God's initial promise of eternal life with him (tree of life in Revelation 22:2).

Much more could be said and will be said–things aren’t settled yet. I’ve mainly come at this in order to give some background and examine ways that Christianity and evolutionary science might go together. I’ve already written here about questions I have concerning a totally secular worldview. Evolutionary science and biblical faith don’t have to be inherently in conflict. They can go together. What do you think?