Challenging Richard Dawkins

Leading figures in “The New Atheism” movement include Daniel Dennett, Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris, and especially Richard Dawkins. What makes this atheism “new” is its aggressive approach lambasting religion, and its ramped-up, provocative and attention-getting rhetoric (e.g., saying things like “religion poisons everything”). The best-known book coming from this circle of authors is, no doubt, The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins (2006).

In 2006 David Robertson, pastor of St. Peter’s Free Church, Dundee, Scotland, began posting comments about The God Delusion at the Dawkins website, going chapter by chapter and issuing numerous trench­ant critiques. In the end, Robertson compiled his posts in book form: The Dawkins Letters (2007). I want to note a few of Robertson’s key ideas, especially ways he challenges Dawkins and the New Atheism.

• -Dawkins’s naïve vision of peace on earth through atheism does not account for Stalin, Mao, Hitler and Pol Pot: “The 20th century can truly be called the Failed Atheist Century” (p. 20).
• -“It takes a great deal of faith to be an atheist” (26).
• -Addressing Dawkins: “I am becoming more and more convinced that your position is primarily a philosophical and religious posi­tion, rather than one you are driven to by science” (33).
• -“It is your attack on a distorted and perverted ver­sion of Christian teaching about God which provides you with the most entertaining smokescreen for your lack of substantial argument on whether God exists in the first place or not” (48; see also 59).
• -A key objection of Dawkins against theism is: “Who designed the designer?” Robertson retorts, “‘Who made God?’ is a ques­tion I would expect from a six-year-old” (66). The Dawkins view is that, since all things evolve from more simple to more complex forms, and since any designer of the universe would have to be incredibly complex, God cannot exist (67). But this is to knock down a straw man: no Christian argues that the God of the uni­verse is somehow the product of evolutionary processes.
• -Robertson concedes, of course, that “some aspects of religion and some religious people have caused a great deal of harm in the world…” (79-80). But to lump all religions together with the sweeping verdict that they’re harmful and evil (like a “virus”) is to fail to look closely and make reasonable distinctions. “Take the question of Christianity and Islam. It suits you to lump them both together (including the extremists)” (85).
• -To Dawkins: “You define faith as believing something without evidence—a definition which is something you have just made up in your own head and has nothing to do with Christianity” (85).
• -Dawkins needs to learn basic principles of reading the Bible—like understanding a passage within its context, and distinguishing between what’s descriptive and prescriptive (103).
• -While Dawkins wants to portray Hitler as a Christian (after all, Hitler grew up Catholic, and Catholic and Lutheran churches were signifi­cant forces in German society), Hitler’s own writings and prac­tices locate him decidedly outside of the Christian faith (110-12).
• -Robertson takes Dawkins to task for the “extraordinary state­ment that ‘horrible as sexual abuse no doubt was, the damage was arguably less than the long-term psychological damage inflicted by bringing the child up Catholic in the first place’” (114—cf. p. 356 in The God Delusion). Such a view would justify the shocking conclusion that raising children in the Christian faith is inherently abusive, and that stance, in turn, would justify the state removing children from such homes (115). This is how reckless and chilling the Dawkins trajectory can be.
• -Robertson concludes with a lengthy bibliography and comments on all kinds of key players and writings in the atheism debate.

Let me also recommend Alister McGrath’s writings and lectures in response to Dawkins and other new atheists, including his book, The Dawkins Delusion (2010), and especially his June 27, 2011, lecture given at Regent College in Vancouver, “Why God Won’t Go Away: Reflections on the ‘New Atheism’” (download at regentaudio.com for free). Another thoughtful Christian who interacts with Dawkins and company is Oxford math professor John Lennox (his debates with various atheists are on YouTube—and see johnlennox.org).

[ originally posted at www.forthejourney.blogspot.com ]

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"God Is the Gospel"

Lately I’ve been reading John Piper’s book, God Is the Gospel. He raises some incredibly important issues about the essence of the gospel and the core reality of salvation. For example:

• “… even though the gospel purchased and promises many good gifts, from the most spiritual to the most material, yet God him­self is the ultimate good promised in the gospel” (145).

• Redemption, forgiveness, imputation, sanctification, liberation, healing, heaven—“none of these is good news except for one reason: they bring us to God for our everlasting enjoyment of him. If we believe all these things have happened to us, but do not embrace them for the sake of getting to God, they have not happened to us” (47).

• “The critical question … is this: If you could have heaven, with no sickness, and all the friends you ever had on earth, and all the food you ever liked, and all the leisure activities you ever enjoyed, and all the natural beauties you ever saw, all the physical pleasures you ever tasted, and no human conflict or any natural disasters, could you be satisfied with heaven, if Christ was not there?” (15).

• “The best news of the Christian gospel is that the supremely glo­rious Creator of the universe has acted in Jesus Christ’s death and resurrection to remove every obstacle between us and himself so that we may find everlasting joy in seeing and savoring his infinite beauty” (147).

• Behold your God! (Isaiah 40:9). This “is the most gracious com­mand and best gift of the gospel” (56).

• “There is no gospel where the glory of God in Christ is not shown. And there is no salvation through the gospel where the glory of God in Christ is not seen” (97). See 2 Corinthians 4:4-6.

• “There is no sure evidence that we have a new heart just because we want to escape hell” (121). Wanting to avoid hell isn’t wrong, but the evidence we’ve been changed is that we want to escape hell and enter heaven in order to revel in God’s glorious presence (121).

The impact of reading this book has been to stimulate me to lift up my eyes, look away from myself, and gaze upon our magnificent Lord and gracious Savior!

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Reflections on "Crazy Love"

Francis Chan’s recent book, Crazy Love (2008), has been among Amazon.com’s 100 best sellers for the last 255 days—currently it ranks #69, and #1 for books on “Christian Living.” I’d been wanting to read it, and on vacation this summer I had the opportunity to do so.

Just to be clear, in this case “crazy” has entirely positive connotations. Radi­cal devotion to Jesus and detachment from fleeting earthly treasures may look foolish to unbelievers, but Chan helps us see how it’s really any­thing else that’s crazy if you know and love Jesus. In fact, it’s insane to love things and yawn at Almighty God.

The book begins with a few chapters to help readers “see” God—to correct our small, shallow, and desperately inaccurate view of the Lord. Countless problems in countless stagnant, small-minded, conflict-ridden, love-starved churches are rooted in a failure to truly see God: horizontal troubles follow from vertical failings. “The core problem isn’t the fact that we’re lukewarm, halfhearted, or stagnant Christians. The crux of it all is why we are this way, and it is because we have an inaccurate view of God” (22). The theater of nature provides a special stage on which God displays his splendor: the heavens declare the glory of God. Chan goes to great lengths to help us step back and wonder at the awesome reality of the Lord God!

The key contrast in the book is between “lukewarm” and “obsessed” Christians. Lukewarm religious people make God puke—he wants to spit them out (see Rev 3:15-17). Chapter 4 profiles the lukewarm. The message is chilling, and indicting—and I must admit that I feel sin’s pull toward many of the ugly manifestations of the bland, nominal religion Chan attacks. But note, his frontal assault on the American church stems not from meanness but broken-hearted love for the church, the beloved bride of Christ.

Chan contends that “Lukewarm Christian” is an oxymoron—that is, there’s no such thing (83-84). Lukewarm church-goers, like the Laodiceans, aren’t Christians. “We will not see them in heaven” (84). Authentic followers of Jesus are moved, aroused and drawn to live out their faith in zealous (i.e., “hot”) ways. And so, those who profess to be Chrsitians should examine themselves (2 Cor 13:5); don’t assume you’re “good soil” (Mark 4:20) unless you’re fruitful in cherishing and spreading Jesus’ love. “I think most American church­goers are the soil that chokes the seed because of all the thorns” (67).

In bold contrast with the lukewarm, Chan points to the “obsessed” (ch. 8). Genuine believers are not just “nice,” decent, law-abiding folk, friendly and polite. There’s more, so much more, to true faith (130). Like loving enemies, and forgiving those who commit even heinous crimes against us. Christians are risk takers, bold to step out in faith and witness. Chan laments how the American church is so often safety-centered. “We’ve elevated safety to the neglect of whatever God’s best is…” (133), and his best for us is not always earthly comfort.

Authentic Christians are “obsessed with Jesus,” and that means they: give freely, love those who hate them, live lives that connect with the poor, admit their pride, seek to make themselves less known and Christ more known, think about heaven frequently, have a passionate love for God that overshadows every other thing and being, don’t put on an act for others or God, have a 24/7 spiritual life, and take joy in serving people (it isn’t a burden to them). Secular people may call such obsessed Christians “fanatics,” but the radical, unconventional love of Jesus that exudes from them will reach the hearts of many critics. Chapter 9 then gives several mini biographies of Christians, many of them relatively obscure, who’ve lived “obsessed with Jesus” lives (terrific stories!—though I have questions about some of those named).

This is a great book, and I hope you read it! But it does require some discernment—some (shall we say) “unpacking.” I think in particular of how Chan tends to err in the direc­tion of oversimplification. Like the many times readers are exhorted to “surrender totally,” be “obsessed,” give up everything, it’s all or nothing, no half-heartedness, trust God completely, be faithful in every aspect of life, hold nothing back…

Of course, this call to devotion is biblical and right and necessary, and we need to be confronted in our religious play-acting and self-protection. But Chan does not do enough to help us see how all these great biblical ideals are reached—even by the most mature of believers—only progressively and only in part this side of heaven. He does not do enough to help Christian readers process the present and future realities of ongoing sin. This is not to excuse willful sin, but to grapple with the Bible’s pervasive theme that we remain far from perfect all our days, all the way to glory (e.g., Matt 6:12; Phil 3:12; Jas 3:2; 5:16; 1 John 1:8-10). To be sure, Chan admits that Christians do sin and indicates that the aim in this life is move­ment toward Christ and not perfection (87-88). But the fierce “in your face” message of the book—as good and necessary as it is—becomes weakened by the shortage of attention to the way we exper­ience all the great, biblical ideals that are set forth only in part this side of glory.

With that word of clarification, I recommend the book. The strong points far outweigh this weakness. Chan’s word is a breath of fresh air and a kick in the pants all at once. Don’t miss it!

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DeYoung reviews McLaren's new book

I'm sure we'll hear more about Brian McLaren's recent book (A New Kind of Christianity) in due course, as reactions to his views and writings abound. The recent review of McLaren's book by Kevin DeYoung (click here) raises pointed and profound questions. It's worth reading carefully.

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When People Are Big...

Did you get a chance to do a little summer reading? There’s no short­age of recommended books to take to the shore—not to mention required reading for students (our kids used a lot of those hours in the van between Pennsylvania and Minnesota to make head­way in their books for school). In recent weeks I read Ed Welch’s book, When People Are Big and God Is Small: Overcoming Peer Pressure, Codepend­ency, and the Fear of Man.

Welch argues that the “fear of man” is seen every­where: in peer pressure, over-commitment, emphasizing self-esteem, being easily embarrassed, second-guessing decisions you make, lying, blaming, manipulating, feeling like martyrs, avoiding people, excessive dieting and preoccupation with body image, anger, over­achievement, jealousy, and more! The fear of man is simply part of the fabric of our human existence—we all struggle with it.

The key problem with allowing the fear of man to loom large is that it eliminates the fear of the Lord—the rightful, reverent, joyful sense of awe and admiration we ought to feel toward God. By con­trast, when we as believers learn to rivet our attention on our magnifi­cent Lord, we begin to break loose from the desperate need for human applause. Without putting it in so many words, Welch is really asking who is the Lord of your life—whom do you revere, whose approval matters to you most, who is in charge of your life?

The task God sets before us is to need people less but love them more. “Only people-lovers are not controlled by other people” (p. 41). But people are our idol of choice. Ironically, when we use people to satisfy our own desires and ambitions, it leaves us enslaved to them. But loving others in a self-forgetting way sets us free to be a blessing, and to help them, like us, look up with wonder into the face of God.

As we launch into the fall together, let’s echo Paul’s God-centered wisdom in 1 Thessalonians 2:4-6 by speaking and acting in all we do not for human applause but to please God who tests our hearts. Let’s commit together to lead lives of reverence and awe toward God, seeking to magnify his glory and thus defusing the fear of man.

Review of "Blue Like Jazz"

I was slow getting around to reading Donald Miller’s wildly popular book, Blue Like Jazz, which was published in 2003. But I’m glad I finally got to it. There’s a lot to like in this meandering memoir from an earnest, honest, humble young Christ-follower.

Miller is a great story teller, and since the book is more or less a string of stories about formative events in his adventure from childhood to young adulthood, it’s a great read—the kind of book you get lost in, that you can’t put down. And as we follow Donald Miller through various life-stages, he introduces us to wonderfully colorful characters.

And the characters in his narrative are not idealized—no air-brush touch-up for them, no dodging their eccentricities or weaknesses. The same is true, and abundantly so, with Miller’s portrayal of himself: he’s not afraid to bring out the odd or undesirable or broken or warped aspects of who he is; openness and humility run rampant in these pages.

This humility is disarming. Honest readers can relate to many of the insecure thoughts and fear-driven actions transparently set forth in Blue Like Jazz. If you imagine reading an authoritative treatise by a highly respected expert in some field of study who sets out his or her own insights and achievements as definitive knowledge, then you can imagine a work that is utterly different from this one. Miller presents himself as a stumbling, mixed up, ordinary guy who slowly and at times even reluctantly falls into wisdom and grace. That humble style helps the reader—particularly the anti-traditional and anti-authoritarian reader caught up in the value system of postmodernism—to enter Miller’s world and learn from him.

And to be sure, there’s much he wants to teach (don’t mistake his bumbling manner for the lack of an agenda). One attitude he vigorously opposes is the notion that Christians ought to have all their stuff together and thus shouldn’t to be struggling with various unhealthy or sinful attitudes, practices, habits, etc. By witnessing Miller’s various foibles and fumbles, one is freed up to confess his or her own sins—I saw myself in the mirror of his stories many times: insecure me, judgmental me, self-absorbed me… That’s the core problem the book confronts: ME; self-absorbed living.

As I reflect further on the “message” Miller conveys, however, I have some concerns. For one, there’s an unnecessary and false dichotomy between heart and mind. Traditional Christianity is presented as being about facts and data and head-knowledge, whereas the breakthrough into a vibrant faith for Donald Miller is focused on the heart. This is portrayed in ways that slide into an unhealthy either/or: the traditional church is about the mind, but the liberating Jesus meets you through the heart.

So you end up with head versus heart, light versus heat. Of course, it’s never stated so bluntly (that would violate Miller’s humble-yet-penetrating style), but in the end, heart wins and head loses; passion wins and reason loses; love wins and truth loses. One could wish that Miller would take to heart the vital insights of Christian spiritual writers who have seen the beautiful union of head and heart—for example, Jonathan Edwards, who expressed so well the interplay of “heat” and “light” within Christian spirituality.

In keeping with his leaning away from fact-centered religion, Miller suggests that belief in Jesus is not rational; the desire to make sense of God is mistaken. “He will make no more sense to me than I will make to an ant” (p. 54). Of course, there is a measure of wisdom here. And yet, Miller doesn’t grapple with the fact that God can make good sense to us even though we cannot comprehend God exhaustively.

Miller’s inclination to be provocative becomes a weakness—this approach gets predictable and even wearying. How cool is it that he has a beer or smokes or uses “cuss words”? Now I don’t care to make a big deal of these practices, and I sure don’t want to fall into the externalism and legalism that drive so much “Christian” opposition to these practices. And I can appreciate his resistance to forms of church life in which people are loved only if they measure up, only if they meet certain conditions: point well taken. But the endless jabbing at tradition gets tiring, and it’s just not helpful.

Along somewhat similar lines, Miller begins the book by telling how, when he was young, his father left home—abandoned the family. For this reason, he had a hard time with the concept of God as “Father.” I can understand and appreciate the point so far. But then he goes on to say, “Today I wonder why it is God refers to Himself as ‘Father’ at all” (p. 4). Today? It’s one thing to say your experience made it hard to resonate with the fatherhood of God. It’s another to suggest that God and the Bible more or less blew it by bringing in the father metaphor, and to neglect to probe this language for its positive, God-intended value. This is a case in point of being provocative (is it just for effect?) and pushing an idea too hard—pushing it into exaggeration and thus creating rather than solving problems.

So, as it turns out, I don’t offer a very enthusiastic recommendation for Blue Like Jazz. The book is interesting and even fascinating; at times it’s also aggravating and begs to be thrown across the room. In that Miller makes you think and prompts readers to search their hearts, the book has real value. In addition, Christian leaders may well want to read Blue Like Jazz because it illustrates how the traditional church is seen from one believer’s postmodern angle. But, in the end, the book’s imbalances, exaggerations, and provocative barbs overshadow its positive features.