Kenneth Samples’ latest book, Seven Truths that Changed the World (hereafter 7TC) provides an easy-to-read, fairly comprehensive apologetic for the Christian faith in a unique format.
Samples presents 7TC as a kind of investigation into the “dangerous ideas” that are central to Christianity. These dangerous ideas are:
While much of the material in 7TC goes over things the avid reader of apologetics will have encountered, the novelty of some of the arguments as well as the answers to some infrequently-considered objections makes the book worthwhile even to “veterans.” It is also very helpful to have some of the background in historical theology that Samples gives to contextualize many of his points. These kinds of extra details with the overall argument give readers a level of background knowledge that not all introductory apologetics books can provide.
Moreover, the format makes it work well as the kind of book to hand to a skeptic or a believer with doubts. It presents the core doctrines of the Christian faith in their broad contexts and defends them admirably. While hardened skeptics may laugh a book like this off, for those with open minds the arguments will be compelling enough to start conversations. Due to the effort to make the book readable for a general audience, it is clear that Samples can’t touch on every objection, but it will get readers thinking.
Overall, 7 Truths that Changed the World is a superb effort by a fantastic scholar. It presents a reasoned defense of the whole of Christianity in a short, digestible form that makes it perfect for an introduction to apologetics or as a book to give friends to start conversations. Not only that, but Samples provides enough unique insight to make it worth a read by even “veterans” of apologetics literature. It comes recommended highly.
Disclosure: I received a copy of the book for review from the publisher. I was not asked to endorse it, nor was I in any way influenced in my opinion by the publisher. My thanks to the publisher for the book.
SDG.
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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
Jonathan Morrow’s new book, Think Christianly seeks to provide Christians with ways to think about and interact with the culture surrounding them, while critically exploring their own perspectives.
Central to the work is the notion that “Due to the unprecedented influence and availability of constant media… the thoughts, attitudes, perceptions, convictions, values, and lifestyles of those inside the church are rapidly growing indistinguishable from… those outside the church” (19). The key is to see how to help Christians “think Christianly” about every aspect of life. The Christian life is not “Sunday only” or “in church only” but rather it is an every day, every second, every interaction life. Morrow, throughout the book, seeks to touch upon nearly every area of Christian interactions with culture, providing brief introductions along with recommendations for a way forward in each area.
Part one of Think Christianly focuses on our own culture and the need to equip the next generation to interact with the issues brought up around them. Morrow provides a survey of ways people try to avoid interacting with Christianity (54ff) and suggests a threefold way to engage with our youths so they do not fall victim to the challenges to our faith. This threefold engagement is composed of 1) mentors, “people to learn from and imitate in the faith” (57); 2) peers, “people to run the race with and to spur us on” (57); and 3) a robust Christian worldview, a challenge to youths to explore what they believe and why it matters (58). Conjoined, these help provide a valuable base for youths to explore their faith among their peers and mentors who can guide them towards resources and answer questions.
Part two provides ways to integrate the Christian worldview into every aspect of one’s life. Chapter four discusses three worldviews- naturalism, postmodernism, and Christian theism. These are the worldviews pervasive currently in western cultures, and Morrow provides several ways to interact with the competing views and analyze them. Chapter five provides ways to “cultivate a thoughtful faith” and chapter six provides some ways to be confident about engagement (along with a helpful discussion of forgiveness and breaking away from anger on pages 98-99). Part Two continues with a couple chapters about living like Jesus, which are extremely insightful–we need to be sure we think of Jesus as who He was and is: the Lord of all professions, master of all crafts. Finally, part two wraps up with what may be the most important chapter of the book: “Can We Do That in Church?” Morrow argues that we must see “The local church” as “God’s vehicle to reach the world with the good news… it is also the primary place where Christians are to be equipped for the ministry” (130). By utilizing some small portion in time in church to equip believers to engage, Christian leaders can radically change the perception of Christianity as a “Sunday only” venture. If believers do not get equipped, where will they be equipped? The truth is they’ll “google it” and find people without good credentials or intentions and learn from them instead (not saying there’s nothing good online–plenty of scholars and wonderful teachers are out there, but sifting through the muck can be difficult). This chapter, I think, is the most important in the whole book and provides a number of insights that church leaders must take to heart.
Part three provides a number of areas in which Christians need to engage and ways to engage with them. For example, taking the Bible seriously is a top priority and Christians need to know how to interact with the text. Of particular importance are the chapters on sex–which talks about porn addiction and same-sex attraction; and Christianity in the public square.
Morrow has peppered the book with brief interviews of leading Christian thinkers on a number of topics. While short, these interviews provide a number of great insights and will lead readers to explore many issues in greater detail. They range from “Leveraging the Internet to Make God Known” (with Randall Niles) to “Jesus Among World Religions” (with Craig Hazen), and beyond. Another helpful aspect are the lists of resources for further study, included at the end of each chapter. These include a list of books, DVDs, and websites for interested readers to explore.
There are few books that span as broadly as Think Christianly while also giving solid background discussions of each topic touched. Morrow continually provides valuable insights at a basic level which Christians can apply right now to start to “Think Christianly” about every aspect of life. If our churches and the members therein embrace many of the suggestions found in Morrow’s important book, we will be able to grow and positively impact the world in a major way. The book comes very highly recommended–it is the kind of book anyone involved in the church must have on their shelf and seek to apply to their lives.
I received a review copy of the book from Zondervan publishers. My thanks to Zondervan for the opportunity to review the book. I was not asked to write anything positive or negative about the book.
You can get the book on amazon or at many local bookstores.
Anthony Weber’s work, Learning to Jump Again, is part memoir of a lost father, part philosophical treatise on the problem of suffering. The focus throughout is Weber’s father and the issues with mourning, suffering, and heroism his life and death brought up.
The book starts with “the Journal”–a series of entries from Weber’s journal during the time surrounding the death of his father. As one who is very close to his father, these entries truly struck home. There were many moments where this reader just lost it in tears. Weber does not hold back, at all. His father was suffering from jaundice due to cancer. He writes, “A friend stopped by that weekend to borrow some tools, and I stammered through an explanation of why my visiting father was yellow… He [the friend] knew that after the fall comes winter, and after the chill comes the cold, and he was mercifully silent” (2).
Weber does not restrict the period of mourning or the discussion thereof to the months immediately surrounding his father’s death; rather, the Journal contains entries as far as eight years (and later) after his father’s death. Christians reading the book are forced to the realization that it is not easy to struggle through these issues. When a beloved father dies, it is not something that passes with the seasons. Even eight years later, he wrote of his withholding himself from his wife and children, and the realization that came with it that he must trust in God, “even if I don’t always understand him” (76-78).
Yet the journal section is not merely a reflection. Weber shares lessons and thoughts he has on mourning, God, and the reality of pain in the world throughout his memoirs. He notes that too many people know about God without knowing God (72-73); refers to the experiences of wrestling God (45); and contrasts the ways and beliefs of “the flesh” with that of reality (33). Throughout this section, there is much for readers to take away.
The second part of the book focuses on the issues behind suffering and the Christian worldview. Weber’s discussion is an admirably easy-to-read introduction to many of the philosophical issues surrounding the problem of evil and other issues. In particular, his discussions of emotions, dreams, and prayer in particular offered a number of insights that readers will be interested in reading more about. Weber included a lot of resources for interested readers to explore, so the book serves as a valuable resource in that regard as well. His discussion of the problem of pain does an excellent job introducing difficult notions like distinguishing between types of the problem of evil (122ff). His discussion of the various possible routes theists can take to discuss the problem of evil is also brief but informative.
Throughout the book there are numerous quotes from various authors. Many of these are novelists such as J.R.R. Tolkien, Dean Koontz, Shakespeare, and C.S. Lewis. Others are from people like Helen Keller, Phillip Yancey, and Scripture. These quotes are often profound and fit the context perfectly. As a reader, this reviewer admits to frequently skimming past quotes when I see them in texts, particularly when they are out of context, but with Learning to Jump Again, the quotes all draw out new emotions, thoughts, and ideas very well. They add to, rather than distract from, the text.
Learning to Jump Again was a bit of a surprise for me. The section of the book that was a memoir served poignantly to draw readers into the heart of a mourning man. But it did not leave readers with that; rather, Weber constantly struggled with issues that Christians at all stages must deal with. Further, the philosophical section which encompassed the latter part of the book is an excellent survey of a number of issues. Many will benefit from the insights Weber provides. The book tugs at the heart strings and gets the mind working. Readers who have already extensively explored the issues of the latter part of the book will benefit from viewing the issues in the context of a memoir. Those who have not will benefit greatly from the discussion throughout the book. I recommend it very highly.
SDG.
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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
There are few names bigger than Alvin Plantinga when it comes to philosophy of religion and there are few topics more hotly debated than science and religion. Plantinga’s latest book, Where the Conflict Really Lies: Science, Religion, & Naturalism (hereafterWCRL) has therefore generated much interest as it has one of the foremost philosophers of religion taking on this highly contentious topic.
Plantinga minces no words. The very first line of the book outlines his central claim: “there is superficial conflict but deep concord between science and theistic religion, and superficial concord and deep conflict between science and naturalism.”1
The first part of the book is dedicated to the superficial conflict between science and religious belief. The reason this alleged conflict is important is due, largely, to the success of the scientific enterprise. Because science has shown itself to be a reliable way to come to know the world, if religion is in direct conflict with science, then it would seem to discredit religion. Not only that, but, Plantinga argues, Christians should have a “particularly high regard” for science due to the foundations of the scientific enterprise on a study of the world.2
In order to examine this alleged conflict, Plantinga first takes on the article of science most often taken to discredit religion: evolution. Here, readers may be surprised to find that Plantinga does not try to argue against evolution itself. Rather, Plantinga draws a distinction between the notion of evolution and Darwinism. The former, argues Plantinga, is consistent with Christian belief, whether or not it is the way the variety of life came to be, while the latter is not consistent with Christianity because central to its account is the notion that the process of evolution is unguided.3
WCRL then turns to Richard Dawkins. Plantinga argues that “A Darwinist will think there is a complete Darwinian history for every contemporary species, and indeed for every contemporary organism.”4 Here again there is nothing which puts such a theory in conflict with Christian belief. Writes Plantinga, “[The process of evolution] could have been superintended and orchestrated by God.”5 But Dawkins (and others) claim that evolution “reveals a universe without design.” But what argument is provided towards this conclusion? Plantinga draws out Dawkins reasoning and shows that the only logic given is that evolution could have happened by way of unguided evolution. But then:
What [Dawkins] actually argues… is that there is a Darwinian series of contemporary life forms… but [this series] wouldn’t show, of course, that the living world, let alone the entire universe, is without design. At best it would show, given a couple of assumptions, that it is not astronomically improbable that the living world was produced by unguided evolution and hence without design. But the argument form ‘p is not astronomically improbable’ therefore ‘p’ is a bit unprepossessing… What [Dawkins] shows, at best, is that it’s epistemically possible that it’s biologically possible that life came to be without design. But that’s a little short of what he claims to show.6
Plantinga then moves on to argue that Daniel Dennett’s argument is similarly flawed.7 Paul Draper’s argument that evolution is more likely on naturalism than theism is more interesting, but assumes that “everything else is equal.”8 But then, everything is not equal. Theism provides a number of relevant probabilities which weigh the argument in favor of theism instead.9
The arguments against theism from evolution are therefore largely dispensed. What of the possibility of divine action? Some argue that God doesn’t actually act in the world—in fact, the argument is made that even most theologians don’t believe this, despite writing that God does act in various ways. The argument is made that because of natural laws, God cannot or does not intervene.10 However, one can simply argue that the correct view of a natural law is that “When the universe is causally closed (when God is not acting specially in the world), P.”11
Plantinga does acknowledge that there are some fields in science which do provide at least superficial conflict with theism. These include evolutionary psychology and (some) historical critical scholarship.12 Evolutionary psychology generally doesn’t challenge religious belief. “Describing the origin of religious belief and the cognitive mechanisms involved does nothing… to impugn its truth.”13 Now some suggest that religious beliefs are due to devices not aimed at truth, and this would provide a reason to doubt religious belief.14 However, the way that most do this is by conjoining atheism with psychology or operating under other assumptions which undermine religious belief a priori. While this may mean that specific conclusions in psychology are in conflict with theism, these conclusions only follow from the anti-theistic assumptions at the bottom. Thus, while some accounts of evolutionary psychology are in conflict with theism, they don’t provide a solid basis for rejecting it.15 Similarly, varied methods of historical concept may draw some conclusions which are in conflict with Christian theism, but these methods are themselves undergirded by assumptions that theism is, at best, not to be entered into historical discussion.16
There are, Plantinga argues, significant reasons to think that theism is in concord with science. First, the argument from cosmological fine-tuning, he argues, gives “some slight support” for theism.17 The section on fine-tuning has responses to some serious criticisms of such arguments. Most interesting are his responses to Tim and Lydia McGrew and Eric Vestrup—in which Plantinga argues that we can indeed get to the point where we can assess the fine-tuning argument;18 Plantinga’s discussion of the multiverse;19 and his discussion of relevant probabilities regarding fine-tuning.20
Michael Behe’s design theory is discussed at length in WCRL.21 Plantinga offers some additional insights into the Intelligent Design debate. He argues that one can view design not so much as a probabilistic argument but instead as simple perception.22 He reads both Behe and William Paley in this light and argues that they are offering design discourses as opposed to arguments.23 This, in turn, allows him to argue that design is a kind of “properly basic belief” and he offers a robust discussion of epistemology to support this intuition.24
Further, there is deep concord between Christian Theism and Science when one looks at the very roots of the scientific endeavor. Here, rather than simply listing various theists who helped build the empirical method, Plantinga argues that science relies upon various theistic assumptions in order for its methods to succeed. These include the “divine image” in which humans are capable of rational thought;25 God’s order as providing regularity for the universe;26 natural laws;27 mathematics;28 induction;29 and simplicity and “other theoretical virtues” (like beauty).30
Finally, Plantinga turns to naturalism: does it really resonate so well with science? Plantinga grants for the sake of argument that there is at least superficial concord between naturalism on science, if only because so many naturalists trumpet this “fact.”31 Yet there is, he argues, a deep conflict between science and naturalism: namely, that if evolution is true and naturalism is true, there is no reason to trust our cognitive abilities.32 “Suppose you are a naturalist,” he writes, “you think there is no such person as God, and that we and our cognitive faculties have been cobbled together by natural selection. Can you then sensibly think that our cognitive faculties are for the most part reliable?”33
Plantinga argues you cannot. The reason is because we have no way to suppose that evolution is truth aimed, but rather it is merely survival aimed (if indeed it is aimed at all!). He also argues that because naturalists are almost all materialists, there is no way to adequately ground beliefs.34 Finally, because naturalism and evolution conjoin to give a low probability that our rational abilities are reliable, we have received a defeater for every belief we have, including naturalism and evolution.35 Thus, the conflict “is not between science and theistic religion: it is between science and naturalism. That’s where the conflict really lies.”36
WCRL covers an extremely broad range of topics, and will likely be critiqued on each topic outlined above and more. The book touches on issues that are at the core of the debate between naturalists and theists, and as such it will be highly contentious. That said, the book is basically required reading for anyone interested in this discourse. Plantinga provides extremely valuable insights into every topic he touches. His discussion of biological design, for example, provides unique insight into the topic by locating it within epistemology as opposed to biology alone. Further, his “evolutionary argument against naturalism” continues to live despite endless criticism. The list of important topics Plantinga illumines in WCRL is extensive.
Where the Conflict Really Lies will resonate deeply with those who are involved in the science and religion discourse. Theists will find much to think about and perhaps new life for some arguments they have tended to set aside. Naturalists will discover a significant challenge to their own paradigm. Those on either side will benefit from reading this work.
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1 Alvin Plantinga, Where the Conflict Really Lies (New York, NY: Oxford, 2011), ix.
2 Plantinga, Where the Conflict Really Lies, 3-4. (Unless otherwise noted, all references are to this work.)
3 12 (emphasis his).
4 15 (emphasis his).
5 16.
6 24-25.
7 33ff, esp. 40-41.
8 53.
9 53ff.
10 69ff.
11 86, see the arguments there and following.
12 129ff.
13 140.
14 141ff.
15 143ff.
16 152ff.
17 224.
18 205-211.
19 212ff.
20 219ff.
21 225-264.
22 236ff.
23 240-248.
24 248ff; see esp. 253-258, 262-264.
25 266ff.
26 271ff.
27 274ff.
28 284ff.
29 292ff.
30 296ff.
31 307ff.
32 311ff.
33 313.
34 318ff.
35 339ff.
36 350.
This review was originally posted at Apologetics315 here: http://www.apologetics315.com/2012/02/book-review-where-conflict-really-lies.html
SDG.
——
The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
Alister McGrath is a well-known name in Christian philosophy, science, and apologetics. His book, The Open Secret is his call to Christians to develop natural theology not just as philosophically, but as a system of theology which touches on all aspects of life.
Natural theology, according to McGrath, is not just a way to argue for the existence of God. Rather, “The enterprise of natural theology… is one of discernment, of seeing nature in a certain way…” (3). He argues that natural theology in fact should not be viewed as a system to prove the existence of God. Rather, it “addresses fundamental questions about divine disclosure and human cognition and perception. In what way can human beings, reflecting on nature by means of natural processes, discern the transcendent?” (5, emphasis his). Natural theology can be seen as an entire worldview, put forth to view the world in a certain way (17).
McGrath, after outlining his vision thus, turns to the human experience of the transcendent. He focuses on three thinkers- Iris Murdoch, Roy Bhaskar, and John Dewey (41ff). He then turns to various ways humans have accessed the transcendent (59ff) and includes an evaluation of the psychology of perception (80ff).
He once more emphasizes the need to see natural theology as a type of “seeing” (115) and turns to Jesus to demonstrate the approach McGrath favors. Jesus’ parables are a model for natural theology, argues McGrath. They are “open… the interpretation is generally left indefinite and imprecise… the imagery of the parables is readily grasped [but] their meaning is often veiled…” (120-121). Similarly, nature itself is easy to grasp, but it has hidden meanings which can only be perceived by viewing the world in a certain way (126ff).
The Enlightenment approaches to natural theology have been largely unsuccessful historically and are in need of modification (140ff).
A Christian approach to natural theology should focus on “seeing” God in the natural. God has chosen to “self-disclose in history and nature” (178) and natural theology can reveal God in nature (178ff). Christian natural theology is “eschatological… The fading beauty and goodness of the world are to be interpreted in the light of the hope of their restoration and renewal” (206).
Natural theology must also break out of its boundaries. It is not just the realm of philosophical reflection, but also opens many points of contacts with the world. It is “about perceiving nature in a certain way” (221). Beauty, goodness, and truth are all aspects of reality which can be drawn out through a Christian Natural Theology (222ff). Again,
“natural theology… cannot be regarded as ‘proving’ God’s existence. Rather, it insists that the existence of a God such as that proposed by the Christian tradition makes sense of what may be observed of the world. Such an approach holds that there is an accumulation of considerations which, though not constituting logical proof (how could experience prove anything in such a way?), is at the very least consistent with the existence of a creator God (233).
The goal is not proof but a demonstration of consistency, which will “reinforce the plausibility” of Christianity (234).
Beauty and goodness draw out the reality of the Christian vision of the world. Beauty must not be neglected in natural theology (262ff). Beauty “can… call us, seeking a response” (283). Goodness underlies the resonance with natural law and the moral truths that can be seen as built in to “the fabric of the universe” (293ff).
McGrath concludes by urging readers to see natural theology as a key to open the “mysteries” and “hidden meaning” of nature’s “open secret” (314-315). Natural theology is primarily a vision–a way of viewing the world. The goal of the natural theologian, therefore, is to show how the reality of the world resonates best with a Christian worldview.
There is little to find at fault in McGrath’s powerful work. The Open Secret has enormous depth and breadth. Few areas of development are left unexplored. As one who has great interest in natural theology and who frequently discusses it, this reader must agree with McGrath that the arguments of natural theology often don’t work as proofs so much as pointers. Few are willing to embrace Christianity due only to an argument from natural theology, but the arguments themselves can be used to show how Christianity touches and explains many aspects of reality. McGrath’s vision is really an expanded “cumulative case”; one which focuses not just on many arguments, but brings the beauty of the world and its inherent goodness (while acknowledging ugliness and evils) into the folds of natural theology.
Alister McGrath’s The Open Secret provides a vision for the development and integration of natural theology into the arts, the sciences; indeed, into every aspect of life. It is a vision that will resonate with readers and drive them to see Christianity as an integrated whole. The book is, without a doubt, a must read.
Source
Alister McGrath, The Open Secret: A New Vision for Natural Theology (Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2008).
SDG.
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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
Is there absolute truth? Such is the topic of Stephen McAndrew’s new book, Why It Doesn’t Matter What You Believe If It’s Not True (hereafter DMYB).
McAndrew begins the work by noting that his book is an examination of a position and an affirmation of absolute truth. This is done because it is important to “examine even the most comfortable beliefs and leave standing only those that survive the disciplined assault of reason” (9).
He begins this testing by exploring some philosophical background, from Plato to positivism to relativism. These summaries are succinct, but provide a great background for those who haven’t read much on the topic. He turns next to a discussion of the effects of an abandonment of absolute truth. Relativism divorces one from any capacity to judge right and wrong. McAndrew notes, “These actions [such as the holocaust, racism, etc.] may brutally offend our sense of right and wrong, but the moral relativist cannot apply his or her values to others” (27).
What is interesting, however, is that McAndrew doesn’t stop at discussing relativism alone, but rather a conjunction of two beliefs: relativism and universal human rights. Many people, McAndrew notes, hold to relativism but also want to affirm universal human rights. In DMYB, he uses the discussion of the Nuremberg Tribunals–at which Nazis were tried for war crimes–as a case study for these conflicting views. He notes that “The defendants at Nuremberg argued that international law could only punish states and not individuals…. The Nuremberg court held that individuals could be punished for crimes against humanity under international law” (34).
Relativists, however, cannot consistently agree with the Nuremberg court, because “If there are no absolute truths, there can be no universal human rights” (35). These rights, if relative, are “contingent upon our cultural and historical position…” (ibid).
But relativism has a worse problem–it is contradictory. If all truth is contingent, then the statement “All truth is relative” is also relative, and therefore cannot be true for all people in all places (43ff). McAndrew next turns to the source for the “human rights urge”–the notion that all humans have certain universal rights. This source, argues McAndrew, is God (62ff). He makes a final case study when he turns to art–if there is no absolute truth, then there is no enduring beauty or truth in art (77ff).
The strengths of McAndrew’s book are readily apparent. He does a great job explaining difficult philosophical topics with terms and examples that anyone can understand. Not only that, but his discussion of Wittgenstein and the book 1984 give concrete, workable topics for those interested in the topic to use as talking points. My only criticism is that I believe I found a minor error. On page 85 McAndrew refers to the law of the excluded middle as the law that “propostion A and its direct contradiction–proposition B–cannot both be true at the same time.” This is in fact the law of noncontradiction. The law of the excluded middle is “For any proposition, it is either the case that the proposition is true or its negation is true.” This is a minor quibble, and one can derive the law of noncontradiction from the law of the excluded middle, but I thought I should note it.
Overall, the book may not convince everyone that there is absolute truth, but it will certainly force them to think about the positions they hold and wonder whether they can consistently cling to a relative absolutism. Those who already own a few books on the topic may wonder whether it is worth adding to their collection. Simply put, yes it is, if only to have at hand some great specific examples and talking points to discuss with relativists. It’s also a quick read that can be handed out to friends to open up the path for future discussion. I highly recommend DMYB.
Source
Stephen McAndrew, Why It Doesn’t Matter What You Believe If It’s Not True (Sisters, OR: Deep River, 2012).
Disclaimer: I was provided a review copy of this book by the author. My thanks to Stephen for the opportunity to review his book.
SDG.
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The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
Recently, I reviewed How My Savior Leads Me by Terri Stellrecht. I now have the opportunity to host a free book giveaway in which one winner will be selected to receive a copy of the book. I highly encourage readers to check out the book and Terri’s site, How My Savior Leads Me.
Rules:
Those who wish to participate need only to post a question for the author of the book. The author and I will select a few questions for her to answer, and we will select the winning entry randomly from the total pool of questions selected. (All valid entries will have a chance to win, including those with questions not selected.)You Must Provide a Valid E-Mail Address To Be Selected As A Winner. Please note that only entries that ship to addresses within the Continental United States are eligible. Only one entry per person is allowed, but entrants can choose to enter more than one question should they desire.
“How am I supposed to know what to ask, if I haven’t read the book?”
Well, read the review to get some insight into the book, or check out the handy “look inside” feature on Amazon! Or, if you’re feeling particularly lazy: it’s a book which beautifully reflects on the passing of Trent, Terri’s son. She focuses upon God’s sovereignty and his plan throughout it all and rejoices in the fact that Trent is saved in heaven. So, questions can be asked on anything from divine sovereignty to Christianity generally to personal questions about coping with the loss of a child. But for more, I’d suggest reading the review.
The questions chosen to be answered will be featured following the contest in a follow up post, “Q and A with Terri Stellrecht.”
Any entry deemed offensive will be deleted. The contest will be open through midnight, central time, on February 19th, 2012. The winner will be selected by February 26, 2012.
Disclaimer:
This contest is being held at the sole discretion of J.W. Wartick and Terri Stellrecht. They reserve the right to cancel or amend the details of the contest in any way at any time. Specifically, they will not be held accountable if the book is lost in the mail; if an entry is missed; etc. In other words, this contest is in no way legally binding for any who participate. By submitting an entry, you agree to the stipulations and rules provided in this post.
It is with great rejoicing that we release our son, Trent Lee Stellrecht, age 12, to our Heavenly Father. Dance before your King, my son (xiii).
“How My Savior Leads Me” by Terri Stellrecht is a beautiful work of theological reflection.
Terri’s son, Trent, passed away at age 12. The first part of the book reflects upon the incident. Everything is set against the background of Terri’s faith. She describes Tren’s life from birth to death, and throughout focuses on the joys of a son and his coming to faith. The reality of sin in the life Trent is acknowledged, even from a young age (10-11). But Trent eventually repented, telling Terri, “I’m not right with God” and repenting, turning to Bible study, and glorying in the Lord (12ff).
But Trent’s life was cut short in a skiing accident. Terri describes the heart-rending scenes. The whole family saw his body, and Terri noted that “There was my son, but it was so clearly not Trent anymore. It was truly just a shell. A beautiful, young, 12-year-old shell of a body… It was so evident that there was no soul left” (32). The family took comfort in the last verses Trent had read, Isaiah 65:17-25, which starts, “See I will create new heavens and a new earth. The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind.” Terri’s description of the funeral and other events surrounding Trent’s death is stirring and easily draws readers in. This is a Christian sister in mourning, and it rends the heart, even as readers rejoice with her that her son is in heaven.
The book continues with several chapters on sovereignty, mourning, and other topics. It concludes with a series of edited blog posts Terri wrote during the period shortly before and after Trent’s death. The blog posts are all worth reading. Readers will delight in Terri’s joy in her son and also weep with her in the times of sorrow. Her exhortations to fellow Christians to “wake up” reflect an intimate knowledge of one’s own standing with God that Christians would do well to remember (132ff).
Theology is found throughout “How My Savior Leads Me.” Terri is consistently affirming of God’s sovereignty. The book makes it very apparent how comforting a strong view of sovereignty can be in times of mourning. Terri writes, “When we are weak, God is strong/ He empowered us to walk through those church doors, and promised to be with us for it all… We acknowledged God’s goodness in His perfect plan…” (40). Later, she writes, “If God ordained the beginning, the middle, and every detail until the end of Joseph’s life, [see the Joseph narrative Genesis chapters 37-50] then isn’t it easy to conclude that He has ordained every detail in our lives as well?” (59). Clearly, the comfort is found in acknowledging that all things are part of God’s plan.
She turns also to the important question “Why has God ordained all things?” The answer Terri provides, on the basis of Ephesians 1:11-12 and Isaiah 43:7 is that it is for God’s glory to show through all things (59ff). “God’s sovereign hand” is found in suffering (61). It is part of a process of sanctification by which we are made holy (62ff).
Now, within the Christian tradition there are those who definitely do not agree that God “ordained” every detail of Joseph’s life, if the sense of “ordained” is “caused.” Here, this reader’s own philosophy of religion may be peeking through, but it does seem that, at times, “How My Savior Leads Me” is advancing theological determinism. That may indeed be the view Terri holds, but it seems to me that such a position is inconsistent with some other propositions she makes. For example, she clearly does seem to hold that Trent willingly came to the faith after being a willing rebel against God’s will earlier in his life. Further, Terri writes, “In God’s sovereign plan, man had to fall so that the glory of God would be revealed to it’s [sic] fullest” (65, emphasis mine). Now, this assertion is highly contentious and doesn’t receive any argument [there are verses on either side of it, but they are used to support propositions in conjunction with them... the quoted statement has no cited verses]. I realize this is a position most in the various Reformed schools hold, but it does require some kind of argument to support it. Many Christians–myself included–certainly do not agree that man “had to fall” in order to reveal God’s glory. Also, Terri briefly admits chagrin at the female chaplain presented to her at the hospital, noting “How many times… have I gone on about women pastors and what I believe about the churches embracing of a practice and position that the Bible clearly lays out as a man’s role?” (31). Again, no argument is made to support this position. It should be noted that these criticisms mostly come from treating the book as something it’s not. The book itself is a book of mourning and theological reflection; it is not a defense of a position. Readers like me who may disagree with some of Terri’s points, but can still laugh, cry, and jump for joy with Terri as we follow her reflective journey in this book.
Ultimately, “How My Savior Leads Me” deserves a read by anyone. I must use the word “beauty” to describe much of the book. It is beautiful to see a mother mourning her son while affirming the Lord. It is beautiful to weep with our fellow Christian as they endure suffering. It is beautiful to look ahead, and to marvel at how our savior leads us.
Terri Stellrecht, How My Savior Leads Me (Bloomington, IN: WestBow, 2011).
Disclaimer: I was provided a review copy of this book by the author. My thanks to Terri for the opportunity to review her book.
SDG.
——
The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
Islam: The Cloak of the Antichrist is bound to be extremely controversial. The title alone is enough to set people off. Writing under the pseudonym of “Jack Smith,” the author’s main argument is that Islam matches the Biblical prophecies concerning the Antichrist.
Smith starts the book by defining terms and outlining his method. “Antichrist has two meanings in the Bible. First, ‘antichrist’ is a demonic influence that may or may not be incarnate… Second, in the last days, ‘Antichrist’ is an incarnate satanic spirit possessing supernatural powers that will lead a false religion in its quest for dominion of the entire world (see Rev. 13:7-8, 11-18; 17:8, 11)” (XIII). Smith notes his argument is that “Islam’s prophesied ‘Mahdi’ will be interpreted as the Antichrist in the last days” (ibid.). As far as method goes, Smith notes the importance of reading many prophecies as apocalyptic literature–steeped in metaphor (XVII). “Bible prophecy,” writes Smith, “is like a giant jigsaw puzzle; except, there is no picture on the box. Each piece can only be confirmed to be the ‘right piece’ if it fits with the pieces around it, which must fit the pieces around them, and so on” (XVIII). Finally, Smith notes that he is not trying to enter into discussion about different methods of interpretation or to discuss all the variant interpretations of each passage (XIX).
Smith’s argument is quite robust. Chapter by chapter, he puts together the pieces of the “jigsaw puzzle”–arguing directly from prophecy to specific areas of Islam. The Qur’an, Smith argues, fulfills many parts of the prophesied Antichrist–for it denies that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and denigrates his role to that of a mere prophet (16ff). Islam, argues Smith, also fulfills the role of the Antichrist due to its history of holy war and jihad (47ff).
Smith quickly turns to even more specific prophecies when he surveys Daniel’s prophecies regarding the kingdoms to come (Daniel 2 and 7). He argues that Islam fulfills the requirements of the “final kingdom” which will come to attack God’s children. Specifically, these include that Islam is divided (62ff); it will not adhere to itself (66-67); it will have a leader who will rise at the last days (81-82); etc. (82ff).
Against the more traditional interpretation that the final kingdom will be a new Roman Empire, Smith argues that Rome would fail to fulfill various prophetic characteristics (101ff). He also counters notions found on various online sources that the European Union could be the Antichrist.
The Dome of the Rock, argues Smith, is the abomination of desolation prophesied in Matthew 24:15 (142ff). Furthermore, Shariah Law is interpreted as the overthrow of religious and political realms. Because Shariah Law is unchanging it cannot adapt to cultural situations (151ff). Furthermore, Shariah Law is interpreted as the authority given to the “Beast” (158ff). Finally and specifically, Smith seeks to show that the coming al-Mahdi is the Biblical Antichrist (184ff).
The latter third of the book focuses upon holy wars; Israel (specifically whether the prophesied “Gog” will be the Antichrist (244ff); and the Judgment Day (284ff).
How does one evaluate a book like this? One area of importance to note is that Smith explicitly noted his avoidance of the debate about differing methods and/or variant interpretations. It is clear, however, that particularly the method is extremely important. There is a vast array of methods regarding interpretation, but interpreting Revelation and prophecies in particular is highly controversial (cf. Zondervan published “Counterpoints”: Four Views on the Book of Revelation). Smith avoided these issues because of a written desire to “help the reader comprehend a very complicated area of the Bible…” (XIX), but one may urge that in only putting forward one method, Smith skirted around a central issue. Some may argue that a different method would yield entirely different results. As just one example, one may hold to a “preterist” view of Revelation–wherein the prophesies found in the Book have almost all been fulfilled in the 1st century (see again the book noted earlier in this paragraph). Of course, if this is the case, then we should hardly be worried about the al-Mahdi or Islam generally being a prophesied Antichrist–for the events have already been fulfilled. Other methodological approaches could similarly discredit Smith’s account. While he did note that he was not going to enter into a debate over the method, it still seems that Smith needs to defend his own methodological approach in order to effectively make his argument.
However, the strength of Smith’s book is the astounding amount of details he finds. He leaves few stones unturned in his pursuit of the “puzzle pieces” and shows cogently how they fit together. Again, those who operate with a different methodological approach will not be convinced, but they still have a significant amount of argumentation they will be forced to rebut in order to justify their own position. Smith’s arguments are compelling, and he continually grounds them in historical facts about Islam. Even those who do, in fact, differ on methodology may agree with Smith that Islam, at the least, reflects varied aspects of the Antichrist.
However, with all the exegesis going on, Smith offers little in the way of guidance. What are Christians supposed to do about the Antichrist, if indeed it is the coming al-Mahdi (if the al-Mahdi is coming at all!?)? Granted, this is not at all the focus of the book, but one wonders–if Smith’s arguments are sound, what are we supposed to do about them? That, I charge, is the area which will generate the most controversy. The strengths of Smith’s account lie in his ability to draw out parallels between Islam and the Biblical prophecies. Whether the reader is convinced by these arguments or not, they will have to deal with the extremely detailed account Smith provides. But then one will be left wondering: what should I do? Again, this isn’t a major strike against the book’s theses–that was not Smith’s focus–but it seems that some Christians, at least, may unfortunately just use this as ammunition to attack Muslims, when in fact we are called to love our neighbors, our friends, and our enemies. Perhaps Smith can follow up his work here with an exhortation to Christians to witness to Muslims and to honestly share their faith with their neighbors.
Overall, Islam: The Cloak of the Antichrist is a riveting read. Those who are interested in end-times prophecy will want to dive in with both feet. Smith’s arguments are detailed and cogent, and even those who disagree with his methodological approach must contend with the content of his formidable argument. He has indeed pieced together a puzzle which, at the very least, will require serous thought. The book will be exciting for anyone with even a passing interest in the meaning of end-times prophecies, regardless of their own methodological approach. Unfortunately, those convinced by the arguments are left wondering: what should we do? To those, I only advise (and I think Smith would agree) they take up Jesus’ words: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments” (Matthew 22:37-40).
Source:
Jack Smith, Islam: The Cloak of the Antichrist (Winepress, 2011).
Disclaimer: I received this book as a review copy from Winepress Publishers.
SDG.
——
The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.
Peter van Inwagen presents a discussion of composition in his work, Material Beings. His central thesis is
there are no tables or chairs or any other visible objects except living organisms (1).
This sounds odd to a great many people, and he acknowledges this. The thesis, however, solves many of the standard problems of composition. Specifically, van Inwagen seeks to answer, specifically, the special composition question: “In what circumstances is a thing a (proper) part of something?” (21). He surveys traditional answers to this question and finds them wanting. Some have argued simply that “contact” is enough to deduce when an object is composed of other objects, but van Inwagen utilizes a series of thought experiments to show this cannot be right (33ff). Specific types of physical bonding fair no better (61ff) while nihilism (there are no composite objects) and universalism (one can’t compose something, because if there are disjoint xs they compose something [74]) fall victim to a number of difficulties (72ff).
Van Inwagen therefore suggests that one way to show that things are composed is:
(there is a y such that the xs composes y) iff the activity of the xs constitutes a life (or there is only one of the xs) (82).
He goes on to define what he means by life (87ff). Against those who argue that his answer violates ordinary beliefs, van Inwagen proposes various linguistic fixes to allow for everyday language to still be “correct” without violating his suggested answer to the composition question. Thought experiments about artifacts (constructs of people/other living things) help bolster his points (124ff).
After these sections, van Inwagen turns to questions over how to identify life as well as offering attempts to deal with various dilemmas presented to materialists. This composes most of the rest of his work, but more on that shortly.
Van Inwagen’s analysis of the problem of composition seems quite sound, and while his proposed modifications of everyday language to fit into the philosophical answer he has proposed may seem a bit odd to many, they seem to answer the charges his opponent may level against him regarding such questions. Furthermore, his proposed answer gets past the difficulties of the other answers which have been proposed. The most intuitive answer, “contact,” van Inwagen shows is at least fraught with difficulties.
That said, there are some significant problems with van Inwagan’s approach, most of which stem from those which he, being a materialist, has presented to himself and other materialists.
First, he takes life as the basic indicator for when things are composed. But van Inwagen does little to clearly define life, only briefly touching on what it means to be “alive.” Although he devotes several chapters towards various problems about life, his basis for seeing something as alive or not is fairly weak. There is significant debate in scientific literature on what it means for something to be living (or indeed if “living” is a category at all separate from “nonliving”). While one can hardly fault van Inwagen for not dealing directly with these heavy issues in biology and philosophy of science, it is hard to feel comfortable accepting his thesis without a better understanding of what he means by “life.”
Second, van Inwagen has to resort to some extremely implausible positions regarding life. The reason van Inwagen must deal with such problems, I charge, is exactly because he is a materialist. [Astute readers will note that van Inwagen is a theistic materialist, but the problems I raise here go against any materialists who wish to hold to his analysis.]
One place to identify van Inwagen’s problematic approach is in section 12. He writes, “…the fact that I am a thinking being shows that there is at least one composite material object…” (120). He continues, “What is the ground of my unity? …It seems to me to be plausible to say that what binds [the simples which compose me] together is that their activites constitute a life…” (121).
These thoughts start to reveal the serious cracks in his view. He holds that he himself is a material object, which he takes to be demonstrated by the fact that he is thinking. Yet then he argues that what binds him together is the fact that he’s alive. But this is exactly what he is seeking to demonstrate via his observation that he is thinking. But what is “he”? He is a material object. Thus, we have the argument, tied to his thesis:
1) Only those things which are living are composite objects
2) I think
3) Thinking things must be alive [implicit premise given his conclusion on p. 120]
4) Therefore, I am alive
5) Therefore, I am a composite object
Now, wholly apart from whether or not “simples” can be thinking objects, this argument seems unsound. For, on materialism, what justifies 3? Why think that whatever thinks is alive? I’ve already noted that there are philosophers of science and biologists who seem to think there isn’t such a distinction as alive/nonliving (see, for example, Iris Fry’s work, The Emergence of Life on Earth). This therefore reflects the problem I’ve noted already: without a clearer definition of “life,” it is hard to analyze van Inwagen’s thesis.
Yet one may also question the second premise. Why suppose that “I think?” Materialists cannot be substance dualists and must therefore justify personhood in purely materialistic ways. As I’ve argued elsewhere, it seems that materialists almost must deny that there are such things as subjects. Yet van Inwagen just makes the assumption that “I think.” What is “I” on his view? Finally, why think that 1 is true?
One can see the great difficulties with his position illustrated when he turns to thought experiments about when human life begins. Van Inwagen argues that we cannot be the same as the zygote which was our intial state because it splits from A into B and C, neither of which is identical to A (152ff). He argues that the zygote ceases to exist. One instantly wonders how it is that “I” am therefore the same person as I was yesterday, or years ago when all the material which composes me is different. Van Inwagen’s answer is his thesis (above) with the supposition that life actively continues itself. But then one wonders why he doesn’t consider a zygote alive, because it clearly self-organizes, continues itself, etc. In fact, when one examines van Inwagen’s definitions of life, one sees that a zygote meets every criteria. They maintain themselves, they are individuating events, they are “jealous events,” etc. (see his brief discussion 87-90). So why suppose that the zygote isn’t alive?
Again one can observe van Inwagen’s frustrations with brain transplants (section 15). Eventually, he resorts to a mock discourse in which he uses question-and-answer format to try to deal with some extremely illogical consequences of his own naturalism (196ff).
Similar confounding issues arise with the “vagueness of composition,” unity and thought, and the identity of material objects. One can see that van Inwagen’s materialistic bias truly undermines his position in each of these problems. If one holds to substance dualism, one can easily answer any of these problems. Not only that, but his “proposed answer” makes much more sense conjoined with substance dualism, which allows one to make sense of the persistence of persons, living things, etc. without any of the counter-intuitive solutions to which van Inwagen must adhere.
Thus, it seems to me that Material Beings is an excellent book which will provoke much thought, but that its author is, unfortunately, trapped within his own materialism. If he’d think outside the [brain] box, the seemingly insurmountable problems he honestly faces find solutions.
Source:
Peter van Inwagen, Material Beings (Ithaca, NY: Cornell, 1990).
SDG.
——
The preceding post is the property of J.W. Wartick (apart from citations, which are the property of their respective owners) and should not be reproduced in part or in whole without the expressed consent of the author. All content on this site is the property of J.W. Wartick and is made available for individual and personal usage. If you cite from these documents, whether for personal or professional purposes, please give appropriate citation with both the name of the author (J.W. Wartick) and a link to the original URL. If you’d like to repost a post, you may do so, provided you show less than half of the original post on your own site and link to the original post for the rest. You must also appropriately cite the post as noted above. This blog is protected by Creative Commons licensing. By viewing any part of this site, you are agreeing to this usage policy.