Kent Reflections XX: Recollections and Changes

XX. Kent Laboratory, December 20^th, 2016:

Recollections and Changes.

I have at long last begun the work of re-merging my two blogs together. Back when I first started blogging in 2012, I started both a "Christian life" blog (which in its second iteration was called "Apolytrosis: Meditations on the God Who Redeems") and a "Christian mythologist" blog (this one). The purpose of the separation was primarily academic. In the first blog I would write about matters that were on my heart, discuss art and good things, and listen to really really incredible music. In the second, on the other hand, I would try my hand at literary analysis, using the small bits of tools I had received from my two Honors courses in college.

What I did not expect was how these two sets of ideas would intersect over the course of the past four years. I began to blog about political topics, mainly fighting against the cultural hegemony of Christian conservatism in my circles, and I began applying academic methods of philosophical engagement - like Claude Levi-Strauss' The Savage Mind - to contemporary political situations. Slowly I found my "personal, redemption blog" and my "academic, mythology blog" to begin overlapping, communicating to one another, and making sense of the other.

This is not altogether unexpected. After all, I am a Christian, and my theology impacts my political thought and my intellectual thought, and what I am reading and what I am hearing about become, often, the set of topics I engage on.

Over the past several months, especially as I've been able to blog more, I have begun writing more and more on my mythology blog on the topics of political and intellectual engagement. I've used Althusserian Ideology to critique the orthodoxies of the Left and the Right, made a defense for the sake of anti-Trump Christians who find the current political-spiritual situation unstomachable, and made a thorough rejection of Randian epistemology. I've actually really enjoyed engaging these topics in this way, so I think my "Confessions" are going to shift in their central goals.

Increasingly, I am finding the political problems of our current state to be the result of certain strains of heterodox theologies and ideologies operating "under the surface," so to speak, of our beloved evangelicalism. Increasingly, I am finding the desire to target these theologies and ideologies, "bring them to the light" (as they say), and expose their true natures.

My central goal, however, is not Political Theology, although I discuss it often. In truth, it is my greatest desire to shuck off the husk of politics that enfolds our country and simply live the Christian life, unfettered by the obnoxious demands of political-powers-that-be. Yet, it seems that even our theologies have become tainted by political demands. After all, there's this strange reality - something I touched on in my blog against the hegemony of Christian conservatism - that evangelicalism implies a commitment to a particular brand of political beliefs. And, as I have been largely targeting this particular problem amidst conservatives, the recent upsurge - likely thanks to the Trump administration - of Christian liberals has within itself the recipe for the same disastrous ideology.

In a recent conversation with several liberal-leaning Christian colleagues, I made the point that I felt like our faith is not political. Of course - and I made this clear - Jesus is political, He says things that are political, He challenges political powers, etc. The prophetic books of the OT are all hemmed within their particular political environments, and they cannot be read without attention to that. But my point was to say that as a Christian I strive for a life outside of politics. I was accused of having a "white perspective" on the matter. Everything is political, this colleague said, when you're black.

In some sense I don't disagree with him. I think there's many ways that the political realm infests our local lives and affects specific groups of people in specific ways. That, after all, is the power and the legacy of racism and slavery (and other abuses to other groups of people). But there is an eschatological problem with saying that "everything is political." There's an acceptance: This is the way things are, this is the way things will be, we have to deal with it as it is.

I entirely disagree. I write about politics often because I find it to be a real pain in my behind. The political thought would very much like us to think that it is the central determinant of values and purpose. The Right leverages it and says to Churches (and literally, given the vice president-elect's recent video message): "These are your values." The Left leverages it differently, but with the same result, "If you believe this, then these are your values." Neither seems to recognize that these forces have no moral authority to describe values. In fact, they have no source for values in the first place, other than obscure political traditions that have disappeared through our inattentiveness to history.

The Christian person, thus, is not a person who is determined from outside by political powers-that-be, nor a person who is called to submit or accept political definitions-that-be - as Foucault might say, these are indeed "power plays" - but, instead, ought to be a person defined, not from within (as some erroneously say), but from above from the God who defines us.

So, in a sense, my goal is not too dissimilar from that of the Libertarian, but whereas the Libertarian aims at the removal of the bondage (so they say) of the State over its subjects, I aim at the remove of the bondage of Ideology over Christian minds. That work includes difficult conversations regarding politics, and it requires an openness to diversity in certain answers, something I find most political pundits to deeply lack. One has to hold in tension the various beliefs and commitments of the global Church whilst navigating the claims that various political powers or intellectual forces make and compare these to the Bible. I don't think it's easy work to do.


Here, as I have done in the past, I find myself at a new inflection point with my writing and my work. Pretty much everything I wrote between 2012 and 2015 strikes me as banal or unhelpful, or at least poorly written. I leave them here for now as a testament to the journey the Lord's been taking me on, but soon enough I am going to separate the tares and the wheat, leaving only the older posts that I most value and most refer back to on the site. Between 2015 and 2016, I began writing better - thanks to the MA program - and thinking stronger, and most of these posts do justice to the sort of broader project I aim at.

As I move into 2017, I think I will begin writing more philosophy essays, like I did with Ayn Rand and with the problem of knowledge. I have an essay regarding Jean-Paul Sartre and the Book of Romans that I might write soon, or, at the very least, do some sort of comparative work of the claim "A is A" as made by Aristotle, Rand, and Sartre, and explain how these three function very differently from each other (and how Rand is utterly nonsensical in her description of the law of identity).

I think I will also begin writing more just on the topic of theology. We've been doing a Bible study in Romans here at Church of the Shepherd, I have been just in awe about how beautiful and complex and incredible the Scriptures are, all over again. I think I might have more reflections on that topic.

And I think I will continue to wrestle with politics and current affairs, because they are important, and we need to wrestle through them better. I find Al Mohler's claim on his podcast "we'll discuss these things from a Christian worldview" a little problematic; and, in some sense, I intend to offer a different view on "the Christian worldview," and reject certain propositional claims made by the conservative powers-that-be (and the liberal too). In order for us to really write "the Christian worldview," we need to really back up our claims with the way that Jesus deals with politics in the Bible. (Tim Keller does this pretty well in his talk here.)

And, beyond all this, I do intend to continue my mythopoetic work. I think about literature differently now than I did back in 2012 and 2013 when all of my posts about mythopoesis revolved primarily around Robert Bly, Joseph Campbell, and John Eldredge. I find these Jungians less helpful for the work of literary analysis. Instead, these days I find myself more inspired by Francesco Petrarch and Giambattista Vico, by Renaissance humanism, and by that spark of Renaissance humanism that undergirds the great Christian humanists - C.S. Lewis, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Charles Williams. That is more of the lineage that my mythopoetic analysis shall follow.


Looking over these past four years of blogging, I can see that I have changed in many ways. But, then again, I haven't changed too much. I still find politics more of a stumbling block than the work of the Lord, I still find the implicit claims of Christian conservatism stifling and un-godly, I still think that Love & War & the Sea In-Between is one of the greatest albums of the century, and I still really really really love the music of Olivier Messiaen. And, even from the beginning of this blog, I still have a huge theological opposition to Rationalism. You know, "the more things change..."

Wholly Un-Christian: The Rugged Individualism of Ayn Rand

Sometime last week I wrote a short post entitled "On Knowledge." The purpose of that post was to begin a much larger project on which I'm working on the topic of Christian epistemology, and to begin to trace out some of the core arguments in that field. One of the central claims I made in that post was the following:

Knowledge is more a Relationship with a Mystery than it is a quantifiable substance.

For a wide variety of peoples - from secular academics to fundamentalist Christians - this claim could seem an unsettling one. After all, it implies that Knowledge, something that we take-for-granted as being "objective," is an intimate, personal thing, a claim that rejects the received understanding that the mind is bifurcated from the body. Or, to put that in different terms, my claim rejects the binarism of mind-body altogether and says that Knowledge is something the implicates the whole of a person's Being. To Know is not just to "have knowledge of" but to also, in its own sense, "have experience of"; and "to have experience of" is somewhat authoritative (though not, of course, entirely).

This argument sounds a little mystical or existential, but it is actually a well-received argument in certain circles. For instance, the Reformed epistemologists - Alvin Plantinga and Nicholas Wolterstorff, for instance - use analytic philosophy to come to a similar claim when they argue that belief in God is, as they say, "properly basic." That is, just like one does not need a "rational" argument to claim the existence of their own hands - it is just something that you Know - one does not need a "rational" argument in order to believe in God. It is not necessary that belief in God be founded upon "rational" arguments in order that belief in God be rational.

While my own line of inquiry does not necessarily go through such lengths of apologetics, I think it is worthwhile to share Plantinga and Wolterstorff's claim here in order to legitimize the notion that a Relational, yet Authoritative, Knowledge is rational. After all, where does this argument of "basic belief" come from? It isn't from "objective" logic or rationalism, anyways, but it is grounded in certain basic claims of existence. It is "existential," in the sense that its claim is Known prior to its essence (if we accept Jean-Paul Sartre's definition of existential). This isn't necessarily profound - although the Reformed epistemologist's work is more complicated and profound than what I have just described - it is just the normal way that we engage with the world. It is part of the undergirding logic of humanity, as it were.

Now, I plan to write more in the dialectical manner that I did for that post last week, especially since I left it (unsatisfyingly) incomplete. Even though I have mentioned in the preceding thoughts some of the claims of Christian epistemology, I have not arrived at them in the writing quite yet, so maybe some of the above claims appear to be leaps that I have not yet justified. I intend to clarify those details in future blog posts.

Ayn Rand: Wholly Un-Christian
However, for today what I would like to do is address the philosopher-novelist Ayn Rand, a thinker whose work has been assimilated by a particular brand of Christian thought, especially that Christian thought that pre-supposes the goodness of conservatism or capitalism as its values. What I aim to do is show, through comparative epistemology, how hollow Rand's whole philosophy is and how distant it truly is from Christian thought.

This might strike a person as bizarre, given the sort of credence that Rand has held in conservative, especially libertarian, Christian circles. For instance, one writer in The Atlantic says, of a Christian-Randian friend, "In his estimation, they [the heroes of Rand's novels] were articulating why government had no right to trespass on individual liberty he regarded as God given, and doing their utmost to work hard, play fair, and oppose autocrats." Meanwhile, when the final part of the theatrical version of Atlas Shrugged came out last year, the directors cast Sean Hannity and Glenn Beck (voices for the Christian right) to play their own part in legitimizing the story. Most telling - and most bothersome, to me - of the Christian right's relationship with Ayn Rand is a long essay - one of a handful - that Pastor John Piper wrote lauding her claims.

(I am going to pass over as though it were not significant how Piper's brand of complementarianism - one in which he has openly questioned whether a woman should be a police officer - doesn't quite fits to listening to a woman-philosopher's teaching. But that would be a fun argument to make, I dare say.)

To do this, I will effectively follow John Piper's own essay, pulling from the points that he admires about Ayn Rand. In so doing, of course, I will not comment on all of the things that Piper himself admits are un-Christian of her: her hatred of Jesus, her rejection of the strong laying down his life for the weak, her rejection of Mercy in general.

This, I think, too, is a principled of charitable judgment when it comes to atheist philosophers and engaging them with Christian faith. For instance, it should be clear that one of the most lamentable parts of Jean-Paul Sartre's philosophy is his utter rejection of the Gift and of Grace, or that one of the most problematic parts of Michel Foucault's philosophy is his rejection of the Eternal for the sake of the Historical. Etc, etc. Charitable interpretation by a Christian judging a non-Christian based on theological standards requires some sort of "shaving." Otherwise we land with the silly notion that these atheists hold to Christian beliefs, something that just does not make sense.

But the difference between Sartre and Rand - and this is important because they both fall on the Cartesian lineage - is that I think there is some legitimacy to Sartre's ontology. When read alongside the Book of Romans, he resonates with a particular hamartiological description of man's sad estate. Sartre won't call this "total depravity," but he is an incredible thinker on the problem of sin. There's some deep value in a phenomenology of sin, like that which we gain in Sartre, and I, for one, feel confident that I could use Sartre as a starting-point in an apologetic with non-believers.

I do not find Rand so useful. She seems particularly useful if one is interested in shoring-up the Christian right belief of "rugged individualism," but since that's not a Biblical belief, it would turn out that she's only successful in shoring up a heresy that pretends to be a claim of Christian Truth - at least, in the minds of certain Christian thinkers.

The Epistemological Problem of Rand's Axiom of Existence
To repudiate Rand's whole philosophy, I think it vital to begin where she begins - that is, with her epistemology. And she starts with Aristotle and the axiom of existence. This claim is incredibly simple: A is A. A stone is not a leaf, a tree is not a bear, but a stone is a stone and a tree is a tree. For Aristotle, this question is a metaphysical question, one regarding how we deal with logic of the reality that we experience. But for Ayn Rand this question is an epistemological one, in which the experienced reality is the absolute truth for reality. Or, to quote John Piper's explication "Existence is not wishy-washy but a firm base for epistemology," and "metaphysics... is the foundation and arbiter of epistemology."

This claim should be clearly understood to be deeply flawed. After all, since the time of Plato (and earlier) all of philosophy has practically rejected this idea. For Plato, existence revealed that which was hidden in the realm of the essences, whereas for Descartes, his own experience was so untrustworthy that he found he needed to discover some foundational rational basis of knowledge. Sartre gets the closest, in certain ways, to this claim, but then he says that we deceive ourselves and live in "bad faith," which means that our existence is not a firm base for truth at all. There is a reason that Rand was never picked up much by the intellectual establishment in the academy and that reason had more to do with the philosophical incongruity of this epistemology than any political aspirations.

But my argument is not to compare Rand with the philosophers, but to stake my claim on the un-Christian-ness of Rand's claim. This one is utterly simple: As Christian we confess that we are utterly evil in the state of sin and cannot help ourselves. It is only by God's Grace and Gospel that we can be redeemed and regenerated from our evil estate. The Protestant Reformation staked its entire claims on this doctrine, from Martin Luther's "Bondage of the Will" to the similar claims made by John Calvin in his Institutes of the Christian Religion. Even the Thirty-Nine Articles of the Anglican Church - written to be a little more ecumenical and lenient towards Anglo-Catholics - make an express statement regarding man's state, calling it the "infection of the nature."

If, therefore, man is dead in sin, as the Scriptures say, then how shall he know the Truth? Or how shall he know Reality, Existence, Knowledge, and be trustworthy to report it? This is the major philosophical problem inherent in Rand's axiom of existence, because although she purports to present an "objective" view of reality - her very philosophy being called 'Objectivism' - the epistemological foundations of her view are truly based on subjective experience, with no rational guardrail against deception. (On the contrary, even Sartre's "radical freedom" subjectivism contains the rational guardrail he calls "bad faith.")

In this sense Rand is thoroughly out-of-touch with her own intellectual history. There's a sense in which she is an inheritor of Descartes and Sartre, and she seems to be rejecting the lineage of Freud, Hegel, and Lacan outright by staking her claims on the "radical individual." But she does not inherit from Descartes and Sartre their (relative) humility. Descartes is so distraught by the inability to find real truth in the world that he dismisses many truths in search of a foundational one ("cogito ergo sum"). Sartre is perplexed by why free human subjects do not act freely, until he realizes that we arrest our own freedom through bad faith. But Rand has none of these "guardrails," instead she has implicit trust in the reasoning faculty and experiential truths of the human person.

So, clearly, not only is this bad philosophy, but it is also dangerous hamartiology. If a Christian person believes this, then they, like Pelagius, believe that humans are "pretty much good" and that sin is "things we do that are bad," two claims that are repudiated by Augustine and pretty much the entirety of the orthodox theological traditions. Instead, we report that the human being is a slave to sin, and that even the human reason is a slave, such that Paul's Gospel depended not upon reason but upon the supernatural power of God (see I Co. 2). In fact, Paul would even go as far to say that humans create fantasies to validate their own idolatrous tendencies, rather than face the glory of God in their sinful state (see the first two chapters of Romans).

This sort of "objective" thinking is actually precisely what I rejected in my earlier essay, because at its heart - and this is true even of Descartes - "objective" thought is a man-centered way of thinking, it does not call or rely on an external authority, but it calls and relies on the internal authority of one's own mind. In this sense, the "rational individual" that Rand characterizes in her hero-worship is nonexistent. (By the by, can we talk about how Nietzschean her hero-worship is?)

The Supernatural Problem of Rand's Axiom of Existence
The second major problem, staying just with the axiom of existence, is the rejection of supernatural existence implicit within her "A is A" claim. At its center, "A is A" is a naturalist claim. By staking this at the center of her epistemology, Rand points to an atheistic universe, one in which there are no supernatural gifts, no supernatural powers, and no miracles. (Of course, in Rand's universe none of these things could exist anyways because of her views of Mercy and Helping the Other.)

Beyond the rejection of Christian hamartiology that I mentioned earlier, this rejection of the supernatural has more resounding consequences if a Christian were to appreciate it. After all, as Christians we believe that we live a dual-existence, as citizens of two worlds, so to speak. And in that Christian worldview we, like our Father before us, "call things that are not as though they were" (Ro. 4): the poor are the inheritors of the earth, the meek are the strong, the slaves are the free, and the free are the slaves, the kings are paupers, and so on. For the Christian these "now-and-not-yet" claims are not happy epigrams or koans that make us think of "a better world." No, that would be nonsense. For the Christian these claims - the claims of Jesus about His Kingdom - are the True Reality that is hidden by the physical reality. This is the meaning underneath Augustine's City of God, isn't it? This is part of the implications of Luther's Two Kingdoms, isn't it?

More centrally still to our theology, this is why in Christian sacrology we so highly value the Sacrament of Communion. It is not just bread and wine, but body and blood. For the Catholics this is literal, whereas for the Protestants (and the Lutherans are peculiar on this) this is symbolic, yet real. (The Presbyterians, for instance, would confess that Christ's "real presence" is manifest in the Sacrament, even though he is not "really present" the way the Catholics say he is.) Historically, the Sacraments were the epistemology of the Church in the manner that they represented how we dealt with the problem of our two realities.

So this means that Christians either believe "A is B" (the Roman Catholics) or something more like "A represents B." For the purposes of rejecting Rand's axiom of existence, the point is the same: Christians reject, fundamentally, the idea that "A is A." Now, we don't reject, of course, the idea that reality does exist and that we can observe it and learn things about it - that would make us anti-scientists in our own way - but that is not how Rand means her epistemology. For her, "A is A" is the utter foundation of Truth and Reality. And Christians just cannot accept that belief because it deeply contradicts our central ideas of Truth and Reality.

The Satanic Project in Rand's Epistemology
The last part of my argument - for now, because there is so many more ways I could continue my invectives on this topic - is to make an observation based on Rand's words and a certain, familiar, being from the Bible. At the end of the day, even though I find the above arguments regarding her axiom of existence compelling, it is this argument that deeply disconcerts me regarding Rand's prevalence in Christian thought.

That is because Rand's thought holds a striking similarity to what Satan's goals and thoughts are revealed to be by the Bible, as well as to some of the central claims made by Satanists to this day. I should be clear that I don't invoke the name of the Devil to speak as some sort of fundamentalist, but because I take seriously what the Bible says about this being, and I take seriously the reality of spiritual warfare that is involved in the world of thoughts and ideas. When the same idea pops up time and again, it seems worthwhile to identify its source directly.

Here are few claims made by Rand that I think hit on my claims here directly (all quotes from Piper's helpful summation):

"My philosophy in essence is the concept of man as a heroic being, with his own happiness as the moral purpose of his life, with productive achievement as his noblest activity and reason as his only absolute."

Let's gather from that: Man as the self-actuating Individual whose purpose is his own happiness.

"This is the motive and purpose of my writing: the projection of an ideal man."

So this Man described previously is supposed to be ideal...

"Whether you know the shape of a pebble or the structure of a solar system, the axioms remain the same: that it exists and that you know it."

And here we see the axiom of existence and its epistemological claim: to apprehend a thing is to know it. (See the rejection of this version of "knowing" in that previous essay.)

Let me sum up Rand's claims in a way that might sound familiar: the being that should be worshiped (she uses that term elsewhere for her "ideal man") is the Ideal Man, the Perfect Man, whose purpose and goal is his own pleasure, and who holds knowledge over everything that he sees. To pursue that gratification, this Man will be wholly made of Reason and achieve utter productivity.

This should give orthodox Christians pause. It should also sound familiar to us. We are told in the Bible that Satan was "perfect and without flaw" before he fell, and that his one goal was to "become like the Most High." Then in the garden we hear that his temptation to Adam and Eve is "the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil." It's because of this relationship in theology that the Devil-inspired character of the Judge in Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian desires to hold all knowledge, so he can control all things. (I wrote a bit about this character in a blog post about three years ago... My writing has improved plenty since then, thank God!)

But just pointing to the figure of Satan as seen directly in Scriptures is not enough: let us add to that list the People of Babel, who built a tower to prove the almighty-ness of Man, or Pharaoh, who thought that he was higher than God, or Goliath, who likewise exalted Man over God. The Jewish Rabbis point to these images and say that these, too, are representations of Satan and the kingdom of darkness. This is what their values are: the exaltation of Man, the power of Man's productivity, the worship of Power, the goal of self-gratification, and the mastery of knowledge. It is not for nothing that Ayn Rand - alongside Nietzsche's Ubermensch - is one of the intellectual undergirdings of the Satanic "Church" in America. They share an epistemology centered on the mastery of knowledge by "Reason alone."

And even if that is not convincing enough as to the dangers of Rand's philosophy, I would recommend the reader to go and read C.S. Lewis' That Hideous Strength and see what our beloved evangelical intellectual feels about the exaltation of Man as a philosophy. (Clearly John Piper has not read it.)

The Danger of the Appeal / An Ecclesiological Antidote
I surely hope that Christians do not receive Rand as a speaker of Truth. Her idea of Truth is so far from our orthodox version, grounded in our Creeds, that I can say without hesitation that it is heretical at best and Satanic at worst. I don't think either of those words are ones to be tossed about lightly.

So why does she appeal to Christians like John Piper? Why did he, by his own confession, read so many of her works in ardent fascination (which is not the same as erudite curiosity or academic interest)? It seems to me that the underpinning danger of the appeal of Ayn Rand is rooted in how American evangelicals deal with the problem of the Individual.

And this problem seems to be primarily a non-denomination / Charismatic / Pentecostal / evangelical problem, not a denominational one. The Presbyterians, who are very conservative, avoid this problem through Covenant Theology. They do not think it "collectivist" (in the political sense) to assert that individualism is a dangerous belief and a historically American one. Nor do they find that invective as a rejection of their commitment to the doctrine of penal substitution justification for the individual. I do not think - and I agree with the Presbyterians and the Reformed Christians on this - that the rejection of individualism requires a rejection of individual salvation. They are not tied up with one another in that way.

I wonder if the culturally-mediated ideas of Individualism, one of the children of secular rationalism and modernism, have a stronger hold over us than we'd like to think. Where does this idea come from? After all, I know of no theologians who hold to the version of Individualism that I have heard in some Christian circles. Of the ancients and the Reformers - Augustine, Calvin, Luther, etc. - and of the modern theologians - from the PCA, LCMS, etc. - we hear nothing of this sort of theology. So where does it come from? The study of Individualism in the Church is something I might write on in the near future.

For now, it suffices to say, that the antidote to this type of Individualism is quite simply the Church: that we grow in an understanding of God's Covenant relationship with us as a community, that we identify the Sacraments as those Covenant signs that bind us together, and that we confess our faith individually-together as worshiping communities committed to God's Purposes in the world. Or, to put it another way, when the Church invests into her ecclesiological (of the governance and organization of the church body), missiological (of the evangelical purposes of God in the world), and sacrological (of the Sacraments) values, then she will also grow in her vision of orthodox hamartiology and epistemology. All of theology comes together when we operate as the Church, rather than as lone-wolf individuals.


And, beyond that, that although I could write further on the major epistemological problems inherent with Rand's philosophy, I don't think she's worth my time. One might note that I didn't even get past her "metaphysics is epistemology" foundation, and there is a sense that I don't really need to. If her beliefs and philosophies are flawed from the outset, why should I interrogate further? Surely the rest of her system, built upon this premise, is rickety. But Christ said: "Everyone then who hears these words of mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock." (Mt. 7:24-25) When something is foundationally flawed, whatever claims that come from it are unsteady. And Ayn Rand, whatever some Christians might admire in her, represents easily the most unsteady philosophy I have ever heard of (and I have read some crazy, unsustainable things!). She does not deserve a place informing our Christian thought.

On Knowledge

I must confess, prior to writing this present investigation, to be a lover of that which I will soon describe to be my subject. While that might not seem a big confession, or even on that is necessarily due, given that writers write what they know and they know, often, what they love, or in defense of that which they love and write in opposition to its opponents, I think in this given instance it is important for me to disclose my prior association.

The reason for this disclosure is I aim to write about Knowledge and Knowing, concepts which invariably are tied to the concept of Truth and carry with them something of terms like “Subjectivity” and “Objectivity.” In the context of philosophy, and in light of the modern scientific vogue, the former of these terms is treated with a measured level of suspicion and the latter is seen in a light of something more akin to “Truthful.” A more thorough discussion of Subjectivity and Objectivity awaits my writing elsewhere, but I bring those terms to bear here because it is important for me to observe that the mere confession – or profession – of a “love of knowledge” has an effect on how my discussion of Knowledge should proceed.

Which is to say, that if someone were to press me to become “Objective” regarding Knowledge, I would say that what they ask me to do is impossible. There is no way for me to Know about Knowing outside of Knowing it, and to Know it is to be Relational, i.e. Subjective, with that thing. This will become even more clear as I describe what I view to be the eternal character – that is, the essential character – of Knowledge. Yet for some this “un-Objective” method of engagement is discouraging; they would rather that I would be able to put Knowledge in a box, say that I have mastered it, say that I “have” Knowledge or “get” Knowledge or “control” Knowledge.

Yet a person can be a master of something without having “total Knowledge” of the thing. This is the funky thing about “Knowing” in that “to Know” implies some sort of mastery – “I Know how to play piano,” “I Know how to make scrambled eggs,” “I Know basic Calculus” – one might even describe that mastery in ascending layers of Knowledge: “I Know how to play a little piano,” “I Know how to play piano, fairly well,” “I Know how to play Beethoven on the piano,” or “I Know how to play anything of any difficulty on piano.” Even that final term of mastery, what we might call “the greatest piano player” or whatnot, there are limits: there are pieces that the pianist does not yet Know, albeit has the confidence he or she could play them (after all, Joseph Haydn wrote 60 piano sonatas; how many of them does our pianist know off-hand?); there are pieces that have not yet been composed that the pianist has no way of playing; and, even more abstractly, there are pieces that will never be composed or which have not been composed because they are technically impossible, and etc. etc.

It is utterly appropriate for us to call the master pianist a master, however, and to say that he or she truly Knows the Piano. This is deeper than a competitive “Knows the Piano better than me,” for instance. Our master pianist does not need to provide the Socratic paradox to confess this gap in his or her Knowledge and Total Knowledge. We do not need to over-analyze the impossibility of him or her “having” Knowledge. It is just sufficient to note that this person, who beyond doubt Knows the Piano, is still confronted with the Mystery of not “Having Knowledge” of the Piano. We could go further in this sort of analysis, of course, a describe how the master pianist, unless he or she is also a physicist, has no understanding of the physics underneath sound or the engineering mechanics of the piano beyond its basic structures.

All this goes to say that there is something Relational about Knowledge, even its most basic of forms. I say Relational because when we are faced with another Person, say one’s wife or husband, or a friend or brother, with whom we are well acquainted, we can easily say “I Know Such-and-Such.” In the parlance of the Hebrew Old Testament, we observe that the Hebrew yada’ is used to connote the intimate relationships of man and wife, so that the statement “I Know My Wife” implies a fundamental, sexual level intimacy. Yet – whether we are discussing general or sexual relationships – we all understand that to Know another Person is to come face-to-face with Mystery. After all, however much of their Person they have disclosed to us, their real natures are always hidden. We see their faces, we see their body language, and in the case of sexual intercourse a Person literally experiences the other Person, yet there is a fundamental part of their nature that is utterly hidden from us.

It would be foolish, in my opinion, to assert that this lack of Knowledge implies something of an agnostic relationship with that person. A nihilistic view on this regard, such as the solipsism of Walter Pater, says that we can never truly Know another Person. Experience tells us differently on this regard. Sure, there are some people who are so dynamic or so unsettled or so random that they can be hard to pin down – but there are just as many, if not more, people in our lives with whom we regularly enjoy company and with whom we can give account of their characters and persons to others. “So-and-So is a kind soul who enjoys movies and is one of the best listeners I know.”

This is not false Knowledge, nor is it deception. There are claims here that might not be temporally bound, of course: So-and-So might grow out movies later on in his or her life, or maybe they will become a grumpy curmudgeon in their old age and cease to be an effective listener. There are claims here that I might be mistaken on: maybe So-and-So has been lying to me this whole time. But, actually, since So-and-So here is built on a real Person that I personally really Know, I can confess that doubting So-and-So’s character in this way is not only ungracious to that Person, but also not the way that we implicitly engage with people. But “How do we ‘Know for sure’ that So-and-So is this way?” Maybe the right phrase is to say that “We take it on Faith that he or she is this way.” If I follow the term “Faith” in its proper Greek origins – as the term is used as a translation of Paul’s pistis – then this word means something like, or like unto, “Trust.”

The problem of Knowledge that we are navigating here can also be unfolded through the helpful aid of pre-Socratic philosopher Zeno. Zeno’s most famous paradox, of course, is that well-known story of Achilles running, and the impossibility of Achilles to reach his end-destination due to the ever-decreasing halves that he has to overcome to reach the end. “Before Achilles can reach point 1, he first has to reach point ½, but before he can reach ½, he must first reach ¼.” And so forth and so on.

We could say that there is a similar phenomenon when we discuss Knowledge in the ways that we have been discussing Knowledge. One could view Knowledge in the gross general fashion: “I Know 50% of the facts regarding X, Y, and Z, and that is what makes me somewhat Knowledgeable about the topic.” (Of course, good luck in defining what makes a singular “fact” so one can do the calculation there.) The reality of this version of the theory of Knowledge is that it falls into Zeno’s paradox: “Before I can really Know something, I first must Know these things; but before I can Know those things, I first must Know these things…”

Yet, we all Know, implicitly, that Achilles has no problem with running. (There is a problem in his heel, but that’s another story…) Actually, we Know, by experience, that Zeno’s whole algorithm is nonsensical. You and I have no problem crossing to a particular point. And, at this point in history, we Know, by mathematics, that there is a way to calculate the whole circuit based on these subdivisions (re: integrals). What Zeno teaches us is that we Know how to walk even though we don’t Know how walking really works. The pianist does not “Know X% of the Available Knowledge of the Piano,” but “Knows the Piano,” in a way that is not too distant or distinct from the way a Person might say “I Know So-and-So,” or I might say “I Know My Wife.”

Thus, the modern way of describing Knowledge in terms of “acquisition” or “having” or “getting” does not make sense in light of the lived experience of Knowledge. This is not to say that there are not deceptions. Since this present study is an attempt to describe something of the character of Knowledge, there is an implicit connection between this writing and the historical conversation on the topic of epistemology. Without diving too much into what previous thinkers have said about Knowledge – and they have said a lot – I think it’s worthwhile to observe the ways in which the fear of deception, the fear of being “taken in,” affects epistemology. René Descartes, famously, having “read the book of the world,” fled to his cottage to find Knowledge. While I have much I could say about Descartes, it is his idea that he could find Knowledge in isolation, removed from the world, removed from the Other, with implicit trust in his own self-reflections that seems to me more deceptive than the possible deception of the world or the Other.

There are deceptions, of course, and these are deeply problematic, especially in the modern world of social media, false information, or what has been recently dubbed “post-truth” (which seems faulty, given the long-term existence of “post-truth” sorts of thinking). Yet the search for Knowledge cannot be found in its antithesis: the flight from deception. There’s a logic argument to be made there: to find Knowledge, one must search for Knowledge not for not-not-Knowledge.

Another, perhaps more convincing, argument against the sort of epistemological program that I have been circling about is the one made by Jean-Paul Sartre in which he describes how the human being acts and believes in “Bad Faith” with himself. That is, we are all self-deceived, and if we are all self-deceived, then how can we put any stock in the experiential Knowledge that I have been providing throughout this argument as “trustworthy”? I won’t tackle that argument for now, but I will say that as a Christian I find Sartre’s claim of self-deception more winsome than Descartes’ radical doubt and resultant self-knowledge. Descartes’ answer to the Delphic Oracle is “I think, that is how I know myself,” but Sartre’s is “I think I know myself, but in reality I lie to myself.” The latter is, surprisingly enough, the more Christian answer.

So, the discussion up to this point can be summed up like this: that Knowledge is more a Relationship with a Mystery than it is a quantifiable substance; that to Know something or someone does not require utter mastery in common parlance nor does it require absolute Knowledge; that the request to Know “in an objective way” is built on a false premise of intellectual distance; and, yet, that there is a problem, which I have not yet addressed, regarding the trustworthiness of our faculties regarding Knowledge. The answer to deception provided by Descartes falls flat for us because it does not edit out Descartes himself from the process (as he professes!).

One vitally important going forward from here, then, is the term of “Faith.” When I say “I Know you,” I take it on Faith that you are not lying to me, that you are not deceptive, that you are, in fact, the sort of Person that I take you to be, as you have revealed your character thusfar in our Relationship. If I truly “Know you,” actually, then this Faith in your character is not simply sufficient for me to say “I have a sense of who he or she is,” but is actually wholly sufficient for me to say “I am absolutely confident that their character implies X, Y, and Z.” For the people that I Know well, those with whom I confide my closest secrets and values, the term of Faith here does not imply a “blind following” or “uncritical belief,” but, instead, implies a deeply-true trust in their nature, that they are who they say they are.

In other words, since it is clear – and modern epistemologists agree on this – that the Objective view of Knowledge is unsustainable, then we are left with something more akin to a “Subjective” view of Knowledge, where to Know is to put oneself into some sort of (yet undefined) Relationship with some sort of (yet unclear) Mystery. Descartes’ worry about Deception undoubtedly follows us: “How do you really Know?” Meanwhile, Sartre contends that our Knowing is a self-manufactured falsehood. In order for this conversation to proceed, then, we must find the ways in which Faith, the term that undergirds our Relationship to Mysteries, overcomes Deception in a sure manner. That will be our next topic.

On Post-Evangelical and Post-Charismatic Millennials.

It seems to me that there are folk out there who are trying to make sense of why Christian millennials are so deeply anti-Trump and so "unorthodox" with the party politics of our forebears. (For some that means "they lean Left," while for others that means "they reject partisan politics altogether." Some millennials remain conservatives but deeply reject Trump anyways.)

Here are some interpretations of my generation I've seen. According to the far right, these millennials (including myself!) are:

+ Deceived by their universities (that's a big one)
+ Poorly educated in the Bible
+ Spiritually imperceptive
+ Unintelligent
+ Swayed by peer pressure
+ Lied to by the mainstream media (MSM)

For me, at least, I find these assertions to be more than a little bit patronizing and a lot belittling, especially that last one (I hate peer pressure of all kinds). It's like they seem to be attempting to diagnose an illness without seeing the patient face to face. Where is their image of a millennial coming from anyways? Are they talking about millennials they know, personally? or some stereotyped image of them?

Can I tell you a bit of my own story? How I got "here"? I plan on writing another blog where I can give more flesh to some of these claims, but here's the outline of how I never got sucked into conservatism (or liberalism) in the first place:

Bipartisan Role Models: I've had role models who are both conservative and liberals, and I refute the claims both sides make about the other's immorality. And I know deeply godly Christian people who are conservative and liberal.

Christians of Color: I've made friends with Christians of color, and realized that their politics were totally different from the politics I heard at church, even though we're theologically similar.

Rejection of Obama-Hatred: I have always been thoroughly and totally disgusted by how I've heard Christians talk about Obama. And liberals in general. That sort of hatred and dehumanization is foreign to the Gospel. (Some might say: "We don't hate people, we hate the policies," but their words speak for themselves on that matter.)

In-Depth Scripture Study: I've studied the Scriptures regarding matters like race and God's vision for a multiethnic, multicultural kingdom. I've found most evangelical conversations on race to be deeply disconnected to the Bible (and very rooted in politics).

Taught by Kingdom-Workers, Evangelism-Champions: I learned a lot about matters of race and justice not from those liberal universities but from an evangelical organization (IVCF), an organization that also first taught me the centrality of evangelism. In a moment in history in which evangelical churches are often more interested in politics than mission, I found in IVCF a direct and clear call to spread the Gospel that I was hungry for and never hearing evangelicalism (ironically enough).

Disgruntled by Spiritual Abuse: I've seen conservative Christian leaders advance political causes with an inappropriate use of their spiritual power and influence, something that made me very disconcerted. (RE: passing out voting fliers with only conservative candidates, praying for only certain candidates, endorsements, &c)

Discouraged by Poor Theology: Beyond this I've seen churches and church leaders take hardline stances on political matters (for example: Obamacare) and yet leave more critical theological issues and problems (for example: Christology, mission and evangelism, Trinitarian theology) up in the air. When asked, I've heard "Well, we don't really know for sure about those things. Are they really that important?" Yes, they are.

Less Mainstream Media, More Bipartisan Media: I've always found CNN and FOX and MSNBC and The Blaze and whatnot to be a bunch of politically-charged blowhards. A lot of millennials believe this too. In fact, we're the generation of podcasts, of multiple news medias, of complex viewpoints. We're more likely to listen to This American Life than The CBS Evening News or whatnot. I listen to a lot of NPR, and, I gotta tell you, I'm sometimes a little freaked out about how multi-partisan they are. I've heard them interview Glenn Beck, or Floridians who were pro-Trump, or deeply progressive social activists. And NPR treats them all well - even the Trump folks. (NPR should get an award for being professional in an unprofessional year.) At a time when the MSM is becoming less and less a newsource and more and more an entertainment venue, me and people like me are fleeing to real news. We aren't even partially swayed by the MSM; we don't even pay attention to it.

My Democrat Family: Beyond all this is my family. I come from a family of Democrats on both sides. Sure, I don't see eye to eye with them on everything, but I can tell you the truth that from what I've heard about liberals in evangelicals circles they'd have me think that my own family was a bunch of God-hating, immoral psychopaths. That's not who they are. They are moral people - and some are Christian people! - who taught me how to care, how to treat people with dignity, how to debate an idea, how to raise a family in love. They are also proud union-members, and that's given me some things to think about too. Not too long ago, the Democrat / Republican divide was about unions more than anything else, about workers' rights. When the super-conservatives have made political conversations about very specific things (i.e. gay rights or abortion, etc.), my normal, liberal family members have focused on things that matter to them (i.e. education, workers' rights, etc.), and that has given me a different perspective on politics in general, and made more open to the diversity of opinions in politics.

Rejection of Liberal-Hating: In light of my Democrat family, I have to confess that I have always been deeply bothered by my far-right conservative folks' description of Democrats and liberals as some sort of evil anti-Christain boogeyman. They sling words around like "Leftys" and "SJWs" that are intended as invectives. I've heard them say that "those teacher's unions ruin the schools" or that "those teachers that are brainwashing our children" or whatnot. I come from a family of teachers who are in teachers' unions... Do you think that I don't find that offensive? This sort of rhetoric, maybe even more than it's easier manifestation of Obama-hating, is part of what drives me (and others like me) away from strictly-conservative Christianity. If that's how you'll treat my family, why would I want to hang out with you?

(If I didn't make this clear already, I know some incredible conservative people who are deeply committed to their political claims and who aren't jerks like some of the above claims observe. My claims are in response to specific subsets and specific groups of generally far-right Christian people, and are not representative of all conservatives. I even admire a good handful of godly conservative people who give me hope for a future conservatism not driven by hate.)

In Other Words: I Have My Reasons...
So, what makes me more of a "principled moderate"? Not "godless education," not peer pressure nor bad theology. Rather it's been because of mission-loving, evangelistic Christians, because of Christians of color, because of my disgust with the abuse of power within conservative evangelicalism, because of the idol of conservative orthodoxy, and because I come from a loving family that defies the labels that I've heard attributed to liberals.

It should be clear that this post is not in opposition to conservatism. Again, as I've said before, I know some incredible conservative people. But I write it to let you know that Christians like me - post-evangelical and post-charismatic - are tired of the ultra-conservative assumptions governing our movement, and I suspect that others who identify this way would resonate with at least one of the points I've shared above. We're not abandoning the faith, we're not committing heresy, we're not rejecting the evangelical call to witness, we're not being deceived or pressured into some false ideology, we're not being taught nonsense and believing it...

Instead, post-evangelical / post-charismatic Christians care deeply about God's people, His Church, His Missional Work in the world, and the advancement of His Kingdom, and we think that a conservative-only Christianity shoots itself in the foot and has the temptation to be swayed and allured by offers of power from the State. For many of us, we see the collusion between the Religious Right and DJT as a final representation of this temptation - although for me I have been on this path for more than five years now - and we want nothing to do with it, for the Lord's sake!

It would be a mistake to identify this group of Christians as "seeker safe" (we balk at such unbiblical nonsense) or "emerging church" (we long for deeper, authoritative orthodoxy and Bible-centered theology). In fact, a lot of us still *are* evangelical or charismatic, based on the usual definitions of those terms. But we're finding the hegemony of conservatism harmful to our Gospel-witness, interfering with our hearing the voice of God, inconsistent with the words of the prophets (both ancient and modern), and... unbiblical.

I hope what you get out of this, if you're still reading, is this:

If you're a conservative-only Christian: Hear that we exist. We do not accept your political claims, and we have a little bit of a different political theology than you. We want to be part of your Church, we want you to be part of our Church. We want our liberal brothers and sisters to be in this Church too and not branded as heretics because of politics. We want for all of our ideologies and politics to be held accountable to Scriptures, and that includes your conservative claims that have gone unchecked for a long long time. Be open to us.

If you're a post-evangelical or post-charismatic Christian: Have hope! Take heart! God made a remnant long ago, and He's making one now too. You are not alone, and you are God's people. We're with you.

If you abandoned Christianity because it was too conservative: Stop thinking that politics defines the Christian faith! That lie was told to you long ago and it made you dissatisfied with the hypocrisy that you saw in it. There's something better. Jesus brought a whip to money-changers who thought that the Temple was just for Jews and had plopped their markets in the midst of the Gentiles' worship area. He wants to make space for you to worship Him too.

If you're a liberal-only Christian: HEY! I didn't talk about you in this post. But keep an open mind. Don't just lambast the conservatives because their conservatives. Hold them accountable for the political choices they've made. Keep up that pressure. But hold yourselves to the same standard. Again: Our politics do not define our faith. Our faith defines our politics and it often will lead us in complicated, diverse, and differing directions. Don't make that argument central! But keep up the holding of that 80% to the claims of DJT. We need that sort of rebuke right now. We need grace in that rebuke too. Love is complex.

Kent Reflections XV. A Letter to My Younger Self I. On Rebuke.

(While at work, when I have times I tend to write some of my thoughts down in a running Word document. These notes I have called "Kent Reflections," since my work is in Kent Laboratory at the University of Chicago.

What follows is a letter I wrote "to myself" sometime last week regarding Rebuke. It is not to be read as a proclamation or description of a theology of rebuke. This is more human than that. It is the thoughts and words and ideas and problems that I have been wrestling with as I grappled the Christian problem of Rebuke: When do I rebuke? Why? In what context? Who? What topics are within the domain of rebuke? And etc. It is also notably incomplete... It doesn't really "end" conclusory like I'd like. But I like that about this bit of writing, and I like the epistolary style. Maybe I have read too much Petrarch and am too addicted to letter-writing. Hmm....

In case you find this essay TL;DR, I have even encompassed a basic thesis in the opening paragraphs for you. The rest flows from there.)

XV. Kent Laboratory, November 3^rd, 2016:

A Letter to My Younger Self I. On Rebuke.

Perhaps I have read too much Petrarch, or fancy myself too much like him, that I have undertaken to write you – myself of eight years ago – a letter. You are a lot like me, of course: idealistic in good and bad ways, romantic in the German way, uninterested in monetary gain in general, and deeply in love with a man named Jesus of Nazareth. You are a little different, a little less politically moderate (though definitely not “conservative” or “liberal”!), a little more Pentecostal, a little less uncomfortable with the Charismatic wing of Pentecostalism, a little more uncomfortable with the non-Pentecostal evangelical world. But you aren’t really that different than the me who is writing this right now.

I have undertaken to write you regarding the topic of rebuke, and I think it would be well for you to listen and to hear what I have to say to you, because I think you might find it a little bit of a shocking claim. Here is the thesis: Rebuke – godly rebuke, that is – is a true expression of Compassionate Love and Care toward our Christian family. If you do not Rebuke when you ought, you reveal how little you actually Love them.

Mark this, there will be some Christians, Christians whom you know and love dearly now, that you will be tempted to write off. They will behave in ways clearly un-Christ-like, they will act out of the fruit of the flesh instead of the Spirit, and you will be tempted to say “I want nothing to do with you.”

But that temptation is the devil’s offer, it is not of God. These men and women are your flesh and blood, whether you like it or not, and they have been bought by the same flesh and blood as you. They are family, and you cannot write them off so easily. You cannot just block them on Facebook, or ban them on Twitter, you cannot just quiet them and make them shut up about their heresies and their deceptions. At times, you will feel very angry about them, you will think “Surely, you too are not the same as me, surely you are not one of the redeemed.” And their unredeemed mouths might make you think that way.

But even Jesus did not give up on the Pharisees. We like to read into His rebukes the sort of harshness and authoritarian power that we think leadership looks like, we pattern our rebukes on a false image of His rebukes, but we miss the Compassion and the Care which undergirds His Words. In the American Church, a power vacuum in the realm of authority (caused by our Protestantism and our Rebelliousness, I’d say) opens the way for the powerful and the charismatic to woo our headship. The less structured denominations and movements (re: Charismatic and Baptist) have the danger of false prophets jumping into their pulpits and demanding exacting sacrifice, total submission to the “Word of God,” and implicit trust in the leader. But Christ does not lead that way.

Yet still those rough words – “brood of vipers,” “Herod, that fox,” “whitewashed tombs” – resonate out of the Gospels. We tend to think Jesus is being mean (and then we allow that to justify our own being mean). He’s actually being gracious. The Pharisees have blinded themselves in their “knowledge” and their special privileges, so blinded that they cannot see Jesus for who He is – their awaited Messiah. But Jesus does not give up on them. He pulls away their stained clothes full of blood and fecal matter and reveals their nakedness to the world and to themselves. If He didn’t care, He would let them wallow in dirty garments, thinking themselves clean.

Rebuke, I’ve learned, is a measured sort of caring love. It isn’t a hammer that we use to punish the ungodly, nor a weapon at all. It is, ideally, a manifestation of the Love of God, who is not interested in our self-deceptions and our wicked ways. So, He points out the holes in our arguments and the holes in our clothes, rather than let us go on our merry way thinking ourselves “all-right.”

So, do not write them off, these Christians you might be tempted to call “pseudo-Christians,” or “weak Christians,” or even “baby Christians.” You have a responsibility to them, if you truly love them. Some of them will think that their faith is something lived and performed in a vacuum, that they can believe whatever they want to believe without any accountability. They might loathe this sort of love. Remember, in that day, how much you loathe this sort of love when it was directed at you – when Luke rebuked your impetuousness, when Chris rebuked your antinomianism, when Dylan rebuked your weak soteriology. But “iron sharpens iron,” so they say, and those who love rebuke, Scripture notes, are wise. Sometimes they – these “weak Christians” – will surprise you with Grace and they will respond Graciously, and you will turn to the Lord in Joy and thank Him… not because “you were right” – which is prideful – but because they truly are your brother and your sister, and their repentance brings you to mind of their salvation. You will know, in that moment, why you cannot write them off, why you cannot leave them be to their own devices, why you cannot cease from holding them accountable to the same Scriptures they ought to hold you accountable to.

Remember, of course, that we American evangelicals have a weak accountability structure. We hate it when other people tell us we’re wrong. We don’t have the humility of the Catholics to go to our pastors day in and day out and say “Father, I have sinned.” We’d rather strut our soteriologically-sound assurance in front of our pulpits and altars and pretend that our heavenly-bound justification (which is true) makes us naturally pretty, like a peacock. For our neighbor, our brother, our friend to point out our hidden nakednesses feels embarrassing in that sort of culture. It’d be better if he went about looking to his own issues, rather than bothering ours!

But remember, too, Paul’s instructions to Timothy and to Titus, the reminder about overseers being “above reproach.” The statement isn’t, of course, to set the episkopos in a state of unassailable dignity – as though that were possible – but to give them credibility when they stand in clarification, correction, and rebuke before the ekklesia. (And excommunication, should that dreadful consequence need manifest.) You cannot challenge or rebuke unless you have first checked and double-checked and triple-checked yourself, after all, being “sure of yourself” is the first step to deception, and to falling into the same boat as those whom you are responding to.

A friend of mine (and yours, but not yet!) reminded me recently about how crucial it is to first see what there is of merit in the oppositional argument. And even if that oppositional argument is totally rubbish (and sometimes it most definitely is), what of the spirit behind it is of merit? And even if that spirit is utterly demonic (and sometimes it most definitely is), what of that brother or sister’s character is of merit? A good man or woman, even a godly man or woman, might believe a “wind of doctrine” from the devil and be backing it because they say they love the Truth. They do not hate the Truth simply because their logic or argument is faulty, or because they do not understand Christian epistemology well, or because they believe certain anti-Christian presuppositions! They may well love the truth and just happen to be really bad at discerning it. Have mercy and grace with them and do not call them “foolish” or “evil” or “haters of the Truth” – unless they prove themselves to be clearly those things.

The truth is, unfortunately, that the Reformation, needful though it was, has created incredible, at times insurmountable, rifts in our theologies. Martin Luther was not interested in creating a denomination but in transforming the Roman Church from her Pelagian pitfalls. He did not hate the Roman Church, but loved her, and he risked his theological credibility by challenging her in loving rebuke. Erasmus was not his enemy, but his interlocutor.

But be mindful of this: because we American evangelicals hate accountability, your friends and brothers and sisters will do more than just balk at your challenges. They will begin accusing you of being “judgmental” or “bringing harsh judgment” or of “being deceived” yourself, or even – and this has happened to you and me – of being a “Marxist,” a “leftist,” a “progressive,” a “liberal,” a “statist,” as though your challenge against their inconsistent Christian witness has something to do with politics! I won’t tell you about what’s been happening in 2016, because it will terrify and sadden your apolitical, idealist, hyper-positive soul. You will see a glimpse of it in 2012, though, and that will be enough to convince you that there is a dangerous Kool-Aid in evanelicalism called “political ideology.” Be wary of it.

When they say these things, don’t forget to check yourself – again! It never hurts to go over your proofs, your arguments, your claims. Sort out their grounds, the way the arguments function, sort out your Scriptures. Compare your heart to the heart of Christ – do you say what you say out of Love or out of a desire to Hurt? Are you more interested in caring for your “opponent’s” (not “enemy”!) well-being than in “getting them back,” or are you committed to getting in “the last word”? Be careful of the desire to “get even,” to retort your own “rightness,” to express your “perfect, holy orthodoxy.” Be open to a broader diversity of opinions than your opponents, because then their accusation of your “narrow-mindedness” becomes hypocritical and unsustainable.

But when you have done all this, when you have checked your own soul, confided in your wife’s wisdom, leaned into the wisdom of your Christian friends and brothers and sisters and allies, and you are still convinced that your friend and brother and sister with whom you argue is not only wrong, but wrong in such a way that hurts their Christian morality, then stand firm! Do not waver at that juncture. Remember Ezekiel, whom God told to sound the alarm and let the people face the consequence if they do not listen. Remember Jeremiah, who was hated for the Word of the Lord. Remember Isaiah, who went before the Holy Throne and said “Here am I!” only to be given a impossible task: “Say to this people, Be ever hearing and never understanding, ever seeing and never perceiving.” You are not accountable to how “nice” people perceive you to be – although doing all this in a spirit of kindness really gets under some folk’s skin – but you are accountable to the Truth revealed to you by the Spirit of God. To waver on that is not “judgmental” or “mean,” but is actually Loving and True in the deep sense of the terms.

You’ll find the hypocrisy deeply frustrating. One minute you will see these Christians make an undue judgment regarding a matter of no actual importance and based on little to no real evidence – matters on politics or social conversations, often – and later when you challenge them on something of real importance and based on Scriptural evidence – matters on theological and moral topics – they will accuse you of being judgmental. It is at times infuriating. You will want to give up again. You will want to just “cast them out to Satan.” And some you will have to just ignore because they are so unteachable, and you will wait for them to grow in humility, or hope that their pastoral headship speaks to them (which is, unfortunately, not likely).

This last group is the vast minority, though. You must Love, you must Care, and to Love and to Care you must lean in to the nonsense your friends and loved ones say. You cannot dismiss it as you would dismiss the theoretical crap coming through the news media (which is what you should do with the theoretical crap coming through the news media). These are your people, the ones that God has set in your life and you in theirs. Whether long-distance or short-distance, your Calling is to Care for them, holistically.