Why Did My Life Have to Be Hard?
No matter what is happening to us, we can recognize that it will ultimately count as little more than a “light momentary affliction” that 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. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal” (2 Corinthians 4:17–18; Romans 8:18). Our suffering, in other words, can and should prompt us to look up and long for what God has prepared for us.
If you were to ask me what I take to be among Scripture’s most comforting passages, my answer may surprise you: Psalm 90 and Ecclesiastes.
Psalm 90 is Israel’s poignant lament that, even though they are God’s chosen people, they are also Adam’s children, subject as he was to God’s righteous anger at their sin. Moses’s poetry in Psalm 90 leads us, step by step, deep into the cellar of their life’s brevity, pain, and toil. The third verse begins that descent by echoing God’s words to Adam in Genesis 3:19:
You return man to dust
and say, “Return, O children of Adam!” . . .
You sweep them away as with a flood; they are like a dream,
like grass that is renewed in the morning:
in the morning it flourishes and is renewed;
in the evening it fades and withers.
For we are brought to an end by your anger;
by your wrath we are dismayed.
You have set our iniquities before you,
our secret sins in the light of your presence.
For all our days pass away under your wrath;
we bring our years to an end like a sigh. (Psalm 90:3, 5–9)
We aren’t exactly sure of the details — perhaps, as Allen Ross argues, Moses penned this psalm at the end of Israel’s forty years of wandering in the wilderness (A Commentary on the Psalms, 3:26–27). Whatever the specific backdrop, the Israelites had gone through a period of intense suffering and had thus learned the hard way that God’s anger against their sin meant that, even if they lived unusually long lives, their best years would be but toil and trouble that would soon be gone, and then they would fly away (verse 10).
Good But Unfathomable Providence
Ecclesiastes is best understood “as an arresting but thoroughly orthodox exposition of Genesis 1–3,” as David Clemens observes. In particular, it makes “the painful consequences of the fall . . . central,” clarifying how disconcerting life after the fall can be. The Preacher knows that God generally administers his providence through the world’s regular causal processes (Ecclesiastes 1:4–7, 9). Fools and sluggards generally get what they deserve because they refuse to conform to creation’s ordered patterns (Ecclesiastes 4:5; see also Proverbs 6:6–11; 20:4; 24:30–34). Wisdom is better than folly because the wise understand and honor those patterns and thus can see where they are going, while fools stumble around in the dark (Ecclesiastes 2:13–14).
But still, “time and chance happen to them all” (Ecclesiastes 9:11). In other words, what God, in the course of his ordinary providence, ordains creation’s structures and processes to bring us, is not only outside our control but also beyond our finding out. Yet nothing can be added to what God does, nor anything taken away from it. “God has done it, so that people fear before him” (Ecclesiastes 3:14).
A healthy, holy fear of God’s providence thus keeps us humble and dependent as we acknowledge that he has so ordered life “under the sun” that, however hard we may strive to understand what was or is or will be, we won’t fathom much. “No one can comprehend what goes on under the sun. Despite all their efforts to search it out, no one can discover its meaning.
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The Dangers of Syncretism and Idolatry
God is concerned not only with heart motive—although that is certainly central—nor is he simply concerned that people worship him alone—although that is, of course, true. He is also concerned that his people worship him in the right way, which includes not worshiping in ways that he has forbidden or inventing new ways to worship that he has not commanded.
In the Old Testament Law, God gave his people very specific instructions about how they were to relate to the people around them, including in their culture and worship practices.
Deuteronomy 12:2–8 reveals important principles in this regard. God commanded that the people destroy the places where pagans worshiped, including their altars, their pillars, their images, and even the names of the places. This is clearly more than simply insisting that they worship Yahweh rather than false gods; this is stark evidence that God rejects worship that imitates pagan worship in any way. Everything in pagan culture embodies religious commitments, and those elements that are imbibed with pagan religious meaning must be rejected for use in worship. One might ask why they had to destroy, for example, the altars and pillars; wouldn’t these be useful even for the worship of the true God? Yet God commanded that they be destroyed. He summarized his desires with the words, “You shall not worship the LORD your God in that way.” Instead, they were to listen to his instructions and find a place of his choosing for their worship.
Yet the people disobeyed these principles even as they waited at the foot of the mountain for Moses to return from receiving the law tablets. The golden calf incident is a terrible failure for this newly formed worship community, but unfortunately one that foreshadows many other failures in the days and years ahead. Fearing that Moses would never come back, the people demanded a physical representation of deity, just like the pagan nations had. Aaron complied, forming a golden calf, similar to the practice of both Egypt and Canaan, and the people celebrated with an orgiastic festival so noisy that it sounded to Joshua’s ears from a distance like “a noise of war in the camp.”
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A Response to David Coffin Concerning Overtures 23 and 37—Part Three
And so the end result of it all is that we find a member of our high court saying that more harm will be done by barring self-professed homosexuals from office than by allowing it to them, and doing his utmost to plead their case in the guise of speaking as a disinterested ecclesiastical judge. Let the reader ponder that, weep, and pray earnestly to God that he opens our eyes and grants us repentance.
In the previous installments (Part One and Part Two) we considered David Coffin’s arguments against Overtures 23 and 37 to the Presbyterian Church in America’s Book of Church Order (BCO). Now we conclude by responding to his final arguments against Overture 37 (O37). In this section we find Coffin objecting to the requirement that “in an examination for office, with respect to personal character, the court is directed to give ‘specific attention to potentially notorious concerns.’” He says “the phrase ‘potentially notorious concerns’ is problematic for a rule to give guidance to an examination” and that it is “a peculiar requirement, as it is hard to see how potential notoriety is a relevant concern in this context.” Why is it odd to consider how a man’s character and reputation might be perceived by others, both within the church and without (1 Tim. 3:2, 7; Titus 1:6-7)?
Coffin says that “what follows is a parade of horribles, beginning with ‘relational sins.’ I must confess that I haven’t a clue what ‘relational sins’ refers to.” The section of O37 that Coffin is referencing is meant to modify BCO 21-4e. Compare BCO 21-5, Q. 7:
Do you engage to be faithful and diligent in the exercise of all your duties as a Christian and a minister of the Gospel, whether personal or relational, private or public; and to endeavor by the grace of God to adorn the profession of the Gospel in your manner of life, and to walk with exemplary piety before the flock of which God shall make you overseer? (emphasis added)
It is reasonable to conclude that “relational” has the same meaning in O37 when it is attached to “sins” as it does in the current BCO 21-5 when it describes a minister’s duties. If relational duties are those that touch upon how an elder relates to his church, presbytery, etc., then it follows that relational sins are ones in which an elder does not stand in a right relation to the various people and courts to which he is bound by oath and possession of office. One might be forgiven for thinking that Coffin, as an officer who has answered BCO 21-5’s ordination questions, and, yet more, as an SJC member, ought to understand the meaning of the term.
He continues by objecting to O37’s parenthetical elaboration of “sexual immorality” with such examples as fornication and pornography use, asking “why these, and not other forms of sexual sin?” and “what is the standard for inclusion?” He objects to such a list, saying that “when you have a list, as part of a rule, the question provoked is always, what of the matters left out?” He admits the overture’s mitigation (“such as, but not limited to”), but thinks it insufficient:
Whenever one puts such a list in a rule, the question is always, are there other concerns or not? And if there are other concerns, why are these more important than the ones left out? Do these have some special significance that others do not have? Such language introduces significant uncertainty as how the rule is to be interpreted.
In this objection the TE Coffin ‘misses the forest for the trees.’ His objection fails to recognize the important fact that a list can be intended to give an idea of what is meant without trying to be a complete catalogue. The use of non-exhaustive lists is an accepted type of legislative style, and it appears already in the current BCO (e.g., 34-7).
Coffins says that, “The last defect to consider, and it strikes me as fatal, is found in these words: ‘While imperfections will remain, he must not be known by reputation or self-profession according to his remaining sinfulness but rather by the work of the Holy Spirit in Christ Jesus.’” This means simply that men shouldn’t have bad reputations or be conspicuous for their tendency to always modify ‘Christian’ with an adjective describing a sinful lifestyle when they describe themselves. Yet Coffin regards it as insurmountably difficult. A thought: maybe the problem lies rather with the critic than with the language? He continues his objection here:
This requires the examining court to have some way of discovering both how a person is seen by others (some others, or a majority of others?) and how a person speaks about himself (some of the time, or most of the time?). Is he known by others according to his remaining sinfulness (some or mostly?) and does he speak of himself with respect to his remaining sinfulness (some or mostly?) rather than the work of the Holy Spirit?
Coffin’s quarrel isn’t with Overture 37 at this point: it’s with the Apostle Paul. Apply Coffin’s argument that such careful examination of reputation/character is impracticable to 1 Tim. 3:2 (“Therefore an overseer must be above reproach, the husband of one wife, sober-minded, self-controlled, respectable, hospitable, able to teach”) and 3:7 (“Moreover, he must be well thought of by outsiders, so that he may not fall into disgrace, into a snare of the devil”), both of which set high standards that require diligent verification, and you can see the impropriety of his objection.
Indeed, Coffin’s quarrels with our current standards, as BCO 21-4 already establishes that a presbytery is to carefully examine a candidate’s “acquaintance with experiential religion, especially his personal character and family management (based on the qualifications set out in 1 Timothy 3:1-7, and Titus 1:6-9).” And in so far as O37 and BCO 21-4 are essentially based upon Paul’s admonitions concerning the character of elders, Coffin comes near to having a critical attitude to the substance, if not the letter, of Scripture itself.
But perhaps the most curious thing about Coffin’s objection here is that it brings him into contradiction with himself. Near the end of his piece, he quotes the portion of BCO 21-4 that I have just quoted and says that this “and the like language in BCO 24-1, has been, and will continue to be, sufficient to set forth concisely the examining court’s Scriptural responsibility.” Follow the logic here. When O37 suggests a rigorous examination of a candidate’s character and reputation Coffin launches a flurry of detailed objections that he thinks make it impracticable. When our current standards already require such a rigorous examination, he thinks it makes them perfectly sufficient and lovely. The only difference between Overture 37 and the current BCO 21-4 is that Overture 37 seeks to elaborate upon the required examination, and to give some detailed instruction as to what it should include.
In continuing his line of argument Coffin makes a curious claim, for he says this of examining a man’s reputation:
This presents the court with a remarkably difficult and complicated task. Consider, for example, Rosaria Butterfield, a same-sex attracted woman who, by God’s grace, came to faith in Christ, and has done wonderful work in sharing her testimony. Let us imagine she was a man, and thus potentially qualified for office. The sentence under review, it seems, would exclude her from office because she is surely known by reputation and by her self-profession according to her remaining sinfulness. She is, of course, known for more. However, the text requires “not be known” by remaining sinfulness “but rather by” the work of the Holy Spirit. This phrasing presents a false dichotomy.
It is not “remarkably difficult and complicated” to determine whether men are known by their sin rather than by the work of grace in their lives when they very conspicuously describe themselves as ‘[insert adjective for sinful lifestyle here] Christians’ in front of the whole world. That notwithstanding, look at Coffin’s claims about Rosaria Butterfield. I have never read or heard where Mrs. Butterfield regards herself as ‘same-sex attracted’ or wishes to be known as such by others, and this runs contrary to all I have ever heard from her on this point. Indeed, I am confident that she would not appreciate being called a “same-sex attracted woman,” and on her website she describes herself as a “former professor” and “homeschool mother, author, and speaker,” whose mentions of her former life seem to always to speak of it as past, not present.
It is, to boot, a weird argument – if Rosaria were a man . . . but she’s not, and if she were it does not follow that she would either desire office or consider herself fit for it. It is hard to escape the feeling that Coffin just wanted an excuse to mention Butterfield and try to (mistakenly) claim her as an example for his side. And even if we grant his argument, substituting, say, Sam Allberry (as David Cassidy does), his conclusion is meaningless: for many men of talent and virtue are yet not fit for office, it being restricted to the narrow class of the called and qualified, and there being more to the qualifications than some virtues and talent. In this same vein Coffin quotes Kyle Keating’s Assembly speech:
I don’t believe it was the intent of those who put forth these overtures to disqualify men like me from ordained office. I think, however, that these overtures are worded in a way that they could very well be used to accomplish that purpose. Does the Body really wish to put this language in our Book of Church Order that could potentially be used to disqualify men in good standing who are a part of the kind of work that put together this report on human sexuality?
Here plainness of speech is needed, and I bid you remember, dear reader, that such bluntness is no arrogance or unkindness, but rather in keeping with the injunctions of Scripture (e.g., Lev. 19:17). Those of us that believe the denomination needs a strong response to our worldliness in these matters believe that this language is intended to divest and bar from office all men who experience homosexual lust, including Mr. Keating. Maybe we are wrong in interpreting it that way, but I ask: if divestiture and prohibition is not the intention, what do Keating and Coffin or anyone else think the point of Overture 37 is?
For his part Coffin asserts that Keating’s speech “should have carried the day” and says that it “is my hope that his speech will now help us to remedy our error.” In this he shows he is a partisan, not an objective ecclesiastical legal ‘expert,’ a thing which the reader ought to bear in mind as he ponders Coffin’s arguments.
In concluding let me note that I have argued against certain elements of Coffin’s opposition to Overtures 23 and 37; I am not directly arguing for the overtures. Much good will hopefully come from them if they pass (as seems likely, if not certain), but there are also good reasons for being suspicious of or even opposed to at least Overture 23, and perhaps 37 as well (see Larry Ball’s “Why I Plan to Vote Against BCO Homosexual Changes”). Those reasons are not for the most part Coffin’s reasons, however. The concern here was not that Coffin and others oppose the overtures, but on what grounds, and of what this says about their theories of polity and practice. It seems we are bent on worldly respectability at any cost and sneer at God’s Word with its plain statements on these matters. We pride ourselves on our love of litigiousness, ‘decency,’ ‘maturity,’ and ‘order,’ little realizing that we do but glory in our shame and blinding ourselves to the baleful influence of the world, the flesh, and the cunning devil, all of which lie near in these matters. And so the end result of it all is that we find a member of our high court saying that more harm will be done by barring self-professed homosexuals from office than by allowing it to them, and doing his utmost to plead their case in the guise of speaking as a disinterested ecclesiastical judge. Let the reader ponder that, weep, and pray earnestly to God that he opens our eyes and grants us repentance.
Tom Hervey is a member of Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church (PCA) in Simpsonville, SC. The opinions expressed here are his own and do not necessarily represent those of the leadership or members of Woodruff Road Presbyterian Church. -
Just Follow the Science
If politicians and public health officials want more people to trust them, they would do better to try to refute opposing arguments rather than arrogantly dismiss them as “misinformation.” In spite of concerted efforts by civil leaders, public health officials, big media, and big tech to silence dissent during this pandemic, there have been a number of scientists who have contended that the prolonged use of government-imposed NPIs in a pandemic does far more harm than good.
Framing Everything in Life as a Matter of Empirical Science Disregards the Immaterial and Transcendent Aspects of Human Existence, Succumbs to the Illusion of Control, Enthrones Experts, and Leads to Tyranny.
Amid the coronavirus pandemic, one of the many repeated mantras has been that we need to “follow the science” when determining the public policy response to this highly infectious disease. While many have welcomed this assertion, it has not been without its critics. For example, one writer points out the danger to such an approach by noting the following:
As President Dwight Eisenhower said in his 1961 farewell address, public policy can ‘become the captive of a scientific-technological elite,’ which by nature lacks the temperament and broad thinking necessary to steer a democratic society. Instead, this elite’s conceptual blindspots and ignorance of broader human and spiritual concerns mean it is likely to steer us into the ditch of never-ending lockdown cycles to ‘slow the spread’ of a virus that is demonstrably uncontainable by governments and their edicts.
Similarly, former Bureau of Justice Statistics director Jeffrey Anderson argues that, while public health officials now play a prominent role in our governance, such people do not make for good rulers because “it is in the nature of their art to focus on the body in lieu of higher concerns,” and because they “are naturally enthusiastic about public health interventions.”
He adds,
Their guiding light is the avoidance of risk — narrowly defined as the risk of becoming sick or dying. The risk of stifling, enervating, or devitalizing human society is not even part of their calculation. Under their influence, America has been conducting an experiment in mask-wearing based largely on unsupported scientific claims and an impoverished understanding of human existence.
(For data on mask-wearing, see this, this, this, this, this, and this. It is important to remember that the controversy over masks is not whether people should be able to wear them without being given a hard time. Of course they should. Rather, the controversy pertains to whether some people should be allowed to force other people to wear masks against their will.)
“Experiment” is the proper word to describe much of what has been done in response to this pandemic. One wonders why previous generations did not respond to their pandemics by employing the strategies that have been implemented during the COVID-19 outbreak. After all, it is not as though there is anything technologically advanced about non-pharmaceutical interventions (NPIs) like stay at home orders, closures, compulsory mask-wearing, gathering restrictions, contact tracing, and physical distancing mandates. People had a basic knowledge of the way infectious diseases spread during the pandemics that took place in the late 1950s and late 1960s.
Why weren’t those pandemics dealt with in the way we have dealt with this one? What is it that has made so many people see the COVID response as reasonable even though the data has shown for some time that the virus is not deadly for the vast majority of those who contract it?
While there are surely a variety of factors that have contributed to what has happened with COVID-19, one of them may be connected with the fact that our society is significantly more secularized today than it was in earlier eras. That is, the widespread acceptance of prolonged, government-imposed NPIs that radically disrupt ordinary life and suppress civil and religious liberties is due in part to the waning influence of the notion that human life has a transcendent meaning, along with the increasing acceptance of a scientism that is focused entirely on controlling the material world.
C.S. Lewis had some important things to say about the threat of scientism. This does not mean that he was anti-science, though he knew that charge would be leveled against him. In a letter written in response to such criticism, he defined scientism as “the belief that the supreme moral end is the perpetuation of our own species, and this is to be pursued even if, in the process of being fitted for survival, our species has to be stripped of all those things for which we value it — of pity, of happiness, and of freedom.” One writer aptly summarizes Lewis’s concerns about scientism by saying that he “feared what might be done to all nature and especially to mankind if scientific knowledge were to be applied by the power of government without the restraints of traditional values.”
Lewis’s most focused treatments of scientism are found in his brief nonfiction work The Abolition of Man and in his fictional Space Trilogy. In the first volume of the trilogy, the scientist-villain (Weston) justifies his mistreatment of the hero (Ransom) by telling him:
I admit that we have had to infringe your rights. My only defense is that small claims must give way to great. As far as we know, we are doing what has never been done in the history of the universe… You cannot be so small-minded as to think that the rights or the life of an individual or of a million individuals are of the slightest importance in comparison with this.[1]
In the last volume of the trilogy, the plot revolves around how an organization called the National Institute of Coordinated Experiments (NICE) “follows the science” in its social planning efforts, with ruthless disregard for both animal and human life. At one point in the story, the narrator makes this observation:
The physical sciences, good and innocent in themselves, had already, even in Ransom’s own time, begun to be warped, had been subtly maneuvered in a certain direction. Despair of objective truth had been increasingly insinuated into the scientists; indifference to it, and a concentration upon mere power, had been the result.[2]
This is what Lewis sets his sights upon in The Abolition of Man, the main thesis of which is summed up in this quote: “When all that says ‘it is good’ has been debunked, what says ‘I want’ remains.”[3] Michael Aeschliman unpacks this assertion as follows:
Without a doctrine of objective validity, only subjective, individual desire remains as a standard to determine action. In the hands of an empowered elite, the capacity to reorder society with the techniques of a vastly powerful and unchecked science is virtually limitless and, of course, open to monstrous misuses.[4]
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