Doing History for the Glory of God

Below is an article that I wrote for the Totomundo Newsletter back in the Winter of 2009.  I wanted to keep a record of it here, since this fourfold filter has continued to shape the way I view all kinds of subjects.  By applying the filter of Metaphysics, Epistemology, Ethics, and Aesthetics, one can arrive at a personal philosophy of any topic - history, science, arts, business, etc.  Using these four categories will help beg questions that may otherwise go untapped and unanswered.  I hope that these thoughts are a benefit to any reader who is seeking to apply a consciously comprehensive worldview to their work, their interests, their relationships, and their total life.

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Doing History for the Glory of God  (Totomundo 2009)

Does the Bible have anything to say about the academic study of History? Does a Christian have anything unique to offer the field of historical studies compared to a scholar writing from another view? If so, how does a Christian “do history” for the glory of God? Is Church History the only kind of history in which God’s character and presence in the world has been displayed? Or, do political, artistic, and technological histories have stories to tell about our great God and King?

To answer these questions, one must have an idea of Christianity as a total worldview. Francis Schaeffer often exclaimed, God’s truth is “true truth.” He meant that the worldview found in the Bible and in Jesus, over all other worldviews, best accounts for all of reality. A conscious application of a biblical worldview to history involves four areas: metaphysics, epistemology, ethics, and aesthetics. These four areas make up the essential components of a worldview.

First, let’s discuss the metaphysical aspects of historical inquiry. Metaphysics is the answer to these two questions: What is real? and, What is the nature of reality? So if God, humans, and the earth exist, metaphysics still asks what kind of God exists, what are humans in essence, etc.

History is greatly impacted by the underlying metaphysical beliefs every historian carries with him or her. Beliefs about the origins and purpose of the universe affect historical investigations and accounts.

The particular philosophy of history one uses is a metaphysical issue. For example, a historian may look at events in a very mathematical fashion, more in tune with a mechanistic or naturalistic view of the universe. People and events and dates are merely cogs in the machine of history, jumbled together in a deterministic way to produce inevitable results. Or, he may read into history patterns and cycles which are more in line with an Eastern religious view of the universe – history repeats itself, without exception.

The Bible does not allow for a completely deterministic view of history. The historical accounts in Scripture concern real people and take place in a personal universe under the holy and loving reign of an infinite-personal God. Humans are agents in the world, and exercise freedom and choice underneath God’s sovereignty.

Likewise, the cyclical pattern of history in Eastern traditions does not account for the obviously purposeful view of human history described in the Bible. Despite the common experience of “history repeating,” the biblical view is that history truly is linear, not cyclical. As Christian students and teachers, we must beware of unconsciously building on a false metaphysical base of impersonal determinism or meaningless cycles.

Also, the Christian who is researching the past, whether the subject is explicitly religious or not, should give ample thought to what lies beyond the physical subject matter he or she is addressing always keeping the infinite-personal God, as revealed in Scripture, at the center.

Many history textbooks look with skepticism upon the impact of Christian beliefs and thought on historical events, like the founding of the American Republic. For example, consider the “inalienable rights” described in the Declaration of Independence. One historian may emphasize the deism of Jefferson and the apparently humanistic origin of his (borrowed) phrase. Another historian may link this concept to the stream of Reformation principles coming down from British Common Law, founded on the existence of a Law-giver who has endowed His image-bearers with inherent dignity and rights. More often still, historical accounts which should include the activity of God and his people are summarily deleted from the story. One textbook may have a chapter on the Great Awakening of the 18th century. Another may have just one sentence. This is metaphysical bias at its worst.

The second dimension of historical inquiry is Epistemology, the study of knowledge. Epistemology answers the questions: How do you know what you know? And, What amount of confidence can we have about our knowledge?

Epistemology has been the focus of recent conflict within history. The conflict has centered around the well-known “revisionist” theory, which has both positive and negative aspects. Revisionist history does allow for free inquiry into the historical status quo, cultivating new interpretations that may actually be closer to the truth than commonly held assumptions. One bright example has been David McCullough’s resurrection of John Adams as perhaps the central character on the stage of the American Revolution.

The detrimental side of revisionist theories is that they have led some so-called historians to deny the existence of major events, like the Jewish Holocaust. Although this example is rather extreme, some of these theories have become wildly popular. For instance, Dan Brown’s goddess-worshiping version of Christian history can still be found in bookstores worldwide.

The root problem with revisionism is that it is set on a relativistic base. It does not accept any criteria or guidelines for establishing the validity of any claim and any proposed criteria are quickly dismissed. The revisionist may operate out of pure skepticism, but the raging sea of perpetual doubt will never land us on the fixed shore of certainty (James 1:6).

Now, history is not a completely scientific endeavor. We can’t use the scientific method or repeatable experimentation to pin down a historical theory. “By the standards of science, it makes a lousy laboratory,” says Wilfred McClay. “But the problem is, it is all we have. It is the only laboratory available to us for assaying the possibilities of our human nature in a manner consistent with that nature.” That is the key phrase. The revisionist says that perpetual skepticism is the manner consistent with our nature. The Bible disagrees.

Scripture provides a balance of epistemic inquiry that sees human knowledge as substantial, but not exhaustive. This balance replaces the revisionist’s skepticism with a humble, yet confident footing. In fact, this balance provided the catalyst for the modern scientific revolution which began with Isaac Newton. While early scientists like Newton understood they could never know exhaustively, they took confidence from the existence of a transcendent Law-giver, who gave such order to His universe that substantial knowledge of it could be obtained through careful study.

Today, however, the relativist denies all absolute truth-claims, and to an extent we can understand his frustration. The plurality of truth-claims we face is overwhelming. How can anyone, including a historian, say with any certainty that something has truly happened? The scientific method, useful in many other situations, does not apply to history.

But, the biblical worldview does ground historical methods of inquiry in our image-bearing capacity for reason and in the logical order of the natural world. The physician-historian Luke displayed this kind of epistemic confidence when he wrote the following introduction to his history of the life of Jesus:

Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us, just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word have delivered them to us, it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught. (Lk. 1:1-4)

Luke provides some first steps toward a Christian epistemology: (1) multiple sources, including eyewitnesses and even the personally invested, are sufficient for trustworthy evidence; (2) close examination is required, for the truth will not always be obvious in a fallen world; and (3) an orderly account is a fit vehicle for the narrative to make sense to the reader. The historian can investigate the past with integrity through these kinds of methods. The results will be knowledge that is absolutely true, however finite it may be. We can therefore make conclusions about our research with substantial confidence, even to the point of forming penetrating critiques and serious moral applications. This feeds directly into the ethical questions that face historians.

The third realm of inquiry is the realm of Ethics. We have already touched on some ethical ideas in the first two realms. Historians have a moral responsibility with regard to metaphysical bias and epistemic integrity. What is left to be said? Well, the historian plays another ethical role in the area of assigning moral judgments, implicit and explicit, to the subjects he or she is writing about. Whether his thesis is to vilify some historical figure, or he is just leaving a vague sense of disgust about a character while claiming moral neutrality, the realm of ethical judgment is powerful and relevant to the Christian historian.

The Christian may immediately feel the pull to condemn the unrighteous and vindicate the godly of the past. This is a natural instinct which is often inversely shared by non-Christians, especially atheists. However, these ethical pronouncements are a great opportunity to display sincere civility. Christians indeed have a duty to uphold the reputation of godly men and women throughout history. We should be grateful for the special role that church historians play in this regard, yet the arm of fellowship should be extended to historical characters and events which are not “sacred” or church-related, but do display goodness and aspects of true humanity. As Christians, we are called to cultivate, draw out, and emphasize true humanity whenever possible.

Christian historians have a responsibility to hold up their subjects to the light of God’s Word and see what shines and what does not. This is the opportunity to paint human nature in a way that is in tune with the biblical balance: mankind is noble, but fallen. We cannot fall into extremes here, in either our individual judgments or in the body of our work.

For example, the student of Nazi Germany may come away from his studies with incredible despair over the realities he is facing. Mechanized murder. Sterilized ethnic-cleansing. Will to Power. These are very real and deserving of our moral condemnation. But generally speaking, the Christian must be careful in the body of his work to paint both sides of human nature. Even in the darkest of moments there have been slivers of light and beauty.

This is not naïve optimism, but an absolute necessity in today’s academy, which is driving thousands of young Christians from zealous faith into abject despair. This unbalanced emphasis on the fallenness of mankind is often held by believers who have held to the self-deprecating extreme and thought that such attitudes were increasing admiration for the holiness and grace of God. I wish it were the case. More often, the absence of any inherent dignity in mankind, rooted in the image of God, has driven believers to despair of life itself.

This leads directly into the fourth and final category of inquiry, that of Aesthetics. Aesthetics answers the question: What is beautiful? The realities of beauty and ugliness are recurrent subjects in historical study. In a world that says “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder,” the Christian historian has an awesome responsibility to show forth a standard of beauty in the subject matter of his work. The basic litmus test for absolute beauty is whether the subject accords with what is True and what is Good. For example, a courthouse that is aesthetically pleasing on the outside may be home to gross injustice on the inside. In this case, despite subjective appeal, this courthouse could never be truly beautiful.

In addition to being an aspect of a subject, the research, study, writing, and composition itself is an opportunity for beauty (or ugliness). The historian has a wonderful role to play as painter of human nature, covering his canvas in a way that is fitting to the medium. This task calls for creativity, diversity in methods and forms, and opens up a world of possibilities. Evangelicals too often cringe at these concepts because of their unswerving commitment to absolute truth and the authority of God’s Word. Instead of cringing, we must grow in our appreciation of the diverse forms of beauty in God’s good creation. In general revelation we find the spectrum of light as it passes through the changing phases of water (a rainbow!). We see nebulae, galaxies, worlds without number, apparently created for the pleasure of God alone. In special revelation we find the amazing story of God’s relationship with mankind, told through a diversity of literature: psalms, narratives, parables, visions, letters, and more. And all of them are history!

Finally, the historian must impart his vision of beauty in a form that is fitting. He must be winsome in argument, colorful in illustration, and civil in all moral pronouncements. These efforts will make historical endeavor deeply personal, taking the names and dates off the dusty shelf and animating them into an unforgettable and intimate encounter.

It is my hope that the academic field of history will be greatly impacted by a generation of Christians who consciously apply a biblical worldview to history– who see the God-centered purpose of human history, the hope of substantial certainty in inquiry, the both noble and fallen nature of its subjects, and the wonderful diversity of its form.

And, may God receive all the glory.

From Doubt to Certainty

Luke 24:11, 52-53

But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them...

And they worshiped him and returned to Jerusalem with great joy, and were continually in the temple blessing God.

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We have reached the end of Luke's gospel account, and in many ways we are seeing the culmination of his opening thesis:

Inasmuch as many have undertaken to compile a narrative of the things that have been accomplished among us, just as those who from the beginning were eyewitnesses and ministers of the word have delivered them to us, it seemed good to me also, having followed all things closely for some time past, to write an orderly account for you, most excellent Theophilus, that you may have certainty concerning the things you have been taught.  (1:1-4)

Luke promised certainty, and he aimed to use eyewitness accounts and structured writing in order to achieve that end. Now after 24 chapters, we have traced the life, work, trials, and death of Jesus with incredible degrees of detail and order. Luke has delivered as promised, but this final chapter reveals that doubts are persistent things, even for those who were closest to Jesus. We already saw how his followers and enemies alike abandoned him in his hour of greatest need. In chapter 24, they will need some final evidence to take them from doubt to certainty.

The evidence needed for true faith is a balance of both reason and experience, with the foundation of both being God's Word. In other words, faith starts with the God who is there and is not silent, and we take hold of this faith by reason and experience. In this chapter, the experience is seeing, hearing, and even touching the risen body of Jesus, which displays his deity and power as well as his closeness and love.

And he said to them, “Why are you troubled, and why do doubts arise in your hearts?  See my hands and my feet, that it is I myself. Touch me, and see. For a spirit does not have flesh and bones as you see that I have.” (24:38-39)

In the same chapter, we see Jesus explaining his death and resurrection to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus.

And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, he interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning himself. (24:27)

Now, both the reasoning and the sensory experience were grounded in God's Word, without which we would have no basis to trust our senses or our rationality. In other words, to think and to feel and come to truth about reality, there must be an infinite personal God from whom these human capacities derive. We are made in his image, and he designed us to both think and feel to understand the world around us. But only in the context of his personal involvement in our lives, through His Spirit and by his written word.

In my life, I have swung back and forth between these two ways to know truth. I became a Christian at age 16, coming out of typical teenage angst and being introduced to God's love in a very emotional way, via Pentecostal worship. All I knew at that point was that God was real, present, and the only source of unconditional love. But I couldn't prove anything about him besides the feeling I had.

Years later, I arrived at Seminary searching for more solid answers. Previously, I had approached the Bible as a mystic source book, reading to find hidden meanings in the obscure details. Now, I learned about systematic theology, where the whole bible is broken into exhaustive categories and put in logical order. I read Romans for the first time, learning that my peace with God was not merely a peaceful feeling, but really a peace treaty, signed in the blood that was shed at the cross, in real space and time (Rom. 5:1). God's love for me was objective and as unchanging as the historically documented cross and empty tomb.

But as the pendulum swung, I began to lose my urgency in prayer. The dynamic relational aspect of my walk with God had been downplayed as I became more interested in philosphical arguments and proofs. I was forgetting that, while Truth is propositional, Truth is also a Person.

The disciples were still struggling with doubt when Jesus showed up in his resurrected glory. By the end of the chapter they were worshiping with joy and blessing God in the temple! What changed them was a Savior who explained the Truth and embodied the Truth, engaging both their hearts and their minds.

I pray that I continue to grow on this journey to love my Savior with both my mind and heart. He is worth explaining and defending intellectually. And he is worth seeking personally as a friend and father. Luke's gospel account leaves us with both challenges. Will we heed the historical claims of Jesus' deity and atoning death? And will we respond to the Truth with worship and joy in the context of a dynamic relationship?

Luke the Historian

Luke 3:23, 24

Jesus, when he began his ministry, was about thirty years of age, being the son (as was supposed) of Joseph, the son of Heli, the son of Matthat, the son of Levi, the son of Melchi, the son of Jannai, the son of Joseph...

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Chapter 3 is another introduction of sorts - an intro to the adult life and ministry of Jesus. There are several verses here which fit the theme verse we discussed in chapter one - that Luke is writing for the purpose of instilling certainty in his readers. This chapter fulfills this purpose in at least two ways:

1. Historical Markers. Verses 1-3 provide incredible detail about the specific time in which these events took place, making Luke's narrative a clear example of historical biography rather than dramatic fiction. The naming of specific rulers and leaders would have been the most accurate way to date events, and scholars today have relied on these markers in dating the events and when they were recorded. Luke's extensive genealogy in this chapter presents yet another common time marker from this era - the family tree. This would have been included by Luke mainly to place Jesus in space-time history, as opposed to promoting a sense of legend or myth.

2. Journalistic Style. Continuing the tone of an essentially journalistic account from chapters 1 and 2, Luke describes the early events of John the Baptist in a matter-of-fact literal manner. The events are recorded with concrete imagery and verbatim dialogue, apparently collected in eyewitness accounts and organized by Luke in a straightforward chronological fashion. C. S. Lewis commented likewise that the writing style of the Gospels in no way resemble typical first century legend writings:

"I have been reading poems, romances, vision-literature, legends, myths all my life. I know what they are like. I know that not one of them is like this. Of this text there are only two possible views. Either this is reportage -- Or else, some unknown writer without known predecessors or successors, suddenly anticipated the whole technique of modern, novelistic, realistic narrative. If it is untrue, it must be narrative of that kind. The reader who doesn't see this has simply not learned to read." (from Christian Reflections)

What is the purpose of these markers, genealogies, and literal stylings? Why does it matter that we have certainty about the times, places, and historical reality of these events? Why not just believe what you choose to believe? Well, contrary to popular notions today, the primitive world of the ancient Near-East had a firm grip on the difference between reality and fantasy. In fact, one could argue that the modern world's acceptance of pure subjective truth and individualized "blind faith" is quite a step backward from the simple statement of facts found in the Gospel narrative. What brings hope - real grounded hope - is the certainty that my Creator actually showed up in human history and intervened on my behalf, bearing the death that I deserved, and rising bodily from the dead to demonstrate his love and the promise of resurrection for all who trust in Him. This is good news indeed.