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Robert E. Sagers
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Robert E. Sagers is a Ph.D. student in systematic theology at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary in Louisville, Ky., where he also serves as Special Assistant to the Senior Vice President for Academic Administration. Originally from West Linn, Ore., Robert teaches adjunctively at Boyce College, and co-teaches a Bible fellowship class at Highview Baptist Church in Louisville.
Jill, a young girl, has been transported to another world, and nears a stream to satisfy her thirst—but sees a lion, a lion that frightens her. And then, the lion speaks: “If you’re thirsty, you may drink.”
Anyway, she had seen its lips move this time, and the voice was not like a man’s. It was deeper, wilder, and stronger; a sort of heavy, golden voice. It did not make her any less frightened than she had been before, but it made her frightened in rather a different way.
“Are you not thirsty?” said the lion.
“I’m dying of thirst,” said Jill.
“Then drink,” said the lion.
“May I—could I—would you mind going away while I do?” said Jill.
The Lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience.
The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
“Will you promise not to—do anything to me, if I do come?” said Jill.
“I make no promise,” said the Lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
“Do you eat girls?” she said.
“I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms,” said the Lion. It didn’t say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
“I daren’t come and drink,” said Jill.
“Then you will die of thirst,” said the Lion.
“Oh dear!” said Jill, coming another step nearer. “I suppose I must go and look for another stream then.”
What would you do if you had only two days left to live?
It’s not a question far-fetched, if Harold Camping‘s prediction on the timing of the rapture is correct. Of course, Camping’s prophetic processes are quite open to critique, and perhaps easy to dismiss as the warmed-over ruminations from a man who’s, frankly, been wrong on this before.
Insofar as such a prediction about the end of the world requires a response, Christians should respond—and respond biblically, theologically. But the church’s proper response to the May-21-rapture-hoopla isn’t, I’m confident, to hope Jesus doesn’t return on Saturday.
Some years ago while sitting in a preaching class the professor made mention of the sensational, now (then?) laughable, 88 Reasons Why the Rapture Will Be in 1988. When that prediction failed, he noted, the author followed up with other books—The Final Shout: Rapture Report 1989, for example, and 23 Reasons Why a Pre-Tribulation Rapture Looks Like It Will Occur on Rosh-Hashanah 1993. (HT for book titles.)
And yet, the professor then asked: were we disappointed that Jesus didn’t return in 1988? He wasn’t referring to those who, say, didn’t know Christ at that point, but to those who did—might we, in our lives and attitudes, be subtly sending the signal: this life is better than the fullness of the reign of our Lord, the conquering and victorious king Jesus?
That convicting word came to mind as I thought about this latest doomsday prediction—predictions that, as others have pointed out, have been—and will be—with us to, well, the end.
But that certainly doesn’t mean that in the face of (unbiblical) prophecies about the end times that we cease to pray: “Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven” (Matt 6:10).
After all, what signal might we send if we, as Christians, were happy for Jesus not to return on Saturday?
When it comes to the media’s reporting on religion, historian Martin E. Marty distinguishes between what is considered “news,” and what is considered a “feature.” He writes: “if religion is covered as news, the bad stuff will predominate; if it appears as features, the good side gets a chance to show.” Marty continues:
News waits for someone to embezzle or kill or seduce another in the name of God. Features allows for creative reporters to get up close to believing and behaving people who use their imagination, faith, energy, and communal spirit to serve others.
Supporting his assertion, Marty points to a New York Times article on disaster relief in response to the recent tornadoes in the South. This kind of media attention seems to be, at least in part, positive toward Christians—if perhaps rarer than many believers might hope.
Christians don’t minister for the hope of a media spotlight, of course, nor do Jesus’ words at judgment include anything about whether the sheep’s good works showed up on CNN.
But would it be wrong to be thankful for such coverage when it comes, and to pray that these types of “features” might strike an unbelieving reader—perhaps even an unbelieving journalist—as different, as intriguing, as pointing to—as featuring—Christ?
College professor A. J. Conyers recalled once hearing a lecture in which the speaker, a man who’d been involved in the American political scene, “urged upon us the idea that only force, strength, ruthless use of violence and an iron will could earn the respect of friends and foes in this ‘real world which is, in fact, a very tough neighborhood.’”
An audience member, Conyers noted, objected that such a view on life seemed to resonate little with Jesus’ teachings. The speaker answered: “‘Yeah—and look what happened to Jesus!’ He flailed his arms outward, holding them as if on the crossbeam of a gibbet: ‘They crucified him.’” The crowd clapped in response. The speaker, Conyers wrote, “only said out loud what everyone else had already concluded: ‘Failure, persecution and pain, instead of success, appreciation and a good retirement—that’s no way to end up.’”
The church of Jesus Christ confesses a different way of seeing the world, a different way (John 14:6) altogether. Jesus Christ—the crucified one, the one who rose from the dead—calls his followers to a different kind of force, a different kind of strength, a different kind of violence, a different kind of kingdom than does the wisdom of the world.
This Saturday, that between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, it’s worth remembering the one who “humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Phil 2:8)—not that he would stay in the ground, but would come out of it, in glory. “Therefore God has highly exalted him . . .” (Phil 2:9).
As we think about Jesus, the one who lay dead in the grave, it’s worth remembering that following Christ does indeed mean a call to crucifixion—and that really is the only way to end up: in resurrection, in glory.
Liberal Christianity can only supply an ineffectual echo to the massive chorus of agreed and admitted unbelief. Don’t be deceived by the fact that this echo so often “hits the headlines.” That is because attacks on Christian doctrine which would pass unnoticed if they were launched (as they are daily launched) by anyone else, become News when the attacker is a clergyman; just as a very commonplace protest against make-up would be News if it came from a film star.
By the way, did you ever meet, or hear of, anyone who was converted from scepticism to a “liberal” or “demythologised” Christianity? I think that when unbelievers come in at all, they come in a good deal further.
Lewis provides here, perhaps, a word of encouragement to some—and a word of warning to others.
The discussion continues over Rob Bell‘s newest book, Love Wins: A Book about Heaven, Hell, and the Fate of Every Person Who Ever Lived. And people are purchasing it: at the time of my writing this, the book is listed as the #3 bestselling book at amazon.com—the #3 bestselling book overall.
Yesterday afternoon Southern Seminary hosted an approximately 90-minute discussion on the book (audio, video), with panelists Albert Mohler, Justin Taylor, Denny Burk, and Russell Moore. Mohler led the panel through the discussion by critiquing the biblical and theological meaning of words included in the title (and subtitle) of Bell’s book—including discussion on love, heaven, hell, and lastly, “the fate of every person who ever lived.”
You can watch the entire panel, below.
Having read the book, I don’t believe it lacks a good number of critique-worthy components. The discussion over Bell’s latest could go on for quite some time—or, at least, until the book falls from its lofty position near the top of an online bestseller list.
Some years ago dc Talk released a song entitled, “Red Letters,” a song about Scripture. “There is life,” they sang, “in the red letters.”
But isn’t there life in the so-called black letters of the Bible, as well? Surely the words of Moses, Isaiah, Peter, and Paul are just as Spirit-inspired as those we see printed in red?
This past week Russell Moore addressed those kinds of questions in a sermon on the doctrine of Scripture. Moore expressed his desire that someday, “somebody would make an honest Bible, in which all of the letters are red.”
You can listen to a clip from the sermon—a clip that runs about a minute and a half long—by clicking the link, below.
At the beginning of the live portion of his excellent Lamb of God album, Andrew Peterson reads aloud the following excerpt—an excerpt, I learned with the aid of Google, from The Jesus Storybook Bible, authored by Sally Lloyd-Jones:
No, the Bible isn’t a book of rules, or a book of heroes. The Bible is most of all a Story. It’s an adventure story about a young Hero who comes from a far country to win back his lost treasure. It’s a love story about a brave Prince who leaves his palace, his throne—everything—to rescue the one he loves. It’s like the most wonderful of fairy tales that has come true in real life!
You see, the best thing about this Story is—it’s true.
There are lots of stories in the Bible, but all the stories are telling one Big Story. The Story of how God loves his children and comes to rescue them.
It takes the whole Bible to tell this Story. And at the center of the Story, there is a baby. Every Story in the Bible whispers his name. He is like the missing piece in a puzzle—the piece that makes all the other pieces fit together, and suddenly you can see a beautiful picture.
The Lion all began with a picture of a Faun carrying an umbrella and parcels in a snowy wood. This picture had been in my mind since I was about sixteen. Then one day, when I was about forty, I said to myself: ‘Let’s try to make a story about it’.
That’s interesting. A mythical creature born of Lewis’ (then unregenerate) imagination led to the writing, twenty-four years later, of the classic children’s novel.
But the faun, of course, was not the central character of Lewis’ work. The author continues:
At first I had very little idea how the story would go. But then suddenly Aslan came bounding into it. I think I had been having a good many dreams of lions about that time. Apart from that, I don’t know where the Lion came from or why He came. But once He was there He pulled the whole story together, and soon He pulled the six other Narnian stories in after Him.
I wonder if Lewis’ experience with the lion Aslan reflects something of the wonder in the Israelites’ longing for the Messiah. All of Israel’s hopes of redemption took form in the person, the work, of Jesus—”the Word became flesh” (John 1:14), “the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end” (Rev 21:6).
It’s been difficult to keep up with all the blog buzz regarding Rob Bell‘s forthcoming book, Love Wins—a book in which, some have predicted, Bell exchanges the doctrine of hell for some form of universalism.
The book’s promotional video has caused quite a stir. Even the title of the book has been critiqued, perhaps causing some to ask: does love really win in the end?
Justin Taylor, the best I can tell, initially provided the largest platform for the video. (There are currently 1,321 comments posted beneath that post.) Since then, I’ve seen links to posts from Denny Burk, Trevin Wax, Joshua Harris, Kevin DeYoung, and Albert Mohler, each of whom has written about Bell and his latest book. There have been, I’m confident, scores of other responses written thus far, as well.
Wax’s post reminded me of Timothy Stoner’s, The God Who Smokes. (Wax posts relevant excerpts from that book.) Stoner recalls in The God Who Smokes a conversation that took place among members of his theology discussion group. He inquired as to whether Rob Bell really believed that sincere adherents of non-Christian religions—”they reject Jesus”—would be saved. After a moment of palpable silence, a man who had been a founding member of Bell’s church and served in leadership roles there—and who was on a first-name basis with Bell—blurted out, “Of course that’s what he believes!”
In reflecting on that conversation, Stoner notes that he has not been able to confirm or deny the accuracy of this man’s statement, but what troubled him was that “this is what a friend who really ought to know is convinced Rob believes. That’s the danger of posing too many questions,” Stoner continues. “You may wind up confusing your own friends, if not yourself.”
Yesterday evening Darrin Patrick pointed to (the first part of) a review from someone who’s read Bell’s new book. Here’s what he has to say about Bell on hell:
But he [Bell] makes no apology for his declaration that while Hell is a real place, and people will go there, it’s not forever. Ultimately, God’s love will prevail for every person and they will be restored. So I would say that what the recently-released promo video for Love Wins suggests, the book confirms.
I hesitate to state it, given my not having read the book, but that view of hell sure sounds a lot like that of (the anathematized) Origen to me.
Tony Jones has provided his own take on the Bell situation. (HT: AW.) Jones, no stranger to evangelical critique, predicts that Bell will respond to all the controversy over his latest book with a general sense of apathy.
Until Love Wins hits bookstores—or, at least, hits amazon.com—most of us may be left to conjecture, or to the opinions of the better-informed. Bell on hell will likely be an evangelical discussion topic of choice for a season.
But regardless of how all of this turns out, I do hope that evangelicals won’t concede the language of “love wins” to Rob Bell. Love does win, after all. “God is love,” John writes (1 John 4:8), and Paul notes that love is the underlying theme of the eschaton: “So now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; but the greatest of these is love” (1 Cor 13:13).
At judgment, Jesus Christ will make the final pronouncement for each of us (Matt 25:31-46). Sheep or goats. Righteous or unrighteous. The kingdom or…hell.
At judgment, each of us will be looking Love in the eye. He’s won. He’ll win.
New Testament scholar B. B. Warfield, on skeptics and apparent contradictions in the biblical text:
It is not enough to point to passages difficult to harmonize; they cannot militate against verbal inspiration unless it is not only impossible for us to harmonize them, but also unless they are of such a character that they are clearly contradictory, so that if one be true the other cannot by any possibility be true. No such case has as yet been pointed out. Why should the New Testament harmonics be dealt with on other principles than those which govern men in dealing with like cases among profane writers? There, it is a first principle of historical science that any solution which affords a possible method of harmonizing any two statements is preferable to the assumption of inaccuracy or error—whether those statements are found in the same or different writers. To act on any other basis, it is clearly acknowledged, is to assume, not prove, error. We ask only that this recognized principle be applied to the New Testament.
I’m just a few songs in, but am already compelled to point y’all to the latest offerings from Sojourn Music here in Louisville. These brothers and sisters are so gifted, and they are so good to share those Spirit-gifts with the rest of us.
“These songs are just a way for us to point to truth,” Jamie Barnes says in the video, below. “Hopefully, that’s what good art will do—it will point to a good God who’s the Author and Creator of everything.”
One was Russell Moore’s post, “Loving My Invisible Neighbor.” “It’s easy for me to love my neighbor,” Moore begins. “It’s easy, that is, as long as my neighbor is invisible.” Of course, God doesn’t give us invisible neighbors. And the ones we can see are more difficult to love than the ones we can’t.
The other was this quote from C. S. Lewis’, Letters to Malcolm: Chiefly on Prayer. Lewis acknowledges the insight that it is easier to pray for others than for himself, but this may not be for reasons altogether altruistic. Lewis writes (with italics added):
I’m afraid, however, I detect two much less attractive reasons for the ease of my own intercessory prayers. One is that I am often, I believe, praying for others when I should be doing things for them. It’s so much easier to pray for a bore than to go and see him. And the other is like unto it. Suppose I pray that you may be given grace to withstand your besetting sin (short list of candidates for this post will be forwarded on demand). Well, all the work has to be done by God and you. If I pray against my own besetting sin there will be work for me. One sometimes fights shy of admitting an act to be a sin for this very reason.
It is indeed “so much easier to pray for a bore than to go and see him,” or to petition to God for a man’s financial need while spending our tax refund on a down payment for a boat. The gospel calls us to pray for one another, certainly. The gospel calls us to love one another, as well—a love that requires time, sacrifice, even the removing of a plank from our own eye.
After all, before Jesus saved us, we were to God much, much worse than a bore.
Presbyterian leader J. Gresham Machen, who argues that while “Christianity is individualistic, it is not only individualistic. It provides fully for the social needs of man”:
The “otherworldliness” of Christianity involves no withdrawal from the battle of this world; our Lord Himself, with His stupendous mission, lived in the midst of life’s throng and press. Plainly, then, the Christian man may not simplify his problem by withdrawing from the business of the world, but must learn to apply the principles of Jesus even to the complex problems of modern industrial life. At this point Christian teaching is in full accord with the modern liberal Church; the evangelical Christian is not true to his profession if he leaves his Christianity behind him on Monday morning. On the contrary, the whole of life, including business and all of social relations, must be made obedient to the law of love. The Christian man certainly should display no lack of interest in “applied Christianity.”
Of the writing of blog post round-ups there is, perhaps, no end (see, for example, here, here, here, here, here, here, here, and here)—and the round-ups may be all there is for some time, given the addresses’ reported future publication in JETS.
Reflecting on the opening words of John’s Gospel, Hughes Oliphant Old writes:
One might even go so far as to say that according to the prologue of the Gospel of John, Jesus is God’s sermon to us preached in the living out of a human life. It is to this sermon, then, that all our sermons witness; it is this sermon that all our preaching unfolds and interprets. If God’s ultimate revelation is a word, then we can serve God in no higher way than to be ministers of that Word. Furthermore, it must be to God’s Word that our word responds. Our sermons only have authority to the extent that they reflect his sermon. When they do reflect his sermon then they have tremendous authority.
—Hughes Oliphant Old, The Biblical Period, vol. 1, The Reading and Preaching of the Scriptures in the Worship of the Christian Church (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1998), 155.
New Testament theologian Donald A. Carson, on the Bible and systematic theology:
I am not saying that the Bible is like a jigsaw puzzle of five thousand pieces and that all the five thousand pieces are provided, so that with time and thought the entire picture may be completed. Rather, I am suggesting that the Bible is like a jigsaw puzzle that provides five thousand pieces along with the assurance that these pieces all belong to the same puzzle, even though ninety-five thousand pieces (the relative figures are unimportant for my analogy) are missing. Most of the pieces that are provided, the instructions insist, fit together rather nicely; but there are a lot of gaping holes, a lot of edges that cry out to be completed, and some clusters of pieces that seem to be on their own. Nevertheless, the assurance that all of the pieces do belong to one puzzle is helpful, for that makes it possible to develop the systematic theology, even though the systematic theology is not going to be completed until we receive more pieces from the One who made it. And meanwhile, even some systematicians who believe that all the pieces belong to the same puzzle are not very adept puzzle players but sometimes force pieces into slots where they don’t really belong. The picture gets distorted somewhat, but it remains basically recognizable.
— D. A. Carson, “Unity and Diversity in the New Testament: The Possibility of Systematic Theology,” in Collected Writings on Scripture (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2010), 132.
Many books are recommended to “put in a church member’s hands,” but then perhaps few are. But David Platt’s, Radical is truly, really and truly, a book to put in a church member’s hands. Or anyone’s hands.
I thought about that book a few weeks ago, while at the gym with a friend. At 24, my friend was lifting weights for the first time, and he was eager to copy every move I made. It struck me how imperative it was that I teach him how to lift with good form. And I realized just how sloppy my own form, over time, had become.
There’s a sense in which, Platt argues, each of us, in Christ, is a teacher (Matt 28:18-20). Each of us is called to disciple. And that can be frightening, for teaching confronts us all with our own ineptitude and shortcoming. Teaching can make us realize just how sloppy our form, over time, has become.
And that’s one of the reasons we must teach, we must disciple:
This raises the bar in our own Christianity. In order to teach someone else how to pray, we need to know how to pray. In order to help someone else learn how to study the Bible, we need to be active in studying the Bible. But this is the beauty of making disciples. When we take responsibility for helping others grow in Christ, it automatically takes our own relationship with Christ to a new level. (Radical, pgs. 100-01)
Discipling other believers—to see them spend time with another person, not with another program—knocks us out of our comfort zone, and it helps us to crucify our own failures, to strengthen our weaknesses.
“The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat,” Jesus says, “so practice and observe whatever they tell you—but not what they do” (Matt 23:2-3). True discipleship, at its best, will move us beyond the inconsistencies and hypocrisies of the Pharisees.
Weeks later, my friend and I are still lifting together. His weight training form is getting better—and so, it turns out, is mine. Platt is right, of course: teaching others really does help us to raise the bar for ourselves. And if such is the case in the things of the gym, how much more in the things of Christ?
(Cross-posted from the Kingdom People blog, where I am guest-host this week.)
But for all the change taking place in the present that will affect its future, the Southern Baptist Convention has quite a past.
Today I’ve asked three of the Convention’s brightest young historians—Nathan Finn, Joshua Powell, and Jason Duesing—to address issues such as the importance of studying the Convention’s history, the relationship between Southern Baptists and evangelicals, and the need to learn from the past for greater fidelity to Christ in the future.
About the contributors:
Nathan Finn serves as assistant professor of church history and Baptist studies at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. Nathan and his wife, Leah, have two children, and are currently expecting their third.
Joshua Powell is currently preparing to lead a new Baptist seminary and pastor training facility in southern India, and is in the writing phase of his doctoral dissertation at The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. Joshua and his wife, Allison, have three children.
Jason Duesing serves as Chief of Staff and Assistant Professor of Historical Theology at Southwestern Baptist Theological Seminary. Jason and his wife, Kalee, have three children.
…
Robert Sagers: Who is one person from evangelicalism’s past who you think could provide wisdom for the way forward for Southern Baptists? Who is one person from the Convention’s past who you think could provide wisdom for the way forward for evangelicals?
Nathan Finn: One evangelical whom I think can help point the way forward for Southern Baptists is William Wilberforce, the famous British political leader. (more…)
In a recent issue of First Things, Mary Eberstadt surveys America’s growing “sexual obesity.” The article, “The Weight of Smut,” is devoted in part to knocking down three common myths surrounding pornography use. It’s well worth reading in full.
One insight in particular, however, caught my attention. It seems that when one exposes pornography for what it is, it’s “practically guaranteed to elicit malice and venom unique in their potency from its defenders.” Eberstadt continues:
What does it tell us that, when faced with any attempt to make the case that this substance should be harder to get than it is, some reliable subset of defenders can be counted on to respond more like animals than like people? If such is not the very definition of addiction, what is?
It was the insight regarding the animal-response that has stuck with me since I first read this article. It’s not just, it seems to me, those enslaved to pornography who may lash out when their sin is exposed. No.
Instead, it seems to me that any of us is tempted to respond like that whenever the light encroaches on our dark places. And Satan is surely pleased that it can devolve us into beasts.
It may be an aspect of the mystery of lawlessness that causes us, at times, to respond not with gratitude but with (un)righteous indignation when our pet addictions, our personal idolatries, are exposed.
If we respond with disdain when our spending habits come under scrutiny, perhaps we’ve fallen into mammon-worship. If we respond with vitriol when our relationships are questioned, perhaps those relationships are inappropriate. If we respond with hatred when our particular political party is critiqued, perhaps we’re worshiping the wrong king.
Let’s be joyful when our sin is exposed. And then let’s repent, and be grateful for the Spirit’s work.
Satan sees when we treat each other not with the manifestation of the fruit of the Spirit, but the manifestation of the works of the flesh—he sees, and grins. Let’s not give Satan reason to smile.
Let’s make sure that when we speak to one another, perhaps even when our sin is exposed, that we respond like people—like Christians—and not like the beasts.
(Cross-posted from the Kingdom People blog, where I am guest-host this week.)
If you’ve spent any amount of time scouring the Christian blogosphere, you’ve likely encountered the near ubiquitous line at the bottom of many a post: “HT: JT.”
That’s because Justin Taylor is so good—perhaps the best—at pointing us all to so many resources on the Internet, in print, and elsewhere.
Justin was kind to answer some questions about how and why he got into blogging, his work at Crossway (and his past work for John Piper), his current projects, and speaking “with a gospel-accent.”
…
Robert Sagers: Justin, please tell the readers a little about yourself—where you’re from, your family, and how you came to Christ?
Justin Taylor: I’m from Sioux City, Iowa. I grew up in a great family and first prayed the sinner’s prayer when I was 4. And then again when I was 4 1/2. And about a thousand times thereafter!
My wife Lea and I met in elementary school (though she was a year ahead of me) and we went to the same United Methodist Church. I fell in love with her in sixth grade. She reciprocated at the end of college!
I don’t know when exactly I became a true believer. As I mentioned, I was a church-going, sinners-prayer-praying kid, but became somewhat cold to the Lord, though was externally a goodie-two-shoes. At an FCA camp in Colorado, between my freshman and sophomore years, I began to understand the work of Christ and the sufficiency of his righteousness for the first time. Whether that was conversion or renewal, I’m not sure it matters. Everything changed after that.
RES: What were you doing before you began working at Crossway? How did the Lord direct you to move to begin working for a Christian publisher?
JT: Before my work at Crossway I was at Desiring God, working as the theological director and serving as John Piper‘s theological assistant/editor. Our six years at Bethlehem marked me in more ways than I can possibly recall.
Short-term mission trips rarely seem to go as planned. And that’s not always a bad thing.
My church recently sent a team to minister to the Tonga people of Zimbabwe, a team of 11 equipped to do some preaching, teaching, and hut-to-hut evangelism. One of the main tasks for the men on the trip was to invest in the local “leadership team,” believers from area villages with a heart for the evangelism of their people and a desire to see churches planted.
A few of us had topics on which we planned to teach—though we weren’t really all that sure what to expect. The second day of this leadership training, one of our guys began teaching through material on the question, “What Is the Gospel?”—content that he had been preparing for weeks—and halted not even a quarter of the way through.
“I want to stop there,” he said, “and ask you: what are some of the hindrances to the gospel that you are seeing here?”
Scot McKnight interviewed Brian McLaren at Q Chicago, discussing issues such as McLaren’s “provocative ambiguity,” consistency (or lack thereof) in his writings, whether he is a universalist, and his paradigm shift in understanding the biblical narrative.
If we can make plain to the church and to the world that our concern in contending for biblical inerrancy is in the first instance soteriological, obediental, doxological, and devotional—not rationalistic, but religious—we shall do well; if not, we shall do much less well. Failure here would be tragic! May it not be.
Today Andrew Peterson’s latest album, “Counting Stars,” is set to release. Last year I had the opportunity to interview Andrew on a variety of topics. The full interview may be found below.
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It’s true that so much of what passes as Christian music these days hardly seems Christian at all—which is all the more reason to praise God for Christian musicians who seem to be getting it right. And one of those artists is Andrew Peterson.
Peterson was kind to answer some questions about art, music, writing, community, and the gospel for the readers of this blog.
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RES: Thank you so much for agreeing to answer some questions for the readers of this blog! Could you please tell us a little bit about yourself—where you’re from, what you do, your family, and how to came to know Christ?
AP: I was born in Illinois, grew up in Florida, and live in Tennessee. That makes me one part Midwesterner, one part Southerner, and one part hillbilly. I’m a singer/songwriter and author who’s been married fourteen years and has three children. I grew up in the church. My dad’s preached since he was a teenager, so I’ve known about Christ since I was old enough to sing “Jesus Loves Me.” As for actually knowing him, that all started when I was about nine.
RES: In Art for God’s Sake, Philip Graham Ryken recalls traveling to New York City to view the paintings of Makoto Fujimura. So moved by what he saw, Ryken writes the following: “At its best, art is able to do what Fujimura’s paintings do: satisfy our deep longing for beauty and communicate profound spiritual, intellectual, and emotional truth about the world that God has made for his glory.” What is art, and what do you think is its purpose? (more…)
