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Saturday, April 24, 2004 posted by R.C. 7:49 AM link |
Like, Wow I was working with my son on his math when my eldest daughter Darby asked me two wise questions, “Why is w called double- u instead of double-v? And why does Shaggy say ‘like’ all the time?” As I began formulating my answer I found myself heading down a profitable rabbit trail. It occurred to me that there is a relationship between the objectivity of language, and the objectivity of beauty. I mentally cross referenced my Vision column in our Beauty issue of ETC, and a chapter in my book Tearing Down Strongholds. In the article I confessed that aesthetic metrics weren’t easy to come by. That is, the tools by which we measure the relative beauty of a thing are fuzzy, and complex, not at all like my son’s math lesson. I expressed my consternation that I will at the same time assert with all due vigor that beauty is not in the eye of the beholder, but that it is objective, while sheepishly confessing that I know not the calculus. In the chapter of the book I argued the self-evident truth that words have meaning. Relativism, however, seeks to work its destruction not just in sentences, not just in ideas, but in words. Not only is there no such thing as objective truth to these yutzes, but “thing” can mean one thing to you, and another thing altogether to me. “Relativist” to a relativist can mean, “Onion-head masquerading as boar in drag” and there’s precious little anyone can do about it. What has all this to do with Shaggy? Everything. Shaggy, I was thinking in my head, says ‘like’ because, like, that’s one way, like, young people try to like, set themselves apart from like, grown-ups. Of course, in another generation, they might instead talk about the cat’s pajamas to communicate their subculture, and show that they are all that and a bag of chips. Words, in short, contra the postmodernist, have real meanings. But contra the modernist, those words won’t sit still while guys in lab coats try to pin them down. Words, in other words, are just like beauty. Words have meaning, else they would not communicate. Art has beauty, else it would not move. But they’re more pixie than soldier. Neither will sit still and pose for a mug shot. Forget one, and you have heat death. Forget the other and you have chaos. Look, it’s, like, the trinity. Thanks, Darby. I wouldn’t have gotten anywhere without that meddling kid. [comments] |
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Monday, April 19, 2004 posted by R.C. 8:56 AM link |
Puff the Secret Dragon I have only so many insults in my arsenal. Have a nice thought about the state, and I’ll think you a fascist. Determine that the demands of time preclude celebrating the Lord’s Supper, and I’ll call you an Anabaptist. There is one insult, however, that is as versatile as it is damning. That verbal bazooka is “Gnostic.” There are at least three reasons why this particular pejorative is so poisonous. First, and perhaps most important, it is an implicit denial, whatever flavor it comes in, of the Lordship of Christ. I’m not so defensive of the physical realm itself that dissing it gets up my dander, but rather I don’t like to see people trying to shrink Jesus’ realm. From a more personal angle, the second problem is that Gnosticism demeans so many of my pleasures. That is, the problem with thinking that alcohol is a sin, is that it means I get to enjoy it less. Gnosticism is a storm front looking for a parade to let loose on. I’d rather be at the parade, eating a sausage sandwich and washing it down with a beer to the glory of God. Neither temptation,, however, is a particular danger to my closest circle of friends. We all believe that Jesus is Lord of heaven and earth. We delight in Kuyper’s wisdom which says there is no square inch in the universe over which Jesus does not declare, “MINE.” In like manner, the only beer my friends look down on is light beer, (or, not coincidentally as we call it, “Gnostic beer.”). Our congregation, I am happy to report, is far more likely to be seen as the disciples of the Groom than those dour faced Baptists (of John the… fame) who were always fasting. Gnosticism, like most worldviews, isn’t, however, merely a set of conclusions. It is also a way of getting there. We tussled over sola fide because first we tussled over sola scriptura. The appeal of Gnosticism wasn’t simply that it helped you avoid a hangover. The Gnostic party couldn’t sell itself by being not much of a party. What drew the crowds was, perhaps, the sparseness of the crowd. That is, the cool thing about being a Gnostic was that you got to get secret information. The word Gnostic itself is derived from the Greek gnosis, knoweldge. Initiates, like so many fez wearing Masons, were brought slowly more and more deeply into secret esoteric knowledge. Because it was esoteric it didn’t make any sense. But because it was secret, that didn’t much matter. Secrets are powerful things, if we are one of the lucky ones in the know. While feasting postmillenialists may not suffer from the first two Gnostic weaknesses, the third comes along to bite us in our collective bohonkus. We have our own levels, or degrees of initiation. First, of course, you learn that there is such a thing called Calvinism and Arminianism. At this level you demonstrate your smartness not because you have chosen wisely, but because you know there’s a difference. The great mass of evangelicals think Arminians are citizens of a former Soviet satellite state. Next you ditch your dispie eschatology (actually, next you learn how to pronounce eschatology, and to use it in a sentence.). Next up, partial preterism, wherein you learn this explosive secret, that much of what is to come has already been left behind. But there’s still so far to go. Real adepts soon learn not only to venerate Van Til, but to dicker over whether Frame, or Bahnsen inherited his mantle. You think all this knowledge is dealing the devil a death blow (though, of course, you haven’t really thought about the devil in years. Such is too unsophisticated to anyone as knowing as you). But the devil is less interested in your secret knowledge than he is in your secret sin. He’d be happy for you to understand all the nuances and ins and outs of Auburn Avenue theology, as long as he could be sure you’d be proud of it. Paul warns us that knowledge puffs up, and we, in our pride and Gnostic knowledge rush to explain what he didn’t mean. We point out how smart Paul was, and his advanced degrees from all the finest schools, and we add envy to our pride, thinking, “Gosh, it sure would be cool to be as smart as Paul.” I know this, by the way, not because some 33rd degree guy let me in on the secret. I know it because I live it. I know I like speaking in that knowing shorthand jargon with other inititates. I’m full of pride not only that I can keep up with the conversations, but that I have created a whole new rank by trumping all that has gone before in giving this warning. You lower types may have knowledge, but if you want into the really exclusive club, it’s wisdom you need. Which is true enough. We need the wisdom to know this not so secret truth, that wisdom begins with the fear of God. Fear Him, and pride is burned in the fire. [comments] |
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Monday, April 12, 2004 posted by R.C. 10:51 AM link |
All the Pretty Horses One of the great things about seeking to manifest the reign of Christ is that there is always plenty to do. Firemen, ambulance drivers, soldiers and forest rangers, on a good day, find themselves with precious little to do. And then, when the work comes, it comes with all the intensity of a raging fire, a train wreck, or a war. We on the other hand work six days, and we rest one. There is always more to do, and, by His grace, not resting that one day is not an option. Given the grand smorgasbord of work set before us, though, how are we to choose what we will put on our plates? There are dainties and delicacies, and rib-sticking starchies, all put there for His glory. You can see the cornucopia simply by thinking through all the parachurch ministries we are familiar with. Some believe that what we need to do is to protect the legal rights of Christians against incursions by the state. Thus the ACLJ fills its belly fighting for graduation prayers and town square crèches. Others believe that what we need to change the world by witnessing, crusading on campuses across this land. Heck, my point could be made simply by looking at all the parachurch subsidiaries of that parachurch holding company Campus Crusade. They deal with students and professors. They have a division for helping families, and another for teenagers. They work with medical professionals, and business executives. If Madison Avenue has a demographic, Bill built a ministry. Truth be told, some parachurch ministries are a royal waste of time. That is, they are royal in that they at least seek to honor the king, but are a waste of time in that their work does precious little to advance His cause. Making sure Christians don’t get fired for not working on the Sabbath, for instance, doesn’t protect the Lord’s Day for the Lord, but gives all authority to the state. Making sure Christians can “pray” at graduation just keeps more kingdom kids in the hands of Moloch’s priests. Keeping “Under God” in a blasphemous prayer won’t do us much good either. These are not merely spam balls on the buffet, but bovine substance. The real conundrum comes, however, when choosing among the goods. There are few things more needful in our day, in my estimation, than that the people of God would learn what the Bible teaches. Except perhaps that more would learn that it is God’s Word in the first place, or that more would become the people of God. On the political side we yet live in a land where the state sanctions, and mothers and doctors perform, over a million murders a year. Meanwhile, back on the importance of teaching theology, our “Christian” president is unable to distinguish the Lord God almighty from that lying pretender Allah in a police line-up. But there are not only different spheres, but there are different fiefdoms in those spheres. Lutherans, for instance, tend toward a sacerdotal understanding of baptism, while the Baptists are depriving their children. Should we devote our time to helping them—or to fussing at those who lean in one direction of the other in the Reformed camp? Or is the graver problem that so many of these folks, on all sides, are men who are not really under authority? Bickering over these things via the internet is as sensible as trying to bind with silly string. It’s just plain silly. When the silly string won’t work, our solution is to lobby others to come and use silly string on our enemy. So we have the lamb chop gang riding their hobby horses over to corral the Coldplay crew, and screaming at the prime rib gang for not joining their posse. We Reformed folk would never think of creating a cacophony by all speaking in tongues at once. Instead we encourage the heathen to think us crazy by all screaming at each other to join our favorite cause. Of course, I get called more than most. How much faster that hobby horse gallops when it knows that R.C. Sproul’s son is on its side. (And rumor has it that Dr. Sproul himself is getting ready to saddle up.) We Reformed folk, likewise, tend to find particularly tantalizing those dishes that involve yelling at others. Thus we have cognac drinkers that would rather yell at milk drinkers than drink cognac. And we have milk drinkers who would rather yell at cognac drinkers than drink milk. We don’t live on bread alone, but strife alone. If you are right, rejoice. If you are wrong repent. But seek always the wisdom of Solomon who told us, Go, eat your bread in joy, and drink your wine with a merry heart, for God has already approved what you do.” [comments] |
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Friday, April 09, 2004 posted by R.C. 1:23 PM link |
All aboard, or the ship sinks. For the past few months we have noted on our webpage the planned "Victory at Sea" Cruise put on by our friends at American Vision, a seven day cruise featuring teaching by Gary DeMar, Marshall Foster, R.C. Sproul Jr. and Douglas Phillips. Registrations have not been as strong as hoped for, and unless they rise dramatically and soon, the trip will be cancelled. For less than the cost of renting out an entire theater so you and all your friends can watch an actor playing Jesus be crucified, you could go on this cruise and learn something important. If you've been thinking about it, planning it, etc. but haven't signed up, now is the time. |
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Wednesday, April 07, 2004 posted by R.C. 12:54 PM link |
Coveting Our Neighbor’s Calling Our conference has ended, and I for one am disappointed—not in the conference, but that it has ended. There have been several conferences (both Moscow, Idaho and Greenville Seminary come to mind), however ironically, that I have longed to attend. Sadly, given how often I am away from the family teaching, I don’t think it wise for me to go and listen. When we have our own conference, though, I not only get to stay home, but I get to hear the other speakers. Speakers, by the way, that I got to pick. Both our speakers are friends of mine, another perk of my calling. I do get to hang out from time to time with brainiacs like George Grant and Doug Jones. The downside is the temptation to coveting that comes with that. When I was a little boy I believed with all sincerity that my father wrote the Bible. Now that I am grown and wiser, I don’t believe that, nor that George Grant wrote the Bible. But I do believe that George Grant wrote all of history. The man not only has mastered the flow of ideas, but the names and dates that tend to fluster us all. Some prodigies can tell you in an instant what day of the week any date in history was. George can tell you what Washington had for breakfast on any given day, and an interesting tidbit about the cook. The only history I have mastered is Braveheart. Mr. Jones, on the other hand, has a frightening ability to play six-degrees-of-separation on speed. He can go from Flannery O’Connor to the joy of farming to sanctification to a Grant Wood painting to the architecture of heaven in one well-syntaxed sentence. If I were to say to him, “A wrench is like a salmon…” he would have it figured out before I could get to “…in that…”. In his spare time he rearranges Plato’s furniture, and yet enjoys the barbeque not for what it stands for, but for how it tastes. I, on the other hand ... uh ... am more comfortable with play dough than Plato, and my literary skills just reached their peak in the previous phrase. It is a good thing to behold the beauty of another’s calling. I remember being awed as a parishioner showed me the work he had done converting attic space in his home into a bedroom for his daughters. I told him, “What I wouldn’t give to have the ability to build so wonderfully.” Without a moment’s hesitation he replied, “What I wouldn’t give to be able to teach people the Bible.” I learned that instant at least this much wisdom—I didn’t say out loud, “What I wouldn’t give to have the wisdom you obviously possess.” Wisdom is one of Jesus’ names. He sends the Spirit to equip us, all of us, for our work. May we all learn to joyfully accept the wisdom of Wisdom, and hear the Master’s voice in our calling. [comments] |
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Thursday, April 01, 2004 posted by R.C. 9:07 AM link |
The Mother of Invention One of the great coups of modernism, as with any ism, was the notion that its success was inevitable. Marx may have been the first to brand his ideological fashion with the patina of invincibility. But he wasn’t the last. Just as our masters have taught us that a college education is necessary, that voting is a universal moral requirement (and voting outside the two parties doesn’t count), so have we been taught that you can’t stop progress. You can’t turn back the clock. Of course we have argued here before that a little Socratic term defining might help, that before we decide whether or not we can stop progress, we ought to discern whether we are moving forward or backward. But there is another important caveat, an economic one. We are told that necessity is the mother of invention, that our wants and desires are the fuel that drives progress. Which wisdom must have come from Henry Ford, who taught us that history is bunk. Technological progress isn’t a function of the need for a better mousetrap. Necessity isn’t the mother of invention. Instead, opportunity is. Consider, for a moment, this historical tidbit. Roughly from the time of Noah, to the time of Fulton, how did we get from here to there? Horse power, broadly speaking, animal power even more broadly speaking, ruled the day from the beginning of recorded history to the modern age. Were our fathers too dumb to come up with the piston engine? Of course not. Rather, they were too greedy. Why invest the mental energy to construct tomorrow, if there is no profit? We have planes (on which I sit) precisely because there was money to be made. Amorphous, and altruistic progress has nothing to do with it. Royalties and patents have everything to do with it. Remove the hope of prosperity, and you will become even further out of touch than Wendell Berry. We must give profit all the honor it is due. When the state enters the equation, rest assured that it gums up the works. That’s what they are good at. In the meantime, the future, hope and prosperity, a glorious agrarian future awaits us only as long as we leave the state out of it. Whether it is choking the future with taxes, or enslaving it with what they used to call euphemistically “internal improvements” the genie will disappear where there is no liberty to breathe. Just as the land and the king are one, so too is liberty and the land. [comments] |