While enrapt in the progress of this mystery, I was suddenly jolted by a common misunderstanding of many relating to the need for conversion and what it means to be a Christian. St. Augustine of Canterbury may have been born an Anglican, but he could not be born a Christian. One may be born a Muslim, a Hindu, a Buddhist, a Presbyterian, a Baptist, a Roman Catholic, etc. However, Jesus Christ made very clear the necessity of a second birth when He said, “You must be born again” (John 3:7).

British mysteries have begun to have a strong attraction for me in recent years. Unlike many of our own mysteries, the British seem to rely on superb acting rather than splashy action to grip one’s attention. The authors of such mysteries, such as Conan Doyle, Agatha Christie, P. D. James, and Colin Dexter, are becoming familiar names to me. Perhaps their tales absorb one because the writers themselves are true scholars, products of Oxford or Cambridge. Consequently, their writings not only delight an inquisitive “whodunit” mind, they also satisfy a thirst for knowledge, wisdom, culture, and history. Their stories are so well researched.
“Murder in the Cathedral” appeared as a recent episode on Public Television. Colin Dexter’s Inspector Morse was investigating a series of murders which took place in a cathedral in Oxford. The first murder was committed while a ceremony to honor St. Augustine was taking place. Inspector Morse, whose main interests consist of classical music and a pint of beer, appeared ignorant of both doctrine and church history. His nickname while at the university was “Pagan” due to his distaste of all things religious. Because the ceremony itself offered a clue, he visited the Archdeacon of the Anglican Church to find out if there was a St. Augustine and who he was. The Archdeacon surprised him (and me) by responding, “Which St. Augustine?” He explained that there were two: St. Augustine of Hippo and St. Augustine of Canterbury. He further explained that St. Augustine of Hippo needed to be converted because of his sinful youth while St. Augustine of Canterbury did not need to be converted because he was “born” a Christian.
While enrapt in the progress of this mystery, I was suddenly jolted by a common misunderstanding of many relating to the need for conversion and what it means to be a Christian. St. Augustine of Canterbury may have been born an Anglican, but he could not be born a Christian. One may be born a Muslim, a Hindu, a Buddhist, a Presbyterian, a Baptist, a Roman Catholic, etc. However, Jesus Christ made very clear the necessity of a second birth when He said, “You must be born again” (John 3:7).
It is true that someone, such as Augustine of Canterbury, may be born into a covenant relationship to God by virtue of being born into a Christian family; but that child must one day make his or her own personal decision to trust Christ’s atonement for sin. There must be an active commitment to follow Christ and to give Him first place in one’s life. To “be born again” is to be born of the Spirit. To be born of the Spirit is to recognize one’s sinful nature and inability to cleanse oneself. There is a new recognition that only the blood of Christ shed on the cross of Calvary can make one clean and whole, forgive (as if one had never sinned), and put one in a right standing before God. This is part of “the mystery of godliness” mentioned in Paul’s first epistle to Timoth:
By common confession, great is the mystery of godliness:He who was revealed in the flesh,Was vindicated in the Spirit,Seen by angels,Proclaimed among the nations,Believed on in the world,Taken up in glory. (I Timothy 3:16)
It is hoped that the Archdeacon might merely have forgotten a very important event in the life of St. Augustine of Canterbury.
Inspector Morse went on to solve the mystery of “Murder in the Cathedral.” However, I fear he did not solve for himself personally, “the mystery of godliness” or change the status of his university days’ nickname.
Wouldn’t it be wonderful if the sequel to “Murder in the Cathedral” could be written entitled “Miracle in the Cathedral?” In the sequel, the inspector would solve this personal mystery as have so many down through the ages and universally in the world. Those of us who have come to understand this mystery in life have both the privilege and the responsibility to share with others the solution to “the mystery of godliness.” Whenever anyone is “born again” or “born from above,” a miracle takes place, whether in a cathedral, a church, or anywhere else!
Helen Louise Herndon is a member of Central Presbyterian Church (EPC) in St. Louis, Missouri. She is freelance writer and served as a missionary to the Arab/Muslim world in France and North Africa. Originally published April 1989—The Centralian.
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Written by R.C. Sproul |
Thursday, February 3, 2022
The soul of man can live without the body; the body cannot live without the soul. From biblical revelation we know we have souls. The Bible does not banish the soul to some “never-never” noumenal world of agnosticism. Not only do we have souls, but the nurture and care of our souls is a top priority for the Christian life.

Students of philosophy are well aware of the watershed significance of Immanuel Kant’s epochal work, The Critique of Pure Reason. In this volume Kant gave a comprehensive critique of the traditional arguments for the existence of God, wrecking havoc on natural theology and classical apologetics. Kant ended in agnosticism with respect to God, arguing that God cannot be known either by rational deduction or by empirical investigation. He assigned God to the “noumenal world,” a realm impenetrable by reason or by sense perception.
The impact on apologetics and metaphysical speculation of Kant’s work has been keenly felt. What is often overlooked, however, even among philosophers, is the profound impact Kant’s critique had on our understanding of the soul.
Kant placed three concepts or entities in his noumenal realm, a realm above and beyond the phenomenal realm. The triad includes God, the self, and the thing-in-itself, or essences. If God resides in this extraphenomenal realm, then, the argument goes, we cannot know anything about Him. Our knowledge, indeed all true science, is restricted to the phenomenal realm, the world perceived by the senses. Kant argued that we cannot move to the noumenal realm by reasoning from the phenomenal realm (a point that put Kant on a collision course with the Apostle Paul).
Kant’s agnosticism moved beyond theology to metaphysics. Since meta-physics is concerned with that which is above and beyond the physical, it is deemed a fool’s errand to seek knowledge of essences. The phenomenal realm is the world of existence, not of metaphysical essences or “things-in-themselves.” There may be metaphysical essences but they cannot be known by human reason. That Kant did a hatchet job on metaphysics as well as theology is clear.
Again, what is often overlooked is that the hatchet had more work to do. By assigning the self to the noumenal realm, Kant also hacked away at the concept of the human soul. This has had a devastating impact on subsequent views of anthropology. Pre-Kantian thought gave heavy weight to the importance of the human soul. Post-Kantian thought has as all but eliminated the soul from serious consideration.
The nature of the self remains a concern of psychology, but its nature is enmeshed in enigma. Descartes arrived at a knowledge of the self as a clear and distinct idea via a rigorous doubting process. He resolved to doubt everything he could possibly doubt. The one thing he couldn’t doubt was that he was doubting. There was no doubt about that. For anyone to doubt that he is doubting, he must doubt to do it. Since doubting is a form of thinking and thought requires a thinker, Descartes arrived at his famous conclusion: Cogito ergo sum, “I think, therefore I am.” We notice that in this formula there is an “I,” a self, that is necessarily involved in the process.
Kant, himself, could not rid himself of the awareness of his self. He appealed, however, not to a rational deduction by which he came to a conclusion of his self; rather, he coined the idea of the “transcendental apperception of the ego.” This technical language is somewhat cumbersome but nevertheless significant.
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While it appears spiritual, it is erroneous to call fire on believers’ problems. We don’t bind demons or Satan in hell. Because we simply don’t have such authority or power. You cannot command Satan. Thus hours of prayer spent in these ways is corrupt and unbiblical. Christians must grasp a proper theology of the nature of their enemy, spiritual warfare, and prayer. 

Prayer is important to many people, Christian or not. It seems to be intertwined with human DNA to seek divine help. Prayer happens everywhere: at shrines, in exam rooms, on the football pitch, in mosques, during travel, and in churches. The Bible itself is full of prayers and praying people. In fact, prayer is at the heart of all communications between God and his people. Such is the seriousness of prayer. But prayer can also be right or wrong, sound or erroneous, even heretical. Thus a proper understanding and theology of prayer is crucial for a Christian. It matters to God how we pray.
The Westminster Shorter Catechism provides an excellent, biblical definition of prayer. It describes prayer as, “offering up of our desires unto God, for things agreeable to his will, in the name of Christ, with confession of our sins, and thankful acknowledgment of his mercies.” 
But recently I’ve noticed a huge emphasis among Christians on praying that casts out, binds, and calls down fire from heaven to burn Satan along with other problems in their lives. This practice is built on the presupposition that Jesus gave believers authority and power over spirits, principalities, and heavenly beings. Thus the believer is encouraged to bind and cast whatever stands in the way of their progress or prosperity. Through prayer, they call down heavenly fire against Satan, as well as those spiritual beings in league with him. However, casting and binding doesn’t seem to be the primary shape of most biblical prayers.
Believers Don’t Hold the Keys, Jesus Does
To support the above practices, Christians and especially preachers will often appeal to Matthew 16:19. They understand this verse to mean that Jesus gave believers the keys of heaven and hell, to bind and to loose anything above or below. However this understanding of Jesus’ words isn’t only a bad one, but it reveals a horribly presumptuous view of mortal man. 
When Jesus spoke to Peter, he referred to the gospel that he’d entrusted to them, the disciples.
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