Friday, December 07, 2018

The Bruised Reed and Smoking Flax

1. I'd like to discuss two disparate objections that share a common principle. On the one hand, atheists taunt Christians who seek medical treatment for a life-threatening condition. If you really believe in heaven, why are you afraid of death?

On the other hand, freewill theists say Calvinism is incompatible with regret. If you really believe that God predestined every event, why do you to feel disappointed or indignant at how things turn out?

These objections are wedge tactics. They share the common assumption that conflicted feelings are hypocritical in this situation. Or that conflicted feelings betray the fact that you don't really believe what you profess.

I've discussed both these objections before. Now I'd like to take a different approach.

2. That's not a reliable principle. For instance, suppose you have a teenager who commits suicide. As you're flipping through a family photo album, you have conflicted feelings when you see pictures of your late son (or daughter). You remember them at that age. You remember how you felt about them at that age. But now, in retrospect, you view those nostalgic pictures through the tinted lens of suicide.

On the one hand you are grateful to have had them in your life for as long as you did. On the other hand, there's the inconsolable sorrow. Maybe resentment.

The fact that you regret their suicide doesn't mean you regret having them at all. Although you'd rather have a child who didn't commit suicide, that doesn't mean you regret having that child. It doesn't necessarily mean you wish you had a different child. You just wish the child you had didn't do that to himself, and to the loved ones he left behind.

It's not disingenuous to have conflicted feelings–powerfully conflicted feelings–in that situation. Although you'd rather have a teenager who didn't commit suicide to a teenager who did commit suicide, you'd rather have a teenager who committed suicide to wishing they were never born.

It's malicious for atheists to allege that Christians must be insincere if they balk at death. It's malicious for freewill theists to allege that Calvinists must be insincere if they balk at evil.

3. That said, death is a test of faith. Some professing believers balk at death because they're nominal Christians. They sang hymns about heaven when death was far away, but now that they're having to come to grips with that impending and sobering reality, it reveals the fact that they were paying lip-serving to inspirational theology.

In addition, there are true believers who cling to life when it's time to let go. Their desperation exposes their weak faith. And it's a good thing that the prospect of death shakes them up. That's an opportunity to take stock and get serious about the faith they profess.

We're not saved by the strength of our faith. We've not saved by our faith. Ultimately, we've saved by grace. Faith is a candle to God's match. It's not the flickering candlelight, but the fire of God's grace, that keeps the candle burning. Not the candle flame, but the lighter. The spark feeding the flame. Even when the flame goes out, grace reignites the candle.

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