Written by W. Robert Godfrey |
Tuesday, December 20, 2022
John promised that whoever reads this book aloud and hears it and keeps it will receive a blessing (Rev. 1:3). We will indeed be blessed as we read it slowly, thoughtfully, and meditatively, asking what God is teaching us through the images He uses.

The whole Bible is the Word of God—inerrant, authoritative revelation. That revelation is in words, and those words come to us in a variety of literary styles. For example, some parts of the Bible are history, and some are poetry. Both forms are the revelation of God, but they must be read somewhat differently for their meaning to be properly understood. When biblical history says that David was a shepherd, it means that he tended sheep. When the poetry of Psalm 23 says that the Lord is our shepherd, it means that the Lord cares for His people in a way that is similar to the way that a shepherd cares for his sheep. To insist that Psalm 23 teaches that the Lord tends sheep is to miss the point completely. To interpret Scripture properly and to truly understand its meaning, we must recognize the various ways that the human authors of the Bible were inspired to write and what they intended.
Careful attention to style and the intention of the author is particularly important as we approach the book of the Revelation. There John is writing prophetically and using a great many word pictures that often have a poetic quality. Consider, for example, John’s description of Jesus in the heavenly temple in the first chapter of Revelation. He does not name Jesus explicitly, but his meaning is clear. He sees “one like a son of man” (Rev. 1:13), and initially the picture he paints seems straightforward: “clothed with a long robe and with a golden sash around his chest. The hairs of his head were white, like white wool, like snow. His eyes were like a flame of fire” (Rev. 1:13–14). Already we may have questions. Does the glorified Christ in heaven literally have white hair? That is possible, but John may also be speaking somewhat poetically and suggesting the maturity and wisdom of Christ. Does Christ in heaven have eyes like a flame of fire? Again, John may be teaching us the intensity of His searching sight rather than the color of His eyes.
These questions are really answered for us by John in the final two elements of his description of Jesus: “From his mouth came a sharp two-edged sword, and his face was like the sun shining in full strength” (Rev. 1:16). Clearly, John is teaching that from the mouth of Jesus comes the sharp, judging Word of God in the spirit of what we read in Hebrews 4:12: “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.” Even more certainly, when John writes that His face was shining like the sun in full strength, he shows that his description goes beyond the literal appearance of Jesus in heaven in order to communicate its meaning. If the face of Jesus was literally shining like the sun, then John could not have seen His hair or His eyes or His mouth. John writes of the shining of the face of Jesus to show His glory and the fullness and purity of light that is in Him.
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Blind Eyes Opened is a unique Christian documentary in that it is an in-depth examination of the sex-trafficking industry in the U.S.  The film shows the dregs of depravity that drives the industry, but more importantly, it shows the transformations that are possible through Christ.  Further, it shows the interconnected roles of law enforcement, policymakers, organizations, ministries, and experts in combatting the scourge of trafficking.  Most importantly, it will show the hope that is in Christ and the power of His love that will cover the worst that can happen to anyone!

Some 20 years ago, I was invited to a meeting to discuss “human-trafficking.”  Held at the Salvation Army Center on D.C.’s New York Avenue, only 10–15 D.C. policy analysts were invited — feminists, conservatives, evangelicals, politicos — and none of us had previously heard of the term “trafficking.”  That meeting, convened by Michael Horowitz, then at the Hudson Institute, opened our eyes to a problem that is now addressed at the national level as well as internationally through cooperation among nations, as a consequence in large measure of the diligent work of those whose eyes were opened that day.
Prior to that meeting, sex-trafficking was seen as something that happened somewhere else; it didn’t affect Americans.  Besides, it was an “underground” kind of crime that was isolated and rare.  Through Horowitz’s passion, we learned that we had been blind to reality.  With our eyes opened, we had to do something!
I got involved by helping to draft the original Trafficking Victims Protection Act (TVPA), lobbying to get it passed, doing the same for subsequent reauthorizations, and providing manpower in the bipartisan coalition that Horowitz spearheaded to provide a foundation for anti-trafficking work that was so effective under the Bush 43 administration and that has flourished dramatically during the Trump administration through the leadership of Ivanka Trump Kushner.
While there is much to celebrate at the beginning of 2020 and during January — the National Human Trafficking Awareness Month — there is an overarching problem that has yet to be resolved.  The “blind eye” problem remains an issue: people still don’t see what is happening right under their noses.  Many Americans still think the issue of human-trafficking is other nations’ problem.  Far too many people fail to see that trafficking victims exist in plain sight.  They don’t realize that there are many children under 18 right here in the United States who are prime sex-trafficking victims.  Many people are unaware that boys as well as girls are victims of sex-trafficking.  Few people know that the National Human Trafficking Hotline receives an average of 150 calls per day.
Let’s begin with some basic information.  Human trafficking is big business.  According to the Polaris Project, one of the outstanding anti-trafficking organizations in America, trafficking is a “multi-billion dollar criminal industry that denies freedom to 24.9 million people around the world.”  In 2014, forced sexual labor was estimated to be at $99 billion worldwide, with the highest profits in developed countries.  It has been called “Modern Day Slavery” because traffickers buy and sell women — over and over again, until the girl is used up and discarded.  Numbers are thrown around carelessly, but we have some concrete numbers from Polaris.
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According to Hebrews, it is by faith that we understand. And of course, if Christianity is actually true, that understanding requires knowledge of the invisible. By faith we know who God is, the truth that He created all things in the beginning and will judge all things in the future, and even present unseen realities like our union with Christ, our nature as Image of God, and the moral order. These invisible realities and their interconnections are at the heart of Christianity. Faith, therefore, is necessary for grasping the Christian vision of the world: it is by faith that we understand reality as it really is.

The things I love deeply are also the things that irk me most easily. And most profoundly. This makes sense: when we love, we care. (Likewise, indifference breeds apathy.) For nerds like me, this applies especially to books.
Let me first say that I love Luc Ferry’s little gem A Brief History of Thought. It’s a gem because it succinctly if simplistically traces through the whole history of the Western intellectual tradition by articulating four major epochs; and it does this by charting the ligaments between metaphysics, epistemology, and ethics. So, so helpful.
But as this is the internet, we must race past vague, general praise toward concrete, specific, detailed, brash criticism.
Allow me, dear reader, to explain what irks me about Ferry’s book. Ferry thinks of philosophy as an attempt to construct a theory of salvation without recourse to divine revelation. In religious traditions, the divine brings salvation to humanity. In philosophical traditions, humanity seeks salvation on its own. In the introduction, Ferry puts it this way: “Unable to bring himself to believe in a God who offers salvation, the philosopher is above all one who believes that by understanding the world, by understanding ourselves and others as far as our intelligence permits, we shall succeed in overcoming fear, through clear-sightedness rather than blind faith.” (p. 6) I happen to think this is an unhelpful way to differentiate religion and philosophy, but what really irks me is that word ‘blind’…
Ferry is, of course, not alone in insinuating that religious faith is an agent of blindness, that to have faith is to shut oneself off from some aspect of reality, that faith requires persistent belief without evidence or even in the fact of evidence to the contrary. Both outside the church and, more troublingly, inside, Christians are often told that the claims they are meant to hold most dear, the claims they ought to order their lives around, are either irrational or, at best, a-rational. Anyway, the central, credal claims of Christians throughout history aren’t subject to the sort of careful, reasoned investigation that, in the physical universe known to humanity, only humans can undertake. We must simply believe.
1. Seeing the Invisible
The Scriptures paint a different picture of faith’s relationship to sight.
In the letter we know as 2 Corinthians, the Apostle Paul connects faith in God to Christians’ ability to suffer well. He writes:
For God, who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. … Since we have the same spirit of faith according to what has been written, ‘I believe, and so I spoke,’ we also believe, and so we also speak, knowing that he who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus and bring us with you into his presence. … So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light and momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. … So we are always of good courage. … [F]or we walk by faith, not by sight. (2 Cor. 4:6-10, 13-14, 16-18; 5:6a, 7)
Notice that Paul runs headlong into a connection between faith and knowledge: we believe by faith, and so speak, because we know we will be raised. This connection between faith and knowing, which is not unique to Paul, eliminates the idea that faith is opposed to knowing, and therefore to reasonable belief. Notice that Paul includes the faith-sight contrast in this very context. In whatever sense faith is opposed to sight, faith simply is not opposed to knowledge.
We can go further.
The author of Hebrews toys with the idea of knowing by faith through seeing the unseen as well. Moses is said to have endured the wrath of Pharaoh “as seeing him [that is, God] who is invisible”. (11:23) Moses looked to his unseen future reward. (11:22)
Hebrews goes beyond Paul: “By faith we understand”, it says. (11:3) The things understood are themselves invisible: the creation of the world by the Word, the promises of God fulfilled, Jesus seated at the right hand of God. This goes further than mere knowledge because understanding requires knowledge but is more than knowledge. Understanding is knowledge organized and applied. To understand is to systematize what you know and be able to utilize that knowledge in the right circumstances.
2. Understanding by Faith
In the context of religion—or, more broadly, any perspective on the whole of reality—understanding involves not just knowledge of certain religious facts, but the systematization of those facts.
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