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This post examines the evangelical view on scriptural inspiration as derived from scripture itself.

First, in the Old Testament, it is clear that Moses and the prophets claimed verbal inspiration from God, as well as presented written revelations from God. Many passages, such as Ex 19:6-7, show that God spoke words to Moses, who then presented them to the people (“… These are the words that you shall speak to the people of Israel. So Moses came and called the elders of the people and set before them all these words that the LORD had commanded him.”) Prophets introduced their messages with, “Thus says Yahweh,” identifying the source of their words (e.g., I Kings 20:13 - And behold, a prophet came near to Ahab king of Israel and said, “Thus says the LORD, Have you seen all this great multitude? Behold, I will give it into your hand this day, and you shall know that I am the LORD”). Other prophetic revelations are also frequently introduced with the phrase, “The word of Yahweh came to (me), saying…” (Jer 30:1). Some of the prophets begin their books with the declaration, “The word of Yahweh,” implying that the entire book is God’s word (e.g. – Hosea 1:1, Joel 1:1, Micah 1:1).

It is also clear that the New Testament treats the Old Testament as inspired. Often, the words of the Old Testament are attributed to God. Luke 1:70 states of God that “he spoke by the mouth of his holy prophets from of old.” Matthew 1:22 records, “All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had spoken by the prophet.” The Old Testament is also, in the New Testament, held to be God speaking not only in the past but to us in the present. For example, Paul, in Romans 15:4, states, “For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, that through endurance and through the encouragement of the Scriptures we might have hope.” Repeatedly, citations of the Old Testament are treated as proofs, as noted in the introductory phrase, “It is written.” False beliefs are often traced to an ignorance or denial of the Old Testament scriptures. Jesus and the writers of the New Testament presented arguments that assume the truth of the words of scripture.

The New Testament also asserts the inspiration of the Old Testament. II Timothy 3:15-17 states that “all scripture”, all of the holy writings are inspired. They are “God-breathed” (theopneustos), the product of the Spirit of God. Not just the writers, but the writings themselves are inspired. II Peter 1:20-21 similarly proclaims, “… knowing this first of all, that no prophecy of Scripture comes from someone’s own interpretation. For no prophecy was ever produced by the will of man, but men spoke from God as they were carried along by the Holy Spirit.

The New Testament writings also claim inspiration for themselves. The apostles were commissioned by Christ to speak authoritatively for him. II Peter 3:2 states “that you should remember the predictions of the holy prophets and the commandment of the Lord and Savior through your apostles.” It is evident that the apostles regarded their preaching and writing as God’s word. In Galatians 1:11-12, Paul claimed, “For I would have you know, brothers, that the gospel that was preached by me is not man’s gospel. For I did not receive it from any man, nor was I taught it, but I received it through a revelation of Jesus Christ.” Some New Testament writers refer to other NT writings as Scripture. 1 Tim 5:18 quotes Luke 10:7 as scripture, for example. II Peter 3:16 refers to the letters of Paul as scripture.

Many other examples of each of the above points could be produced, but the brief discussion above is sufficient to establish the scriptural teaching on inspiration. The evangelical view of inspiration is that Scripture is the written, propositional Word of God in human form, accommodated to human understanding, and without error. Inspiration is both plenary and verbal. “Plenary” inspiration implies that the totality of Scripture is full inspired in all that it teaches or asserts. “Verbal” inspiration means that the words of Scripture are inspired, human words in human language penned by human authors, reflecting human styles, based in a cultural setting and historical situation. Those words were willed by God to convey His revelation, express His truth and declare His will.

The question is often asked, “How did the church decide which books are considered part of the Christian canon?” There are at least five criteria used by the church in discerning which books are to be considered authoritative for Christian life and teaching. Using Robert Bowman’s description, these are apostolicity, antiquity, authenticity, ubiquity, and catholicity. I will take a look at each of these in turn.

In order to be considered canonical, a work must be considered to have been authored by an apostle or an associate of an apostle. Thus, direct apostolic authorship was not insisted on as long as some form of apostolic authority could be established. This is the only criterion, in and of itself, which would earn a work a place in the canon of scripture. As one looks at each of the New Testament books, one finds that each meets this criterion for inclusion.

A second criterion, which is subsidiary to the first, is that of antiquity. The authorship of the work must have been by a leader from the church’s first generation. If a writing was the work of an apostle or someone closely associated with an apostle, it would, of course, meet this criterion. Later writings, no matter how meritorious, could not be considered canonical.

A third criterion is that of authenticity. Simply put, the church considered the historical traditions regarding the work’s authorship and authority. This criterion, of course, overlaps with those we have already discussed. It was important that a work have traditional support as being an authentic work of the one to whom it was attributed. It is an interesting fact that the four gospels included in the New Testament canon were all anonymous. In contrast, one finds that the “gospels” which proliferated in the late second century and later all claim to have been written by apostles and other eyewitnesses. From this fact, two things are obvious: First, the importance of being judged to be an authentic work of an apostle, and second, a distinction between the true canonical gospels and the pretenders.

Fourthly, a work was judged by its ubiquity, that is, by its acceptance and use by churches throughout the known world. If a work enjoyed only local recognition, it would not be acknowledged as canonical. Although many works were initially addressed to individuals or local congregations, to achieve canonical status they must have attained more widespread recognition. This criterion is derived from the belief that the Holy Spirit would convict Christians everywhere of his word.

Lastly, a writing was judged to be a part of the canon based on its catholicity. This does not imply that its content agrees with teachings of the Roman Catholic Church. Rather, the term catholicity refers to a works consonance with known New Testament writings and the church’s “rule of faith.” The fifth century “Vincentian canon” defined catholicity as “what has been believed everywhere, always, by all.” When previously unknown Gospels or Acts attributed to apostles began to surface, their teachings were compared with the accepted teachings of the church, especially with regard to the person and work of Jesus Christ.

Was inspiration necessary for canonicity? These two concepts are almost identical to the Christian church. To be canonical is to have been inspired by God. To have been inspired by God is to be canonical. Inspiration is not a criterion of canonicity, but a corollary of canonicity.

Today, people the world over will be celebrating the life of St. Patrick. Most have no clue what they are celebrating and many don’t care to know. To them, it is a day of revelry, parades, and drunkenness. But, just who is St. Patrick and why is he celebrated. David Plotz has an article here in which he attempts to separate facts from fiction. According to Plotz:

The facts about St. Patrick are few. Most derive from the two documents he probably wrote, the autobiographical Confession and the indignant Letter to a slave-taking marauder named Coroticus. Patrick was born in Britain, probably in Wales, around 385 A.D. His father was a Roman official. When Patrick was 16, seafaring raiders captured him, carried him to Ireland, and sold him into slavery. The Christian Patrick spent six lonely years herding sheep and, according to him, praying 100 times a day. In a dream, God told him to escape. He returned home, where he had another vision in which the Irish people begged him to return and minister to them: “We ask thee, boy, come and walk among us once more,” he recalls in the Confession. He studied for the priesthood in France, then made his way back to Ireland.

He spent his last 30 years there, baptizing pagans, ordaining priests, and founding churches and monasteries. His persuasive powers must have been astounding: Ireland fully converted to Christianity within 200 years and was the only country in Europe to Christianize peacefully. Patrick’s Christian conversion ended slavery, human sacrifice, and most intertribal warfare in Ireland.

Plotz dispels a few myths about Patrick (such as his driving the snakes out of Ireland) and points out that he has been co-opted by many groups who would like to claim him as part of their cause. Irish catholics and protestants argue over whether he is a protestant hero or a catholic hero (at least both claim his life was heroic). New agers and gay-rights activists have claimed he lends support to their causes. Plotz states that Ireland has quietly celebrated St. Patrick for 100’s of years, but it “took the United States to turn St. Patrick’s Day into a boozy spectacle.” In truth, it appears Patrick did accomplish much for his country and for the kingdom of God.

According to Thomas Cahill, author of How the Irish Saved Civilization, Paddy’s influence extended far beyond his adopted land. Cahill’s book, which could just as well be titled How St. Patrick Saved Civilization, contends that Patrick’s conversion of Ireland allowed Western learning to survive the Dark Ages. Ireland pacified and churchified as the rest of Europe crumbled. Patrick’s monasteries copied and preserved classical texts. Later, Irish monks returned this knowledge to Europe by establishing monasteries in England, Germany, France, Switzerland, and Italy.

In my previous two posts, I have commented on Greg Koukl’s argument in the latest issue of Solid Ground in which he claims that postmodernism self-destructs. Koukl winds up his argument with a simple statement of reality - We actually do know things to be objectively true! There are many illustrations which could be offerred to support this statement. Koukl uses the illustration of a map. He describes what takes place when one uses a map:

Maps gives us a representation of reality that we initially believe is accurate, that is, we hold its information to be true in the objective (correspondence) sense. There is a simple way to test to see if that belief is correct. We find our current location on the map, plot a course, and move out. If our beliefs are true, we get where we intend to go. If not, we’ll learn that soon enough.

My wife’s Honda Oddysey contains a wonderful invention called a navigation system which has helped on numerous occasions. It is basically a map with the ability to tell you exactly what is your location on the map and how to arrive at your destination. It is almost always correct in its analysis of reality. It can be intensely frustrating, however, when it is wrong. But, guess what! I know when it is wrong and when it is not. I know when what it says matches up with reality. Koukl continues the analogy:

Our beliefs about reality are like that map. We are constantly testing our beliefs to see if they are true, that is, they match up with the world. We lay them on top of what we think is reality and then look for a fit. We pay attention to our awarenesses of our environment. We form beliefs. Then we test those beliefs against the world. When they match up, we know our beliefs are true. We drive and then arrive. Every time we use a map, or take medicine, or drive on the freeway, or navigate from the bedroom to the bathroom in the middle of the night, we prove postmodernism false. Virtually everything we do successfully relies on getting some of our beliefs about the world right. If we couldn’t consistently know objective truth, we’d be dead in a day.

Yesterday, I referenced Greg Koukl’s latest article in Solid Ground, the newsletter of Stand to Reason. In it, he argues for the self-destructive nature of the postmodern view of truth and knowledge. One of the objections which he anticipates and answers in the article is the charge - “You’re just talking like amodernist. You’re trying to judge postmodernism by Enlightenment rules of logic. We don’t play that language game.” How should one respond to that objection.

Here’s the beginning of Koukl’s response:

Of course, this reply is not really an answer; it’s a dismissal, a dodge. It also misses a very important point: Concerns about contradiction and other rules of logic are not rooted in modernism at all. They are not arbitrary designs of Western minds anyone can opt out of, like how many jumps are allowed in a game of checkers. Their use goes back to the ancients who simply acknowledged them as inescapable features of reality.

He argues that the principles of reason, among other things, are essential to discursive thought. Even if one is not familiar with the term “law of non-contradiction”, he knows the concept. One needs not be taught such a thing, she learns it through contact with reality. When one appeals to rules of reason, argues Koukl, one is not talking like a modernist, but like a human being. So-called alternative logics are really nothing more than fantasy. Furthermore, anyone attempting to refute the laws of reason must employ them in the process.

Greg Koukl, in the latest issue of Solid Ground (found here), continues a series in which he has been examining postmodern thought. In this issue, he illustrates that the postmodern view of truth contains fatal flaws which cause its own self-destruction. First of all, he briefly describes the postmodern take on truth as follows:

Remember that in postmodernism (PM), there is no truth in the ordinary, natural sense of the word. “Truth” is either a story well constructed, a cultural narrative that works for a local community, or simply a synonym for “belief.” What we think we know about the “outside” world is merely a reflection of our cultural language on the inside, the “story” we find ourselves trapped within. Therefore, all claims to know objective truth are false because each of us is imprisoned, incapable of seeing beyond the limits of his linguistic constructions.

I think this is a fair representation of the postmodern take on truth. Koukl, then points out the fatal flaws contained in this understanding of truth. The first is that the postmodern view of truth and knowledge is self-refuting. An example of a self-refuting statement is, “All English sentences are false.” This statement contains the seeds of its own destruction. If this sentence is false, it is false. If it is true, it must also be false. Hence, this statement can be dismissed. Koukl points out that postmoderns write books and give lectures employing carefully detailed arguments meant to convince others that their conclusions about truth and knowledge are sound. They are convinced that postmodernism offers an accurate description of how things really are.

The listener is left with two options. Here is how Koukl sums it up:

First, we can take the evaluation as its advocates intend (though they don’t quite put it in these words) – as an accurate, objectively true, trans-linguistic, trans-cultural explanation of how knowledge works. Simply put, we can agree with them that they got it right. But this is precisely what we are not allowed to do given PM. No one can escape the linguistic trap, not even postmodernists.

The only alternative left is to apply the deliverances of postmodernism to postmodernism itself. In that case, PM is reduced to nothing more than a linguistic construction. But this renders the postmodern view trivial, a regional, parochial perspective that has no more claim to universal legitimacy than any other view. It can simply be ignored by any of us not interested in playing that particular language game. The postmodern view is doomed in either case.

If a person claims that there is no truth, or that we cannot know the truth, one must simply ask the question, “Is that true?” If it is true, it’s false. If it’s false, it’s false. Either way, it is self-refuting and can be dismissed.

William F. Vallicella at Maverick Philosopher recently commented on a few politically correct terms which have become used and abused in our present culture. The first term he responds to is homophobia. Here is what he says:

Homophobia - A phobia is an irrational fear. But one could be morally opposed to homosexual practices without having any fear of them, let alone an irrational fear of them. ‘Homophobia’ is thus a question-begging epithet. People who use it beg the question against their opponents: they presuppose what they need to argue for, namely, that there cannot be any reasonable moral opposition to homosexual practices. The tactic here is to psychologize the opponent so as to make it appear that opposition could only have an irrational origin in some psychological defect. Leftists and liberals use terms like ‘homophobia’ to close off debate and render genuine issues intellectually invisible. No doubt some lefties are just along for the ride linguistically speaking: they do not consciously aim at closing off debate; they parrot a term they have heard others parrot. I suggest they stop being linguistic lemmings.

Whatever one’s stand on this issue, it is a genuine one that ought not be occluded by the use of a silly PC expression. Note that I haven’t taken any position on the morality of homosexual practices. My point is the more subtle one that the issue ought not be hidden from view by the use of a question-begging and question-burying epithet.

I could not agree more. Labeling a person who is opposed to the practice of homosexuality on the basis of moral opposition is a cheap (and often effective) way of stopping the conversation. I oppose the practice of homosexuality because I think that it is immoral. I oppose extramarital sexual relations because I think that it is immoral. With what perjorative term will I be labeled for my opposition to this practice? Adulteraphobic? I oppose murder on moral grounds, so I suppose I am homocidophobic! Relegating moral opposition to an irrational fear does nothing to encourage meaningful debate about any issue. We would all do well to refrain from labeling those who disagree with our viewpoints as irrational unless we have established that the basis for their viewpoint is truly an irrational fear.

Barton Swaim, at First Things, recently responded here to a recent essay by Steven Weinberg in which he asserted that a decrease in religious certitude in the West has led to markedly increased scientific knowledge. Weinberg contrasts this with the situation in the Islamic world where religious certitude is still quite high. Weinberg stated:

Even though American atheists might have trouble winning elections, Americans are fairly tolerant of us unbelievers. My many good friends in Texas who are professed Christians do not even try to convert me. This might be taken as evidence that they don’t really mind if I spend eternity in Hell, but I prefer to think (and Baptists and Presbyterians have admitted it to me) that they are not all that certain about Hell and Heaven. I have often heard the remark (once from an American priest) that it is not so important what one believes; the important thing is how we treat each other. Of course, I applaud this sentiment, but imagine trying to explain “not important what one believes” to Luther or Calvin or St. Paul. Remarks like this show a massive retreat of Christianity from the ground it once occupied, a retreat that can be attributed to no new revelation, but only to a loss of certitude.

Much of the weakening of religious certitude in the Christian West can be laid at the door of science; even people whose religion might incline them to hostility to the pretensions of science generally understand that they have to rely on science rather than religion to get things done. But this has not happened to anything like the same extent in the world of Islam.

Swaim’s central point in response to Weinberg is that Weinberg is mistaken that there has been a great decline in religious certitude in the West. It is not that there is now an overwhelming sense of certitude throughout present day Christianity, it is just that there has never been among the majority who have been called “Christians”. Swaim states:

What strikes me about this passage is Weinberg’s breezy assumption that, until very recently, everybody or almost everybody who considered themselves Christians adhered to the doctrines of Christianity with total or nearly total conviction. This assumption is common among highly intelligent people, like Weinberg…

Of course, they were nothing of the sort. From its birth, the Christian Church has counted among its members people possessing vastly different levels of certainty and fervor. The writers of the New Testament themselves were already chiding Christians whose commitment to the risen Savior was less than wholehearted… So it has always been.

Swaim then takes a brief look back at various periods of Christian history, including the 17th and 18th centuries - times when one might think there was a vast amount of Christian certitude. This was not the case. Swaim argues:

Believing that a fully divine Jesus Christ had risen and now lived—assenting to that claim with heart and mind—was neither easier nor more difficult in 1640 than it is in 2007. Jesus himself was nowhere to be seen in 1640, and the only witnesses to the truth of his claims were found in ancient manuscripts, the veracity of which were easily doubted.

Swaim concludes his response disagreeing with Weinberg’s assertion that secularization is somehow causally related to the advancement of science. Swaim maintains secularization has little to do with inward beliefs and more to do with outward practice, commerce, and urbanization. Among his concluding thoughts:

Its driving forces are commerce and urbanization, not scientific “proofs” for the nonexistence of God or the unreliability of the Bible or even discoveries about the nature of the material world. These last factors, whatever their merits, have been around for thousands of years and as antagonists of religious faith are neither stronger nor weaker than they ever were. The number of “Christians” in the West, defining that term loosely, has obviously and dramatically dropped off in the last half-century. Still, I find it difficult to believe that the number of people who now believe in, say, the bodily resurrection and ascension of Jesus Christ is substantially fewer than was the case two hundred or five hundred or a thousand years ago. And even in Western Europe, where Western secularization has reached its furthest point, people disbelieve not because they’ve consciously rejected Christianity but because they know scarcely anything about it.

The point here is not that secularization is unimportant or that it hasn’t had profound (and in recent decades woeful) consequences for Western societies. The point, rather, is that Steven Weinberg and people like him are committing a grave error in historical interpretation when they posit a causal relationship between secularization and the advance of modern science.

I appreciate the insight of Rabbi Marc Gellman, senior rabbi of Temple Beth Torah in Melville, New York, into the significance of the resurrection of Jesus Christ for the Christian faith. Having read a number of modern “Christians” who assert that the resurrection of Christ doesn’t matter to Christianity, I find it refreshing that a Non-Christian Jewish rabbi gets it. In a recent Newsweek column, Gellman expresses regret that an orthodox Jewish filmmaker would make such a film. Al Mohler points out here that this is not the most interesting part of Gellman’s column. It is his comments on the significance of the resurrection which are especially worth noting:

If this was indeed the tomb of Jesus, then not only is the Christian Testament false but, worse, Christianity is a cruel deception, à la “The Da Vinci Code,” foisted on the world by Jesus’ panicky followers to help market a faith led by a dead messiah. I don’t think that is how Christianity was born, and I don’t think interfaith relations are improved when a Jewish filmmaker implies such a thing.

Gellman understands that if Christ was not raised (bodily) from the dead, Christianity is a “cruel deception”. He goes on:

Some Christian respondents to this film have said that even discovering the bones of Jesus would not seriously undermine their faith. They say that 2,000 years of tradition does not just get canned because somebody found some bone boxes in the basement of the Israel Museum. I know many Christian clergy who have told me that the main truth of Christianity for them is to love as Jesus loved and that no archeological discovery can change that spiritual lesson. I love these folks but, as an outsider, I just don’t agree that decisive refutation of Jesus’ resurrection would have no effect on Christian faith. Unlike Judaism and Islam and Hinduism and even Buddhism, which are built on God’s teachings, Christianity is built both on God’s teachings as well as on an historical event proving a transcendental miracle.

I find it ironic that Gellman understands Christianity more clearly than many who profess to be Christians. Again, he states:

The divide separating Christians from non-Christians is not between those who think loving all people is good and those who think loving all people is bad. The real divide is between those who believe that Jesus rose from the dead on the third day as proof that he was indeed the Messiah sent by God, and those who do not believe this article of faith and this audacious historical claim.

Mohler summarizes Gellman’s statements as follows:

Yes Rabbi Gellman, this is an “audacious historical claim.” Christians do believe and teach that Jesus Christ rose from the dead — a physical and historical resurrection. The rabbi is absolutely correct in asserting that, if the bones of Jesus had been found in this tomb, Christianity would be proved to be false. Those bones were not found, of course, and the scholarly community has responded to the claim with dismissal and disdain.

The more interesting question is why so many who identify themselves as Christians seem to miss what the rabbi sees. Rabbi Gellman does not believe that Jesus Christ was raised from the dead, but he does believe that Christians must believe that Jesus was raised from the dead. He is right, of course. The rabbi gets it.

Fred Sanders, at Middlebrow, has found what he purports to be the tomb of Jesus! The permalink to the post is here (but it is not working well on my computer so if necessary here is the link to Middlebrow - scroll down to 3/1/07 post by Sanders).