Commending SCOTUS Overturning of Roe v. Wade

Commending SCOTUS Overturning of Roe v. Wade

Today, the Supreme Court handed down a 6-3 decision to overturn Roe v. Wade. I can’t quite express my thankfulness to God for His common grace in what, just a couple of years ago, would have been considered a near impossibility. The shackles of federal sanction and regulation of infanticidal murder have been broken it seems. The decision-making process has been rescinded to the states. While work must continue at the more manageable state level, this victory at the federal level means something…

Christian Values Have Prevailed Over Pagan Ones

When Cortez and his men first arrived in what is now Mexico, the initial interactions with the natives were cordial. However, upon discovering the Aztecs were a cannibalistic society that regularly and ritualistically sacrificed their own kin, Cortez opted for a change in relational dynamics. Similar cultural-turned-military conflicts took place in North America as well. It wasn’t white colonists that first afflicted the natives. The pagans were eating themselves. Pagans always eat themselves. Such is the world without Christ. Our own society, as it has drifted further and further from Christian virtue, has proven this on several different occasions.

Not only have we, as a nation, murdered well over 60 million infants in the womb since the 1970s, but we’ve also largely neglected the elderly, have refused to accept obvious biological differences between male and female, and have mocked heterosexual marital relationships to scorn. But today, by the providence of our sovereign Lord, a decision has been made that has the potential to nudge the cultural trajectory in a more suitable and virtuous direction. This decision, for rather than against life, marks the application of what used to be normative Christian thinking in the West. There has never been an idyllic “Golden Age,” to be sure, but there used to be a time when killing the innocent was generally unthinkable in modern Western society. It is Christian society that creates a context wherein innocence and life are enshrined with the dignity of divine imagery (Gen. 1:27).

In a Christian society, it is recognized that people are not evolved organic biological machines formed over millions of years by happenstance. People are God’s image bearers, highest in the order of creation second only to angels. As such, they are inestimably valuable and purposeful creatures (Matt. 6:26; 10:31; 12:2; Lk. 12:7, 24). Considering the rejection of the nature of man as having come from the hand of Almighty God, it’s no wonder pagan societies eventually devour their own, finding little to no objective value in themselves or their societies. The Greeks and the Romans killed invalids, the Aztecs murdered men, women, and children as sacrifice to their deities, and the Western secularists have murdered millions of children. There is no other alternative. It’s either Christ or death.

Today, however, a dark cloud of doubt looms over worldly sense of “progress.” There is a renewed civil hope that our great God may revive rational and ethical thought after all. And certainly, if this is the beginning of societal repentance, only blessings await.

May we continue to pray, preach, and fight for life.

Prudent Knowledge

Prudent Knowledge

The apostle Paul was an educator who deeply desired the intellectual growth of his brethren. A key reason for placing limits upon prophetic activity in the Corinthian church was, “that all may learn and all may be encouraged (1 Cor. 14:31).” He prayed for the Colossians church and disclosed his prayerful purpose in writing, “that you may walk worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing Him, being fruitful in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God (Col. 1:10).” Peter tells us that God’s “divine power has given to us all things that pertain to life and godliness, through the knowledge of Him who called us by glory and virtue (2 Pet. 1:3).” And it is to “virtue” that we are to add “knowledge (v. 5).” And this pays dividends in the form of growing in “the knowledge  of our Lord Jesus Christ (v. 8).” Peter goes so far as to command us to “grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ (2. Pet. 3:18).”

Maturity in theological knowledge, i.e. “the knowledge of God (Col. 1:10),” is a central imperative and admonishment dictated to the church in general throughout the pages of Scripture. This isn’t a trademark of the New Testament only. Such a thematic emphasis finds its background in numerous calls to knowledge in the Old Testament as well. For example, the supplication of the psalmist, “Teach me good judgment and knowledge, For I believe Your commandments (Ps. 119:66).” And in Proverbs 1:22 it is not the faithful who hate knowledge, but fools, “How long, you simple ones, will you love simplicity? For scorners delight in their scorning, And fools hate knowledge.” Knowledge and the maturity therein is a pervasive concept in Scripture.

A Purposeful Ambiguity?

A quick read of the several “knowledge statements” found in both Old and New Testaments leaves one asking, “Okay, I know I should know. But, how much do I have to know?” Obviously, we would immediately want to include the essentials of the faith within the “things-we-must-know” category. But that’s not all we are called to know, and our first encounter with those precious doctrines is not to be our only encounter.

Such quantitative ambiguity appears to be intentional on God’s part. How much knowledge must we have beyond the essentials? The nebulous nature of this knowledge and the extent to which we are to know leaves room for a number of factors—from subjective aptitude levels to subjective levels of available information. Some people cannot learn the way others learn. First to fourth century Christians would have had severely limited access to a complete New Testament canon depending on their respective lifetimes and locations. Additionally, we live in a busy age, and most people are taken up with secular affairs and cannot afford to study like a seminary student, professor, or full-time pastor. Thus, Scripture doesn’t present us with a curriculum beyond the essentials of the faith which we are commanded to stringently teach and learn. Yet, we nevertheless know that the Christian is to yearn for more divine knowledge, and that such a love for God exists is clearly the spirit and goal behind the “learning imperatives.”

To Speak, or Not to Speak?

This raises an interesting question: Should we be content with the mere letter of the text of Scripture? In other words, isn’t it enough that we memorize Scripture, that is, the ink as it sits upon the page, rather than travel down deep theological holes? 

In light of the above biblical observations, the answer has to be, “no.” A man may memorize the entirety of Scripture, but that does not mean his learning has reached its end. The God Scripture reveals is infinitely glorious, and He has revealed Himself to us that we may know and unceasingly grow in knowing. Therefore, the text of Holy Writ boasts of fathomless depths which each and every Christian should desire to plumb. But this doesn’t mean every Christian must be equal in the extent to which they plumb. Jesus, in the parable of the talents, assumes God gives according to ability. Such language takes for granted not only differing abilities, but even various levels of the same ability, “And to one he gave five talents, to another two, and to another one, to each according to his own ability; and immediately he went on a journey (Matt. 25:15).” And in Romans 12:6 Paul writes, “Having then gifts differing according to the grace that is given to us, let us use them…” And these gifts are given by God Himself, “A man can receive nothing unless it has been given him from heaven (Jn. 3:27).”

All Christians ought to press on to know God. Not all Christians will know God to the exact same degree. Some who know to a great degree will benefit others through the fruit of their intellectual labors. Others who do not know to a great degree may benefit from such fruits. Still, there are some who do not know to a great degree who desire to speak on things they do not yet understand to a sufficient degree. 

The first group is obeying God in seeking more knowledge. The second group is obeying God in seeking more knowledge. But the third group has a choice. It is not wrong to desire to teach that which is not yet understood by the would-be teacher. Teaching is a qualification for eldership after all, and the desire to be a teacher has to begin somewhere (1 Tim. 3:2). But those who speak publicly prior to first understanding the subject to be spoken of are disobeying God in speaking to things they do not yet understand. And this might result in a violation of the ninth commandment (Ex. 20:16), stumbling blocks in front of fellow saints (Mk. 9:42), slips into erroneous and dangerous doctrine, etc.

Therefore, while it is imperative we know God and grow in our knowledge of God, it is not imperative we all grow to the same degree. And it is especially not imperative we speak to doctrines we have not yet grown into. Quite the contrary. If we speak to that which we do not yet understand we may actually dishonor God, cause confusion among the saints, and fail to adorn the gospel of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Conclusion

Aquinas once wrote—

The existence of God and other like truths about God, which can be known by natural reason, are not articles of faith, but are preambles to the articles; for faith presupposes natural knowledge, even as grace presupposes nature, and perfection supposes something that can be perfected. Nevertheless, there is nothing to prevent a man, who cannot grasp a proof, accepting, as a matter of faith, something which in itself is capable of being scientifically known and demonstrated (Summa Theologiae, I, Q. 2, A. 2).

In other words, while some men, endowed by their Creator, may take pains to explore the contours of divinity revealed through nature, those unable to do so—for any of the limiting reason mentioned above—may instead accept the same truths otherwise deduced according to the light of nature by faith in the divine Word set forth in Holy Scripture. Thus, those things which might be known of God through both nature and Scripture may justifiably be known by one or the other, but not necessarily both.

It is fitting that man should know God through wherever he might learn of Him—either through nature or Scripture. And though this is expected of those whom God has called and endowed to perform it, it is not required of man generally. This same principle might be applicable even to knowledge derived from Scripture. Not everyone will go on to learn Hebrew, Aramaic, or New Testament Greek. Not everyone will write a biblical theology like those penned by the hands of John Owen, Geerhardus Vos, or Greg Beale. Why? Not only are some not intellectually incapable of doing so, but some are providentially hindered by other God-given responsibilities.

Let us, therefore, humbly go forth according to the grace God has given each of us.

Spurgeon on the Stiff & Stilted Pastor

Spurgeon on the Stiff & Stilted Pastor

Long has it been the expectation of social Christianity for clergy to maintain a sort of aloof and other-worldly demeanor among their congregations. It seems odd, think many, for the pastor to demonstrate some likeness or continuity between  himself and the members of the church the Lord has called him to serve. When he discloses his interests, hobbies, or shows others he, too, is indeed capable of “having fun,” the reaction is not necessarily one of recoil, but perplexity.

This somewhat amusing dynamic between a pastor and his people isn’t only cause for a chuckle, it should—I believe—be the object of some serious concern. Such an aloof attitude, while succeeding at a level of professionalism, can end in a sort of isolation or separation of the pastor from his flock. Such a disjointment often results in the pastor’s ignorance of the congregational pulse. “Where are they, doctrinally and practically? What are their needs? Who are they? How should I pray for them?” are all questions which may lack answers if such “professionalism” is allowed to form a wall between the under-shepherd and the sheep entrusted to him by Christ.

Asking Spurgeon for Help

The Prince of Preachers, Charles Spurgeon, saw the dangers of such an approach. In his Lectures to My Students, ch. 12, he writes on ‘The Minister’s Ordinary Conversation’. If our day has yielded its fair share of superficial, stereotypical ministers, Spurgeon’s day is no exception. He writes, “let [the minister] remember that the more simple and unaffected he is, the more closely will he resemble that child-man, the holy child Jesus.” Such a statement discloses to us Spurgeon’s heart on the matter. He goes on, “I have been irresistibly led to remember some of my dignified brethren of the teaching and preaching fraternity, who are so marvelously proper at all times that they are just a shade amusing. Their very respectable, stilted, dignified, important, self-restrained manner is easily acquired; but is it worth acquiring (Lectures, 166)?”

Spurgeon understood that, at the end of the day, such decorum may, in point of fact, serve as nothing but a façade. It is the fabricated wall placed between the sheep and their under-shepherd—all, of course, in the name of professionalism. Such a formalization of the ministerial office isn’t helpful, neither to the minister who is in need of knowing his people, nor to the laity who are in need of being known by their under-shepherd.

The Inhumanity of Stilted Ministers

The minister of the gospel should be relatable. The under-shepherd is but a fellow sojourner on this earth en route to the Celestial City. Nothing avails the pastor who would pretend this is not the case by abstracting himself from the rest of the flock. He must labor to see himself as a fellow parishioner. Spurgeon writes, “We must have humanity along with our divinity (Lectures, 167).”

The religious elite of Jesus’ day placed between themselves and the common-folk an insurmountable barrier. This is part of the reason Jesus’ relatability was quite the taboo in their eyes. “Why do You eat and drink with tax collectors and sinners (Lk. 5:30)?” they would ask. Jesus, relating their own sentiments, says, “The Son of Man has come eating and drinking, and you say, ‘Look, a glutton and a winebibber, a friend of tax collectors and sinners… (Lk. 7:34).’” Jesus was profoundly relatable. If anyone possessed the social credit to exalt themselves above others, it was Jesus Christ. Yet, in His ineffable humility, He is seen relating to the people throughout the gospels.

Unlike Jesus, gospel ministers have no social credit granting the warrant for self-exaltation, yet it is often the gospel-minister who sees himself as one above his fellow congregants; if he doesn’t really think this way, chances are he acts this way. For this reason, it is difficult for the laity to personify their spiritual leaders. And this is a problem. The person who ought to be the most relatable is often the most isolated, abstract, and unapproachable.

The Effeminacy of Stilted Ministers

There are several things in this chapter worthy of serious consideration. Spurgeon is not deriding any and all professionalism for those who hold the pastoral office. Quite to the contrary, he is arguing for a genuine relatability which nevertheless maintains a self-conscious awareness of how special and important the ministerial office is. This does not, however, require inaccessible formalism. For Spurgeon, such attempted transcendence on the part of the pastor is emasculating. In a whirlwind of wit made of one part hilarity and another incisiveness, he writes:

A well-known minister was once rebuked by a sublime brother for his indulgence in a certain luxury, and the expense was made a great argument. “Well, well,” he replied, “there may be something in that; but remember, I do not spend half so much upon my weakness as you do in starch.” That is the article I am deprecating, that dreadful ministerial starch. If you have indulged in it, I would earnestly advise you to “go and wash in Jordan seven times,” and get it out of you, every particle of it. I am persuaded that one reason why our working-men so universally keep clear of ministers is because they abhor their artificial and unmanly ways.

The pseudo-fundamentalism of the 50s and 60s bred an oversimplified understanding of Christian theology, in the name of practicality, while at the same time encouraging a lucidly impractical division between minister and laity. For this reason, no matter what he said from the pulpit, the pastor failed to engender a truly practical disposition toward his people. He was and often is seen as a school-boy who can’t relate to wrench-turners, horse-boarders, or factory workers. The pastor’s hands are soft, and his inaccessible formality rightly represents his aloof ignorance of a genuine, practical masculinity. The pastor may be able to diagram a Bible verse in Greek, but the laity knows he hires someone to mow his lawn.

This is perhaps more true today than it was in Spurgeon’s. During my time in college, I was astounded at the number of seminary students who were attending credit courses on their wives’ hard-earned dime! Such a strategy sets the gospel-minister up for failure. The time will come when he is called to a church only to find himself in the midst of a bunch of men who would never think of doing such a thing.

Conclusion

There are two extremes to which pastors most often swing. Either they are overly self-deprecating (and this actually bleeds into a depreciation of the pastoral office); or they are hyper formalized. Neither of these extremes are good. The man of God must be guided by the Word of God, and his attitude and disposition, public and private, must be soaked in prayer. A hyper-formalized minister does nothing but regurgitate what he wanted to study throughout the week. Often, he has no idea whether or not it was what his congregation truly needed. And this is because he has placed a wall between himself on the one side and them on the other.

We need gospel men to inherit pulpits, who are concerned not with formality so much as they are concerned with bringing the whole Christ to their congregations every Lord’s Day.

The Magical Jab & the Unfalsifiable Premise

The Magical Jab & the Unfalsifiable Premise

This will not be a terribly long post. I have sermon preparation to do. Nevertheless, as I parsed the river of thought running through my mind, it occurred to me that I probably need to throw out into the public a response I’ve been making in my head to a mainstream argument coming from the immuno-vangelistic propaganda. This argument is typically used by those experiencing breakthrough cases of COVID 19, and it goes something like this, “I’m sick, but it would have been way worse if I hadn’t been jabbed!”

The general population, vastly under-equipped to spot logical incoherence in any given statement, let alone carefully crafted propaganda, will likely miss the terrible line of reasoning in the above example. What is wrong with it? It proffers an unfalsifiable premise. There is no reason to believe the statement is true because there is simply no way to verify its truth. They could just as easily say, “Good thing I took the jab. If I didn’t COVID may have turned me into a zebra!” Even though we might intuit the absurdity of that statement, there is no formal way to investigate whether or not its true. It would be like claiming the USA has a secret space base on the other side of the moon. The person making that statement has a right to his opinion, but there is no way his skeptical friend could prove it false. The moon is tidally locked to the earth after all.

Just because a person makes a claim, it does not mean said claim is true. At the end of the day, it must be verified by others if indeed those others are expected to take it seriously. My wife and I had COVID 19 some months ago. We were not vaccinated. And many of the breakthrough instances occurring in vaccinated persons appear to come with the exact same duration and intensity of COVID 19 symptoms. By making the claim breakthrough COVID patients are better off with the vaccine because their symptoms are more palatable is to make a claim beyond the scope of proper verification, and thus does nothing formally to boost the reputation of the mRNA shot.

 

Covenants, Law, & Nature – A Response to Gary DeMar

Covenants, Law, & Nature – A Response to Gary DeMar

Delving into this discussion is always a difficult quandary for me, mainly because I’m usually at a loss in terms of where to begin. It’s complicated, really. There are two debates: One between classical theism and presuppositionalism, and another (related) debate between two-kingdom theology and reconstruction theonomy. I will not go into details about these debates here, but Gary DeMar’s recent article, ‘Biblical Examples of Church and State Jurisdictional Separation’, sets one foot in the former debate and another in the latter debate.

Before you get sucked into reading what follows, a working grasp of both aforementioned debates would be helpful if not necessary to fully understand what will be said here. But I will try to clarify as I go along for those of you who are just now familiarizing yourselves with the broader discussion(s).

DeMar’s article fundamentally relates to the debate between a particular version of two-kingdom theology and his more reconstructionist understanding of theonomy, which largely follows a Gary North/Bahnsen-esque trend. Two-kingdom theology understands natural law to be (1) objective; and (2) knowable. And this is consistent with a classical theistic or scholastic understanding of natural revelation (what is) and natural theology (our knowledge of it). Reconstructionist theonomy tends to affirm natural revelation while denying a stable or usable knowledge of natural revelation as a basis for any sort of civil judicial system. This is because an objective knowledge of natural revelation would imply a natural theology, something rejected by Cornelius Van Til, Greg Bahnsen, and others of their ilk. It would also imply the natural man can understand something of natural revelation accurately, an idea that cuts against the grain of (especially) Van Til’s view of total depravity.

DeMar’s [Insufficient] Reason for Denying Natural Law

Right off the bat, in his article, DeMar takes to attacking the two-kingdom use of natural law, “Some will argue that [morals, governmental jursdictions, and separation of powers] can be accounted for using natural law,” he says. And this position would generally characterize the Reformers and the post-Reformed, who understood natural law to be foundational to civil ethics. Yet, by way of rejecting this position, DeMar offers an alleged reason such use of natural law should be seen as untenable, “But Darwinism ended natural law as a basis for anything except change (emphasis added).” He then quotes Gary North:

Charles Darwin destroyed natural law theory in biological science…. His successors destroyed natural law theory in social science. In the 1920’s, quantum physics destroyed natural law theory in the subatomic world. This immediately began to undermine modern legal theory.

This type of reasoning is highly problematic. If natural law is true, then neither a perversion of nor an attempted rebuttal to it would say anything about its objective reality. Let’s extend their reasoning to a fundamental claim of Christianity—the inerrancy of Scripture. Christians believe the Bible is inerrant. It is really inerrant regardless of what the scoffer might say in response to such a claim (on this we’d all agree). It would seem, however, according to DeMar’s style of reasoning, that a scoffer could invalidate the inerrancy of Scripture merely because he either perverts it (a la., Karl Barth), or rejects it (Julian Wellhausen). But orthodox Christians would never grant this to be the case, would they? Absolutely not.

Therefore, if natural law is true, then it is true regardless of what scoffers (e.g. Darwin) say about it.

DeMar’s Conflation of Being and Knowing

Everyone who rejects outright relativism either implicitly or explicitly affirms a difference between the order of being (what objectively is, i.e. reality) and the order of knowing (our knowledge of it). If these orders are confused, knowing and being becoming virtually synonymous, then our knowledge essentially creates reality. Unqualified subjectivism or relativism inevitably ensues.

When DeMar makes the claim that Darwin “ended natural law as a basis for anything except change,” he is confusing these two orders. What Darwin thinks (order of knowing) of natural law makes no difference as to what natural law is (order of being, objective reality). It is what it is regardless of what a person thinks he or she knows about it. If natural law and its validity stands or falls based on one’s thoughts about it, then relativism is the consistent result from such rationale. Reality is or is not based on what people like David Hume, Immanuel Kant, or Charles Darwin thought about it, or so it is implied. The Christian should reject this kind of thinking outrightly.

Paul clearly states that, “what may be known of God is manifest in them (Rom. 1:18), and that, “His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made (v. 20).” Romans 1:18, i.e., “manifest in them,” is further elaborated upon in Romans 2 with the law written on the hearts of the Gentiles. Presuppositionalists obviously trivially accept what Romans 1 says, but they will immediately emphasize v. 18, which says the natural man suppresses this knowledge in unrighteousness. But this does absolutely nothing to natural revelation. While the sinner is in the wrong, natural revelation and thus natural law remain an authoritative source of revelation nonetheless. It’s so authoritative, in fact, that it leaves its dissenters “without excuse,” and eligible for judgement (vv. 20, 26).

Therefore, natural revelation and natural law maintain their full integrity even though sinful man perverts and ultimately rejects it. And this makes DeMar’s claim that, “Darwin ended natural law as a basis for anything except change,” one of shame and compromise. He’s essentially claiming Darwin, a heathen, changed that which God instituted and revealed from the foundation of the world. And he’s also rejecting fundamental reality as nothing more than a Heracletian change-scape with no objective moral force. This is not a position available for the Christian.

DeMar’s Lack of Covenantal Clarity

DeMar gives another example of Joe Biden rejecting the natural law alluded to by Justice Clarence Thomas during his confirmation hearings. But in light of the above, a denial of reality in thought doesn’t automatically equate to a falsification of reality.

Arguing for “biblical jurisdictional separation,” DeMar’s version of a separation between church and state, he begins to invoke the Old Testament, “Moses became the chief judicial officer in Israel, assisted by numerous lesser civil magistrates (Ex. 18:17-26).” There is nothing wrong with DeMar’s observation here, per se. What is wrong is his presupposition that the Old Covenant ought to expressly inform our understanding of modern church/state relations. This may sound foreign to some. “Isn’t the Bible God’s Word, and should not God’s Word be applied to all of life?” it may be asked.

The question assumes something that is true, namely, that God’s Word is the regulating standard for the Christian’s faith (what we believe) and practice (how we live according to what we believe). However, what DeMar does here is quite sloppy. First, he fails to make a distinction between moral precepts and positive precepts. Second, he does not even consider the implications of the New Covenant, brought out in places like Hebrews 8:13, “In that He says, ‘A new covenant,’ He has made the first obsolete. Now what is becoming obsolete and growing old is ready to vanish away.”

DeMar is arguing for the implementation of standards belonging to an obsolete and annulled covenant. The way in which the magistrate interacted with the priesthood in the Old Testament came precisely through the Mosaic Covenant. But if the Mosaic Covenant is gone, then surely the dynamics of magistrate/lesser magistrate instituted through it are gone as well. What would be our standard for understanding a quasi-continuation of the Old Covenant if Scripture itself annuls its formal and material cause, its final cause being met in Christ? There is none.

The moral law, or the Ten Words, were part of the Mosaic Covenant, and one may opine, “If government is to operate according to the Ten Commandments, then the Mosaic Covenant must be appropriated somehow.” But this is both wrong and unnecessary. The moral law or the Ten Commandments did not come through the Mosaic Covenant, but were already in force prior to it, and were merely included within the Mosaic Covenant. Even the Sabbath was operative prior to the revelation of the Law-covenant at Sinai (Ex. 16). If one were to study Genesis, they would find every moral precept in the Ten Commandments were both known and in force prior to the implementation of the Ten Commandments within the context of the Sinai Law-covenant (Mosaic Covenant).

The question, then, would be, “How were they known?” I believe Romans 2 helps us confirm an answer to this question we should be able to know through reason, “God’s law is known to man apart from the Law-covenant, i.e. Gentiles who are without the law know the law.” Even prior to the institution of the Law-covenant in Exodus 20ff, the moral law was apprehended and applied to society without any express or systematic Scriptural revelation. In other words, it was assumed. This continues to be the case today. And though these natural laws are carried out imperfectly within sinful society, this says nothing about the existence and objectivity of natural law itself. It only says something about man’s sin and his rebellion against God.

All of DeMar’s examples concerning the dynamics of church/state relations are examples drawn from within the Mosaical context, a context which no longer exists with the establishment and inauguration of the New Covenant (cf. Hebrews 8). It is mention-worthy that DeMar does not cite a single extra-Mosaical or otherwise New Covenant example to bolster his point. Consistent application of the Mosaic Covenant in this fashion would lead to a belief that any given country is obligated to be a theocracy with a monarch and an informing priesthood. And this is exactly what Roman Catholicism tried to accomplish, and often succeeded at doing throughout certain points in history. The inverse example can be found in the Protestant (often Lutheran & Reformed) churches who were ruled by monarchs. Instead of the church ruling the monarch (a la., Rome), the monarchs ruled the church. None of this, of course, bore good fruit. And, I would say, the only reason Gary DeMar is likely alive (along with many of us) is because of the tolerance of Oliver Cromwell and the eventual rebellion of the Protestant churches against the monarchs (think non-conformists). Not to mention, the nation eventually spawned by such independent thought, the United States.

All of this seems to be lost on DeMar with his over-commitment to reconstructionism, which is actually nothing more or less than a reimplementation of Mosaical institutions which the New Testament has abolished. It’s his “blind-spot,” I believe (Lord help us, we all have them).

A popular retort has been, “But Jesus said, ‘Do not think that I came to destroy the Law or the Prophets. I did not come to destroy but to fulfill (Matt. 5:17)’!” I agree! But the term law must be qualified. It’s used equivocally time and time again in the New Testament. So, which law was Jesus speaking of? The temporal Mosaic covenant, or the eternal moral law? If one reads through the Sermon on the Mount, they would see the eternal moral law is most certainly in view.

To tie this up in a pretty red bow, and bring it back to my earlier claim, that DeMar “fails to make a distinction between moral precepts and positive precepts”: Moral precepts, which just is natural law, are nothing more than a revelation of the unchanging moral character of God applied to creaturely living. Positive precepts are those things commanded beyond mere moral law, and they sit upon moral law much like a superstructure sits upon a foundation. But positive commandments come through covenant and are, therefore, subject to the purpose of the covenant, e.g. for a specific people, place, time, etc. The Mosaic Covenant included countless positive precepts which went beyond the unchanging moral law of God. Included in those positive precepts were the ceremonial and civil laws, which often intertwined with one another, as DeMar himself notes in his article. But these laws are expressly annulled by the New Testament.

The later institution of a monarch in Israel represents an amendment to the original design of the Mosaic Covenant. Yet, the Israelite monarch was a type instituted to look forward to the other and greater antitype, King Jesus.

Conclusion

I will close by summarizing my criticisms above in the form of a brief argument:

(1) If the dynamics between kings and priests are perpetual for every human society, then the laws defining kings and priests are perpetual.

(2) If the laws defining kings and priests are perpetual, then the Old Covenant is not annulled.

(3) But the Old Covenant is annulled (Heb. 8).

Therefore,

(C1) The laws defining kings and priests are not perpetual.

Therefore,

(C2) The dynamics between kings and priests are not perpetual for every human society.

Perhaps the most significant blunder in DeMar’s political theology is his neglect of covenantal distinction. That which comes through any given covenant cannot be fragmented or separated from its original covenantal context. As it is, the New Covenant annuls the Mosaic Covenant and all that which originated through it.

In my opinion, DeMar could strengthen his position if he stopped appealing to the Mosaic Covenant and its positive-temporal precepts, instead making appeal to the Noahic covenant in Genesis 8-9, which sets the judicial standard, not only for Israel, but for all creation as the result of sin coming into the world. And it can thus be applied to all societies, yet with a degree of liberty in terms of the particulars. I believe this is what John Calvin had in mind with his two-kingdom political theology in book IV of his Institutes. The moral law must be applied throughout society, since it is the natural standard for the whole world without exception. And so long as the moral law of God is what any given civil law seeks to serve, then said civil law may be justified.

I realize I now open myself to the question, “By what standard do nations execute the moral law?” But while the moral standard is the same across the board, the mode of upholding it may be compared to something like individual Christian liberty. In this case, there would be a sort of national or civic liberty in the mode of enforcing the moral law, since there is no specific mode of enforcement revealed in Scripture for nations who do not live under the Mosaic Covenant, but only general principles.

DeMar’s concern seems to be one we should all share. “How do we overcome the subjective interpretations and perversions of natural law?” But this concern doesn’t warrant a wholesale rejection of natural law theory. And to answer the question, “How do we overcome the subjective interpretations and perversions of natural law?” I would say we do so in the same manner we overcome subjective interpretations and perversions of the Scripture: We argue about it, and to the victor goes the spoils. Such is our lot in a sinful world, with no utopian solution.

This is why we need to be collectively pushing for a recovery of logic in ethical and political discourse. Arguments are the means by which we justify our theses, and this is true regardless of whether or not we see natural law or the positive commands of Scripture as the standard for civil justice. False interpretations of either will persist, and only by logical discourse can we get to the bottom of what and what is not true.

And, I would add, no other environment has allowed for this to occur more effectively than that of the environment protected by the Constitution of the United States of America over the last couple centuries.

The Amalgamated Man

The Amalgamated Man

Something about humanity has drastically changed over the last few centuries. Consider the contrast between the 17th century man and the 21st century man. At the risk of overgeneralizing, the 17th century man accomplished more in forty years than the 21st century man might accomplish in a lifetime. Often, twelve-year olds were more educated than today’s average adult, having a rather large vocabulary and even a multilingual education. Prior to the 18th century, it was not altogether uncommon to find men of the educated class who were experts in multiple fields of study. Today, everyone seems to be relatively educated, but almost no one could consider themselves as an expert in multiple career fields. Today, even individual sciences have further specifications the average schoolman might master.

Little to none of this massive shift should be attributed to genetics. Nor should we venture to blame it solely on the rise of technology (although it is not altogether unrelated). The cause seems instead to rest within the rise of modern psychology as a primary interpretive or observational science of man. Though observational in nature, psychology has, relatively recently, taken a formative role in terms of how man thinks about himself. What’s worse is the extent to which man’s psychologically-driven understanding of himself is anachronistically imposed upon figures from the past. In other words, history has been affected by man’s contemporary understanding of his current self.

Modern psychology tends to see man as an amalgamation of traits, properties, or attributes. It doesn’t begin, per se, with personhood defined as imago Dei (image of God). Instead, it approaches man as a conglomerate of personality traits and passions (especially sexual, a la., Freud). More than this, it inadvertently casts individual persons into personality molds. Once psychology assesses a person’s personality at any given life-stage, it issues a decree: “This person is X, Y, or Z.” The (perhaps unintended) effect? The assessed person goes on casting themselves as an X, Y, or Z personality. Much like a placebo, modern psychology, in its mere exercise of observation, inevitably begins to shape a person’s beliefs about him or herself.

Imagine, for example, a young boy who, throughout grade-school, is constantly berated for his love of the arts. “You’re gay!” his classmates might jest. Or, “You’re weak!” the jocks might shout in the hallway. It is no wonder a boy who hears such descriptions of himself for years on end might begin to actually believe them. Something similar happens within modern educational and psychological structures (which permeate almost every institution). In education, for example, there is now the concept of specialty. Gone are the days when medical doctors address multiple aspects of the human body. Increasingly, they concern themselves only with neurology, to name one example. And then, even within neurology, there are sub-specialties. This doesn’t only occur within the medical field, where complexity may demand more refined areas of study and thus more laborers. It also occurs in the liberal arts. Now, we could speculate as to why this is. It certainly doesn’t hurt the profit margin of colleges and universities, does it? But I’m more interested in what this has done to the modern man—

A white-collar man is now assumed to be aloof from all blue-collar work. Blue-collar men are too “simple” to converse with the white-collar class. And often times this is truly the case. But it’s a self-fulfilling prophecy. There was a day when this was not the case. Those who had access to the tools of education were often not distant nor ignorant of various, practical trades. For example, William Kiffen, a Baptist minister in 17th century England, was an astute and pastoral theologian. Yet, he was one of the more wealthy men in England, granted his skillful business arrangements as a merchant. Benjamin Keach was a brewmaster (of all things), and made part of his living from such. John Owen, the good doctor himself, was chaplain to Oliver Cromwell, and was with him in the Scotch-Irish conquests. Moving backward in time, Albert the Great was a medieval physician, theologian, and philosopher. Of course, the most popular example of a man who concerned himself with multiple sciences is Leonardo DaVinci, but he wasn’t an island unto himself. There were others before and after the Renaissance who understood themselves as capable images of the divine.

We now have all sorts of personality assessment tools used in the corporate and academic world. These may be helpful in terms of communication and work-relationship improvement. But they’ve almost become definitive of how people think of themselves. If the test says the person is a strong personality, prone to less relatability having a more task-driven bent, that person may think, “This is my personality, and none else.” They implicitly trick themselves, thenceforth, into thinking they are unable to adapt to circumstances which may not conduce to their “personality type.”

As alluded to above, this thought process has been anachronistically superimposed upon Christ. In his recent, somewhat helpful, book, Gentle and Lowly, Dane Ortlund struggles to centralize the Person of Christ around a single quality, i.e. His lowliness. But this struggle is a self-inflicted wound made by the knife of modern psychology. If modern psychology sees man as an amalgamation of qualities, properties, or emotions, then it follows one such property must win out. This is a struggle arising from the faulty starting-point of modern psychology, where the nature is almost entirely absent from the conversation, while behavioral traits are the sole definitional factors in determining the nature of a person. Instead of nature giving way to various accidents and behavioral characteristics, behavioral characteristics and emotional dispositions define and even determine the nature. This is backwards, and it explains the constant teetertotter in Ortlund’s Gentle and Lowly, where he wants to affirm the centrality of Christ’s gentleness, but also wants to avoid detracting from other crucial properties of His Person (cf. ch. 3).

Modern psychology apparently sees man much like a playdough figurine. He’s compose of all different colors of playdough, some colors being more prevalent than others. The modern psychologist, upon observing what he thinks to be more prevalent colors, makes a diagnosis, and this diagnosis declares the man to be a static instantiation of his most habitual color. He cannot escape that diagnosis, no matter how hard he might want to. He is simply stuck that way. Such is the way of the contemporary opposition toward “deconversion therapy” of homosexuals, and the oft-parroted licentious statement, “I was born this way! I cannot change!” The psychologist has defined his patient, and now his patient must always think of himself according to the psychologist’s definition.

In closing, what if we stopped thinking of mankind this way? What if we understood each an every person to be, first and foremostly, a creation of God which bears God’s image. And then, what if we defined God’s image according to what God actually says it is? If we did that, I think we would have another Renaissance. And given the unprecedented availability of resources today (contra to the 17th century), we wouldn’t only have a few Leonardo DaVincis or Albertus Magnuses, we’d have countries full of them. The change agent in all of this, of course, is the gospel. It is the gospel which teaches us who man was, what man’s problem is, and where man’s restoration and glorification is found, i.e. in Christ Jesus alone (who, by the way, was a carpenter, a fisherman, a peripatetic philosopher-teacher, and orator—a nice blend of blue and white collars).