The End of Our Exploring - A Review

If what I see on social media is to be believed, all the cool kids are deconstructing the faith of their childhood. It’s all the rage, but it’s not really a new thing.

For some, kissing dating goodbye was a traumatic experience, though for many of the most vocal critics, I suspect Josh Harris’s book provided a solution to a problem they only wish they had. Nevertheless, the experience turned too much for Harris’s faith, as he has recently abandoned Christianity and begun selling “deconstruction kits” along with a series of webinars for $275.

Other deconstruction workers are less entrepreneurial, but there is a steady stream of people who were once overt, professional Christians who have transitioned to making money off of deconverting and encouraging other people to do the same.

One response to the deconstruction/deconversion movement is to provide answers to the cultural defeaters of the day. Standard apologetics books like Lee Strobel’s Case for Christ or Josh McDowell’s More than a Carpenter provide helpful aids to those with general struggles regarding particular questions about Christianity. Other books like Tim Keller’s The Reason for God and Making Sense of God tend to focus on bigger picture problems and defeaters. Recently books like Alisa Childers’s Another Gospel? tell the story of starting down the path of deconstruction and ending back a Jesus. These assume that someone is either outside of Christianity looking in or already down the road of deconversion and need pulling back. It is a helpful approach for many.

But what about those that stand on the fuzzy border between faith and doubt and wonder which way to turn?

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Matthew Lee Anderson’s 2013 book, The End of Our Exploring: A Book About Questioning and the Confidence of Faith, provides a helpful resource for those with questions or who want to create a space for legitimate questions within the faith community.

Anderson is a pastor’s kid who was (by his own confession) the insufferable know-it-all who was too cocksure to ask good questions or hear good answers. He has come a long way, and this book can help readers make significant progress without some of the awkward relationships.

The book begins by exploring the nature of questioning, identifying that many questions are not good questions because they presuppose an answer. They key message is that good questions can be helpful as we seek to recalibrate our faith—knocking off the pieces inconsistent with Scripture and keeping the parts that fit with an integrated biblical understanding––but most people are not well-equipped to ask good questions.

Anderson goes on to note that our information economy that values data rather than wisdom contributes to shallowness of discourse. So does the shallowness with which much of the Christian community in the West actually holds their Christian convictions. The result is that young people often either fail to ask good questions or encounter hostility when questions are asked.

Questioning is viewed as dangerous in some churches because too few people know the answers. In some churches, questioning is taboo because it leads to the uncovering of inconsistencies between faith and practice. Sometimes questioning is unwelcome because the people being questioned have the same questions, fear they are wrong, but are clinging to faith in the face of that prospect.

Some see questioning as an act of faithlessness, but Anderson shows how good questioning can be a catalyst for a deeper faith, because there are valid answers to the hardest questions that can be tossed at Christianity. The End of Our Exploring explains why that is so and also helps the reader begin to formulate better questions.

As a parent of children who “know all the answers” because we have spent a lot of time on discipleship, I find Anderson’s faithful but open approach to questioning helpful. This is a book that I will have my children read toward the end of high school. Sometimes it is frightening that my kids have the ready answers to theological questions. I worry that they have borrowed my authority, as it were, because they have seen me teach through an abbreviated systematic theology, several books of the Bible, and other topical lessons. They know that I have read the books and explored the questions, but it is important that they do some of their own exploring, too.

The way that Anderson encourages exploring is critical to the outcome achieved. The nature of this exploring is clear from the title of the book, which comes from a T. S. Eliot poem:

And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.

That perspective marks the fundamental difference between faithful questioning and deconstructing. When people deconstruct they are seeking to tear down because they’ve already decided the thing is wrong. Anderson’s questioning and exploring is an attempt to know the truth better. It does not presuppose the truth, as if the conclusion is foregone and the exploration is simply a sowing of wild oats, but it does not begin from a posture of skepticism and caustic disbelief.

 The End of Our Exploring is a warm, personal book. It is thoughtful, rigorous, and challenging. Above all, it is helpful as I continue my exploring and seek to point other explorers toward a deeper understanding of truth.

Why Doesn't Everyone in the SBC Simply Reject CRT Openly?

In the tribal warfare of the internet age one of the hot disputes is over Critical Race Theory (CRT). In my own circle—evangelical Christians in general and Southern Baptists in particular—the fire of war over CRT is hot, though little light has been produced.

In this brief post I will tackle the simple, but repeated question, “Why doesn’t everyone within the SBC simply reject CRT openly?”

The answer to that question seems relatively simple and obvious to me. However, since people don’t seem to see it, I am going to try to explain it without getting myself caught in the blaze of controversy.

What is CRT?

The heart of the debate over CRT should be the definition of CRT. The problem with the debate is there are many definitions of CRT. I will list two of the edge definitions, but there are a million shades between.

Some proponents define CRT as method of studying the outcome of racially biased laws and cultural trends that have had and continue to have a disparate impact on ethnic groups. That is what proponents like Delgado set out to expose. It’s simply the attempt to ask the question, “How have laws intentionally or unintentionally led to poorer outcomes for ethnic minorities?” or “How has race (or ethnicity) impacted social outcomes and why?” Let’s call this “CRT A”.

To others, CRT is the process of explaining why contemporary American Whites are uniquely responsible for current ethnic disparities and ought to continually repent of their privilege that explains the majority of their positive outcomes. To be White is to be tainted. One must repent of being White. Capitalism is White. Western Culture is White. Being White is bad, therefore we must adopt Socialism, reject classical literature, and continually repent of being born White or supporting Whiteness (even if we aren’t actually ethnically Caucasian). This is a caricature of many versions of CRT, but the internet will reveal enough cases of people who say they are advocating CRT proclaiming these things that we need not exclude them from the discussion. Let’s call this “CRT Z”.

One need not agree with either of these definitions to accept that there are people who describe their position as CRT that hold to them. In other words, neither of these may be “true CRT,” but there are proponents of “CRT” that argue these positions.

Recognizing the Difference

It doesn’t take a genius to see that there is a world of different between the first definition and the second. It also does not take much discernment to accept that the first approach may frame a legitimate (even if not correct) mode of inquiry, while the second is another form of racism.

There is, in short, terminological confusion.

Sometimes this confusion is used by the intelligentsia in a Motte and Bailey approach, where they throw out some controversial racial analysis or critique of that analysis and retreat to the safer ground of their polar definition when challenged. Sometimes, I think, people discussing CRT have read so narrowly (not to say they haven’t read extensively) that they legitimately haven’t encountered another perspective or one that represents the harmful extremes. Or, in other cases, they have granted too much grace to “their side” of the debate that they don’t see the encroachment into the unreasonable.

At the very least, as we think about the issue, we should recognize that definitions are the key. CRT is not monolithic, so we should seek to understand before we argue.

Why Not Just Reject the Term?

After the messengers of the Southern Baptist Convention affirmed Resolution 2, On the Sufficiency of Scripture for Race and Racial Reconciliation, there has been an outcry in some subsections of the SBC that the statement does not include a clear rejection of “CRT.”

The statement itself is sound, biblical, and resonates with the various statements on race and racial reconciliation that the SBC has adopted in the past. For those that care to read it, it quickly becomes clear that “CRT Z” and many variants on that side of the spectrum are out of bounds based on that description.

The complaint among some is that “CRT A” is not as clearly anathematized by the statement. Therefore, when individuals ask questions like, “How has race (or ethnicity) been used unjustly in society or resulted in unjust outcomes?”, it is not clearly out of bounds. Of course, it is also not clear that someone asking such a basic question about race (or ethnicity) is necessarily reliant upon the tenets of CRT.

“That Sounds Like CRT”

And that is exactly the reason why it was good to issue Resolution 2 without an explicit rejection of CRT.

In some corners of the internet, it has become increasingly common to argue that any analysis of society, data, or theology that includes a consideration of race or ethnicity is a form of CRT. This is, whether intentional or not, an error that conflates the problems of “CRT Z” with any discussion of race or ethnicity, or its lingering effects.

In opposition to these discussions, some have absolutized statements like Paul’s Galatians 3:28 (There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is no male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus), arguing that it means that there should be absolutely no consideration of differences created by or resulting from race or ethnicity. However, Paul wasn’t arguing that those categories did not exist (otherwise why did he differentiate the circumcised from the uncircumcised in Col 4), but that they should not impact unity in the body of Christ.

It would be funny if it were not so painful, but some of those most vocal about using Gal 3:28 to outlaw any discussion of racial (or ethnic) differences are also the most careful to differentiate the roles of men and women in the church. To be logically consistent, if Galatians 3:28 means that we can never talk about racial disparities in the church, then those that hold that position should not recognize a different function in the church between men and women. In other words, they should be willing to accept female pastors. Most often they do not. That would reflect a consistent, though incorrect, application of Gal 3:28.

Because there are longstanding social impacts due to race—one need only look at the existence of distinct African-American denominations (which were largely formed in response to overt racism in predominately white denominations)––some critics paint any theological or social analysis that recognizes the actual differences related to race (or ethnicity) as a form of CRT, whether or not the accused has any knowledge of or intent to use CRT.

The existence of real and obvious racial (or ethnic) differences means that there are times that examining those differences is necessary and warranted.

The Bigger Problem

The bigger problem with the CRT debate, and a reason why we should not try to anathemize “CRT” wholesale, is that the some of the loudest voices against “CRT” are also the ones who argue that any analysis that includes racial (or ethnic) differences are using “CRT,” whether any form of actual CRT is actually in play. Often, it seems that these accusations are made more on political grounds (i.e., someone supports a different economic or social policy) than on the basis of careful understanding of the ideas under discussion.

Let me simplify: The logic of some of the loudest anti-“CRT” argumentation goes like this:

1.       CRT is a form of analysis that considers racial (or ethnic) disparities.

2.       Scholar or pastor X has cited analysis or made a declaration that takes into account racial (or ethnic) disparities.

3.       Therefore, scholar or pastor X advocates for CRT.

Anyone who has taken basic logic will recognize the problems with this line of reasoning.

Unless ALL discussions that take into account racial (or ethnic) disparities are CRT, then the logic doesn’t follow. And even that logic is based on the assumption that all versions of CRT are irredeemably bad (or at best unhelpful) and inconsistent with the gospel. Some argue that “CRT A” and some similar versions are relatively benign and may actually help illuminate the current situation, but that is a different discussion for a different day. However, it shouldn’t be impossible for us to imagine that an individual may recognize that “CRT Z” is bad, while still being able to glean something of value from “CRT A” even if, in the end, the individual rejects the policy proposals of those who use “CRT A.”

It’s also possible to ask questions similar to those who use and advocate for “CRT A” and yet not be dependent upon their ideas. Simply because one things sounds similar to another does not mean those things are the same.

Sometimes arguments about who is “using CRT” play out in these obvious terms, but often it is more subtle. And yet, many of the attempts to combat “CRT” among inerrantist evangelicals amounts to:

a.       That individual used language or addressed a concept that could be associated with CRT.

b.       Therefore, that individual advocates for CRT.

c.       CRT is bad.

d.       Therefore, that individual must be ridiculed and abused publicly and, if possible, fired.

If we’re being honest, we’ll recognize this pattern. It isn’t universal, but it is fairly common. And, if we’re being serious about being thoughtful, we’ll recognize why it isn’t helpful.

We should also recognize statements that absolutize rejections of “CRT” are a tool for vocal groups within our communities to prevent discussion about important issues, because once the accusation is made that someone is advocating “CRT,” whether true or not, then the person will be forced to defend themselves or risk losing their job. There is an element of McCarthyism to the whole situation.

Conclusion

I set out to answer the question, “Why doesn’t everyone within the SBC simply reject CRT openly?”

There is no question that more discussion is needed, but I think I’ve begun to explain why absolute statements on CRT are unhelpful, especially when “CRT” means radically different things to different people and that, for some people, simply raising questions about race lead to accusations of “CRT.” The kind of pseudo-thoughtful analysis that has replaced honest engagement with ideas, especially around concepts like “social justice” and “CRT,” is not helpful.

Significantly when some voices assume CRT is at the root of any discussion of race (or ethnicity) that arrives at different conclusions than those of another group, we have a problem. Additionally, if the simple recognition that one’s cultural background shapes one’s understanding of a context is a version of CRT, then it is an unhelpful label.

Since the label “CRT” is so ambiguous, it is better to identify the aspects of “CRT” that are objectionable and explain why they are inconsistent with Scripture. Then we can all examine the statements of scholars and pastors in comparison to those tenets and argue against objectionable content rather than making accusations of things that “sound like” or “are not sufficiently opposed to” whatever “CRT” is in the mind of this or that cultural commentator. Based on the statement of those on the SBC resolution committee, this sort of action—to make clear what is inconsistent with biblical orthodoxy—is exactly what was being attempted with Resolution 2.

Will this scratch the itch of the culture warrior? No, but usually they live for the denunciation and the battle rather than the truth. But for those that are being honest and careful in their pursuit of truth, statements like Resolution 2 are a step forward in identifying the guardrails for civil discussion.

Why We Can Trust the New Testament

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Without a doubt, there have been times within human history when it has been difficult to get access to high quality resources about important topics created by experts. People used to have to go to universities or ticketed events to get access to the experts.

The internet has, of course, changed that. Not only has it provided us easy access to an endless supply of cat videos, but it has also provided opportunities to get easy access to legitimate experts with a few clicks and the right key words.

The problem with this free and open information society is that it can be hard to differentiate the hacks from the heroes. In some cases, the hacks make videos with better production value, which makes them seem more authoritative, even as they are really ignorant.

The Trustworthiness of the New Testament Text

The actual point of this post is not to discuss the media ecology of the internet, however, but to provide some resources on the text of the New Testament and its trustworthiness.

One of the main challenges raised to belief in Christianity is the trustworthiness of manuscripts of the New Testament. The accusation leveled against the Bible is that we cannot really know what the New Testament teaches because of variations in the available manuscripts. Daniel Wallace has dealt with that very effectively.

The Reliability of the Gospels

Another significant question is why there are differences between the various Gospels. In a lecture, Mike Licona helps explain the genre of the Gospels, the literary conventions of the day, and why we can trust the Gospels as authentic and faithful, even when they don’t match modern standards of documentation.

Peter Williams presents another approach to the reliability of the Gospels that deals less with the literary attributes and focuses on the content of the Gospels. This is a complementary perspective to the one that Licona presents.

The Formation of the Canon

Also significant is how the canon of the New Testament was formed. Some critics like to claim that a power struggle between church leaders led to certain books of equal value and authority being excluded from the canon, so that we should be just as open to the truthfulness of the Gospel of Thomas as we are to the canonical gospels. Michael Kruger helps dispel that notion.

Conclusion

These men are each expert in their field and respected in their academic disciplines, even among those who do not agree with their theological conclusions, because they have demonstrated proficiency in their discipline. That we live in an age where such resources are readily available is amazing. That we often fail to take advantage of this level of expertise is a shame. Taking a few hours to watch these videos (even with your family) would be an excellent means of discipleship for yourself and your family.

Eschatological Discipleship - A Review

Trevin Wax is one of the most incisive cultural commentators in the evangelical community. He has a talent for moving past pearl clutching about trends in pop culture by asking foundational questions about the ideas that animate to moral activity in entertainment and society. His 2018 book, Eschatological Discipleship is an overt presentation of the theological analysis that is evident in the background of Wax’s popular books and blogs.

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Eschatology is the oft neglected and frequently abused topic in Christian systematic theologies. As Wax notes, discussions of the end times in seminary courses tend to be stuck on the end of the course syllabus and often are the first to get axed when discussions of soteriology and ecclesiology run long at the beginning of the semester. More often, the term eschatology is understood to mean endless debate about the nature and timing of the rapture, the intrigue of the mark of the beast, and various theories on the millennium.

This book gets beyond the most common pitfalls of eschatological debate to focus on the core issue of eschatology as it is woven throughout Scripture. In particular, Wax emphasizes the idea of eschatology as a source for telos; it is the theological topic that provides the best evidence for the meaning of life. In other words, eschatology is not primarily about charts and timing, but about providing a lodestar of eternal purpose to navigate life in ever-changing times.

In Eschatological Discipleship: Leading Christians to Understand their Historical and Cultural Context, Wax does something few treatments of the topic do: he offers an analysis of the eschatologies of worldviews that compete with Christianity. His analysis of the eschatology of the Enlightenment, the Sexual Revolution, and Consumerism are unique in their revelation of the unspoken, but evident meaning encoded in those rival systems of meaning. This book provides a framework for discussing the often-obscured theologies of those movements.

Wax begins the book with a chapter defining the term eschatological discipleship. He argues, “eschatological discipleship is spiritual formation that seeks to instill wisdom regarding the contemporary setting in which Christians find themselves (in contrast to rival conceptions of time and progress) and that calls for contextualized obedience as a demonstration of the Christian belief that the biblical account of the world’s past, present, and future is true.” (p. 41) This definition makes clear Wax’s aim, which is to present a theological argument that unquestionably leads to obedience.

In three chapters, Wax presents a biblical theology of eschatological discipleship, beginning with the Old Testament, then focusing on the Gospels and Acts, and concluding with a survey of the topic in Paul’s letters. It becomes evident through this survey that all of Scripture encourages Christians to ask, “What time is it?”, so they can understand their culture and how they should live in their particular context to the glory of God.

Chapter Five presents the idea of eschatology within non-Christian thought, which leads the way into the helpful analysis of the next three chapters. In the sixth through eighth chapters of the book, Wax performs a critical analysis of the eschatology of the Enlightenment, the Sexual Revolution, and Consumerism, which all compete with Scripture to dominate the worldviews of Christians in our age. In the final chapter, Wax shows how his presentation of eschatological discipleship can enhance the practice of evangelical theology and equip every church member to better respond to the confused theologies around them.

Trevin Wax is one of the most gifted writers among evangelicals. This academic book is no exception. The prose is clear and the arguments careful. He manages to raise concern about the real problems within the dominant culture of the West without calling for withdrawal or reflexive combativeness. Eschatological Discipleship is a specimen of Christian scholarship in its most helpful form: theologically precise and readable.

Those who have read other books by Wax will likely see the connection between another of his recent books, This is Our TimeEveryday Myths in Light of the Gospel, and this volume. Eschatological Discipleship makes clear the theological framework that This is Our Time presents in a practical, popular format. The close connection between the two books offer an example for Christian scholars for how to translate scholarship for broad consumption and how to most efficiently steward their research by pitching their arguments to multiple audiences.

Eschatological Discipleship is a useful resource for pastors and scholars seeking to understand the contours of contemporary culture better. Theologically informed laity will likely find this book an accessible and informative volume, too. This is a book that will have enduring value for its analytical content and exemplary argumentation.

NOTE: This article was originally posted at the B&H Academic Blog, which has since been archived due to a change in strategy.

One Child - A Review

China’s one child policy offered promise of economic blessing, but has resulted in sociological disruption leading to economic problems, leaving trauma and tragedy in its wake. This is an example of a government trying to plan its way to prosperity.

In a 2012 book, One Child: The Story of China’s Most Radical Experiment, journalist Mei Fong explores the impacts of the technocratically-driven population policy instituted by China several decades ago.

One Child is an engaging book. Fong writes clearly, tells captivating stories, and systematically arranges the book in a way that makes it an enjoyable and informative read.

One of Fong’s main goals in writing One Child is to demonstrate that the infamous policy of Communist China is not the blessing that some have argued it to be. She writes,

“It took me a while to realize that, contrary to popular thinking, the one-child policy had very little to do with China’s double-digit economic growth of the past thirty years, and will actually be a drag for the next thirty.” (9)

Fong came to realize that people are both consumers and producers. Although she does not articulate the idea clearly in her book, it seems that she also recognizes that the economy is not a pie of a fixed size. That is, having more productive citizens does not mean that the same wealth must be distributed to more people more thinly. It means that more people will produce more wealth, which can be available to many people. The economy is not a zero-sum game.

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The tragedy of the one-child policy is manifold. Fong notes that the policy has created a class of non-citizens in China who, because they were the extra child born over the limit, cannot be registered and cannot get health care, an education, or jobs. They are the hei haizi, “black children,” undocumented and ignored.

One of the more frightening aspects of the one-child policy has been the eugenic emphasis. Fong argues, “Chinese authorities were never shy about stating this aim of the one-child policy: fewer births, higher-quality births.” (28) The right people should be able to procreate to create the right sort of citizen. The result of such policies is always horrific abuse of human rights.

Fong tells the story of one factory worker pregnant with her second child. She believed she was qualified for an exemption, but the local officials disagreed. They demanded an exorbitant fine, which her family could not pay, and was subsequently forced to have an abortion. Fong writes,

“Feng, meanwhile, was made to sign an agreement she voluntarily consented to the abortion. On June 2, she was injected with a substance to kill the fetus. She later said, ‘I could feel the baby jumping around inside me all the time, but then she went still.’” (61)

Furthermore, “In some parts of the country, pregnant women without birth permits were marched off in handcuffs to undergo forced abortions.” (70) In the 1990’s, the policy expanded to punish behaviors that could be more or less linked to unsanctioned births, “Women were fined for living with a man out of wedlock; for not using contraception, even if it didn’t lead to pregnancy; or simply for not attending regular pregnancy checkups. In Jiangsu, women had to line up twice monthly for pregnancy tests and publicly pee in cups.” (73)

Contributing to this, there was “a wage incentive for birth-planning officials, which was tied to how many sterilizations and abortions they were able to achieve. . . . [According to one former official,] ‘Some girls were forced to get surgeries even though they weren’t pregnant at all.’” (75]

The enforced abortion regime is one of the most horrific aspects of the policy that Fong records. Interestingly, she herself is a proponent of abortion and considered terminating her first pregnancy, which later ended in miscarriage, which only makes the horror of her stories more apparent.

The sociological impacts of the one-child are also striking. Fong details how combining one-child policies with a culture that expects children to take care of their parents puts extreme pressure on children to get into lucrative careers so they and their spouse can support their own child plus up to four parents and, potentially, grandparents as well. The emotional burden on the child who fears failing a test and being forced into factory work is obvious.

China has also instituted minimum ages for marriage. A man cannot get married before he is 22 and a woman before 20. But if school is not complete and a career not established, then marriage will logically be delayed. Subsequently, the age of marriage goes up and the window of fertility shrinks. The result is increasing infertility, which is making it more difficult for some workers to conceive and bear even the quota of children they are allowed.

Fong’s book is a helpful exposé of the regime in China. It is a reminder that government tinkering in families and biology are often ill-fated, even when they have positive motives. It is also a reminder of the horror of abortion that underlies many zero population growth or other population control movements. These are consistently pitched as “voluntary,” but once the government steps in “volunteerism” often shifts to coercion. People should be careful what they wish for.