Categories
Devotion

“A Constellation of Graces”

From my blog


I am unsure why the idea of beauty embarrasses me, as though my thoughts are too defective to confess. Often it seems to me that my beauty receptors process input in blunt chunks.

Objects–dwellings, clothing, the stuff of life–engage me with their utility, and beauty somehow is optional. The miraculous intricacies of creation–animal, botanical, and mineral, of the earth, sea, and visible heavens–captivate me; nevertheless, I fear my appreciation is terribly analytical.

But that isn’t what distresses me. The huge and terrible question is: Do I find beauty in Christ? This is where diffidence grips and I fear I am casehardened.

Certainly I find beauty in his Word. But, “He is altogether lovely“ (SS 5:16) refers to a Person, not to a Word. But this Person is the Word…is the Word the sole repository of his beauty? Is seeing beauty in the Word sufficient to apprehend “the beauty of Christ,” the altogether loveliness? And, I can be analytical with the Word….

So in my distraction I turn to my therapist, Dr. John Owen, who died in 1683, but left a therapeutic legacy of systematic theology. Owen, always on deck with a lifeline, assures me that Christ is indeed beautiful, and his beauty is something I can begin to take in. His beauty is in his Word, because he is there. His beauty is his wisdom, his pondering the “hidden man of the heart;” it is his eminency, his strength, his faithfulness, and his stability. Dr. Owen wrote that prescription for me.

Owen writes more than 20 pages specifically on the subject of the beauty of Christ in Vol. II, Communion With God (Banner of Truth) pp. 56-78. The rest of this volume and much of his other work is also rife with the subject, if not as specifically. I am not given to typing exercises, but he lists 11 ways in which Christ is “lovely.” From Owen’s exposition on the beauty of Christ, I will here extract one crystalline sentence:

“There is light in him, and life in him, and power in him, and all consolation in him;–a constellation of graces, shining with glory and beauty.” (The Works of John Owen, Banner of Truth, Vol. II, p. 75)

That, I find beautiful.

I remain diffident about my blunt chunk approach. I am consoled that this has little to do with beauty in a way that I need to understand it.

To know something of the light and the life and the power and the consolation of Christ is to know something of his beauty.

Autumn Color and the Death of the Amish Children

From my blog

Thou art good, and doest good…Ps 119:68

Colors converge toward copper here, passing red, not quite gold. Our chickens are deep golden-buff and scarlet-combed. Crimson-leaved blueberries and cayenne-orange mountain ash berries, saturated in mid-autumn sun, hang on, closer to life than dormancy.

Even in my pleasant garden, I am never unaware of perturbation. Intermittent sirens and helicopters herald the presence of sin and pain and need.

This week a small Amish community in Pennsylvania buried five schoolgirls, murdered despite the girls’ likely compliance with their killer’s demand that they pray for him to protect him from carrying out his horrific crime.

Today, as are all days, is a good day to be a Calvinist.

Only a Calvinist sees events like this in a light that comports with God’s own testimony: the absolute sovereignty of his perfect will. God’s sovereignty prevails over peace and over perturbation.

Does this make Calvinists callous? That is a testy and ignorant misconception. We grieve the grievous. We know the grievous could always be more grievous. We see restraint present in the world, despite sin. We understand the end of all things, including ourselves, is the glory of God. To God alone the glory.

Is God implacable? No; he is merciful. His law and his judgments are perfect and righteous (Ps 19:7; Ps 119:7). Our God is in the heavens, and he hath done whatsoever he pleased (Ps 115:3).

Did it please God to have a crazed reprobate kill five children? Behold the evidence. Yes, it did. It pleased him to have crazed reprobates kill his own son. Had it not, our sin would be unredeemed, and we would justly suffer in hell, just as surely as crazed reprobate killers of little girls.

A hard thing. But sin is sin, and death is death, and death does not always come packaged neatly wrapped in human poetic justice.

Our faith rests in him whose righteous judgments are perfect.

God is a righteous judge,
Yea, a God that hath indignation every day Ps 7:11.

I will give thanks unto Jehovah according to his righteousness,
And will sing praise to the name of Jehovah Most High Ps 7:17.

Categories
Book Reviews

Upward Descent and Other Amazing Deviations: Dabney Dissects Darwin

From my blog

Mid-nineteenth-century evolution theory was a fission bomb forever sundering two ways of understanding life: Either we are related through Adam and unrelated to cantaloupe; or, we are related through protoplasm to both.

Dabney’s chapter, “Evolution Theory” is the Cat’s favorite thus far. He resents any implication that he is descended from inferior wild cats. If left to the wild habitats of his so-called ancestors, the Cat would most probably make his way to the nearest doorstep and yowl for cat food. Notwithstanding the Cat’s defective (though sensorially impeccable) epistemology, he understands that he is a discrete creation made to be a companion to man. This places the Cat far ahead of evolutionary theorists.

Dabney was a contemporary of Charles Darwin (1809″“1882), and thus the beneficiary of the same classical intellectual heritage from which Darwin drew. He penetrated the flaws in Darwin’s scheme, and deftly deconstructed them.

Darwin’s contribution (The Origin of Species, 1859; The Descent of Man, 1871) to evolution theory was his systematizing of classical atomic (as in atoms as components of matter) theory, using laws inferable from nature: multiplication, limitation, heredity, variation, and equilibrium. Behavior, too, would be an operative variable effecting survival. Ultimately, success is determined by chance, because these laws are driven by blind atomic causation. The ultimate victor in this animalistic struggle is he who accumulates the most brain convolutions and mechanistic impulses to survive. This happened to be man, but in a chance system, it could just as easily have been a speck of mold. An evolutionist perhaps would not put it this way, because he would likely fail to perceive the logical outcome of his theory.

Dr. Thomas Huxley and Professor John Tyndall took up the creatorless cause after Darwin. Nothing happens by chance, according to Tyndall; every occurrence is caused, and therefore necessary. Tyndall’s definition of the soul (yes, he acknowledged its existence) is well worth quoting: “The soul consists of fine, smooth, round atoms, like those of fire. These are the most mobile of all [atoms]. They interpenetrate the whole body, and in their motions the phenomena of life arise” (R. L. Dabney: The Sensualistic Philosophy Naphtali Press, 2003, p. 91).

One readily sees why humanists are still forum-shopping.

Compare and contrast: And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul. Ge 2:7

Do you feel the Force? Herbert Spencer (1820-1903) did. He refined evolutionary science to theoretical linear perfection. “Force” moved matter from protoplasm to mollusk to the mind of Isaac Newton in so many increments over so much time. In Spencer’s model, “Force” equals motion, and is the single causative agency in the universe. Spencer’s reason for calling his material cause “Force,” according to Dabney, was simple distaste for the Christian notion of God and his own soul.

Spencer’s Force is infinite, impersonal and unknowable, but it gets things done. Problematically, Spencer attributes a multitude of properties and doctrines to this “unknowable” Force. Dissecting probe in hand, Dabney exposes this inconsistency. He further notes that Spencer attempts to place an epistemological embargo on knowledge of the “unknowable” God. Apparently, it is possible to know things about some unknowable things, but not about others.

Spencer’s Force is unknowable but at the same time, Spencer insists, it is inferable–through, of course, the usual sensualistic means: our senses. Since the Force is impersonal as well as unknowable, we cannot know whether it is benevolent or malevolent.

God, on the other hand, is infinite, personal, and truly unknowable, but because of his personal benevolence toward us, he makes himself knowable to us, albeit in a finite way due to our finite consciousness.

How can we trust an unknowable Force? Dabney points out that we cannot presume it is intelligent, rational, logical, interested, or possessed of any other properties, benevolent or otherwise, if it is truly unknowable. We do know that God is all-intelligent and capable of manifesting himself to us. Once a scientist signs on with the unknowable, doctrine and reason are defenestrated.

One point on which I admit confusion is Spencer’s concept of time, which “is but experienced succession” (Dabney, p. 100). Does Spencer mean that before man, the only creature capable of experiencing time, there was no time? Then when did all these things occur–protoplasm to mollusk to Newton–that required so much time?

Spencer inspires further wonder when he says that “material motion is simply the consciousness of matter in successive positions in time” (Dabney, p. 100). Now, this is priceless. Matter is conscious, but the Force propelling it might not be conscious–we don’t know, because it is unknowable. If this doesn’t convince you to take your fish for a walk, nothing will.

I suspect that Spencer and Comte (see my “The Pontiff of Humanity” post below) might have been drinking buddies.

At some point, our atomic clock ceases ticking; the little flame of atoms is extinguished, and we die. Or, as Spencer really said, the “absorption of motion and diffusion of matter” take place (Dabney, p. 102). There could not possibly be a provision in his materialist scheme for resurrection once matter is thus debased. The impersonal Force makes no claims, no promise of eternal life.

Spencer’s gods–matter, motion, and force–“symbols of the Unknown Reality”–in the end, are subject to death.

The fool hath said in his heart, There is no God. Ps 14:1; Ps 53:1

Categories
Book Reviews

Thomas Hobbes, R. L. Dabney, and the Sensualist Cat

I posted this to my blog, Board Housewife & The Cat this morning.

Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding. Pr 3:5

As I begin to read about the history of ideas, two things happen: First, the more I am called to repent my condonation of bad philosophy by reason of willful ignorance; and, second, the more I learn about the way the Cat thinks.

I am reading The Sensualistic Philosophy by Robert L. Dabney, a 19th-century conservative Southern Presbyterian theologian and philosopher, in an attempt to fill the philosophy gap I left open in my education. I avoided philosophy as much as I could in college, taking only a survey course.

After a two-decade gap, I began law school and was made to choke down something called “logical positivism” in a jurisprudence course. I figured I had to be stupid, because I could have sworn that logical positivism was illogical and nihilistic.

Fortunately, the course was such a joke that I could say virtually anything on the exam and it would bring about a decent grade. Relativists are flexible graders, not only because they allege that there is no right or wrong, but they tend to see what they want to see in someone else’s argument. One student actually failed this class; I have no idea why, but it sticks in my mind like the Sword of Damocles: the Logical Positivist Threat.

Logical positivism is a 1920s revival of same-old-same-old empiricism, aka sensualistic philosophy: If a tree falls and no one hears it, did it make a sound, and other Zen reminiscences. Logical positivism inches from the notion that all knowledge must come from the experience of the senses–though that notion remains foundational–and adds the proviso that, well, we can have some knowledge prior to, or even without, actual sensory experience. I suppose the some marks a new era in human thought.

John Owen (1616-1683) and Thomas Hobbes (1588-1679) lived within the same sphere of time and absolutely disparate spheres of thought. When I consider the news and politics of our day, I become persuaded that most people now think fairly similarly. As Christians, we are necessarily outliers. But opposing political parties, for instance, show little substantive difference. Seventeenth-century thinkers, on the other hand, show more diversity of thought– perhaps because they thought more. Mercifully, we have no substantial record of what dull people from that era thought, because they could not write, whereas now they can.

I am getting around to the thought that the more I read about ideas and their history, the more I am persuaded that there is more convergence of thought now than there was during the Reformation, perhaps the last age of illuminated thought. Even people with bad ideas thought; they just didn’t think well.

Thomas Hobbes, a scion of the sensualist philosophical camp, was such a philosopher. Hobbes is famous for developing the idea of the “social contract,” the mechanism by which depraved (he had that part right) men are able to coexist in civilized societies.

I can only suppose that Hobbes felt the need to come up with a model that did not presuppose a Christian covenant like Calvin’s Geneva. But I think his world view was simply so different from Calvin’s that he required a model that did not rely on God in order to keep people in line.

I have not read more than excerpts written by Hobbes himself; only about him. At one point, life was too long to read his magnum opus, Leviathan. At this point, life is too short.

According to Dabney, Hobbes did believe in the concepts of good and evil; however, he believed that good and evil were relative concepts and that every man freely elects what is good and evil according to what pleases or displeases him. Therefore, the civil magistrate restrains citizens, who concede all rights to the magistrate in exchange for an order under which men allow one another to live. Self-interest is the tie that binds, restrained by the magistrate. It is a “war of all against all” out there, and it is to be resolved only in an absolute ruler in whom “irresistible force” is delegated. It isn’t about good and evil; it is about a conqueror and the conquered. And the conquered, if they owe any duties to God, must subordinate them to their duties to the ruler. Hobbes is not considered an atheist by other philosophers, and he was vindicated of a charge of atheism brought by Parliament, but clearly he was in the dark zone as to who God is, and so was an atheist in fact.

An aspect of logical positivism that I was taught in law school, is “widely and warmly shared values.” I recall my professor fairly rhapsodizing over this. And it is quite odd, because Hobbes holds that men’s values are neither widely nor warmly shared; in fact, they are concessions to the realities of force.

Hobbes, along with John Locke, was one of the leading influences behind the United States Constitution, the preamble of which begins, “We the people.” Our oft-called “God-fearing republic” is about people, and not too many of our people these days fear God. Many people, however, do believe they experience God. People love experience–they want it in their leaders, their teachers, their employees, their religion–but so much experience is really an imprinted pattern of doing something wrong.

The Cat, the Cat…the reason that I understand better about the way the Cat thinks as I read Dabney is because the Cat is a Sensualist. Everything he knows comes through his senses, and he remembers things that imprint on his senses, like tasty food and kitty litter, and his people and not-his people. But the Cat is decidedly not a Hobbesian. He would not even consider submission to any authority in order better to enhance the peace, and he is oblivious to any threat to his self-interest. I would advise against entering into any sort of contract with him.

Categories
Doctrines of Grace

Limited Atonement

Christ did not die for any upon condition, if they do believe; but he died for all God’s elect, that they should believe, and believing have eternal life.

Categories
Apologetics Defending the Faith

Debate Between Paul Manata and Dan Barker

If you haven’t listened to the debate between Paul Manata and Dan Barker on the question “Is Christianity or Atheism More Rational?” then please check it out at Unchained Radio

I just listened to the debate this morning while working out. Great job Paul!

I’m not precisely sure that Paul was talking over Dan Barker’s head. Dan just knows he doesn’t have reasonable answers to real questions so he disallows the questions. This is typical of Dan Barker from what I’ve heard before. I just realized that he is popular because he is irrational and unthinking and populist. He is a postmodern populist atheist.

I’m waiting for the transcript but Barker’s closing statement (as was the rest of his stuff) was a vaccuous “we have meaning because we say we have meaning” and “we have purpose and are good because we say we are good”. He admits that, cosmically, we have the value of broccoli but “here and now” we believe we have meaning so we do. It’s idiotic but it might as well have been a Finney-like altar call for atheism with the mindless atheists weeping and coming forward to embrace belief for belief’s sake.

Barker preaches to the choir. He makes atheists feel good about who they are. He doesn’t present arguments but, because atheists are only looking for affirmation, he gives them what they like. Paul’s analogies were very good and very funny at times (I burst out laughing a few times in the gym). In the final analysis, however, Paul was appealing to rational thought and Barker was making populist statements.

Paul concluded with a call to Barker’s repentance. The general call of the Gospel. He held out words of life to Dan. He presented argument for the Christian faith and Barker had no answer except to play the fool. In the end, Barker heaped curses upon himself. He gnashed his teeth and shook his fist at Christ and then turned His hatred toward God the Father.

I fear that Mr. Barker will have all eternity to contemplate the folly of his words last night.