Standing on Shoulders

One of the most disturbing postulates of the Emergent movement expressed at our conference last weekend is the one which states that the value and validity inherent in scriptural interpretation is directly proportional to the age of the idea...or put simply--new ideas are better than old ones.

A speaker stated that he used to argue with his father about doctrine until his professor pointed out "of course you argue with your father; you are standing on his shoulders". Whereupon, with the mystery explained, the man was able to acquire a new respect for his father and his antiquated views.

This is sad, somehow, because it assumes a rise in intelligence and reading comprehension that isn't born out by the record. It also silently proposes that great men of faith throughout the ages haven't been granted the insight or inspiration claimed by post-modern theologians.

I feel the fallacy has been fueled by our scientific leaps in recent years. Men discover DNA and now we have libraries of knowledge about it. Computers are invented...and now they are being used to invent. A microbe hunter makes a successful vaccine and suddenly there are explosions of antibiotics and serums.

But--ask language educators and makers of achievement tests--our modern comprehension of literature and linguistics has lost, rather than gained, ground. And the message of the gospel hasn't changed any more than the original documents have changed. They have been there all along, and we aren't suddenly going to understand them better through modern cultural relevance and the rosy glasses of wishful thinking.

Conference on the Atonement

Over the weekend I attended a church conference in the city. It was called over a doctrinal issue of highest importance, and those attending were intense, fervent, and contemplative. Literature coming out of our seminary seemed to be striking at the core of one of our basic beliefs and we were compelled to investigate and see if this were indeed the case, or if we were simply misunderstanding poorly written textbooks.

The seminary was well represented there as were our churches in this district. We were cautiously kind to one another, explaining, tiptoeing, and examining.

Beneath those high-ceilings and within those brilliantly windowed walls, I felt like one of many little mice, scurrying around on a marble floor, examining a cat track--discussing at length the depth of the footprint and whether we could live with scratches on the floor.

Meanwhile, no one was allowed to bring up the subject of the large cat--the one sitting in the middle of the floor and smiling.