In the timeless Mere Christianity, C.S. Lewis speaks of what he calls “the three parts of morality” — the social, the internal, and the spiritual. He employs the image of a fleet of ships that must get all three things right in order to function effectively:
There are two ways in which the human machine goes wrong. One is when human individuals drift apart from one another, or else collide with one another and do one another damage, by cheating or bullying. The other is when things go wrong inside the individual — when the different parts of him (his different faculties and desires and so on) either drift apart or interfere with one another. You can get the idea plain if you think of us as a fleet of ships sailing in formation. The voyage will be a success only, in the first place, if the ships do not collide and get in one another’s way; and, secondly, if each ship is seaworthy and has her engines in good order. As a matter of fact, you cannot have either of these two things without the other. But there is one thing we have not yet taken into account. We have not asked where the fleet is trying to get to. However well the fleet sailed, its voyage would be a failure if it were meant to reach New York and actually arrived at Calcutta. Morality, then, seems to be concerned with three things. Firstly, with fair play and harmony between individuals. Secondly, with what might be called tidying up or harmonising the things inside each individual. Thirdly, with the general purpose of human life as a whole: what man was made for; what course the whole fleet ought to be on. (Mere Christianity, 58-59).
Secular ethics tend to focus on the social dimension. If it doesn’t hurt another person, it must be fine. This approach tends to ignore the question of the goal of human life, in Lewis’s image where the whole thing is headed. Sometimes there is also a neglect of virtue or the internal character of a person. It is common now to hear people say that a public leader can be a complete rat-bag in private life, so long as he serves well for the public good. This has not always been the case. There was a time when, for example, a leader’s marital betrayal was seen as reason enough for someone to step down from high office. This was not mere moralism. The logic was: If “faithfulness” and “discipline” are not inner qualities of this leader, how can the public have confidence that such virtues will guide wider social decisions? It is true this old-fashioned rationale can be oppressive and unfairly employed, but there is something to it.
Religious ethics have their own, equally problematic, flaws. They are often strong on the spiritual dimension, what we are made for. But they can very frequently go astray on both the internal and the social dimensions. Religion can promote mere external piety, divorced from genuine virtue and love for others. Hence our distaste for the “religious hypocrite” I have talked so much about in this book.
The Ten Commandments are concerned with all three parts of the ethical enterprise. We are urged to find satisfaction in our Creator and his blessings. Then we are guided to honour our family and our neighbours. And, finally, the strange tenth commandment drills down to the engine room of our soul and asks, What do we truly desire?
Robbed of a broader meaning to our lives, we appear to have entered an era of mass obsession, usually with ourselves: our appearance, our health and fitness, our work, our sex lives, our children’s performance, our personal development…. [We have created] a culture that gives [us] nothing greater than [ourselves] to believe in — no god, no king, no country.
These words were spoken 25 years ago by an Australian academic, but they still ring true today. If anything, social media and the internet has fueled that personal obsession. Now more than ever, our poverty is exposed: “nothing greater than ourselves to believe in.”
Dickson, is an Australian himself, and is a fellow of Ancient History at Macquarie University, the founding director of the Centre for Public Christianity, and senior minister of St. Andrew’s Roseville. He describes Eckersley’s essay as “a famous government report on Australian youth” and goes on to say: “I remember the report so well because it came out the year before my [book] A Sneaking Suspicion, an attempt to explain the relevance of Christianity for teenagers. The report helped frame some of my thinking, then and now” (A Doubter’s Guide, p. 161).
I want to share a longer excerpt from Eckersley’s essay, which I found is available online in a scan of the publication on Eckersley’s website, here.
Eckersley starts by recounting his reaction at coming back to Australia after several years in Africa, Asia and Europe:
My first reaction on flying into Sydney from Bangkok was one of wonder at the orderliness and cleanliness, the abundantly stocked shops, the clear-eyed children, so healthy and free of the cares of living. Later, however, this celebration of the material richness of life in Australia gave way to a growing apprehension about its emotional harshness and spiritual desiccation. By ‘spiritual’, I don’t necessarily mean believing in God (I am not myself a practicing member of any religion), but having a deep sense of relatedness to the world around us.
…I became aware of the cultural myths that define and support our society. For most of us in the west, the poverty of Africa and Asia is synonymous with misery and squalor; yet it is not. We see their people as crippled by ignorance, cowed by superstition, and oppressed by the harshness of their raw environment; we don’t see the extent to which we are crippled by our rationalism, cowed by our lack of superstition (spiritual beliefs) and oppressed by our artificial environment. (p. 3)
Eckersley goes on to paint a stark picture of the current age (in 1992). Later in the essay he gets to the section from which the opening quote above is taken.
When a society fails to imbue people’s lives with a sense of worth and meaning, then they must attempt to find these qualities as individuals. It is a task that many find extremely difficult, even impossible. People want to know what is expected of them; they need to have something to believe in.
This absence of belief in much beyond ourselves, and the consequent lack of faith in ourselves, are undermining our resilience, our capacity to cope with the more personal difficulties and hardships of everyday life.
Robbed of a broader meaning to our lives, we appear to have entered an era of mass obsession, usually with ourselves: our appearance, our health and fitness, our work, our sex lives, our children’s performance, our personal development.
The consequences of this loss of belief are more serious, I believe, for the young than for grown-ups… [They are] particularly vulnerable to the uncertain culture of our times. (p. 14)
He quotes a study exploring the state of Australia’s youth, and concludes:
But perhaps the most disturbing finding of the study concerns young people’s moral sense. Mackay found that they believed that moral values were in decline, and often found it hard to identify an accepted moral framework within the community — unless they were religious. Moral responsibility to ‘the group’ is much stronger than to ‘the community’, Mackay says:
“Thus the ethical sense is rooted in a social sense, but that social sense is very limited, very transient, and very fragile. Lacking a broader sense of ‘the community’, many young people have difficulty in establishing an ethical framework which has any application beyond the boundaries of their own immediate circle of friends.” [italics original to the article]
The picture that emerges from the Mackay study is of a youth culture that may be meeting the needs of its members in terms of providing them with meaning and an identity, but only just. It is of a culture that is barely holding together, certainly not enduring — a mass-media culture marked by frenetic fashions and polarisation between self-destructive recklessness and abandon, and a more insidiously debilitating cautiousness, social withdrawal and self-centredness. (p. 15)
He then turns to a July 1990 article in Time focusing on “a new generation of young American adults grappling with its values.”
…According to Time, a prime characteristic of today’s young adults is their desire to avoid risk, pain and rapid change. They feel paralysed by the social problems they see as their inheritance: racial strife, homelessness, AIDS, fractured families and federal deficits….
It may be, then, the greatest wrong we are doing to our children is not the broken families or the scarcity of jobs (damaging though these are), but the creation of a culture that gives them nothing greater than themselves to believe in — no god, no king, no country — and no cause for hope or optimism…. (p. 15)
Eckersley goes on to summarize the problems of society and looks for a cure in an optimistic embrace of science and technology — and, ironically, his hope rests ultimately in mankind = ourselves!
The growing crisis facing western societies is, then, deeply rooted in the culture of modern western societies: in the moral priority we give to the individual over the community, to rights over responsibilities, the present over the future (and the past), the ephemeral over the enduring, the material over the spiritual.
Our cultural flaws and confusion both reflect and reinforce our economic, social and environmental problems. They also undermine our ability to resolve them effectively. Unless we forge a new culture, then it is unlikely we will overcome these problems because we will lack the will, the moral courage, to confront them….
…I believe that the problem rests more with our immaturity in using a cultural tool as powerful as science, and I am hopeful that with growing experience and wisdom, together with advances in science itself, we can create a more benign and complete culture, and so a more equitable and harmonious society. (p. 19)
Eckersley explores physics and how “a more flexible approach” has arisen in “how we use science.” An approach he approves of that allows for finding “purpose — or ‘God’ — in the world described by science.” (p. 23). He hopes this scientific endeavor may:
allow us to create new concepts for expressing religious or spiritual beliefs, different from, say, the traditional notion of a supreme being ‘out there’ watching over us, and judging us — metaphysical metaphors more appropriate to our times and our understanding.
Even now, however, science and spirituality are not mutually exclusive. I think it is less science and the scientific view of the world that cripple us spiritually than it is the busyness and artificiality of our modern lives, the all pervasive manifestations of rationality — an environment that we have created through science. (p. 23-24)
He goes on to focus on environmentalism and how mainstream science is clarifying the need for care of the environment, a cause young people can rally around. His essay aims to change science too, but ultimately the solution is what we make of it. Believing in ourselves and our ability to create a better culture — that is all that people can cling to apart from a religious worldview, such as what we have in Christianity.
I share this long excerpt from this decades old article to make a point. The long decline of our culture has been happening for a long time. There is something missing, and Christians have found the answer in Jesus Christ.
We have a God, a King, and a Heavenly Country to believe in – and that gives us great cause for hope and optimism. We don’t ground our hope in creating a social and cultural dynamic that frees us from the self-obsession of our age. Our ultimate hope, instead, is found in the precious promises we have in Scripture — promises that our God-King, Jesus Christ pledges to fulfill on our behalf.
As citizens of a greater Country, we must resist the urge to focus our hopes only on this present age and our own country — whether Australia or America. We need to work for the good of our city, and shine the light of Christ as we brighten the corner where we are, but we must always remember our faith lies in Someone greater and Something grander. Our obsession must center on our God-King, Jesus Christ. He is the one who calls us to live out our lives with ultimate purpose and meaning as we journey toward our Heavenly Country.
Have you ever read something in a footnote that was just too good to leave there? If you are like me, you can get “lost in a good footnote.” This post focuses on another great footnote.
Before you get to the quote, let me set the stage. Have you ever been hurting? Just completely consumed by grief or sorrow? If you remain in such a condition for long, you feel that there is no more joy in the world. The sun doesn’t seem fair, the flowers are dull, everything is meaningless. So what can you do to get yourself out of such a perilous state? This footnote has an answer.
At first it doesn’t sound like good news, but the Bible tells us that we must “rejoice with those who rejoice.” And perhaps that is the key. You have lost something, but they have not. You are hurting, but their hurt is of a lesser degree. Would you rob them of shared joy, by extending your grief to cover them too?
An others-focus may just free us from a pattern of self-despair. Looking away from ourselves, doesn’t mean we cease to grieve or hurt. But it does mean we see God at work in bigger and broader ways, with more people than just our immediate family.
This goes both ways, because we are called to “weep with those who weep.” So even our highest joys should be tinged with an awareness of the hurting of others. This is the sort of tangible togetherness and unity that should be the hallmark of Christian love and of the Church that Jesus founded.
Let me share the quote which set my mind to this direction. And please note that ultimately it is only the Holy Spirit and His work in us which enables such a radical others-orientation. May God bless all who ponder the Scripture behind the thoughts shared below.
In an earlier chapter, I spoke of the way that the Bible expands our minds by pulling us in opposite directions and that we must embrace the mystery and refuse to allow one truth to cancel out another. This is no less true of our emotional lives. One of the seemingly impossible commands in the Bible is found in Rom. 12:15: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” The gospel lays both of these commands upon us. Those who suffer are called to add their joy to the joy of the blessed. Those who receive favor must join the grieving in the midst of their sorrow. And we must do so without allowing one emotion to tyrannize the other. The glad-hearted must not lord their blessings over the afflicted. The hurting must not allow their pain to drown out real joy when it’s given from God. Love must be genuine (Rom. 12:9), and we must endeavor to live in harmony with one another (Rom. 12:16). Practically speaking, this means that our lives will be characterized by the same heart as the apostle Paul, who lived “as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing” (2 Cor. 6:10). It also means that wisdom and propriety will govern our joy and sorrow, so that we move with the rhythms of Eccles. 3:4: “[There is] a time to weep, and a time to laugh.” And the only way that we’ll make any progress in getting these rhythms right is if we are open and honest in communicating with one another and if we are trusting in the grace of God to be sufficient for our every need. It is grace that enables the sorrowful to rejoice in the joy of others, especially when they receive something that we desperately want or have tragically lost. It is grace that enables the joyful to bear with the suffering of the grief-stricken, especially when our hearts are bursting with gladness. Grace must reign, love must cover a multitude of sins, wounds, and thoughtlessness, and Christ must do what is impossible for us.
I’m currently reading through a new book from one of my favorite authors: O. Palmer Robertson. I’ve reviewed his The Christ of the Covenants and The Israel of God, which both were influential in forming my theology. My love for biblical theology certainly was kindled in part by Robertson’s works.
His new book is The Flow of the Psalms: Discovering Their Structure and Theology (P & R Publishing, 2015). It promises to be an important book that may transform and sharpen my understanding and appreciation for the book of Psalms. After just the first two chapters, I know this is going to be a rewarding read.
I wanted to share an excerpt from this book. Robertson explains how the first two Psalms form a doorway into the Psalter as a whole, and help to shape how we should interact with this important book.
The Two “Poetic Pillars”
Of primary importance in Psalter structure are the two “poetic pillars”that escort the reader into the temple of the book of Psalms, Psalms 1 and 2. Taken together, these two very brief psalms anticipate major themes that permeate all five books. First among these themes is the contrast between the righteous and the wicked as they are judged on the basis of their response to God’s revealed Torah, the law, the teaching, the instruction of the Lord….
The second major theme found in these two poetic pillars that runs throughout the book of Psalms is the person of God’s Messiah, his perpetual dynasty and his permanent dwellingplace….
So these two opening psalms present in condensed poetic fashion the overarching message of the Psalter. God’s law, the contrary responses of two groups of people to that law, and the outworking of the consequence of their responses are interrelated themes that permeate the Psalter. At the same time, two kings and two kingdoms merge into each other through the repeating message of the Psalms. David and his descendants will be established in a perpetual kingship at a particular locale. Yahweh rules over heaven and earth from eternity and throughout all time. Eventually, Messiah’s kingship must merge with Yahweh’s kingship so that the kingdoms of earth and heaven, of time and eternity, are one. This merger of the two kings and the two kingdoms permeates the theology of the Psalter. This perspective alone can explain how the concept of kingship in Israel continues long after kings no longer exist in the nation. It also explains how the kingship of Jesus as Messiah could merge so perfectly with God’s kingship over the world. (from pp. 13-15)
Pick up a copy of this book from any of the following retailers:
Today among conservative evangelicals there is a concerted effort to defend the “biblical” position that the earth is young. Growing up in fundamentalist Baptist circles, I like many others, simply assumed this was the Bible’s clear teaching. I also assumed that this was the historic position of the church.
There are plenty of good arguments for young earth creationism (YEC) as it is known today. These arguments have persuaded a majority of evangelicals that this is the Bible’s teaching and the position to stand for.
But has support for a young-earth position always been this widespread? Judging from the last 200 years, the answer appears to be a decided no. Today, that support is weakening and authors Kenneth D. Keathley and Mark F. Rooker have recently given us a book to help evangelical Christians sort through this question and the wider creation-evolution controversy. In their book, 40 Questions about Creation and Evolution, Keathley and Rooker point out that the young earth position took center stage only in the last 50 years.
Before I provide an excerpt with their comments, I do want to speak briefly about this helpful book. I appreciate the openness each author has in carefully laying out the evidence (good and bad) for the various positions that evangelicals hold. One of the authors favors young earth creationism, and another leans toward the old earth view. But both take pains to speak charitably of the other positions and honestly about the difficulties of his own view. Their irenic candor and careful grappling with the major positions, is what makes this book such a joy to read. A full review of this book will come later, but for now, I wanted to offer this excerpt for your reading and possible discussion.
Here is an excerpt related to the origins of today’s young-earth creationism. I should note that unlike some other works which point out the history behind the YEC position, this book does not malign that view and in pointing out the history it does, is not using the “guilt by association” tactic either.
The Rise of Young-Earth Creationism
As we noted earlier, most Christians, including evangelicals, accepted the view that the universe was millions and perhaps billions of years old. [My comment: he is speaking of Christians in the 18th and 19th Centuries.] This is true up through the first half of the twentieth century. R.A. Torrey (1856-1928), who helped to found both Moody Bible Institute and Biola University and who edited a series of books called The Fundamentals (from which we get the term “fundamentalist”), held to the gap theory. Even William Jennings Bryan, of the Scopes Monkey Trials fame, held to a day-age interpretation of Genesis 1.
Two of the most ardent anti-evolutionists of the twentieth century were W.B. Riley (1861-1947) and Harry Rimmer (1890-1952). Riley, editor of The Christian Fundamentalist and president of the Anti-Evolution League of America, held to the day-age position. Riley insisted that there was not “an intelligent fundamentalist who claims that the earth was made six thousand years ago: and the Bible never taught any such thing.” Rimmer, a self-educated layman and apologist known for his debating skills, held to the gap theory. In a celebrated series of debates, the two men argued for their respective positions with Rimmer generally considered to have been the victor.
Until 1960, the view that the proper interpretation of Genesis requires that the earth be less than 10,000 years old was advocated almost exclusively by George McCready Price, an apologist for Seventh-Day Adventists. Seventh-Day Adventists believe that the writings of their denomination’s founder, Ellen G. White, are divinely inspired and are to be treated as Scripture. White claimed she received a vision in which God carried her back to the original week of creation. There, she said, God showed her that the original week was seven days like any other week. Price worked tirelessly to defend White’s position as the only view that did not compromise biblical authority.
In 1961, John Whitcomb (1924-) and Henry Morris (1918-2006) published The Genesis Flood, which has sold over 300,000 copies and launched the modern creationist movement. Whitcomb and Morris argued that Ussher’s approach to determining the age of the universe was generally sound and that he universe must be less than 10,000 years old. Combining flood geology with the mature creation hypothesis, The Genesis Flood presented a compelling case for young-earth creationism. It would be difficult to exaggerate this book’s impact in shaping evangelical attitudes toward the question of the age of the earth. In many circles, adherence to a young earth is a point of orthodoxy. (p. 187-188)
When I first learned this, I was amazed. It freed me to rethink the matter from a new light. If good Christian leaders like R.A. Torrey, B.B. Warfield and the like could uphold direct creationism yet allow for an old earth, perhaps the matter is not such a do-or-die point. This doesn’t speak to the acceptance of evolution or a rejection of a historical Adam. The book’s authors do draw some clear lines in the sand, but when it comes to the age of the universe, that is a matter on which they agree to charitably disagree. May more of us follow this approach to the controversy. The age of the earth need not be a slippery slope, and good Christians are found on both sides of this debate.
Robbed of a broader meaning to our lives, we appear to have entered an era of mass obsession, usually with ourselves: our appearance, our health and fitness, our work, our sex lives, our children’s performance, our personal development…. [We have created] a culture that gives [us] nothing greater than [ourselves] to believe in — no god, no king, no country.
