The Noetic Effects of Grace: Pagan Ethics

When we consider the Bible's assessment of pagan ethics, we are forced, once again, to pause before we press the antithesis between the believer and unbeliever too far.

Jesus says plainly that "sinners" love and do good to others (Matt. 5:46; Luke 6:32-33); he also commends the scribes' and Pharisees' teaching of Torah, encouraging their disciples to obey their instruction despite the fact that their lifestyles are not always in conformity with what they teach (Matt. 23:2-3); Paul actually holds up pagan morality as a means to shame the Corinthians for the perversity allowed in their midst (I Cor. 5:1-2a); In Athens, Paul employs arguments from the intellectual tradition of Greece to demonstrate the folly of pagan idolatry, first quoting Epimenides of Crete, and then the Stoic authors Cleanthes and Aratus of Soli (Acts 17:28, [Apparently, these pagan philosophers had a sufficiently robust understanding of the nature of God to expose the futility of idolatry]). And finally, Paul quotes the Cretan poet Epimenides in his letter to Titus (1:12-13a), adding that the pagan poet's estimation of the morality of his contemporaries is "true."

To what can we attribute all of these things but to God's common grace?

What all of this amounts to is the conclusion that in common, non-redemptive fields such as art, music, philosophy, agriculture, architecture, and even ethics, the believer and the unbeliever are more similar than different due to their both sharing the imago Dei.

Moreover, if we mistakenly insist that the these fields of interest are under the jurisdiction of redemption and are therefore to be considered "holy," then not only ought all Christians to withdraw completely from culture into ghettos or compounds where the world's wicked influences can't touch us, but we also run the risk of dilluting the Bible's authority when it comes to the things it actually does address, like, say, the cross and empty tomb.

The Noetic Effects of Grace: Pagan Wisdom

To further our discussion of education, I think it will be helpful to draw our attention to some of the Bible's own testimony concerning the "wisdom" of the pagans (some of what follows is gleaned from Dr. Johnson's article cited below).

As an adopted son of Pharoah's daughter, Moses served in the king's court and "was educated in all the wisdom of the Egyptians" (a fact that, along with Jewish tradition, Stephen highlights with apparent approval, Acts 7:22). At the time of the exile, Daniel, Hananiah, Mishael, and Azariah took the Chaldean names Belteshazzar, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed-nego, and were given by Yahweh "learning and skill in all [Babylonian] literature and wisdom, and Daniel had understanding in all visions and dreams" (Dan. 1:17). Finally, the fact that Solomon's wisdom is said to have "surpassed the wisdom of all the people of the east and all the wisdom of Egypt" is intended to be impressive, which it obviously would not be if God's people alone were wise (I Kings 4:29-34).

To be sure, there is a stark antithesis in Scripture between the wisdom of this age and that of the age to come. But the sharpness of this antithesis seems most apparent when the spiritual concerns of God's second book, rather than the temporal concerns of his first one, are at issue.

Given these biblical accounts, together with the fact that all people still share the imago Dei even postlapsum, is it not at least conceivable that a child can learn his three Rs in a context that is consistent with the nature of those subjects, namely a common one? And further, is it not sufficient to insist upon a holy education when it comes to subjects that are themselves holy, namely, those contained in the Holy Bible?

(And please continue to be nice to "em," she is a member of my church. Failure to do so may result in my hunting you down and... well, you get the point).

One God, One Truth, Two Books

"All truth," we are often reminded, "is God's truth." Fair enough... But if God is the author of two books, the book of nature given through general revelation and the book of Scripture given by special revelation, then our well-worn slogan will need some nuancing before it will ellicit anything more than a yawn.

Few today would deny that it is the existence of some "higher power" that makes truth real and knowable by human beings (the overwhelming majority of Americans are theists, meaning the standards of qualification, obviously, are not that high). But when it comes to actually studying God's truth, and in particular his first book, the book of nature, how important is it to emphasize the God behind it all? Or to state the question with more specificity: When determining the freezing point of water, how crucial is it to highlight the fact that it is God who, before the foundation of the earth, sovereignly ordained the answer to be 32°?

Westminster Seminary California professor Dennis Johnson writes:

"... If we deny or minimize the motif of common grace, we run the risk of intellectual arrogance, a defensive isolationism from the culture in general and the academy in particular.... A devaluation of God's goodness in common grace may also foster an anti-intellectualism that despises God's general revelation in the created order and his providential dealings in history. Spiritually, ignoring common grace may foster attitudes of suspicion, antipathy, and contempt toward non-Christians" ("Spiritual Antithesis: Common Grace and Practical Theology," Westminster Theological Journal Vol. 64 [2002] 73-94).

If those subjects about which God has not spoken directly in his Word are therefore to be considered common (i.e., neither demonic nor divine), does this mean we can study them with, and be taught them by, pagans idolaters with no regard for God and his law? And will our studies in this environment be unavoidably deficient?

Or more simply, how much educational value are we to expect from the fact that all truth is God's?

Desperately De-Programming Danny

Regarding public schooling, parents often voice the (legitimate) concern that they don't want to have to "de-program" their children each day when they step off the school bus:

Mom: "Danny, what did you learn at Amityville Public School school today?"
Danny: "I learned that I am a highly evolved cosmic accident."
Mom: "Oh dear! Anything else?"
Danny: "Ummm... just that 'Heather Has Two Mommies.'"

But the suggestion that the need for de-programming would cease if our children were enrolled in the local Christian school is naïve, especially if Danny was baptized as a baby:

Mom: "Danny, what did you learn at Pleasantville Christian School today?"
Danny: "I learned that God is lonely and wants me to be converted so he has someone to talk to."
Mom: "Oh dear! Anythng else?"
Danny: "Ummm... just that the Antichrist is going to broker a covenant between the godless Arabs and the beloved Jews allowing them to rebuild their temple, the eventual goal being an earthly millennium during which the Levitical sacrificial system will be reinstituted."

(Hyperbole? Maybe, but only just....)

I trust you see where I'm going with this: If a family lacks either the luxury of having a theologically like-minded Christian school in their vicinity, or the thousands of dollars each year to pay for it, then chances are some de-programming will need to occur. The question, then, is which is a better message for little Danny: "We're not like those unbelievers," or, "We're not like those Arminian, dispensational, charismatic evangelicals."

Train Up a Child

In the spirit of our ongoing application of the law of Christ to contemporary issues, I would like to broach a subject that engenders impassioned debate on both sides:

Education.

There are various ways in which this issue has been approached. Some insist that, since "all truth is God's truth," education must take place from a uniquely Christian perspective (either in the form of homeschooling or through private Christian schools). Moreover, some advocates of Christian schools further insist that an educational model borrowed from the public schools with some Bible lessons thrown in is insufficient, opting rather for a classical, trivium-based approach (indeed, some are so sold on the classical model that they would opt for a non-Christian classical academy over a non-classical Christian school).

Others wonder whether, if a robust view of common grace is held, subjects like science, math, and literature really need to be taught under a distinctly Christian rubric. After all, doesn't our sharing the imago Dei with unbelievers allow us sufficient commonality to investigate these topics together?

And perhaps most importantly, do any of the proponents of the various views have the right to preface their position with "Thus saith the Lord"?

Can Divinity Be Mastered?

"The minister," writes D.G. Hart,

"... does not hold authority because of special gifts... nor does the minister speak with power because he is telegenic and winsome. Rather, authority resides in the ministry because of the office of the pastor itself. The office, no matter who holds it, is authoratative." (Recovering Mother Kirk: The Case for Liturgy in the Reformed Tradition, 113.)

Crucial to a confessionalist view of the Christian faith (over against a pietist one) is the importance of the ordained ministry of Word and sacrament. The blatantly anti-egalitarian and anti-democratic nature of the confessionalist position makes it seem utterly foreign and even backward when compared to all the stuff that makes America tick (a dissimilarity that, when coupled with a healthy sense of the separation between church and state, shouldn't be a problem).

In our day, however, the idea that anyone's opinions about what God thinks about a particular issue are more trustworthy than another's is ludicrous, especially "when every Tom, Dick, and Sadie with a strong D average in high school has the right to express an opinion" (Ibid., quoting John M. Timmerman). But when we're grappling with something that's really important like, say, cancer, then all of a sudden the expert's opinion actually matters.

Is the fact that the instruction of M.D.s in white coats carries more weight than that of M.Div.s in black gowns a possible indication of where our priorities lie?

Or to put in more simply: Are our souls so much less important than our bodies that the spiritual health of the former can be diagnosed by anybody with a Bible, while the physical health of the latter requires some actual expertise?

And just what does "Master of Divinity" mean anyway?