THE NATURE OF CHRISTIAN TRUTH

People who have been reading my blog would have already discerned my desire to engage modern culture from a theological perspective. The blog description, saying that “it is the theologian’s task to think critically... for the evangelization of cultures” already reveals my very theological orientation. I would not deny it: it is a blog with an agenda. By now, readers would have already recognized my great apprehensiveness concerning theology-culture or theology-philosophy dialogue in general. I also would not deny it: I lean towards what people judgmentally label as “conservatives.” But if by “conservative” it means being biblical and rooted firmly in Jesus Christ alone, sola Christus, then I happily and unashamedly accept such a label. In the words of DC Talk:

What will people think when they hear that I’m a Jesus Freak?
What will people do when they find that it’s true?
I don’t really care, if they label me a Jesus Freak
... there ain’t no disguising the truth

So, my suspicions about theology as influenced too much by other ways of thinking, whether cultural, philosophical, or anything anthropological, could not but lead to questioning the validity of the so-called contextualization. In here, I will discuss one of the [many] reasons of my qualms about the idea of contextualization: my theological understanding of the nature of truth.

I

Tacit in contextual theology is the idea that we can use the thought patterns of culture to make the Truth plainer to persons. It is believed that there is some truth even in the unchristian culture, and it is the responsibility of the missiologist to appeal to such truth-structures, immediately upon discernment of such structures, so that the targeted recipients may understand the communicated not-so-new Truth of the gospel. Karl Rahner, the twentieth-century Roman Catholic theologian, in speculative theology, strongly advocated this view. In fact, Rahner calls the unevangelized population as “anomymous Christians.” His view has two premises: (1) grace is universally at work, and (2) grace is none other than Christ. Thus, he concludes that Christ is actually experienced by each person, whether they have heard the gospel or not, albeit such possessed “knowledge” of Christ is implicit, unexpressed, and unthematic. The evangelist’s role is not to communicate something new to anyone, but to make the implicit explicit, or to explain the tacit experience of Christ in everyone. Rahner argues that every person, touched by prevenient grace, possesses a “pre-apprehension” or “pre-grasp” of the Gospel truth.

Rahner’s view is appealing, probably especially among Wesleyans. But this is a misunderstanding of Wesley’s view of prevenient grace (which is not the subject of this essay). What Rahner and missiologists advocate, whether they are aware or not, has its ancestry in philosophy, particularly Plato, rather than the scriptural teaching of grace. For Plato, pedagogy, and the purpose of instruction is not so much to teach new truths previously unknown by the student. Rather, the goal of teaching is to facilitate a sort of remembering of innate truths hidden within the soul of the person, waiting to be tapped. This is what is popularly well known as Plato’s anamnesis. In the words of Kierkegaard, there is assumed a “Socratic religiousness” in humanity (cf Philosophical Fragments). The truth is not from without, but is all the while, within. Truth is not received, but is achieved. As a Christian philosopher, Kierkegaard rejected this whole paradigm. For him, humanity is in sin. The individual could not recollect any innate truth, for there is no innate truth to recollect. Fallen humanity, personally and corporately, possesses no truth, and is therefore in untruth.

If Kierkegaard is right, then the missiologist/evangelist cannot be a Socratic teacher, for there is no truth in the human being which such a teacher can bring to birth. The sinful person needs a different type of teacher, one who possesses the truth and is able to impart it to the untruthful, sinful human being. And yet this is insufficient, for the human being, in bondage to sin, does not innately possess the resources either for recognizing or for appropriating the truth the teacher brings. Even what the Enlightenment glorifies in, namely, Reason, cannot be the means by which the human being accepts the truth offered by the teacher. Thus, we can affirm with absolute certainty, with Kierkegaard, that the only condition for knowing the truth is faith (Fear and Trembling). And faith is a gift of God. Both the content of truth and the condition for accepting the truth is from without and comes to the recipient in a profoundly new way. Truth always shocks.

II

I have established above that truth comes from without, not from within any truth-structure assumedly found innately in the individual human being or in a human society (culture). This has profound implications, especially when we think of truth as essentially transformative, and that the transformation required is a radical metamorphosis. The transformation that happens when untruth encounters truth is a total ontological transformation. And although such a transformation can be gradual, it is not a partial transformation, but a total transformation, meaning, that all the faculties of the transformed human person is affected: disposition, way of thinking, way of acting, and so on.

The story of Israel can shed light to our discussion. Yahweh, the One God, established a special covenant partnership with Israel. Out of the many peoples of the world, Yahweh has chosen Israel, not by merit, but by grace, because the Israelites are apparently the most stubborn and stiff-necked people under the sun (Exo 34:9). This special election, however, is not just about the glory of being called the “people of God.” The ever-deepening, spiral movement of God’s Self-revelation was far from being an easy or painless process. Yahweh’s dialogue, Self-giving and Self-revealing relationship with Israel was a long process. Israel suffered before Yahweh precisely because she was in covenantal relationship with Yahweh. The OT shows that Israel was subjected to the most appalling suffering as she is being shaped by the presence and truth of Yahweh. Reception of Yahweh’s Truth could not be easily received without the inevitable conflict with the deeply ingrained habits of human thought and understanding and without the development of new patterns of thought and understanding and speech. Revelation was like fire in the mind and soul of Israel burning away all that was in conflict with God’s holiness and truth.

The more Yahweh drew himself closer to Israel and the more Yahweh fashioned Israel according to his holy will, the more the innate resistance of the human soul and mind resulting from the alienation of humanity from God inevitably become intensified. This thus resulted again and again in rebellion against God, for it is the nature of the sinful mind and heart to oppose God’s will and purpose. The agonizing battle between obedience to God’s will and human self-will was experienced by Israel at its fullest and in the grandest scale. Thus, the history of Israel not only reveals the will of God but also reveals the natural offence and rebellion to God deeply entrenched in the human heart. The encounter between God and humanity is an encounter that could not but result in war, because such an encounter means the calling into question of the sinful habits and patterns of human existence that needs to be transformed.

Hence my argument: truth comes from without, and because it comes from without, it could not but stand in direct conflict to the previously held untruth of the receiver. This is precisely what happened between God’s Self-communicated truth and the Israelites. What contextualization does and aims is actually to prevent such a conflict. But such an endeavour is futile. In fact, should not the conflict between the truth of God and the untruth of humanity be highlighted, so that its recipients are made aware of the demand for total transformation being asked from them? Truth hurts, but it also sets people free from their bondage to untruth. Should we comfort people with diluted truth or confront them with substantial truth?

III

In Christianity, Truth is not something that can be constructed or deduced from a series of inferences. It is also not an eternal formless body residing in the kosmos noetos (realm of intellect or intelligible world) that can be discerned by the ascetic, mystic or most serious thinker. Thus, in contrast to philosophy’s abstract view of truth, in Christianity we have what Irenaeus and Kierkegaard called an “embodied Truth.” Jesus affirmed that he is indeed “the Truth” (Jn 14:6).

The most astonishing (and to many, even appalling) consequence of the fact that the Truth is embodied in Jesus Christ is that Truth has taken a historical and concrete form. In this radical particularization, God has manifested himself to humanity not only in a decisive finality, but also in absolute specificity. This is why the Apostle Paul can call the Athenians a bunch of ignoramus thinkers, and whose ignorance is no longer acceptable to God (Acts 17:30), for God has already set a day to judge the world through “the man he has appointed” (Acts 17:31). Because the Truth is already embodied, hence, also specific, Truth can no longer be found elsewhere. People who thought they knew the truth from what their culture and philosophy provide are now asked to acknowledge their ignorance, and turn to the man in whom the fullness (pleroma) of God resides (Col 1:19). People who wish to know the Truth can only look at Christ, because he is the only one “in the form (morphe) of God” (Phil 2:6), the “image (eikon) of the invisible God” (Col 1:15), the mystery already revealed (Rom 16:25; Eph 3:3-6; Col 1:26-27), and “the radiance or reflection (apaugasma) of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being” (Heb 1:3).

             

Consequently, in Christian communication, the particularity of the embodied Truth must press itself to us as communicators. In fact, because the Truth is already embodied, we already have a Truth-content that has also provided the final form through which the Truth should be communicated. This is the simplicity of the Gospel. We should learn from the apostles themselves, who, whether their audience were Jew or Gentile, had only one sermon: Jesus Christ the Son of God, crucified, died, buried, rose again, and is coming back (Acts 2:14-40; 17:16-34; 25:23-26:32). The Four Gospels also are apostolic kerygma. There are no tricks involved, nor should there be. Sometimes it is the missiologist/evangelist himself who makes what is absolutely simple to being complicated. This is the “scandal of particularity” referred to in theology. Because the Truth has particularized itself (or better, himself) in the one God-man Jesus Christ, other pseudo-truths cannot but be in inherent opposition to this embodied Truth. Similarly, all other attempts to communicate this embodied Truth using other forms cannot but be an evidence of unfaithfulness to God’s own Self-particularization.

IV

To summarize, here I tried to show that (1) Truth comes from without. Humanity or a collection of human beings (culture) do not possess an inherent truth. Rather, truth comes to all in a shocking and forceful way, and only receivable when we allow the Truth to shatter our untruth. Thus, (2) when Truth and untruth meet, the initial reaction from the untruthful person is opposition, because the ingrained habits and patterns of thought cannot assimilate the claims of the Truth. So receiving Truth is a painful process, because it entails the subjection of human will and mind to what is from without. Self-centredness can stand against God’s desire to shape us into his people. And the more God gives himself, the more we realize our arrogant ignorance and entrenchment in sin. The more light comes near us, the more we see our true colour. Our response, though, should not be to return to the darkness, but to allow God to cleanse us from all revealed iniquities. Finally, (3) Truth is embodied in Jesus Christ. Hence, Truth can be found only from one particular source. Nature is mute and culture is blind. Only the embodied Truth speaks. To encounter God’s Truth, one has to look at Jesus, for he is the only Way, Truth and Life.

(This essay has taken longer space than I originally planned, but I still have not discussed the fact that Truth is Self-revealing, grounded in the fact that God is a dynamic, eloquent being. Perhaps I can deal with this next time.)

IT'S RELEVANT

“Relevance” is a slippery term.

It seems that today, the relevance of something (which we will now refer to as the package) is understood to be predicated upon two premises: (p1) that the package is important, and (p2) that the recipient appreciates the package. Only when these two conditions are fulfilled that the package is judged to be relevant. Thus, negatively:

(a)    The package is irrelevant if it is an unimportant thing, no matter how the recipient appreciates it.

(b)   Similarly, the package is irrelevant, no matter how important it is, if the recipient does not appreciate it.

This kind of thinking, however, when transposed into evangelism and mission, has radical consequences. In fact, the above formula is probably the common mentality of today, made evident by the rise of contextual and sociological studies in missions. The necessity of the so-called “indigenous theology” is also grounded in the drive towards “relevance.” The problem with this is that the trend tends to emphasize (p2) in the equation. I wonder whether there are still contextual theologians around who still consider the package as essentially important regardless of whether it is appreciated or not by its recipients. In short, is the Gospel still the good news if it is considered “foolishness” by Gentiles and “scandal” to Jews (1 Cor 1:23)? Is it worth it to present the Gospel of Jesus Christ when it arouses animosity against the God and the Church that proclaims it? Does the Gospel lose its essential importance when it is not understood?

Here we must distinguish between evangelical relevance and intellectual relevance. Going back to the equation above, intellectual relevance emphasizes the presentability of the package in such a way that it is understood and appreciated (p2). To accomplish this, the evangelist might need to remodel (or worse, add ingredients to) the Gospel so that it fits the taste of the recipient. Worst still, the evangelist might need to prune the Gospel content (John 3:16) in order for it to be appetizing. For the evangelist of this type of relevance, the Gospel content, like the one preached by the early apostles and presented in the four Gospels, possesses no integrity on its own, and has no power on its own to effect transformation in the lives of its hearers without prior careful crafting. This is a highly anthropological model of evangelism. I believe that intellectual relevance is important too, but I wonder: Is the exalted position we ascribe to it a lot more than what it should really have?

Evangelical relevance, on the other hand, grounds relevance not on the appreciability or acceptability of the Gospel, but on the primary fact that God saves. I am not arguing, however, that a sloppy presentation of the Gospel is sufficient. (My argument does not need a reduction ad absurdum response.) My contention is: in mission, the category “relevant” should not be grounded upon appreciability, but upon the essential importance of the Gospel. To reverse the order, and to argue that evangelical relevance is irrelevant without prior intellectual relevance displays an unspiritual way of thinking. Of course communication is essential. To be understood is important. But the Gospel we are communicating is not a human insight; it is rather a spiritual truth (cf 1 Cor 2:4-5). The Gospel in its scandalous claim that humanity is sinful and in need of redemption through Christ the Son of God needs to be presented unashamedly (Luke 9:26; Rom 1:16).

 Perhaps the main reason we want to be pleasing to the world is that we want to avoid persecution. We are pressured by the world to be in uniformity with its standards, and failure to be so is equivalent to persecution. Of course suffering is unpleasant. Pain is an event that we do no wish to encounter. And if pain still meets us in the way, our first reaction is to seek the comfort of a pain-negating medicine. But we should wonder whether by avoiding suffering we are also avoiding the call of Christ to take up our crosses and follow him (Matt 10:37-39; 16:23-25; Mark 8:33-35; Luke 9:22-24; 14:26-28). We should wonder whether by avoiding persecution we are actually anti-Christians, people who are qualitatively different from that of the early Christians and martyrs. The early Christians, (except perhaps the apologists), did not seek social and intellectual acceptance at the expense of witness. Rather, they sought to be witnesses at the expense of social and intellectual acceptance.

We should really ask other related questions: Does our noticeable avoidance of persecution not in itself a counterwitness? If we do not want to suffer for something that we think is true, then how can we persuade others to commitment to such truths? Are we not actually communicating that the truth we proclaim is not worth suffering or dying for? Are we not presenting a Gospel that no longer calls to repentance, but only calls for acceptance? Are we not promoting a Christianity that does not offer something that the world does not have? Does the fact that we do not have the confidence to speak the Gospel of Christ in its simplest form (which is already given to us in God’s accommodation) express our unbelief in the power of the Holy Spirit to make clear to all what is foolishness to Gentiles and scandalous to Jews? If we do not believe in the power of the Holy Spirit to convict the world of its sin and ignorance, then how can we even communicate the Gospel of repentance? If we do not have faith in the Holy Spirit, are we not actually asking people to join us in believing something we ourselves do not really believe in? Should we conform to the pattern of the world’s reasoning, or be transformed by the renewing of our minds? (Rom 12:2) Should we obey rather obey human stipulations than God’s commission to make disciples of the Servant-Lord (Acts 5:29)?

MONOTHEISM, POLYTHEISM and ATHEISM

This essay has three propositions:

(1)   Monotheism is belief in many gods, but is commitment to one God.

(2)   Polytheism is belief in many gods, and is commitment to many gods.

(3)   Atheism is non-belief in gods, but is commitment to gods.

To elaborate:

Christians, like the people of ancient Israel, are and should be polytheists, but only in terms of belief. Christians should acknowledge the fact that there are many gods out there, and that most of the world’s population are increasingly – although perhaps unconsciously – sliding towards committing themselves to several gods. These other gods, from a Christian perspective, do not have ontological existence and are but a product of fallen humanity’s imagination. Nevertheless, they are genuine objects of veneration and devotion. We can say that Christians should acknowledge the fact that the world is hallucinating, and that the world is continuously producing imaginary and ontologically empty beings and ideologies. We must believe that there are many other gods, and be able to recognize these gods in order to send them back into the non-existence from which they came from.

Our difference, as Christians, from polytheists is that although we recognize the presence of many gods, we are worshippers of only One – and the True God that is – while polytheists both believe and worship many gods. But I am not solely referring to ancient polytheism here. Polytheism has its many forms and branches (one of which is atheism). It has evolved, and will continually do so. It might be cleverly hidden, but what we need is to be able to discern its new manifestations. For instance, today, when we mention polytheism, people might immediately think of Egyptian religion, Hinduism or Greek mythology. What does not come to mind is that polytheism has already moved one, and has acquired an invisibility cloak that disables us from perceiving it. Whereas ancient polytheism worshipped only that which were thought as divine beings, along with the icons and idols representing these beings, modern polytheism worships different gods. They can be an ideology, a concept, or an ideal, but these gods are real objects of worship. As such, polytheism today, compared to the determined and limited (although already many) number of gods of ancient polytheism, have more gods. The problem though, is that modern polytheists are often self-conceited in thinking that they are not polytheists simply because they do not worship the gods of ancient religions. Contrary, therefore, to claim that Islam is the fastest growing religion today, it is actually polytheism. This sounds ironic at first sight, considering what sociologists refer to as the increasing secularization of the world. (I have written about the secularization and re-sacralization of the world here.) But actually, is it not that polytheism is but the expected child of secularization?

Atheist who state “I do not believe in gods” are telling the truth, but this does not mean that they are not a worshipper of something else. Everyone is a worshipper of someone or something. Atheist may not believe in the existence of both ancient and modern gods, and may not be committed to ancient gods, but they are definitely committed to a modern god or more. By virtue of the fact that they repudiate the existence of “mythical” creatures (the modern mind thinks of divine beings as mythical), they existentially commit themselves to naturalism and its gods. Thus, ironically, they are as religious – perhaps even more religious – than what they think they are. Scientology, which celebrities like John Travolta and Tom Cruise promote, is an example of a naturalistic religion.

Thus, these are the facts about the world’s religions today:

(1)   Christians believe in the existence of many gods, but are committed to only One.

(2)   Polytheists believe in the existence of many gods, and are committed to many.

(3)   Atheists do not believe in the existence of gods, but are committed to many.

THE ECLIPSE OF GOD

Martin Buber is probably most well-known for his contribution to relational theology, particularly because of the I-Thou view of relationship he emphasized, along with the stimulating insights and implications attached to it. Terms like “person,” “personhood,” “relational,” and “communion,” to name a few, are the most well-used in the theological glossary today. This is readily understandable, given the recent interest and revival of Trinitarian studies not only in Protestant theology, but also in Roman Catholic and Orthodox theologies. In fact it has been ages long since the whole Christian church has been united theologically. These are promising times. Never has there been in the history of the church since the ecumenical councils, a more positive drive towards ecumenical and yet orthodox theology.

The focus of this essay, however, is about another important yet more neglected Buberian insight. It was only through my reading of Karl Barth and T.F. Torrance that I have come across what Buber calls the “eclipse of God,” which is actually another title of Buber’s books. Buber argues that just as in an eclipse of the sun, the eclipse of God occurs because there is something between God and us. God, like the sun, is a faithful constant, an ever-present Person always in a gracious act of Self-giving and Self-communication. Like the sun that provides light and warmth, God remains faithful in providing life to all. Like the sun announcing its presence through light, our Jehoav Jireh continually announces his presence in providential care to all. Matthew 5:46 says that God “causes the sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and unrighteous.” No one is exempted from God’s reach, and because God is an eloquent Being, no ear is inherently incapable of hearing even his whisper.

Using the analogy of the eclipse, then, we can point out at least three conclusions:

1.      God, like the sun, is the faithful Constant.

2.      If we cannot see God, it’s not because he is not there. Rather, something must be in between God and our eyes.

3.      We see God only when there no eclipsing moons in between our eyes and God.

The agonizing fact is that most of the world’s population are experiencing a theological eclipse. But it does not mean that God has chosen to hide himself from their sight. Again, he is the faithful Constant. He is a Self-giving and Self-revealing God. The reason why people cannot see him, therefore, is because of moons eclipsing God from their view. One of the earliest novels I’ve read was Alexandre Dumas’ The Count of Monte Cristo. In one of the conversations, these lines appear: “It is the way of weakened minds to see everything through a black cloud. The soul forms its own horizons; your soul is darkened, and consequently the sky of the future appears stormy and unpromising.” Our spiritual eyes wear spectacles through which things may be seen. Unfortunately, it is these spectacles that may also prevent our eyes to see other things. It is our mission to identify which spectacles serve as hindrances for our eyes to see God.

The Psalmist is very explicit: “The fool says in his heart, ‘There is no God.’ They are corrupt, their deeds are vile” (14:1). Here is the answer as to why people do not recognize God; here is why people hear but do not listen; here is why people see but do not see. There is only one word: corruption. We therefore remember Origen in the second century teaching the church of the importance of the spiritual senses to be opened by the grace of God. We remember Augustine and the Reformation theologians teaching the church about the corruption of the image of God in us, which consequently meant the shutting down of our God-given capacity to know, recognize and worship our Father and Creator. And yet the problem is more than just inherent corruption. While the eclipse of God in the world can be grounded in humanity’s deprived condition, the eclipse can be caused by human culpability as well. We learn from existential philosophy that every existential “No” always has an equivalent existential “Yes.” We say No to the invitation of David because we have already made a prior Yes to either a prior invitation or just Yes to staying at home. We say No to drug abuse because we have already Yes to healthy lifestyle. We say No to Jesus Christ because we have already said Yes to other gods and idols. This is why David calls the one who says No to the true and living God a “fool,” for indeed it is a poor choice.

And yes, we can easily point our fingers to the non-believing world and judge them for their culpable incapacity to see the God who provides, protects and gives life. But certainly there are occasions when even Christians are blind to God. This includes me. The fact remains that no one can confidently say, “Now that I see, an eclipse of God can never happen to me anymore.”  The one who proclaims this is not only arrogant, but also blind.

In fact, and this comprises my main proposal: it is us, theologians and Christian thinkers, who are most vulnerable to an eclipse of God. This is mainly because of our desire (and perhaps because of the demand of academia) for a systematic theology. The example initiated by Peter Lombard in his Sentences in the twelfth century remains the aspired format of doing theology today. Theologians are still trapped in modern theology’s canonization of “systematic theology” because of the claim of the Enlightenment that truth should be cohesive to be truth. The problem with this is that it leads to fitting God within an invented “system.” Anything that does not fit or destroy the cohesiveness of the system is pruned away. In the end, what is left in a supposedly “systematic theology” are “truths” about God which our system deems worthy of mentioning. In the end, what we have done is make a Procustrean bed for God (Procustes is a character who fits his guests to their beds. He would stretch his guests if they were too short and chop their legs if they were too long for their beds.) Surely this is not what theology is all about. If theology is an act of worship to God, then it is our minds that need to be made fit into the rationality of God, not the other way around. If theology is worship, then our minds should submit to God’s own revelation through his Son Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. We dare not chop God’s revelation or stretch his Self-proclaimed Truths in order that they might fit in a man-made system!

If we are to see God clearly and allow God to reveal himself to us in his own ways, then we need to abandon all our preconceptions, biases and prejudices. Easier said than done, I know, but we have to start somewhere now. The beginning should be the identification of these preconceptions and subjecting them to radical criticism, asking whether they are servants of the gospel or actually eclipsing tools that prevent us from a worshipful reception of God’s Self-communication. We should always be open to the possibility that it might be us, ourselves, who are causing the eclipse of God. What is required of us is a repentant attitude in the face of God’s Truth. This is why theology is always a task done in humility before God. In the presence of God our Teacher, we are students and will always be the ones taught. We are the disciples, learners and followers. And like the human Jesus, we should also progressively grow in wisdom and stature before God (Luke 2:52). Our goal, the Apostle Paul says is having “the mind of Christ” in the power of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor 2:16).

TEMPTED PREDICAMENT

This week, in preparation for the coming of our daughter next month, my wife and I have moved from our small flat to a more spacious abode. While cleaning, Incubus’ 2009 album Monuments and Melodies was playing on my laptop. Although my ears are hearing the music, my hands were the ones more connected to my brain. But for some reason, when the song “Dig” came up, it was my nervous and olfactory systems that were working together. Then suddenly, multiple active synapses started to rattle my brain. This meant only one thing: a time of theological musing.

Incubus’ song “Dig” makes the case that everyone has weaknesses, and that we all live trying to overcome them. We all have personal thorns in the flesh. It is conventional, even in Christian sermons, that temptations come from our weak spots, or that we are tempted when and where we are vulnerable. This is of course, true. Our weaknesses, whatever they are, are backdoors that are almost always open for the tempter to siege our souls. In fact, the tempter seem to be very knowledgeable of the particular moments of our vulnerabilities, and makes use of these very effectively. The question is: Should we be excused when we fall from temptations perfectly timed and executed by our tempter? The thing is, being repeatedly tempted through the same weakness and being repeatedly overcome by the same temptations cannot be possibly be a good Christian experience. The saying “the first mistake is a mistake; the second is foolishness” should sound like cymbals bashed near our earlobes. We cannot ordain our weaknesses by thinking that sinning caused by them should be excused, or that others should be “more understanding” about it. Weaknesses are not meant to be permanent. In fact, they are meant to be overcome, even if it is little by little.

But our weaknesses are not the only avenues of temptations. In fact, ironically, our strengths can be a mighty source of temptation. Consider the dialogue below from the film Luther (2003):

Cardinal Cajetan:  “What is it that you seek, Aleander?”

Aleander: “To serve God – to serve him with all my heart.”

Cardinal Cajetan: “And that is how you will be tempted.”

Interesting, is it not? If we think about it, especially for the Christian, it is actually the temptations springing from our strengths that we are more vulnerable to. Furthermore, it is these temptations that we are blind to and are mostly unaware of. For instance, a brilliant preacher can easily be tempted to have superiority complex. A Christian praying at 5:00AM everyday can easily be tempted to have spiritual pride. The moral Christian can easily be tempted to be judgmental of others. And truthfully, the tempted one in these scenarios needs another person to make them aware of their predicament. This is why temptations from our strengths are a lot more seriously problematic than temptations from weaknesses. And because everyone has strengths – just as everyone has weaknesses – we can confidently conclude that we all face temptations that we may not be even aware of! Indeed, we may have fallen many times from stealth temptations. If we add our God-given and neutral human desires (like hunger, sexual desire, love for companionship, etc.) that can be used against us, the number of stealth temptations we face everyday can be enormous. Perhaps we have been tempted via our very own God-given and God-enabled triumphs. Perhaps we thought that the victory we had over one thing marks the end of all temptations for the whole day. If so, we are dead wrong.

Temptations are not as simple as they sound. We can never underestimate (or overestimate) our tempter. It is not as if we have a specific number of temptations per day allocated for us. In fact, the very moment of victory over one temptation can be the very beginning of another. The film The Devil’s Advocate (1997), although not a Christian film, hits the mark about temptations. In the film, Keanu Reeves plays the part of a lawyer who is tempted by Satan, played by Al Pacino. Near the climax, the film portrays Reeves’ victory over Satan’s temptation for easy access to power and glory, but the movie ends with Satan turning Reeves’ victory over him (Satan) as the very foundation of his next temptation. So the movie has not actually ended; it has just begun. The viewer is left with the impression that the cycle continues. This is the truth about temptations. They are not like coconut trees whose lives end after being cut. Instead, they are like shrubs. Cut a thorny stem and a shoot sooner or later comes out right where it was cut.  

Given this, our predicament as Christians is actually complicated. We need the Holy Spirit to give us the discernment to detect all symptoms of temptations. It is true that God will not let us be tempted beyond what we can bear, and that he will provide for us a way out (1 Cor 10:13), but how can we be led towards the finish line if we do not think we are in a race in the first place? Yes. We are always in a race. We are always in a network of temptations cleverly planned just for us. This is why Peter’s admonition is always timely: “Be alert and of sober mind. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour” (1 Peter 5:8).

WHAT IF WE HAVE 'AN EMPTY FUTURE'?

First, an acknowledgment should be in order. My reflections in this essay are a response to Robert W. Jenson’s penetrating statement about modern culture’s attitude about the future in his book The Triune Identity (1982: p172). Because Jenson’s book is primarily on Trinitarian discourse, his analytic description of modern culture, however profound, is extremely laconic. This essay, therefore, seeks to expound Jenson’s argument.

Jenson critiques modern culture for espousing what he calls a “contentless eschatology.” In simpler terms, modern culture does not have a vision of the future. The world’s unbelieving population (which constitutes the vast and still growing majority) simply has an “empty future” (“future” in here primarily refers to the end times, or after death). There are two ways in which this can be explained. First, people do not have an intellectual grasp about their future. In a sense, this is true of all people, including Christians. Life after death is an unexplainable hope. Even the story of Jesus’ resurrection should be categorized as a “mystery.” There is a sense of and a need for a worshipful resignation of the human mind regarding life after death. It is simply a phenomenon that transcends human logic and technology.

Secondly, people have religious (or irreligious) unbelief about the future. Or more precisely, people do not believe or do not want to believe about life after death. In this sense, having no vision of the future is both an existential and a religious state. It is in this sense that an “empty future” or “contentless eschatology” applies only to the modern secular world. And it is this emptiness that I want to address.

What is the prevailing mindset about life after death? With the abandonment of religious belief prevalent in modern society is the concomitant disbelief in anything religious or supernatural. If religion teaches life after death, then the irreligious or non-religious does not believe in life after death, and so on. (It should be mentioned, however, that members of the Jehovah’s Witnesses believe in the annihilation of the soul of the wicked.) So in place of the belief in life after death is the belief in nothingness after death. In death happens the absolute termination of consciousness, joy, suffering, love, hate, and everything life-related. The present life on earth is all there is. After here awaits nothing but black nothingness. (It is interesting to note that in the science of neurology, scientists are taking interest in the human consciousness. But even within the field, there is still not a unified consensus about the state of human consciousness after death. Sure there are several theories, both for and against the idea of consciousness after death, but it seems that even the theories proposing the idea of consciousness after death has long ways to go, because some of them are intricately related to other unverified theories, such as the idea of the multiverse.)

The question is: “What does belief in future nothingness do to a person?” People might respond to this question differently, but apart from the loss of the sense of accountability to one’s own well-being, the greatest damage this view does is the loss of hope. Even from a sociological perspective, it is the people who have no sense of hope for their future that are the ones with high self-destruction tendencies. It is those who are born in poverty who have the tendency to be uninterested in education. It is those who are uneducated who have the tendency to take drug addiction and alcoholism as their life-long careers. Having a vision of an empty future is absolutely damaging to one’s morale. Of course, suicide is also the best option, because it is through dying that all sufferings meet their ultimate end. How many movies have we already watched portraying a deluded villain who wants to end the world because the world is getting worse? The logic is: “Why prolong agony, when non-agony is just a death away?”

If nihilism, or the belief in nothingness after death, is coupled with both narcissism and hedonism, tragic consequences follow. Narcissism and hedonism are philosophies that promote a self-gratifying and pleasure-seeking lifestyle. Horace’s dictum (interpreted through Ovid) “seize the day,” represents the best life motto. On the plus side, this aphorism teaches us that time is irredeemable, that each fleeing moment needs to cherished as unique unrepeatable events, and that we should make the most of the 86,400 seconds per day given to us. But the complete phrase is this: carpe diem, quam minimum credula postero (in Odes Book I). In English, it translates: “Seize the day, putting as little trust as possible in the future.” Imagine someone who has no vision of life after death making this as his/her life motto. The concomitant conclusion will logically be that “If the only life we have is this life, then it should be thoroughly enjoyed.” And so again, the person without hope of a better future will attempt to enjoy this life by all means possible. The poor, having no means to support a pleasurable lifestyle, will have to resort to stealing and taking advantage of others. The rich, having the means to support a pleasurable lifestyle, will continue in his/her hedonistic journey without regard of his/her health.

The Christian has a radically different view from the unbeliever. If for the unbeliever, it is nothingness that is eschatologically promised, for the Christian, in the words of Jenson, “it is love that is eschatologically promised” (p173). In short, the content of the Christian’s vision of the future is nothing else but LOVE. If the Triune God in his essential nature is Love; if “God so loved the world that he gave his only Son” (John 3:16); if God demonstrated his love by his Son dying for us (Rom 5:8); if the Holy Spirit is the nexus amoris or the vinculum caritatis (“bond of love”) between the Father and the Son and between God the world; and if the same Son, whose Love is everlasting, is he who judges the world, then our future consists of Love, of gracious Love. Our future is not a dark nothingness or a fiery ocean of eternal torment, but of eternal and loving communion with the Life and Love of God.

This vision of the future as Love offered by the Gospel of Jesus Christ is a better alternative to a vision of the future as nothingness offered by the gospel of modern naturalistic philosophy. Compared to understanding life after death as utter annihilation, a vision of a future filled with joy and fellowship is more comforting for the oppressed and suffering of today.  Ultimately, it is Life, not Death that is the best solution to pain and suffering.

It is for this reason that Christianity has much to offer to the modern world. We have a hope that is steadfast and sure. We have a future of Love to offer to a self-loathing and others-hating world. We have a beautiful vision to offer to an ugly-faced worldview. We have a Life secured in Christ to offer to our suicidal neighbours.

CHRISTIAN FAITH versus PSEUDO-FAITH

For the sake of clarity, let me first briefly state the proposition of this essay: “Faith that seeks to be validated by canons provided by anything outside revelation is not Christian faith, but is actually unbelief.” At the end of this essay, I hope that readers will be (1) more aware of the often unqualified engagement of contemporary theology with other sources of knowledge leading to an uncritical form of dialogue, which, rather than enriching theology actually contradicts faith; and (2) able to distinguish the difference between Christian faith and Christian-unbelief-disguised-as-faith (or, pseudo-faith).

What is “faith”? The definition in Hebrews 11:1 of faith as “being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” provides us with a solid framework. When this is juxtaposed with Jesus statement to Thomas (the Doubter) in John 20:29, “blessed are those who have not seen and yet have believed,” both passages provide us with interesting insights about both the faith-agent (the who) and the faith-content (the what). Briefly, the faith-agent in the present is asked to believe a future reality (Heb 11:1) or a past reality (John 20:29) that are non-validated by sight. Jesus’ statement in John 20:29 points specifically to a past event (the resurrection), and Thomas’ pessimism about its reality. Faith, thus, is the obedient and submissive “I believe” of the faith-agent to divine realities, whether they are (1) God’s statement about Himself or (2) God’s acts both in the future and the past. Admittedly, while perhaps future realities are hard to believe on the basis of their transcendent nature, unbelief of past divine statements and events should be considered absolutely intolerable, at least in Christian theology.

The key insight here is that Christian faith is essentially obedient assent to God’s own objective Self-revelation and Self-actuation, even though there may be no empirical or material evidences that warrant the truthfulness of faith-contents. Faith-contents simply possess transcendent qualities that cannot be fitted with human-invented categories of verification, whether empirical or philosophical. It is for this reason that faith is essentially blind, and it should be blind if it is to be truly faith. The definition in Hebrews 11 clearly indicates that faith means intellectual assent in the absence of empirical proof, particularly visual evidence. John 20 even calls those who believe without presented evidences to be “blessed.” True Christians, Paul writes, “live by faith, not by sight” (2 Cor 5:7).

The question, perhaps is this: “Can belief in and devotion to something empirically unverifiable rational?” Or to put it more bluntly: “Are Christians sane?” The answer is a resounding YES. In fact, faith is a science in its own right. It has its subject (the faith-agent; although the ultimate Subject is God) and object (the faith-content, who is also the Subject, God). Now all sciences have their own procedures and apparatuses of investigation. For instance, astronomers look up and use telescopes because the objects of their investigations are the distant bodies. Biologists, on the other hand, generally look down and use microscopes because the objects of their investigations are organisms and their micro-construction. Now while astronomy and biology are both sciences, they are nevertheless two different sciences with distinct methodologies and apparatuses. As such, it is illogical and unscientific for an astronomer to use a microscope to study the stars.  Astronomy, to remain scientific, should faithfully oblige itself to a method of inquiry in accordance to its object of investigation. It is only through this that astronomy could be considered rational. Similarly, if faith is a science, then faith-agents should subject themselves to the nature of the faith-contents. As such, because the faith-contents are essentially not empirically verifiable, then faith-agents have to faithfully comply to faith-contents’ demands or non-demands. It is only through this that faith is rational, i.e. when faith-agents submit their rationalities to the unique logic and rationality of the faith-content.

Ultimately, therefore, to believe or have faith in something only because it has been proven by categories of verification outside of the science of faith is not Christian faith, but is actually unbelief, or at least an evidence of unbelief. Let us look at the statements below:

(s1) Pigs do not fly.

(s2) Pigs fly.

(s3) God exists, because philosophical argumentation proves it.

(s4) God exists, although it can never be proven by human reasoning or empirical testing.

(s1) is a statement of unbelief based on empirical data. It is a rational unbelief because the faith-agent submits his/her rationality to the nature of pigs that reveal and manifest themselves as creatures unable to fly.

(s2)  is a statement of belief without regard of empirical data. It is an irrational belief because the faith-agent does not subject his/her rationality to the nature of pigs that reveal and manifest themselves as creatures unable to fly.

(s3) masquerades itself as a statement of faith, but it is actually a statement of unbelief. This is because the faith-agent only believes after being intellectually satisfied. Without intellectual satisfaction, the state of having faith would not have been achieved. It is also irrational because the faith-agent does not submit his/her rationality to the nature of the object of inquiry (God), who reveals himself as transcendent and beyond logical proof.

(s4) is a statement of faith. This is Christian faith. God, whose nature remains transcendent and immeasurable by human-invented methodologies and apparatuses can never be subject to human verification. It is rational because the faith-agent submits his/her rationality to the transcendent rationality of its Object, God. Also, it is Christian faith because it believes that God’s Self-spoken statements and Self-actualizing interaction within space and time are only validated and authenticated by God Himself.

This brings us to the crucial questions: “So what now of the attempts of contemporary theology to verify faith-contents through non-theological sources?” “Is this endeavour rational or irrational?” “Does this serve Christian faith or actually promote unbelief?” “Does preaching about a verified truth not implicitly encourage unbelief towards unverifiable truths?” While I genuinely believe in the practice of apologetics, the engagement of Christian theology with other fields of inquiry, and the need for Christian theology to be relevant with aspects of everyday life, as a Christian theologian, I think (with K Barth TF Torrance) that the Gospel has its own rationality and logic that can never be measured by other sciences and fields of inquiry. To attempt to reconcile faith-contents with extra-biblical resources to the point of believing only on the basis of validating philosophical, scientific and cultural canons is actually atheism, and thus pseudo-faith.


Jesus is Lord!