Belief
What Is True Saving Faith?
When the Apostles proclaimed the gospel in the first century, it had a certain content.
People could reject that content. But they could also accept it as true.
They could even believe in it.
Yet, that still left them with out true saving faith.
Listen: Accurate content and sincere belief in that content doesn’t amount to saving faith…
Those are necessary elements–but not sufficient elements. There’s one more element.
Let’s address the first two elements before we get to that last one.
Notitia–the First Element of Saving Faith
One, we must make sure that content is accurate. No use believing in something that isn’t true or heretical.
As you probably know, there’s something dreadfully wrong with this statement: “It doesn’t matter what they believe–as long as they are sincere.”
Joseph Kony was sincere in his belief that he was called by God to abduct children, murder entire families and displace over a million Sudanese so he could establish a theocratic kingdom.
Sincerity can go awfully wrong.
The same is true for Christians: It’s meaningless to be sincere in our belief but not know whether our belief is accurate or not.
We risk heresy if we do otherwise. Thus, the first element of saving faith is accurate content–notitia. Let’s look at the second.
Assensus–the Second Element of Saving Faith
Second, we must believe that content is true. We must assent to it. This is assensus.
But it’s still not enough to redeem us.
I believe that Augustine wrote the City of God. However, that doesn’t redeem me. There has to be something more.
Fiducia–the Third Element to Saving Faith
The third element to saving faith is fiducia–personal trust and commitment in the accurate content we believe.
This is when a Christian accepts, receives and RELIES on Christ alone.
Granted, the message of that content is important. I could put my trust and commitment in Augustine–but it wouldn’t do me any good.
He’s not offering salvation. Only Jesus Christ is.
What Saving Faith Does to Our Lives
We look to Jesus [not Augustine nor any man] for justification, sanctification and eternal life.
With saving faith, we tremble at the commands of God…yield in obedience to the mandates of Christ…and put our trust in the promises of God for now and for the future.
In essence, it radically rearranges our lives. Christ becomes our object of delight. Our obsession.
And we long to do nothing more than please him. [We don't always succeed, but that's another story.]
Here’s the core content we we confess as true, deserving of our belief and worthy of our submission:
That Christ was born, willingly and perfectly lived under the law of God and died as an atoning act. We believe he was dead, buried and rose again.
Only when we believe that information is accurate and trust it holds the power to save us can we safely say we are born again. Anything less and Jesus is not saving us.
Demons: Can We Still Believe in Them?
In 1998, four psychologists interviewed twenty hospitalized psychiatric patients from the Hebei province in China.
Chinese physicians diagnosed these patients as hysterical.
The patients, however, believed their bodies were invaded by alien spirits.
In other words, possessed.
Samples of Spirit Possession
One woman spoke of her dead aunt walking through her house as “a white person, but without a head.”
At times she actually believed the spirit occupied her body.
Another women–a 40-year old peasant women with five children and a Buddhist background–complained of chronic possession (some one suggested by a turtle) in which she blacked out and couldn’t remember the episode.
Here’s the million dollar question: Are these patients really possessed? Or severely psychologically disturbed? Let’s explore.
Dismissing the Doctrine of Demons
In today’s world, belief in demons is usually brushed aside as primitive–in company with elves and a flat earth.
In fact, one of the conclusions from the study above was that individuals who lacked education were more susceptible to folk beliefs.
They also raised the question of “whether the possession experience is a socially sanctioned mechanism that allows individuals in an oppressed social role to act out intolerable socio-psychological conflict.”
Both interesting points. Then this shouldn’t come as a surprise: While possession is a common experience in many cultures, in Western industrialized cultures such experiences are not the norm.
As Christians, then, what are we to do when skepticism about angels and demons is contrary to biblical testimony? Let’s see.
Biblical Testimony to Demons
Satan appears in the first book of the Bible and his activity doesn’t let up until Revelation.
And while demonic activity is somewhat subdued in the Old, the frequency of demonic appearances increases during Jesus’ ministry.
We even have a demonic proclamation of Jesus as the Messiah.
But outside the biblical assumption of demons, we have other reasons to affirm their existence.
Science ultimately can’t answer this question.
Science seeks to observe and describe natural phenomena. Like it’s inadequacy in answering questions of morality, science isn’t fit to answer the spiritual.
Purely natural explanations of evil in this world are not adequate.
The horrors of the Lord’s Resistance Army or a mother roasting her child in an oven imply a powerful force at work–not a mere chemical imbalance.
Learn from the broader sweep of history and culture.
When you explore the cultures in Asia, Africa, Haiti and the Pacific Islands, you see a belief in evil spirits is a deep part of their culture. We need to respect that native soft knowledge. They may be on to something our science can’t reach.
In the end, this topic deserves a LOT of sensitivity. We certainly don’t want it to lead to uncritical views on demons. Nor do we want to open the door to bizarre practices of extreme individuals or groups.
Instead, we need to carefully craft a complete view of reality–one that balances both the natural and spiritual.
C. S. Lewis warned in the Screwtape Letters that we can give the topic too little attention–and too much attention. Both are mistakes.
The goal is to seek balance. Let me know what you think.
By the way, got a question you’d like me to answer in a post? Email me.
The Puddle: An Elegant but Not-Perfect Analogy
When it comes to criticizing the fine-tuning argument, Douglas Adam’s puddle analogy takes the cake.
Adams first unveiled this analogy at a 1998 lecture at Digital Biota.
Since then it’s become the darling of the scientific community.
Richard Dawkins quoted it during an eulogy for Adams.
P Z Meyers been known to toss it around.
And occassionally skeptics and atheists will trot it out here on this blog.
Case in point: During an interview with an atheist named Billy, I asked, “What do you think of the fine-tuning argument?”
Billy gave a thoughtful, but rather unforgettable answer to my question, especially since someone else chimed in with this piece of snarky brevity: “Nonsense. Google Douglas Adams ‘puddle argument.”
That caught my attention because he seemed to imply Adam’s “puddle argument” was a show stopper.
I have to admit: I was spellbound.
What Is the Puddle Analogy?
Unfortunately, it took me about seven months to actually get around to looking up this “puddle argument.”
But I finally did.
In fact, I not only read the analogy, but I also watched a Dawkin’s video, read Adam’s original transcript in which the analogy was embedded…and even skimmed an objection.
But I didn’t get it. I was at a loss to what he meant by “non-sense.” And how exactly was this a show stopper?
Adams analogy is emotionally compelling [which I'll explain in a minute], no doubt. But not sure what it proves. Or why it’s so convincing.
Are people putting more weight on it than it can hold? That was my hunch. So I decided to find out.
Asking More Questions about the Puddle Analogy
The following day I emailed the original poster and let him know I finally did what he told me to do but wasn’t sure what he was getting at. I asked him if he could clarify. Here’s his response:
I think it quite accurately exposes the foolishness of the fine-tuning argument without any appeal to emotion in the same way as Russell’s teapot or the FSM expose the flaws of other religious arguments.
Okay. But how? He replied:
By showing that fitting an environment well is no reason to think you were designed for it, it designed for you, or that both were designed with each other in mind. The analogy of the puddle shows that quite well since clearly holes aren’t intelligently designed for puddles, regardless of what a puddle might like to think.
Okay. That makes sense. It illustrates that well. But how does it prove anything? I didn’t think that was the job of a parable. In truth, it’s not.
The Purpose of a Parable
What is a parable? A parable is nothing more than a short tale illustrating a moral lesson or some truth.
Think Paley’s Watchmaker or Jesus’ Prodigal Son or Aesop’s Fables.
But the parable themselves are not truth. They illustrate some truth you already hold. In other words, parables and analogies are built on presuppositions…
You are assuming something is already true. All you are doing with a parable is helping somebody understand that presupposition.
Let me give you an example.
An Example of a Biblical Parable
In the Prodigal Son parable the loving response of the human father to the son who returns after a period of wasteful living is an allegory of the love of God for the repentant sinner.
Our presupposition is that God exists.
In Adams’ puddle analogy, our presupposition is that the universe isn’t designed for life.
In both cases, we need to prove our presuppositions. A parable doesn’t do that on it’s own. And that’s what I mean when I say a parable can’t carry the weight of an argument but is instead an emotionally satisfying story that demonstrates something we already believe.
Another Problem with Parables
Furthermore, just like Paley’s Watchmaker analogy, Adams’ puddle argument makes arbitrary designations.
Why a puddle in a hole? Why not a blue jay finding another bird’s nest? Or a billiard ball falling into a pool pocket?
The variations are infinite.
Bottom line, I sincerely don’t think Adam’s intended his analogy to be adopted as a proof.
He’s smarter than that.
He intended it to be a moral lesson. He said as much when he concluded his analogy: “I think this may be something we need to be on the watch out for.”
Indeed, the world gives us mixed messages. And we often see what we want to see. This applies for both theist and atheist.
So I couldn’t agree more with Adams’ warning. But what do you think? Did I miss something? I’d like to develop this thought further.
A Christ-Centered Approach to Bible Study–Part 5
Finally, we come to the part of this Christ-centered Bible study series that I have been waiting for.
The C in “T.H.I.N.C.”
Christo-centric
Basically, this means “Christ-Centered.” Hence, the type of Bible study this is.
This is the meat on the bone. The wings to the plane. The juice in the jug.
Not getting this is like wearing shoes without shoe laces. And I have been this person almost all my life.
Thank God for people who have helped me see the beauty of the centrality of Christ in Scripture.
Throughout this study series, I have been developing on Matthew chapter 5.
It has served as a good chapter because of its hard sayings and deep meanings.
And as much as I want to show you how the Beatitudes are Christocentric in that their meaning reflect the person who finds Christ, I will be taking us out of Matthew 5 and into some other parts of Scripture.
Let’s talk about this Christo-centric thing
The traditional approach to reading Scripture is to read it moralistically. But I am going to suggest something different. So please, hold stones until the end.
There are two ways we do this:
1. We are urged into moral behavior or action.
2. We read a moral “meaning” of the text, thus attributing it’s meaning to our person.
What is interesting is that the Gospel message is not one that says you must clean up your act before you come to Christ.
In fact, you can’t. That’s why you and I need the Gospel.
The moral behavior the Bible teaches is good…we just cannot live up to it, because guess what—you and I still struggle with immoral thoughts.
So what do we do when we come across a passage that teaches us moral behavior?
Enter Jesus.
The question you have to ask your self is this: “How does Christ fulfill this text where you cannot?” Let’s look at some examples so I can show you what I mean.
Scriptural Examples
Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days are evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is. Ephesians 5:15-17
This is a moral-action Scripture. It challenges us to a higher standard of morality.
And that is good. But it is not all.
What if we stopped here? We would simply get a moralistic teaching and possibly come out of the experience discouraged.
How in the world are we to “be wise,” or “don’t be foolish” and “understand the will of the Lord”?
Scripture never calls us into any mandate that Jesus did not fulfill.
We can paraphrase the above Scripture as such:
Jesus looked carefully on how he walked, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time, because the days were evil. Therefore do not be foolish, but understand what the will of the Lord is.
Jesus fits the bill on this one, because He is after all the one who fulfills the promises.
When you see it this way, then you see the beauty of Jesus in Scripture, and by that simple fact, you are better able to make connections to the cross.
The next one is the moral “meaning,” or “plot” of the text
For example: David and Goliath. Everyone knows these guys.
Many times (probably too often) I have heard this passage as David being the example to us being able to conquer our giants in life.
But is that the goal of that event? I don’t think so.
If we look at this Christocentrically, then I think we can see the beauty of Christ in it.
David was a “type” of Christ. He is the one who killed the giant so that all others could live.
Jesus killed the Giant, Jesus defeated the army for God. In other words, Jesus is the hero–not me!
This puts man in the center, not Jesus.
Another example would be in Daniel 4. Daniel is imprisoned and was told that the King was going to kill his magicians because they could not interpret his dream.
Daniel, however, in the special knowledge of God interprets the dream and Nebuchadnezzar’s. Thus, God gives Daniel the message, and Daniel reveals to Nebuchadnezzar’s what the dream means.
My traditional reading of this would be to interpret the passage into meaning that if I seek out God just like Daniel, then I could “interpret” dreams, too.
But actually, that just makes us the heroes of that account. Which is wrong.
What happens when we put Jesus into the meaning of this message? He becomes beautiful, we can respond in worship, and we don’t have to be the hero.
You see, we were all the magicians who were actively working against God, and Jesus stepped in be the mediator between God and man. And just like what happened with Daniel when all the magicians were saved as a result, so too are God’s people saved from execution because of Jesus working on their behalf.
Yet Another Example
What about when we are charged to not provoke our children to anger?
Well, Jesus did not provoke us to anger, but instead was patient and long-suffering in our return to Him.
Therefore, if we understand and remember what Jesus has done for us, we too will be patient and long-suffering toward our children.
This is Christocentric in a nut-shell.
If you REALLY want to learn about this method, hunt down Tim Keller’s lecture series “Preaching Christ in a Postmodern World” on Monergism.com. Get it and listen to it–it’s free.
Remember
You are not the hero of the story, no matter the story.
And what ever morality that Scripture is calling you into, it is not doing so without first in mind that Jesus has fulfilled that very call.
So tell me, have you ever though that YOU were the David in the story?
What Is the “Post-Evangelical Wilderness”?
I asked myself the same question the other day when I read Chaplain Mike’s post My Post-Evangelical Wilderness.
Basically Mike is explaining what life is like as a Christian in an environment he feels is dysfunctional and theologically shallow.
This is how Mike put it:
“For years, I’d had a growing dissatisfaction with evangelicalism’s lack of tradition, historical perspective, reverence and order in worship. I resisted its programmed approach to spiritual growth, its bourgeois commitments that blatantly disregard the NT emphasis on sacrificial service and inclusion of the poor and disenfranchised, its “temple” mentality that has little sense of serving Christ in daily life and instead revolves around what happens in the institution and its programs.”
Can you relate? I can. But I didn’t at first.
Yes, his commentary splendidly sums up my feelings of the evangelical church. But I don’t really feel like I live in a “post-evangelical wilderness.” Let me explain.
A Problem with Independent, Local Churches
Mike’s angst isn’t rooted solely in his disappointment in the old evangelical order. He’s also a pastoral casualty of an independent church.
He mentions and I think rightly puts his finger on the ecclesiastical problem of independent, local, non-denominational churches: no overarching governing body to lend support when a church goes under or a pastor needs a job.
It’s a rough and lonely world, indeed. You are on your own.
Mike learned this lesson firsthand and found himself without a job–and a church home. No wonder Mike feels like a stranger in a strange land.
And at the end of his post Mike explains this is what living in the “post-evangelical wilderness” means to him. [By the way: He's since found a job he loves but not a church he loves.]
He then goes on to ask “What does it mean to you?” That’s when the hair on the back of my neck stood on end.
My Harsh and Compassionate Response
Even though I relate to Mike now, at first I couldn’t. I knew he got one thing right: There is a generation parting. Call it “evangelical” if you must and I certainly feel like I live a wilderness…
But I wouldn’t identify it as “post-evangelical wilderness.” There’s just way too much going on to tie up our Christian life in this neat package.
Also, by saying “post-evangelical wilderness” we are implying there once was an “evangelical paradise,” a notion I think will make us all snicker.
Mike’s post was a bold one. He opened up. Became vulnerable. But you know what? I kind of thought Mike was whining.
So I mentally hashed out my response–I isolated his problems and presented the solutions in my patented curt approach.
So very man of me. And unregenerate.
But fortunately my conscience wouldn’t allow me to leave it at that. I knew God was nudging me to go further…to step into Mike’s shoes.
So I did my best at proposing a second, compassionate response. I can’t say I succeeded. You be the judge. Here are my original thoughts:
Couple things come to mind when I hear “post evangelical wilderness.” First, cop out. Second, phase of life.
Cop out: I think we’re all pretty much frustrated with the dysfunction of the human race. Paul’s approach to dealing with dysfunction in the church? Laying down the truth. Believers in persecuted nations would love to have a dysfunctional church to worship in. As you can probably tell, this is my harsher side coming out.
Phase of life: This is my softer side coming out. I can only imagine Paul got very, very disillusioned with the persistent dysfunction of the church, too. Indeed, you can sense that in his second letter to Timothy. And I imagine all of us go through phases in which we feel lost and let down by the “church.” But let’s not forget the invisible church. Elijah was reminded when he experienced his lonely, dark winter of spiritual discontent that God had preserved 7,000 others just like him. Fortunately we live in an age that allows us to connect with vibrant, merciful believers around the world who can encourage us when our own local church isn’t.
Chin up, Mike. God loves you and wants you to fight.
Don’t get me wrong: I love neat phrases like “post-evangelical wilderness.” And as cognitive beings who love solving problems, we have a bent for them.
[See this Dug Down Deep review for another example.]
But anytime we align ourselves with a movement–whether post-evangelical or Emergent or New Calvinism–we are in danger of becoming dogmatic, entrenched and ultimately dysfunctional in the eyes of the next generation…something I’d love to avoid…if possible.
Your Turn
So tell me…am I dead on? Or way off? Also, do you see yourself in a “post-evangelical wilderness”? And what does that mean to you? Also, got any solutions for the independent, local churh? I’m curious. Leave your thoughts–brutal and all–in the comments.
Search
Get Updates | Subscribe
Somewhat Essential
Recent Posts
Categories
Archives
