Orthodoxy comprises a range of autonomous churches, the Russian and Greek being the most prominent. During the first millennium of the church, the Latin West and the predominantly Greek-speaking East drifted apart linguistically, culturally, and theologically. Rome’s claims to universal jurisdiction and its acceptance of the filioque clause led to severed relations in 1054. Many countries in the East, overrun by the Muslims, had limited freedom. Constantinople fell to the Turks in 1453, while in the twentieth century, Orthodoxy in Russia and Eastern Europe endured under Communist rule, suffering intense persecution.

Orthodoxy is emphatically not to be identified with Rome. Ecclesiastically, it has no unified hierarchy, no pope, no magisterium. It lacks the barrage of dogmas of the Roman Church. Its doctrinal basis, such as it is, is the seven ecumenical councils, referring principally to the Trinity and Christology, the vast majority of which Protestants embrace. While at the popular level some Marian dogmas are accepted, they are not accorded official status. Nor is there a requirement for converts from Protestantism to renounce justification by faith alone. Particularly distinctive is its dominantly visual worship; icons fill its churches. Its ancient liturgy, rooted in the fourth century, is central to its theology and life.

If Orthodoxy differs so significantly from Catholicism, how closely does it resemble Protestantism? A brief overview of Orthodoxy reveals several points of alignment, some significant misunderstandings, and a few major disagreements with Protestantism.

Learning from Orthodoxy

First, Protestants can learn from many positive elements in Orthodoxy.

The Orthodox liturgy, for starters, is full of Trinitarian prayers, hymns, and doxologies. The Trinity is a vital part of their belief and worship. This finds biblical precedent as Paul describes our relationship with God in Trinitarian terms: “Through [Christ] we . . . have access by one Spirit to the Father” (Ephesians 2:18).

Another positive element in Orthodoxy is their teaching on union with Christ and God. Crucial to Orthodox theology is deification, in which humans are indwelt by the Holy Spirit and transformed by divine grace. Orthodox theology has maintained a focus on the union of the three persons in God, the union of deity and humanity in Christ, the union of Christ and the church, and the union of the Holy Spirit and the saints. In some forms, Orthodoxy’s focus on deification enters the realm of mysticism. But in other strands, exemplified by the Alexandrians, Athanasius (295–373), and Cyril (378–444), it is the equivalent of regeneration, adoption, sanctification, and glorification viewed as one seamless process.

In addition, unlike the Western church, the Orthodox Church has enjoyed freedom from concerns raised by the Enlightenment. Due to its historical and cultural isolation, Orthodoxy has experienced no Middle Ages, no Renaissance, no Reformation, and no Enlightenment. Until recently, it was not preoccupied with critical attacks of unbelief, which in the West have sometimes bred a detached, academic approach to theology divorced from the life of the church. This is evident in Orthodoxy’s firm belief in the return of Christ and heaven and hell, topics often sidelined in the West due to possible embarrassment.

Finally, the Orthodox Church keeps together theology and piety. Asceticism and monasticism have had a contemplative character. The knowledge of God is received and cultivated in prayer and meditation in battle against the forces of darkness. Since the Enlightenment, Western theology has centered in academic institutions unconnected to the church. Orthodoxy has profoundly integrated liturgy, piety, and doctrine.

Points of Alignment

Beyond these positive elements in Orthodoxy from which Protestants can learn, there are many areas of agreement between Protestantism and Orthodoxy.

The ecumenical councils’ declarations on the Trinity and Christ show the extensive agreement between Orthodoxy and classic Protestantism, despite disagreement on the filioque.

With different emphases, the Orthodox and evangelical Protestants agree on the authority of the Bible, sin and the fall (although the Orthodox do not accept the Augustinian doctrine of original sin), Christ’s death and resurrection (although the atonement is regarded more as conquest of death than as payment for the penalty of the broken law), the Holy Spirit, the return of Christ, the final judgment, and heaven and hell.

Although the Reformation controversies passed the East by, occasionally Orthodox fathers talk of salvation and of faith as gifts of God’s grace, while the Orthodox liturgy repeatedly calls on the Lord for mercy to us as sinners, as does the famous Jesus prayer. At root, justification has not been an issue and so has not provoked discussion. Similarly, there are echoes in the West of deification — in Augustine, Aquinas, Calvin, and some Puritans — for, understood in the way Athanasius and Cyril did, deification is no more incompatible with justification by faith than are sanctification and glorification.

Additionally, the Orthodox doctrine of the church stresses its unity, the parity of bishops and of all church members, underlying its opposition to Rome. This is a model close to Anglicanism.

Significant Misunderstandings

Historically, however, Protestant and Orthodox believers have often misunderstood one another.

To start, Protestants tend to misunderstand the Eastern understanding of icons. Nicea II (AD 787) emphatically denied that icons are worshiped. Following John of Damascus (675–749), the council distinguished between honor (proskunēsis) given to saints and icons, and worship (latreia) owed to the indivisible Trinity alone. Icons are seen as windows to the spiritual realm, indicating the presence in the church’s worship on earth of the saints in heaven. Moreover, the idea of image (eikon) is prominent in the Bible. The whole creation reveals the glory of God (Psalm 19:1–6; Romans 1:18–20). Reformed theology, in general revelation, views the whole world as an icon.

No problem exists with intercession among saints as such, for we all pray for and with living saints; we have prayer meetings. However, the Bible does not encourage us to pray to departed saints, for there are no grounds to suppose that they hear us. Rather, Scripture directs our hope to Christ, his return, and the resurrection (1 Thessalonians 4:13–18).

On Scripture and tradition (the teaching of the church), both sides appeal to both sources. There is an overwhelming biblical emphasis in Orthodox liturgy, while the Reformation had a high view of the teaching of the church. The issue is not the Bible versus tradition, but rather which has the decisive voice. For evangelicalism, the Bible is unequivocally the word of God (2 Timothy 3:16), while all human councils may err.

From the Orthodox side, many confuse the Protestant doctrine of predestination with Islamic fatalism. The Bible teaches both the absolute sovereignty of God and the full responsibility of man, God’s decrees not undermining the free actions of secondary causes. As such, the Orthodox idea that the doctrine of predestination short-circuits the human will, and is effectively monothelite, is misplaced.

Many Orthodox polemicists also accuse evangelicals of ignoring the church’s part in Scripture. However, the classic Protestant confessions attest that the church is integral to the process of salvation, the Christian faith being found in the Bible and taught by the church. Both Scripture and the church are originated by the Holy Spirit. Church and covenant are integral to Reformed theology. Orthodoxy often confuses classic Protestantism with today’s freewheeling individualists.

Major Disagreements

Beyond these points of alignment and misunderstanding, significant differences do exist.

First, the East tends to downplay preaching. Largely due to the impact of Islam, and despite Orthodoxy’s heritage of superlative preaching (Chrysostom and Gregory Nazianzen, among others), their liturgy is more visual. Sermons are part of the liturgy, but the focus is more on the icons and the symbolic movements of the clergy.

Next, the relationship between Scripture and tradition differs. For Orthodoxy, tradition is a living dynamic movement — the Bible existing within it, not apart from it. This was the position of the church of the first two centuries, with the Bible and tradition effectively indistinguishable. Later developments in the West placed tradition over Scripture (medieval Rome), or pitted Scripture against tradition (the anabaptists, some evangelicals), or put Scripture over tradition without rejecting it (the Reformation, the Reformed churches). For Orthodoxy, Scripture is not the supreme authority.

A third distinction is found in what’s called the Palamite doctrine of the Trinity. Gregory Palamas’s distinction between the unknowable essence (being) of God and his energies has driven a wedge between God in himself and God as he has revealed himself, threatening our knowledge of God with profound agnosticism. It introduces into God a division, not a distinction. The Christian life easily becomes mystical contemplation.

Along with Rome, the East venerates Mary and the saints. Orthodoxy considers it possible, legitimate, and desirable to pray to departed saints. But there is no biblical evidence that this is possible.

Finally and most crucially, Orthodoxy has what we might call soteriological synergism. The East has a vigorous doctrine of free will and an implacable opposition to the Protestant teaching on predestination and the sovereignty of God’s grace in salvation. This puts Orthodoxy further away from the Reformation than is Rome.

How Far Away Is the East?

Compared with Rome, how far away from Protestantism is Orthodoxy?

Orthodoxy is closer to classic Protestantism than is Rome in a number of ways. Both were forced into separation, and both oppose the claims of the papacy. The structure of the Orthodox churches is closer to Anglicanism than Catholicism. Orthodoxy does not have the same accumulation of authoritative dogmas as Rome. Its stress on the Bible opens up a large commonality of approach.

In other ways, Orthodoxy is further removed from Protestantism than is Rome. Protestantism, with Rome, is part of the Latin church, shares the same history, and addresses the same questions. Its faith is centered in Christ; the East’s is more focused on the Holy Spirit, along with a more mystical theology and practice. As Kallistos Ware puts it, Rome and Protestantism share the same questions, but supply different answers; with Orthodoxy the questions are different.

ABSTRACT: Thoughtful Christians familiar with the claims of modern science recognize apparent disagreements between the Bible and scientific claims. Many of the biggest tensions, however, arise not from the findings of science but from the philosophical assumptions of non-Christian scientists. For the tensions that remain, Scripture offers principles for wisely navigating them in ways that honor God’s revelation. In the end, because God is consistent with himself, all apparent disagreements are just that: apparent. And until we find their resolution, God has told us all we need to know in order to trust him.

For our ongoing series of feature articles for pastors, leaders, and teachers, we asked Vern Poythress, distinguished professor of New Testament, biblical interpretation, and systematic theology at Westminster Theological Seminary, to offer principles for navigating apparent disagreements between Scripture and science.

Apparent disagreements between the Bible and scientific claims trouble some people, and understandably so. Three areas of apparent tension quickly come to mind.

What about evolution?
What about the days of creation?
What about miracles?

How do we tackle these questions?

Question of Miracles

The third area of tension, about miracles, can serve as a useful place to start. Did God speak in an audible voice from the top of Mount Sinai, as described in Exodus 19–20? Did Jesus multiply the loaves and the fish to feed five thousand men (Matthew 14:13–21)? Did Jesus cast out an unclean spirit from a man in the synagogue at Capernaum (Mark 1:21–28)? Do evil spirits even exist? Did Jesus raise Jairus’s daughter from the dead (Matthew 9:18–26; Mark 5:21–43)? Did Jesus himself rise from the dead (Matthew 16:21; 28:1–10)?

Quite a few people in our day would say that “science has shown us” that miracles are impossible. It is true that some scientists would claim that miracles are impossible. But other scientists, especially scientists who are Christians, would say that miracles are possible and that the miracles described in the Bible actually happened.

The difference in viewpoint here is not due to the results of scientific investigation. It is due to differences in people’s view of God and the world — to differences in worldview, we might say. If you believe in a personal God who can do whatever he wishes, you also believe that he can work in an exceptional way any time he wants. In other words, he can work a miracle. On the other hand, if you do not believe in God at all, you probably expect that there are no exceptions. You think that the laws of the universe are just mechanical and impersonal.

So the deepest question is about the nature of the world. Are the roots of the world ultimately personal or impersonal? God is personal. He made the world with personal purposes. And every day he continues to govern the world with personal purposes, even down to every detail (Psalm 104:14; Proverbs 16:33; Matthew 10:29–30).

Regularities (‘Law’)

The regular processes that scientists study are processes controlled by God. The regularities exist only because God exists. “He makes his sun rise” (Matthew 5:45; see Genesis 8:22). He causes “the grass to grow for the livestock” (Psalm 104:14). Science is possible only because there are regularities. And the regularities are there because God is consistent with himself. He has a plan, and he is faithful day by day in carrying it out.

But because God is personal, there may also be exceptional cases, which are due to his personal purposes. For example, the resurrection of Christ is highly exceptional. People in the first century did not have the findings of modern science that we have, but they knew just as clearly as we do that people do not rise from the dead. In other words, they knew right away that the resurrection of Jesus was an exception to normal experience.

So how is such an event possible? If God is God, he can make exceptions. No one can say to him, “Oh, by the way, you are not allowed to do that!” And in the case of the resurrection of Christ, we can see some reasons why God did it. It was not an irrational, meaningless exception. No. Through the resurrection of Christ, God not only brought the body of Christ to resurrection life, but accomplished deliverance from death and damnation for all who belong to Christ (Romans 4:25; 1 Corinthians 15:45–49). The whole of it makes sense, provided that you believe in God.

Let us consider God’s rule over the world in greater detail. God governs the world by speaking. “God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light” (Genesis 1:3). It is God who spoke and specified that plants reproduce “according to their kinds” (Genesis 1:11–12). It is God who rules the weather by speaking: “He sends out his word, and melts [the snow and ice]” (Psalm 147:18). When scientists seek to discover scientific laws, they are actually looking for the word of God that governs the processes they are studying. If they think they understand a specific regularity, they may call it a “law”: Newton’s laws of motion, Newton’s law of gravitation, Kirchhoff’s laws for electric circuits. These laws are human summaries of the actual law — namely, God’s word, his speech, which governs motion and gravity and electric circuits and everything else.

“Scientific investigation depends on God, day by day.”

It should be clear, then, that scientific investigation depends on God, day by day. It could never show the impossibility of miracles. Scientists discover what some of the regularities are. But they cannot tell God that he cannot act exceptionally.

Science Then and Now

The history of the rise of modern science confirms this principle. Many of the early scientists, like Nicolaus Copernicus, Galileo Galilei, Johannes Kepler, and Isaac Newton, were Christian believers themselves, or were heavily influenced by a Christian worldview. It was the Christian worldview that gave them the incentive to study the world and look for regularities. Because they believed in one God, who was the source of all rationality, they knew that the world itself was governed rationally. There was hope for understanding it. This hopeful situation contrasts with what happens in polytheistic religions. If there are many gods and if they fight with each other, the world itself is semi-chaotic. It may seem to be hopeless to find in it a consistent order.

The early scientists also knew that man was created in the image of God (Genesis 1:26–27). So there was hope that the human mind could be fundamentally in tune with the mind of God. Even though our minds are limited, there was hope that, with God’s help, we could begin to understand some of his ways in governing the world.

By contrast, in our day many people understand science as a discipline radically at odds with God. Scientific laws are thought to be an impersonal mechanism. It is this assumption about an impersonal origin, rather than the details of scientific experiments, that is the source of religious skepticism. In other words, when some people do work in science, they bring in an assumption about an impersonal origin, before they ever start. They bring that assumption into whatever science they study. Even Christians who engage in science may unconsciously absorb the assumption. It is inevitable, if they follow that assumption consistently, that they will not allow exceptions. They will deny the possibility of miracles.

This assumption of impersonalism helps to explain why there is so much conflict about evolution and the days of creation. The standard mainstream approach to evolution says that new plants and animals originate only by very gradual, unguided processes that go back to the first cell, and even before that (so-called “chemical evolution”). The framework of assumptions includes the assumption that God did not in a sudden way miraculously create any new species or any family of living things. People also hold this assumption when they come to the subject of the origin of humanity. Before ever looking at genetic information or fossil bones from apes, the mainstream scientist assumes, as a given, that humanity must have originated by gradual processes from earlier kinds of creatures. And the most likely predecessors are apes. (Even before the rise of Darwin’s theory, biologists who classified animals into larger groups saw that on anatomical grounds the natural larger group for human beings was the primates.)

Origin of the Universe

Similar influences from assumptions confront us when we look at scientific theories for the origin of the universe. The usual mainstream approach assumes from the beginning that there are no miracles, no discontinuities in the normal operation of physical causes. The reconstruction of the past history of the universe assumes that the past history operates in line with the same system of physical regularities that scientists can test today in the laboratory. It is an assumption. No one proves it. Indeed, no one can prove it, because we cannot literally transport ourselves into the past with a time machine. For all we know, God may have governed the universe differently in the past. God is a personal God, not a set of mechanical rules.

The key role of assumption becomes vividly evident if we consider briefly one of the theories that Christians have suggested, to show the possibility of harmony between the Bible and the current state of the universe. There are a number of such theories, and several of them have some merit. This particular theory, called the theory of “mature creation,” observes that God created Adam and Eve as mature (Genesis 2:7, 21–22). Neither of them was a helpless baby when God first created them. But if God created them mature, is it not possible that he created the entire universe mature? And could it not have been coherently mature, so that it coherently looked billions of years old? Let us suppose that Adam looked about 24 years old. So the universe could have looked 14 billion years old, at the end of the period of six days during which God created it and brought it to maturity.

Not everyone is fond of this theory. To some, it may feel like a trick. But it illustrates the fact that scientists do not actually know for sure how old the universe is. They cannot say to God, “You can’t do it that way.” God is God.

Difficulties with Mindless Evolution

Ironically, severe difficulties for scientific explanation arise not in a Christian approach, but in an atheistic approach. How? Most forms of modern atheism say that human beings arose by mindless evolution from random motions of atoms and molecules. According to these conceptions, we are a cosmic accident. Our origin is thoroughly impersonal. There is no personal plan from God. There is no special reason for expecting that human beings with their distinctly personal qualities would arise from the evolutionary goo. In the end, we are just blobs of goo. We just happen to have some peculiar and unaccountable abilities to be conscious and to think about truth.

“The theory of evolution fails to provide a basis for believing that it is true.”

But then can we trust our own minds? All that an atheistic theory of evolution requires is that we would be fit to survive. It cannot guarantee that our consciousness makes any difference (because survival is all about the proper firing of neurons, not consciousness). So there is no reason to believe that our minds are in contact with the truth. And if that is so, there is no reason to believe that the theory of evolution, which is a product of our minds, is in contact with the truth. The theory of evolution fails to provide a basis for believing that it is true.1

Guiding Principles for Dealing with Difficulties

Now, let us begin to list some of the guiding principles that can help us deal with apparent discrepancies between the Bible and science. In such a short space, of course, these principles are not a comprehensive treatment of such a large topic. For readers interested in learning more about the relationship between Scripture, science, and how God works in the world, I would recommend Reijer Hooykaas’s Religion and the Rise of Modern Science, John Piper’s Providence, and my own books Redeeming Science and Interpreting Eden.2

Principle 1

Our basic assumption: God rules the world.

We need as our basic assumption the truth that God created the world and that he rules it. God is our personal God, not a set of mechanical rules. God can act in exceptional ways (“miracles”) if he chooses. This assumption sets the stage for all the detailed study of the Bible and of the world.

Principle 2

God is consistent.

“There is no actual discrepancy between the Bible and the facts about the world.”

God is consistent with himself. Since he is consistent with himself, what he says in the Bible and what he does in ruling the world are consistent. There is no actual discrepancy between the Bible and the facts about the world. The discrepancies that come up are apparent. Because we are finite and God is infinite, we do not know everything. We cannot guarantee that, within one lifetime or many lifetimes on earth, we will be able to solve completely to our own satisfaction all the apparent discrepancies. There is hope that we might solve at least some of them, if not many of them, because the discrepancies are only apparent. But we cannot guarantee beforehand when a solution will arise.

We must be patient and trust God. He knows what he is doing, even when we do not. These are fundamental aspects of Christian living. Everyone in his individual life confronts events that seem inexplicable and frustrating and painful. The events may seem to be incompatible with God’s goodness and with what we expect him to do. (Think of Job.) The same kind of dissonance that happens in our personal life can also happen when we try to compare the claims in the Bible with the claims made by modern scientists.

Principle 3

The Bible is the word of God.

The Bible is what God says. God has put his word in writing, through human authors whom he raised up and directed. So what the Bible says is fully trustworthy. What the Bible says is true.

Whole books are devoted to showing that the Bible is the word of God.3 We cannot repeat all the arguments here. Let us mention only a few verses, in order to remember that the Bible makes this claim for itself. The most famous verse for showing that the Bible is the word of God is 2 Timothy 3:16: “All Scripture is breathed out by God.” Similarly, 2 Peter 1:21 says, “No prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.” Jesus affirms the divine authority of the Old Testament in a number of places (Matthew 5:17–20; 19:4; John 10:35). These verses are the tip of the iceberg.

Principle 4

God gave human beings dominion, so scientific investigation is legitimate.

As we saw earlier, the people responsible for the early steps in the growth of modern science operated with assumptions in tune with a biblical worldview. The truths about God and about their being made in the image of God actually encouraged their scientific explorations. The same should be true today. Scientists work more robustly if they can come back to serving a personal God, rather than imagining that laws are impersonal mechanisms.

Principle 5

Scientists’ formulations are not the word of God, but human reflections concerning evidence in the world.

Scientific formulations are not parallel to the Bible. The Bible is infallible, because it is the word of God. It is composed of words and sentences that God crafted (through human authors) in order to express the truth and communicate it to us. We can trust what it says.

By contrast, all the work of modern scientists is human work. God gives them gifts. God gives them insights. God gives them energy for their labors. But it is all fallible. Scientists may say many true things, but because they are fallible, we cannot merely assume that what they say is true. It has to be tested. And of course, when sciences are operating in a healthy way, the first line of testing is through other scientists. Experiments may be repeated, under varying conditions. Alternative hypotheses may be tried out.

Sometimes a particular scientific theory settles in. Scientists have growing confidence in a single theory, which the majority see as the right explanation, fruitful in further research. Newton’s theory of gravity became one such theory. It seemed to many scientists that it was a kind of final answer about the working of gravity. Knowledgeable people felt that it was destined never to be superseded. But it turned out, even then, that it was not the final theory. It was eventually superseded by Albert Einstein’s theory of special relativity and theory of general relativity.

Normally we have confidence in established theories, because they have borne the test of time. But even here, we should remind ourselves of several cautions.

Even well-established theories are fallible in principle.
Even well-established theories may have exceptions, because God is a personal God who can work miracles.
Even well-established theories, such as Newton’s theory of gravity, can be superseded in surprising ways by a later theory.
Even well-established theories can have deep difficulties and call for suspicion, if they rely on hidden assumptions that are false. For Darwinism, one such assumption is that biological development is unguided (purposeless).
Theories about the past require assumptions about the continuities of lawful regularities in the past. They are intrinsically on a less firm basis than theories that can be tested in the present (such as Newton’s theory of gravity, or Kirchhoff’s laws for electrical circuits).

We must therefore distinguish two kinds of scientific investigation. Historical science tries to reconstruct the past. It includes theories about the origins of kinds of plants and animals; theories about the origins of the geologic strata; theories about the origin of the moon, the planets, the comets, and the asteroids; and theories about the origins of galaxies. Nomothetic science studies the regularities of processes that are currently taking place. Nomothetic science is more firmly established, because it rests on repeatable experiments. Historical science has to deal with one-of-a-kind events in the past. Some of these events may have been miraculous. Nomothetic science avoids the difficulties of the miraculous by relying on repetition. A single anomalous event would eventually be excluded from a formulation that describes regularities.

Principle 6

Though the Bible is infallible, all later human interpretations of the Bible are fallible.

We must distinguish what the Bible says from what we or other human interpreters think it says or implies. The basic teachings of the Bible concerning salvation are clear. But not all the details of its affirmations are equally clear. The Westminster Confession of Faith gives a balanced summary concerning the clarity of the Bible:

All things in Scripture are not alike plain in themselves, nor alike clear unto all; yet those things which are necessary to be known, believed, and observed, for salvation, are so clearly propounded and opened in some place of Scripture or other, that not only the learned, but the unlearned, in a due use of the ordinary means, may attain unto a sufficient understanding of them. (1.7)

Because not everything is equally clear, and because even the parts that are clear can be twisted in people’s minds because of sin, all merely human interpretations are fallible.

Principle 7

Apparent discrepancies between the Bible and science are discrepancies between fallible human interpretations of the Bible and fallible scientific pronouncements, based on fallible interpretations of evidence from the world.

The source of discrepancies lies in human fallibility, which extends both to interpretations of the Bible and to everything in modern sciences. There is no discrepancy in God himself. There is no discrepancy between what the Bible actually affirms and what is true concerning the world.

Principle 8

An apparent discrepancy needs further investigation.

When we find an apparent discrepancy, we do not immediately know whether it is due to a mistake in biblical interpretation, a mistake in scientific reasoning, or both. We should continue to trust that God is true, and wait patiently while we try to find the sources of mistakes.

Principle 9

The Bible has a practical priority, because of its design by God.

God designed the Bible to function as our guide in life (Psalm 19:7–11; 119:105). It is wisely tailored to our need for guidance and the need for a comprehensive remedy for sin. Moreover, it is completely true. It is a verbal expression, unlike the nonverbal evidence found in the created world. We should trust what it says. But we should also beware of trying to force it to provide answers about technical scientific details, which lie beyond what it actually says.

Principle 10

When there is an apparent discrepancy, we should see whether there are competing explanations from scientists or from Bible interpreters.

Scientific opinion is often divided. There is often one or even several minority opinions, as well as a majority opinion. Majority opinion tends to get amplified by social pressure and in the popular press.

People who are not scientists themselves may feel that they are not competent to evaluate the claims of specialists. But frequently, scientists make claims far outside of their specialty, and in that kind of case they have no special competence beyond anyone else. Even when they make claims within their specialty, there may be competing viewpoints and competing claims that they do not want to mention. We do well to be aware that the actual work of science has a social component, and that healthy science includes healthy disagreements, which sometimes extend even into the middle of major theories. (There are to this day competing interpretations of the meaning of quantum mechanics.)

If an ordinary person wants to be well-informed about a particular special issue, he should be careful not merely to do his reading within a single circle of opinion, even if it is a Christian circle (other Christians may disagree).

Principle 11

The Bible gives us sufficient instruction for the next practical step in obeying God, even when we have many unanswered questions about the apparent discrepancies.

God is faithful, and he understands the limitations of our knowledge. He has given us enough to know him, through Jesus Christ, and to walk in his way.

Today we commemorate the birthday of John Ronald Reuel Tolkien, born 130 years ago on January 3, 1892. And today, as the works of so many of his contemporaries are being forgotten or relegated to reading lists for specialized literature courses, Tolkien’s two great masterpieces, The Hobbit (1937) and The Lord of the Rings (1954–1955), continue to live on — on the page and screen, and in the hearts of millions of readers all over the world.

So why have Tolkien’s works not just survived but actually increased in popularity in the decades since their release? We could point to their intricately woven plots, unforgettable characters, amazing settings, and wonderful descriptions, but none of these elements can adequately explain the passion that Tolkien readers typically display, or their desire to reread these long narratives again and again. For a better answer, we might look below the surface and ask, What makes Middle-earth the kind of world so many readers long for?

‘Fundamentally Religious’

On December 2, 1953, Tolkien typed out a fairly short, five-paragraph letter to his good friend Father Robert Murray, which would go on to become the most cited of all his collected letters. Father Murray had read and commented on parts of The Lord of the Rings and had reported that the work had left him with strong sense of a “positive compatibility with the order of Grace” (The Letters of J.R.R. Tolkien, 171–72).

Tolkien responded that he thought he understood exactly what Murray meant. Then he made his now-famous, often-quoted declaration: “The Lord of the Rings is of course a fundamentally religious and Catholic work; unconsciously so at first, but consciously in the revision” (172).

The Lord of the Rings is a fundamentally religious work? Despite having the author’s own word, at first glance this may seem a strange claim. The word God is never used in either The Hobbit or The Lord of the Rings, nor do we find any of the elements we typically associate with religion. The key to understanding Tolkien’s statement to Father Murray hinges on the word fundamentally. Paraphrasing Tolkien, we could say that The Lord of the Rings is in its fundamentals or at its foundations a religious work.

So how should we approach The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings to find the Christian elements? One further letter from Tolkien offers a clue.

Tolkien the Christian

In the fall of 1958, three years after The Return of the King was released, the final installment in The Lord of the Rings, an American scholar named Deborah Webster was asked to give a talk on Tolkien. Finding little about the author in print at the time, and there being no Internet, she took out pen and paper and wrote to ask Professor Tolkien if he would be willing to share some information about himself.

On October 25, Tolkien wrote back. He began by lamenting that insignificant details having nothing to do with an artist’s work are often the ones “particularly dear” to researchers, such as the fact that Beethoven swindled his publishers (Letters, 288). With regard to himself, Tolkien pointed out, some facts — such as his preference of Spanish to Italian — had an effect on The Lord of the Rings but did little to explain it.

Tolkien went on to say, however, that a few basic facts, “however drily expressed,” were “really significant.” For instance, the fact that he was born in 1892 and spent his boyhood in a pre-mechanical setting much like the Shire. “Or more important,” he continued, “I am a Christian,” and added, “which can be deduced from my stories.”

“The Christian element in Tolkien’s stories is present but not directly evident; it must be deduced.”

Here the word deduced is key. The Christian element in Tolkien’s stories is present but not directly evident; it must be deduced. In addition, the author tells us it can be determined from the stories themselves. While Tolkien’s letters and essays can shed additional light on the Christian aspect in his fiction, if we look below the surface, we can find it without needing external sources.

Founded on Faith

In an interview, Tolkien told Wheaton professor Clyde Kilby, “I am a Christian and of course what I write will be from that essential viewpoint” (Myth, Allegory, and Gospel, 141). Here, instead of the word fundamentally, Tolkien uses the word essential. The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings are in their essence Christian works, not on the surface. So while some Tolkien scholars label as Christian the fact (reported in the Appendices) that the Fellowship sets out from Rivendell on December 25 and the fall of Sauron is achieved on March 25 (a traditional date for the crucifixion), these details may seem more superficial than fundamental.

Instead, we might look for Tolkien’s Christian element in the profound sense of purpose that Bilbo, Frodo, and the other members of the Fellowship find in giving themselves to help others. We can also discern it in the objective right and wrong that Tolkien’s protagonists experience, even when facing their most difficult decisions. But perhaps the best illustration of the Christian foundations of Middle-earth can be seen in the divine providence we find there.

In his recent book Providence, John Piper notes that in reference to God, the word providence has come to mean “the act of purposefully providing for, or sustaining and governing, the world” (30). He suggests that another way to express what we mean by God’s providence is say that God “sees to it that things happen in a certain way.” Both ways of speaking about how divine providence works in our world also apply to Middle-earth.

Providence in Middle-Earth

In Gandalf’s final words on the last page of The Hobbit, Tolkien provides a hint of what has been behind all the so-called lucky events in the story. It is some years after Bilbo’s return to Bag End, and one evening Gandalf and Balin arrive for an unexpected visit. On learning that prosperity has come to Lake-town and people are making songs that say the rivers run with gold, Bilbo remarks how the old prophecies are turning out to be true.

“Surely you don’t disbelieve the prophecies, because you had a hand in bringing them about yourself?” asks Gandalf. Then he adds, “You don’t really suppose, do you, that all your adventures and escapes were managed by mere luck, just for your sole benefit?” (272). In Gandalf’s question, we find the first of several direct suggestions provided by Tolkien that there is far more than just luck or coincidence at work behind the scenes in Middle-earth.

Power Beyond the Ring-Maker

In the second chapter of The Fellowship of the Ring, Tolkien returns to the topic of who or what has been behind Bilbo’s adventures, specifically his finding the Ring. As Gandalf recounts its long history, he comes to Bilbo’s arrival at just the right time and putting his hand on the Ring blindly in the dark. Then Tolkien makes explicit what has previously been implied as Gandalf tells Frodo that the Ring was picked up by Bilbo not by luck or blind chance but because “there was more than one power at work, beyond any design of the Ring-maker” (56).

In Middle-earth, as in our world, the workings of providence are typically veiled, making them sometimes discernible only in hindsight. In words that briefly pull back this veil, Gandalf concludes, “Bilbo was meant to find the Ring, and not by its maker. In which case you also were meant to have it” (56). Here Gandalf uses the passive voice without specifying who or what it was that intended these events to take place, thus implying the work of divine providence in a way similar to the person who says, “God had a plan. We were meant to meet that day.”

More Than Mere Chance

Nine chapters later, at the Council at Rivendell, Elrond uses similar words to allude to the hand of providence. He begins by asking those in attendance, “What shall we do with the Ring, the least of rings, the trifle that Sauron fancies?” (242). Then in a reference to the benevolent power at work in Middle-earth, he explains, “That is the purpose for which you are called hither. Called, I say, though I have not called you to me, strangers from distant lands” (242). Here again, Tolkien uses words that readers themselves might use when speaking about providence in their own lives. Sometimes we, too, may believe that we were called by God to do certain task or to be at a certain place.

“In Middle-earth, as in our world, the workings of providence are typically veiled.”

As in our own world, divine providence in Middle-earth typically chooses to work behind the scenes in ways that are not directly visible. Because of this, some characters see not providence but mere chance. Elrond tells the members of the Council, “You have come and are here met, in this very nick of time, by chance as it may seem. Yet it is not so. Believe rather that it is so ordered that we, who sit here, and none others, must now find counsel for the peril of the world” (242). Tolkien’s point is that while the actions of providence have intention and purpose, to some they may appear as sheer coincidence.

Light from an Invisible Lamp

Do you need to be Christian to enjoy Tolkien’s works? Certainly not — as is evident from the millions of readers who have enjoyed Tolkien’s fiction without sharing his faith. In fact, one of the most remarkable aspects about The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings is their unique ability to engage and inspire people from all sorts of backgrounds. At the same time, as scholar Joseph Pearce points out, to fully understand Tolkien’s fiction, serious readers “cannot afford to ignore Tolkien’s philosophical and theological beliefs, central as they are to his whole conception of Middle-earth and the struggles within it” (Tolkien, Man and Myth, 100).

Born on January 3, 1892, J.R.R. Tolkien died 81 years later in 1973. Two years before his death, Tolkien received a letter from a fan who wrote, “You create a world in which some sort of faith seems to be everywhere without a visible source, like light from an invisible lamp” (Letters, 413). Tolkien responded by pointing out that if sanctity inhabits an author’s work or as a pervading light illumines it, this sanctity “does not come from him but through him.” Today, all those who have experienced this light that permeates Tolkien’s fiction join in celebrating both his life and his remarkable achievement.