Dissing Dispies? #1: Preliminaries

I’m sitting at the moment in a beautifully-placed little mezzanine study in Grindelwald, Switzerland. Six feet to my right is a French window through which the Eiger – North Face, I think – can be clearly seen only a short distance away. Evening is falling; the day is almost over – and it’s been a good day. And because I’m on holiday, there’s really nothing pressing to do – a wonderful feeling. But – well, you’ve got to do something, and I’ve been thinking for a while about Dan Phillips’ blog post ‘Twenty-five stupid reasons for dissing dispensationalism.’ I’ve wanted to respond to this for a while, hoping to use it to sort out my own thinking. But time’s always short; except now. So I thought I’d get started. Before I begin to interact with Dan, here a couple of preliminaries – even pre-preliminaries.

#1. I like Dan Phillips.
Actually, I’ve never met him.  People are a lot easier to like before you meet them, aren't they?  But we’ve emailed a few times and I follow his Biblical Christianity blog and his contributions to Pyromaniacs. He has a wicked sense of humour, a swashbuckling approach to debate (which is fun when he’s attacking others, but sinful of course when he’s attacking a position I agree with) and a humanity in his writing that’s appealing.  I like him.

#2. I respect Dan Phillips.
His posts give real evidence of a heart that loves the Bible, a mind that’s studied the Bible, a sensitive conscience and an intellect that has no need to be ashamed. Of course, he’s wackily wrong about dispensationalism (he even admits he’s not sure about some parts of it that – surely – ought to be settled? ‘...five points, seven dispensations (+/-)’ – come on Dan, you should know that if you’re a dispensationalist! I mean ‘two testaments, four gospels (+/-)’ wouldn’t really impress, would it?).  But I respect him; he thinks, he debates, and he does it well.

#3. I agree with Dan Phillips – on most things. 
His swashbuckling defences of Calvinism are spot on.  His perception of the problems of the charismatic movement, likewise. I agree with Dan Phillips – on most things except dispensationalism. And cats.

So, given those things - if I appear to be dissing Dan, I'm not.  I MAY be dissing his argument (or trying to); I MAY be dissing dispensationalism (ditto).  Chances are, though, I'm just teasing, or trying to swashbuckle a little myself.

Oh, and one more thing.  In the blog I've mentioned, Dan doesn't actually defend or explain dispensationalism much; that's not his point.  He does that a bit in What dispensationalism isn't.  Consequently, you may note that this series of blogs is not really a critique of dispensationalism, either.  That may come later - or it may not.  But this series is really no more than a reflection on Dan's twenty-five stupid reasons - and an attempt to show i) there aren't 25 and ii) they're not all as stupid as Dan suggests.

OK - got that?  Then I can begin.  Note first the way

He softens you up to believe
It's called an ad hominem argument ('against the man') and it's bad form, as well as having no value in logic. His first paragraph suggests - nay, states - that non-dispensationalists were filled with envy in the seventies, that their literature isn't real literature, and their attitude is sourpuss.  (Apart from that we're OK, right Dan?)

Where my non-d friends have succeeded in winning people to their views, it is 'more... through image than substance'; that is, they haven't won the argument, merely convinced people that 'it isn't cool to be a dispensationalist'.

Then, he turns his guns on one particular non-dispensationalist, William Hendriksen.  Now, WH has been dead for around a quarter of a century, so he's not in a position to defend himself when Dan says 'he slapped me down something fierce'.  Maybe he did; maybe he didn't. 

Maybe from WH's point of view the encounter looked very different.  At any rate, Dan's words '[h]e told me to read this and that book, and not to write him again until I was 100%' COULD mean he said 'My dear Dan, I find it impossible to answer your question on the problem of evil starting from your own dispensational base.  But you may find this book helpful, and that book.  If you read them and still have problems, get back to me by all means.'  Or it COULD mean he said 'You great ignorant upstart - of course you have difficulty with the problem of evil!  Idiot!  Anybody who holds your view would.  Now, I'm really too busy to bother with idiots - but if you read this book, and that book, and grovel a bit - I might be prepared to give you a bit more time.  Get back to me then and we'll see.'

Either response from WH would be covered by Dan's actual words.  But Dan's tone ('slapped me down something fierce' and 'he even suggested...') suggest it's on a spectrum nearer the latter.  So, plainly, non-d's have no real argument, but resort to fierce behaviour - even the greatest of them.

And so, dear reader, we're softened up to believe that what non-d's say against dispensationalism is going to be stupid, and maybe even reflect their sinful, sourpuss, envious, resentful hearts...

Next time, we'll come to 'the hermeneutic God used to save me (Dan)'.  Till then, don't go talking to any amillenialists, now.

Lake Brienz

Today was very different. The cloud didn’t seem too low, so we ‘ummed’ and ‘ahhed’ a bit before deciding what to do, and then decided on a trip round the lake on the motor boat.


What lake? Lake Brienz, one of the laken that Interlaken is inter. So yes, it was another trip to Interlaken. This time I managed to misplace my tickets – minutes after leaving the ticket office I’d been distracted, then couldn’t remember where I’d put the tickets. I searched every pocket and my derriere portiere (I’m a pastor and can’t possibly say bum bag). Went back to the young man that had sold them to me (very good English): had I left them there? No. I’d still got the receipt – was there anything he could do? No. Well, yes – sell me more tickets. Bit drastic for that – search again. And I found them. I’d put them away safe.


What had distracted me? Well, I’d bought a newspaper. English language, and yesterday's.  As I walked away from the kiosk I realized how much I’d paid for it – five francs 50; that’s almost four pounds. That distracted me. Mind you, it was the Daily Mail so at least I know the news I paid so much for is 100% accurate…


Thirty-five minutes to Interlaken, and then we bought tickets for the ship ‘Jungfrau’, for a three-hour trip around the lake. There was, we were told, a party of 60+ (numbers, not age) and so the boat was a little full. Would we like first class tickets? We would – they only cost us a few francs extra.


So up on to the upper deck, sitting in the restaurant at the prow of the boat, almost alone, with an amazing panoramic view of the lake and the mountains around. There are several ‘stops’ on the lake itself, one at Giessback-something, with the oldest funicular railway in Europe.

(Funicular? A funicular railway is one that takes carriages up a steep slope by pulling them by cable, which is attached to both carriages so that as one goes up the other comes down. You should know that. Thanks to Pete Eaton – who did!) Anyway, it looked impressive – but we didn’t get off.

In fact, we had lunch on the boat, served by a very good waiter with ‘a little’ English. He apologized for the weather, ‘It shouldn’t be like this in May. It’s English weather!’ (He’s right.) The menu was good; Elaine had soup again (Goulash soup – delicious, she said) and I had chicken schnitzel – which certainly was delicious. Lots of coffee, naturally.


Brienze is the name of the lake; it’s also the last stop on the lake. If we’d been able to do the rundfahrt (round trip) which we’ve been recommended, we’d have done the lake anyway, one way, Brienze to Interlaken. But there’s doubt about whether every part of the rundfahrt is open yet – the Tourist Information office doesn’t seem able to tell us, except that the Grindelwald Bus which does the first part is only running on a reduced schedule. So we’ve not tried that yet, and probably won’t get chance now. But we didn’t want to miss the lake, and are glad we didn’t.


Felt a bit of a fool about the tickets, though. Second time this holiday, both to do with trains. The first time was when we were getting ready to get off the train from Zurich. We were upstairs – unsettling on a train, that. And where we were sitting was a long way from where we’d climbed the stairs. We’d noticed that the trains only stopped very briefly in each station and didn’t want to miss our stop, so I asked the guard where to get off. ‘Berne’ he said. Yes, but where did we get off the train? Berne, he said. Yes, but where are the stairs? His English wasn’t good (better than my German – I’m not criticizing) so he fetched another guard whose English was excellent. ‘How can I help you, sir?’ ‘I just want to know where the stairs are…’ He said ‘You’re kidding, right?’ ‘No.’ So he showed me: two yards from where we were sitting. Ok.

80% of the time

Weather forecasts, we're told, are right 80% of the time.  It must be the 80% of the time that I'm not looking.

The weather forecast for today was the best it's been all week: light cloud, some sunshine, no rain.  I awoke this morning to discover that the Eiger (quite literally) couldn't be seen, the cloud was so low.  It was pouring with rain.  And the sun didn't seem to exist.

It's odd about the sun, by the way.  We're already quite high here; you'd think that, this much nearer to the sun, it would be hotter - but it doesn't seem to be. 

Anyway, given a couple of hours the clouds had begun to lift and by lunch-time (ish) were only just kissing the top of the Eiger.  But it was too late, and too cold, to do much; and since the two things we're keen to do (Jungfrau and the Sheidegge Platte) are either quite high (Jungfrau) or not open until Saturday (SP) we opted for another casual day.


So, first - up Pfinstegg again for another look at the view, another travel in a cable car (Elaine's obsessed) and another coffee (two, it turned out) in the mountain restaurant.  Today we went inside - too cold and wet to sit on the viewing platform.  Inside was delightfully warm, thanks to a large roaring fire in the centre of the room.

There was only one other couple there, and they'd travelled up in the same cable car.  English, loud, and friends of the proprietors.  So the lady of the house - slim, forties, very good English and very loud - came to sit with them and regale them (and us, and the whole of the region) with tales of her operation.  We could see the scar on her neck from where we were; we could also see the x-ray that she'd brought into the restaurant with her.  It seems that six months ago she'd been skiing - and oh! my dears! SUCH a fall.  But she didn't see the doctor - one doesn't like to trouble them, you know - but after some months the pain got unbearable.  Her own doctor was at a loss - aren't they always?  I really do wonder what we pay them for? - but a (how do you say it in English) - chiropractor?  yes, chiropractor took one look at her and said 'there's something very seriously wrong'.  And oh, my dear - she almost died.  It was a mystery to her surgeon; the paramedics were used to rescuing people from helicopters but had never known anyone in such pain - still on morphine, you know! - but came home immediately after the operation.  Nearly died, but - well, her friends need her and would miss her, so back she came.  Naturally, we're glad for her - though the coffee would have been quieter...

Then, back down the cable car.  And to 'our own' coffeeshop where I indulged in apple struddle mit kahm ('with cream', you understand?).  The sun had begun to shine a little by this time, and glistened from the summits around us.  So, a good day, a reminder never to go skiing, and a reminder to eat plenty.  And so to bed, Mr Pepys.

Sshhh...

This morning (Monday) the cloud was higher, the weather forecast better, and we decided to set off for Interlaken to go up (or is it up to?) Harder Kulm.

It's a 35-minute train journey from Grindelwald to Interlaken.  Let me explain the train journey.  Our train was due to set off at 10.39.  The station clock has a second hand; every time it reaches the 12 position it pauses for a moment, then the minute hand clicks on an extra minute and the second hand moves again.  So, at 10.39 precisely three things happened: the second hand paused, the minute hand flicked on a minute, and the train began to move.  (Coming back from Interlaken it wasn't quite as impressive - the train didn't move until four seconds - yes, four whole seconds - after the stated time on the station clock.  We're wondering who to complain to.)

The trains themselves are attractive green and yellow carriages that seem to have been designed to look good as they wind through the Alps, and they do.  They're clean, there's plenty of room and they're quite cheap; we have a Swiss rail-card which allows us half fare on all trains (and some other transport) for a month.

Oh, wow...

Interlaken itself is a pretty little town (it calls itself a city) between two lakes (inter - lakes, get it?) that are connected by a narrow river - or at least, a channel of water.  The main street follows the line of the river.  It is, I'm told, the big tourist town in the area, and virtually every other shop sells Swiss watches.  Many of them are beautiful, most of them are really, really expensive.  Scattered between these shops are the inevitable chocolate shops and some of the most magnificent hotels I've ever seen.

But none of these things were our destination today.  We'd kept reading about Harder Kulm and the funicular railway their (what is 'funicular' - anybody know?) and Elaine's been keen on riding the railway and eating in the restaurant at the top.  Five minutes' walk from the station brings you to the bottom of the rail track.  Elaine refused to believe it - it looks almost vertical.  But we'd found the right place, took the ten minute ride up and - oh, wow.  A beautiful restaurant, panoramic views of spectacular scenery, an astonishing view of two lakes and Interlaken stretched out beneath.  Until I get photos up here, google 'Harder Kulm' and see if you can find any to show what I mean.  (Look here - that's the restaurant we ate in)

So - lunch for me was rosti, bacon, cheese and a fried egg; for Elaine, carrot and cream soup which, she assured me, was delicious.  My own lunch certainly was.

Oh, and the coffee.  Every time we have a cup of coffee we say it's the best we've ever tasted.  Oh, wow.

Now, the weather forecast for the next few days is getting better and better, so we've got one or two things planned.

Strict Sabbatarians

It's Sunday; we'd forgotten to stock up for the day.  Still, the Co-op's 100 yards away, right?  Right.  But it's closed on Sunday.  Interesting - everything closes for a 'Catholic' holiday (Ascension Day), and also for the Christian Sabbath (for just about everything in the town, including the restaurant where we were planning to eat, is closed).  Fear not, gentle reader: for we've found somewhere we can eat.  We will not starve.

Weather today much the same as yesterday - but we wouldn't plan to go anywhere anyway.  And if we did, who knows if it would be open?  But the good news is - the weather looks better for tomorrow, and the forecast itself keeps improving.  Interlaken again, we think - Elaine's really keen to go up the Harder Kulm.

Though there's an English-speaking church at Interlaken, we decided to stay in the chalet with Alastair Begg on Colossians 1.17

Coming with clouds?

The Bible says that when Jesus comes again, he will come with clouds (Matthew 24:30).  Looking out this morning on where the Eiger used to be (!), today would be a good day for that...

Afternoon update
Just after noon today, though, the clouds began to lift.  They've thinned out a lot, we can almost see the top of the Eiger again, and the lower parts of the hill are clearly visible.  The weather forecast suggests it'll be better tomorrow, and better still on Monday.

Today's been very much a lazy day.  We've been down to the station to plan a couple of outings; the two we've keenest to do are the Jungfrau and the Hardy Kulm - which sounds like a church member.  Oh, and the Grosse Scheidegg Rundfahrt ('roundtrip') - don't know now whether we'll be able to fit it all in; depends on the weather more than anything.

We've also wandered along the high street, done some shopping, had some coffee, had some more coffee, wandered back... More idyllic scenery for just wandering couldn't be imagined.  It's now 6.30 - and it's the first evening that we've not had any rain.  (Odd; no sooner had I finished typing that than it began to pour with rain!)

As I said yesterday, it's become clear that there are literally hundreds of things/trips to do among the most beautiful scenery imaginable.

Between the Lakes

OK - Interlaken today.  We got the train around 11.30 for a 35 minute ride through gorgeous scenery.  There are two railway stations - west and east, each on the bank of a different lake. The train from Grindelwald goes to Interlaken East.

It's very much a tourist centre, as everywhere is here.  One main street, thousands (it seems) of souvenir shops (watches, cuckoo clocks - we saw one at over a thousand pounds - Swiss army knives, cowbells) and chocolate shops.  There's also place to book paragliding...

One frustrating thing about Switzerland is that there's a 'quiet time' between 12 noon and 2 pm - apparently a Reformation hangover when people were given time to pray!  But today, for us, it meant that the Tourist Information office was closed when we wanted it.  But still: lunch at Macdonalds, a steady walk, lots of time looking at the shops - then the TIO was open and they gave us the guidance we wanted.  We took a walk by the river leading to the Eastern lake, though we didn't get as far as the lake itself.

Rain today, again - intermittent and light in Interlaken, but when we arrived back at G it seemed that it had rained heavily.  The forecast for the next few days is a little better - some sunshine creeping from behind the clouds.

Even in the rain, this place is beautiful almost beyond words.  We're amazed at God's kindness in allowing us to visit the area.

Early morning rain

This morning, woke a little later than before - just before 8.  I could hear the rain coming down on the roof so stayed where I was a few minutes.  By the time I rose, the rain had stopped.  Clouds are as low as yesterday, though, and so the day doesn't look that promising.  We'll see.  Elaine had such a bad night the night before (as in, sleepless night) that I've left her to sleep in this morning.

We had been planning to go to Interlaken today, but decided against it - just making sure really that whatever had caused Elaine's stomach upset had cleared.  Turns out, it's good that we delayed - but not because of Elaine.  Wandering around Grindelwald we noticed that a lot of the shops were closed.  We went into one of the few coffee shops open, one advertising itself as 'Latino' and asked the girl why things were closed.  'Some Catholic thing I think,' she said - though obviously Spanish/Latin herself, and presumably Catholic, she didn't know and spoke with disinterest bordering on contempt. 

It turns out it's Ascension day - of course it is!  It's still a surprise that so many shops should close (including, incidentally, the Co-op, which could have left things awkward for us).  I can't imagine shops closing for a religious festival in England - we even need legislation to force them to shut on Christmas Day!  And certainly, tourist shops wouldn't close.

So we settled for a day of pottering, which is a favourite pastime anyway.  The clouds have been low again all day, and it's rained intermittently, sometimes heavily.  (Once again, the evening brought rain - see yesterday.)

We decided to treat ourselves to dinner out - not that easy, since a lot of the restuarants were closed too.  But we found one called 'Memory', fancied a burger, and went in.  The burgers were delicious - the best I've ever tasted.  BUT two burgers (one large, one small), one chips,  four diet cokes and two coffees came to.... thirty-eight pounds.  Come back MacDonalds, all is forgiven.

Absolutely nothing on TV tonight, too wet to go out, so we expect an evening of reading, snoozing, and wathcing DVDs.

More fascinating contributions tomorrow.

Pfingstegg

Today we went up the cable car to Pfingstegg, as predicted yesterday; once again, I hope photos will follow.  You take the cablecar from the Eastern end of the village, up to 1391 metres, and then climb out onto the sun terrace of a restaurant.  From there various walks begin; some of them were closed today (minor avalanches we were told by a fellow tourist) but we weren't planning on doing any anyway.  Elaine had had a disturbed night: something she ate, apparently (cheese!)  Anyway, she was in no mood for long walks.  The weather was not too good either - it was raining slightly when we set off and we didn't know whether it would improve or worsen.  (It improved).

The view from the platform was breath-taking.  What a place.  Naturally, it's de rigeur to eat when you're that high, so I did.  Resisting horse-steak and chips (!) I settled for 'pork sausage and hash browns' (that was the translation on the menu).  But the hash browns, Elaine said, looked more like rosti - which is interesting because a) I'd never heard of it and b) it's what the German part of the menu said; Elaine hadn't seen it.  Pork sausage was 'schweinebrattewurst' - can't quite vouch for the spelling, but that's what it looked like.

Elaine had two coffees, said 'wow' a lot, drank two bottles of fizzy water.  I had one coffee and one water - you want to know all these fascinating details, don't you?  We'd been warned that everything's expensive, so the bill was no surprise at all. (About twenty eight pounds).

We've heard what we guessed were 'minor avalanches' - I guess 'slippages of snow' would be less dramatic.  It's the weather for it, of course; still plenty of snow on the mountain tops but very warm, very sunny weather making it all unstable.  When the noise starts, it sounds like thunder - but it doesn't end with a clap, more with a loud, deep slither.

The clouds have never left the top of the mountains today; in fact, this morning they were quite low.  So it wasn't the day for Jungrau-ing, even if we'd wanted.  Jungfrau is billed as 'the top of Europe' and apparently you can see into France and Germany - we want a clear day from there.

Then back to the chalet.  Still recovering from whatever upset her stomach, Elaine's happily dozing.  There can be few more beautiful places in the world to doze (the only comparable views I've ever seen were at Cape Point - and there was no room to doze there.  Oh - and of course, the whole of Yorkshire.)

TV in the chalet has numerous English channels, including BBC1 and 2, and ITV and channel 4.  But we have to remember that Swiss time is one hour ahead of UK time (in spite of what my guide book said) - so the nine o'clock news is on at 10 o'clock, and so on.  We're not watching a lot (I think we've only seen the reports on the post-election wranglings so far) but it's there if we want it.

Evening Postscript
Went for a walk down to the station.  Interestingly, it started to rain - this is our third evening (Monday arrival, Tuesday, now) and each evening it's rained.  Rain in the evening is fine!

Tomorrow, we plan a train ride to Interlaken.  Not sure what we'll do when we get there...

Cameron's Folly

This is not a political blog and I'm not a political animal.  But the news that Cameron has  invited Clegg to be Deputy Prime Minister dismays me.  Why, when Clegg deceived Cameron during the negotiations (by authorising simultaneous negotiations with Labour) does Cameron think he's got any reason to trust him?

I've just watched the joint press conference which Nick Robinson perceptively described as a 'love-in'.  They seemed to get on well.  But Cameron will, I think, rue this day.

And I do wish they'd stop saying 'the people voted for a hung parliament.'  NOBODY voted for a hung parliament - it wasn't an option on the ballot paper. 

Reporting from Grindelwald

This place is truly fabulous; I'll include pictures when I have some.  We've had a very lazy day; though I woke at 6 and couldn't wait to get up and see the Eiger again, so I had an early morning cuppa - and then another when it was warm enough to sit on the balcony.

We went down for our cases and, as John (our host) had predicted, they were waiting for us. What a system; though our journey was easy enough yesterday it was better for not having to carry luggage.

We then had a wander up to FIRSTbahn, a cable car place that we'd been recommended; and found it's closed until the 29th. But the Pfen*** (impossible spelling; another cable car place) is open and we hope to go up there tomorrow. The tourist information office is really helpful, and we plan to do Jungfrau later in the week - God willing.

I start every attempt to relate to folks with 'Do you speak English?'; most of them do (better than me). Only one said 'just a little' and her 'little' was more than enough to buy what we wanted. Mind you, we nearly had an interesting experience: we were ordering coffees and all of them said 'mit' something or another; it was only when I saw one was 'mit vodka' that I realised we might be better steering clear!

The weather has been ideal - shirt sleeve weather, lots of sunshine, nice cool breeze. Mum's still sat on the balcony - though I've retreated indoors as the temperature's dropped a bit. Now for a really 'busy' evening!

 

Around 6 o'clock it began to rain; we'd just wandered down to the village again, so we wandered back a bit quicker.  Now a mist has fallen and the Eiger is barely visible.  Don't get the idea that it's in the distance - it is so very, very close.

Is Calvinism Dour?

Gary Brady reported this year on the Banner of Truth conference in Leicester. Describing his journey home, he said

We had a student with us and it was interesting that he had picked up some negativity among men, especially the older ones. I guess we fall into that a bit too easily. I do think generally that Calvinism can tend to put a dour and solemn edge on things. I don't think the Bible itself does that.

In his comments column, I responded


As for Calvinism putting a dour and solemn edge on things; no, I don't think so. I think that edge is there at Banner; but I don't think it's Calvinism that's done it

…and he quite reasonably asks

Hadn't realised how easy it was to be controversial. If Gary Be doesn't blame the Calvinism for Banner dourness (and let's be clear here Banner is also great fun) what is it? Perhaps its methodism (sic)?


It’s a good question. But note that the agreement is in Gary Br’s original comment, ‘Calvinism can tend to put a dour and solemn edge on things. I don’t think the Bible itself does that.’ Now if Calvinism is Biblical-ism in its purest form (and I believe it is) it’s inconsistent to say ‘Calvinism does one thing, the Bible does another.’

And, indeed, Spurgeon’s jollity in a past age, together with the exuberant joy of American Calvinists like Piper and Mahaney, and the joyous nature of the Calvinistic Resurgence documented in ‘Young, Restless and Reformed’ would seem to make the point: Calvinism per se is not dour.

Why then is there a dourness in British Calvinism – a thing I’ve reflected on before? (Oddly enough, I can't find the reflection; if I do, I'll link to it.)  I don’t know the reason – I only suspect. And I suspect it’s the influence of Banner, and that Banner reflects a particular sort of Calvinism.

For one thing, Banner tends to be strongly influenced by Scottish Presbyterians and their Dutch counterparts. I don’t want to make racist slurs, but does either group have a reputation for joy being a national characteristic? Some, at least, of these men go to conference meetings in black suits and dark ties – funeral attire! While I really don’t care what people wear to Christian meetings, if clothes reflect the inner man then no wonder the conference seems dour. Awe and reverence in God’s presence is plainly right – but if ‘awe and reverence’ is equated with staid formality – well, that’s a good synonym for ‘dour’ isn’t it?  And it will show in more than their funeral attire, and it does.

Secondly, it’s very old-fashioned. Until recently, only unaccompanied Psalms were sung. This doesn’t reflect the conviction of Iain Murray, the conference supremo, but was presumably done to keep happy the Presbyterians. Sorry – did I say ‘to keep them happy?’ Well – to keep them coming, anyway. Now the Psalms are brilliant songs of worship; the Scottish Metrical version… well, isn’t. (Or should I say: ‘metrical version the Scottish brilliant isn’t’?) Now, the conference has a piano – and a pianist – and uses them. It even has a song book with some modern songs in (Townend, for example). But at the conferences I’ve been to, these weren’t sung and for the most part at least we stuck to metrical psalms with piano accompaniment. And they’re dour; frankly, they’d be dour even with a rock band and cheerleaders! (Though the experiment would be interesting.)

Thirdly, and I genuinely hesitate to say this, I suspect it reflects the ‘presenting face’ of Lloyd-Jones. I never knew the Doctor; I do believe those who say he had a terrific sense of humour. But the photos show a man who appears to be dour, if not miserable. (I’m sure he wasn’t miserable; I’m only saying you wouldn’t know it from the photos.) He believed in hyper-formality in worship: rebuking a deacon for saying ‘thank you’ when the communion bread and wine was passed to him, refusing to say ‘Good morning’ to his congregation, rejecting the use of modern translations of the Bible and so on. Even if I understand the reasoning behind such things – and I think I do – yet the impression given by them is dour. And if they’re equated with faithfulness to Reformed theology, then the Reformed movement is going to be dour, too.  It isn't necessary to be formal to be faithful; other men take preaching and the salvation of souls every bit as seriously as Lloyd-Jones did.


The resurgence of Calvinistic theology all over the world owes an enormous debt to the Banner of Truth. But in some respects at least, Banner and its conference has tied Reformed theology to ‘traditional ways of doing things’ in a manner which has not been helpful. I do wonder how the Charismatic movement has benefited from the fact that many, many people just do not buy the tie. When I first became eligible to go, and went, to Banner I was genuinely surprised by the men who were not there. And I’ve been disappointed at the relatively low turn-out of younger Reformed men. But I’m afraid some – at least – of the reasons may be reflected in this post. In that respect, I think Banner is failing a generation.

Two things before I close. First, I know that the folks in the Banner office sometimes pick up on blogs that mention them. Brethren, if you pick this up, please take it as observations from a friend. I love you guys – in a dour, reformed kind of way of course.

Second – can’t something be done? Can’t we have a conference of happy Calvinists in Britain that isn’t (exclusively) charismatic?

The General Election

Sorry guys, you can't get away from it even here. 

Guy Davies has posted here a series of questions he put to his local candidates; good idea, eh?  But the answers given by each of the candidates demonstrate the poor choice Christians have these days.  The closest to a Christian position on moral issues is the Tory candidate, Dr. Andrew Murrison.  Indeed, he describes himself as a practising Christian, and that's possible even for someone who chairs the local interfaith group.  He even appeals to Scripture a couple of times, which is obviously good.

But he also says, without being prompted,

However, I should make it plain since the matter has recently cropped up again that I do not think it is reasonable for people carrying out a B&B business from their home to discriminate on the grounds of what they presume might be happening behind closed doors. I would also point out that there is an inconsistency in refusing gay couples whilst accepting without question that a man and woman wishing to hire a room are married (to each other). The Regulations are now passed into law and I uphold the law.

I believe in upholding the law, too.  Aren't you glad!  But are there limits?  I ask, 'cos I don't want to incite anyone to break the law.  But:

• When, in the sixteenth century, it was illegal to teach children the Lord's Prayer in English, should Protestants have obeyed?
• In the seventeenth century when John Bunyan was imprisoned for preaching the gospel, should he have obeyed the law?
• In the twentieth century, when homosexuality was illegal even in private, should homosexuals have obeyed the law?

Just asking, you know.

Over at 'Against Heresies' Martin Downes posted a live version of Simon and Garfunkel, Bridge over troubled water.  It's OK: but if you really want the crackerjack live version, you have to look here.  Where else would you look?

Unless it's here:



Update:  And, if you're tempted to disagree, 'During this summer season in Vegas Paul Simon attended one of [Elvis']shows and after seeing Elvis perform the song he was reported to have said "That's it, we might as well all give up now."

Moordown is Hopeless!

It's official - Moordown Baptist Church is now Hopeless!  Last Sunday, we began, with God's help, 'Hope Church, Ferndown' under the leadership of Mike Mellor.  Here's the motley crew:

The purpose is 2-fold:

First, to reach a new area with the gospel of Christ.

Second, to make more room in our own building back in Moordown, so that - again with God's help - we may reach yet more folks here.

So - the Hope folk have gone, which leaves us without them - Hopeless!

Beginning a new church isn't an easy business, and does inevitably draw the attacks of Satan.  Do pray for Mike, for Jon and me and all the leadership as this work gets under way.

Contemporary Conservative

Parkside Church in Cleveland, Ohio (where Alistair Begg is senior pastor) is an outstanding example of how sung worship can be contemporary and place no stumbling blocks in the way of modern unbelievers, and yet remain absolutely faithful to Biblical principles and truth.

This is the style we aspire to at Moordown; we're a way from the standard musically (not being a city with a lot of music students, I suspect) just as we're miles from the standard of preaching. But we aspire to both.

ANOTHER Pastoral Reflection

I'd better stop doing this; see this site for a daily Peanuts cartoon: so helpful when it comes to theological issues.  And much funnier than this one - if no-one minds me saying so.

A pastoral reflection

Somehow, this resonates with me as I think of pastoral issues...

Aren't computers wonderful?

Over at Biblical Christianity my e-friend Dan Phillips is having blogging problems. He laments (in the 'comments' part of the blog):




...aaaaaaaaaaand now I see my blog has just suddenly decided to display all links as underlined.Sigh.Anyone know how to turn that off? I didn't knowingly do anything.

Joyce (obviously an expert) replies
Dan, if you look at your view source from the post page you'll see your html has underline in line 94, 421, and 423(check to be sure). Do you think replacing with none would fix?

And when that doesn’t work she suggests:
Line 94 with hover could be okay as underline as my blog View/Source has that in the code(only place) and does underline with mouseover while links aren't underlined unless I <> & < /u > code. Does changing the other two underlines in the html get you back to where you want to be? My blog recently began adding line spaces in the sidebar only and immediately upon opening each section to edit. Blogger is glitching??? Needs be rocket scientist ~

And then

hmmmmm...me sorry. The V/S is typically somewhat in the dashboard template area. Do you see the underline wording when you click to View Source? Wonder if VS and the template being different reflects it being Blogger? Sorry I couldn't be more helpful ~ :-

And

Should do this email but am popping off the computer after this comment...Try this ~ go to the dashboard, layout, edit html. Click Edit(on browser page top), then Find on this Page and type in underline. See if it highlights the 3 underlines I'm seeing when looking at your blog's ViewSource(leave hover as is) and the other two a:link, a:visited??? Not sure changing would fix but only thing I could think of to try if it were on my blog ~

To which Dan says, plaintively,

Here's what I've got:a:link {color:$linkcolor;text-decoration:none;}a:visited {color:$visitedlinkcolor;text-decoration:none;}a:hover {color:$titlecolor;text-decoration:none;



Aren't you just so glad that that's all cleared up?



Never used to have these problems with quill and ink.

Shock Horror: Anglican Church says 'We believe the Bible'!

Some of last week's papers recorded the shocking story of a church in Sevenoaks, Kent, where a curate (apparently) preached on marriage and the role of women. It was, say the unbiased, godly newspapers, reviled as a medieval sermon - or worse - by many of the women in attendance, some of whom have cancelled their direct debit mandates (I think they mean 'standing orders' - can a church set up a DDM?) And some of the women - and even their husbands (doing as they're told, I suppose) have vowed never to enter the church again.

The church's rector says:

At the heart of all the press coverage is the very ordinary fact that at St Nicholas Sevenoaks, as in many other evangelical churches up and down the country, we engage in an expository preaching ministry which requires both preacher and people to engage humbly with God's word, the Bible.

Radical, eh? Several things are worth noting in the press coverage:

• first, the press's surprise than anyone should preach on marriage rather than 'giving an uplifting message' as Valentine's Day approaches


• second, the press's surprise that not everyone believes the liberal media's view of relationships is all it's cracked up to be


• third, the very careless attitude to truth that the press shows - look at what the Mail says the church did and what the Rector says they didn't do. It ranges from the trivial (the Rector wearing his kilt to church) to inaccuracies at the very heart of the story :

On a different point another strand of headlines speak of the Rector telling women to

be silent and of a leaflet written by him being distributed around the congregation in

January. The reality is that I have written no leaflets, nothing has been distributed

and no-one has ever told women to be silent.

Still, let's not let the facts get in the way of a good story on an otherwise quiet (!) weekend. And let's not notice either that the church is growing - so much so, apparently, that they're having to start another congregation. If only they'd compromise; if only they'd preach what society and the Daily Mail wants them to. Then they could quietly die like other Anglican churches.

Sigh...

Nervous? Me? Well...

This year, the elders here have agreed that it would be good for me to attend a State-side conference. I have it in mind to go to Together for the Gospel - the speakers look good, the theme's important and the accommodation better than British conferences. And it might actually cheer me up, which would make a change.

Only problem is - I've flown before, but never alone. Anybody like to come?

John Terry's mistake

BBC's lunch-time news today tells us that John Terry will meet England manager Fabio Capello this afternoon, and a decision may be made about whether Terry can captain the England team to the World Cup after his affair 'with an England team-mate's ex-girlfriend'.

Ah, well; that was his mistake then. If only he'd had an affair with an England team-mate's ex-BOYfriend, his status as captain would have been secure - probably for ever - and he would have been hailed as a national hero.

Better luck next time, eh John?

Mind you, for what it's worth - and nothing's been announced as I write, so this is a genuine predicition - my bet is that Terry will keep his captainship. After all, if football is more important than life and death, it's certainly more important than mere sex. Whoever you do it with.

Update: I was wrong - Terry's been sacked as captain, but not as a player. Well, I've been wrong before. (Sometime in 1973, I think it was...)

Mixed emotions

You know that old joke about the definition of mixed emotions - 'seeing your mother-in-law drive off a cliff in your new Mercedes'? Well, here's another one: a Yorkshireman making a free offer and nobody - NOBODY AT ALL - taking him up on it...

Spurgeon and Prophecy

Phil Johnson, here, has a useful collection of Spurgeon stories. Spurgeon was undoubtedly a cessationist, and yet prepared, it seems, to see God at work in supernatural ways. I'm linking to this here primarily so that I can find it when I want it.

Separated at birth...?

Gary Brady

Mark King

Special Offer

Readers may like to know of a special offer, available only to you good folks. I'm selling copies of my three Day One publications at special rates: 'Why, Lord? (The book of Job for today)' for only £5 (normally£6.99) ; 'Revelation Revealed' (normally £7) also for only £5; buy both together and I'll not only send them post free, but include a free copy of 'Reach out for him' - a full-colour evangelistic booklet based on Acts 17.

A free offer - from a Yorkshireman. The age of miracles continues...

First post of the year

...from the days when comedians used to be funny

The virtue of consistency

For some very special friends...

...you know who you are!

Oh, no, Charlie Brown!

This, on Dan Phillips' blog, has to be worth a laugh

Brave? Nah!

Yet another celebrity (that I've never heard of) has come out as 'gay' and been lauded in the media as 'brave'.

No.

• There's nothing brave about marrying a woman when you know you prefer men.
• There's nothing brave about being unfaithful to her with men.
• There's nothing brave about taking solemn vows that you know you're not likely to be able to keep.
• There's nothing brave about telling your teammates when you know that if any of them express disapproval, warn you of the serious health consequences or even crack a joke they'll be visited by the police and accused of a hate crime.
• There's nothing brave about breaking your wife's heart.
• There's nothing brave about saying you've always been in love with her and are still in love with her when you plainly don't understand what it means.
• There's nothing brave about putting 'the way I want to live my life' above everybody else's hurt.
• There's nothing brave about treating sex as if it's the most powerful thing in life that cannot be resisted and somehow justifies whatever you want to do.

There are loads of brave men and women in our land today - men and women in marriages that are not all they hoped for, coping with stress they'd never expected, remaining faithful and working hard at what they have. They don't leave, they don't pout, they don't expect anyone to give them a medal. And no-one does: the BBC doesn't laud them for their bravery, they don't have articles written about them. And they don't hurt anyone by their selfishness. And there are others who bravely cope with betrayal from those they loved and should have been able to trust. They rebuild their lives; they seek new partners. They raise their children, refusing to teach them any bitterness towards the mum or dad who left. There are single men and women who are also sexual beings with powerful sex drives who yet practice long-term abstinence because they believe it to be right and proper and good.

They're brave - and this unknown blogger salutes them.

I wish Mr. Thomas well. And that means I wish him genuine repentance and faith in Christ - not because he's gay but because he's a sinner. I wish him to see how wrong his unfaithfulness and lying has been - not 'wrong to his sexuality' but wrong to his wife and to God. I wish him to see it not so that he can endure further years of torment (which is a strong word to describe 'not being able to have sex with who I want, or having to lie about it when I do', don't you think?) but because without seeing, and feeling, his wrong there's no hope for repentance and no hope for forgiveness. There is hope, for while 'neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who preacise homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God', the Scriptures can say 'And such were some of you. But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.'

There's hope for all of us.

Olyott v. Luther, part 3.

Hmm -what a buzz my comments on the Banner of Truth article by Stuart Olyott have caused - though not half so big a buzz, I gather, as the article itself.

Look - here's where the rubber hits the road. The other Sunday one of the elders here prayed for me just before I went out to preach, like this: 'Lord, he's prepared the sermon. The altar is built, the sacrifice is made. But we need your fire to descend.' (The imagery, for any Biblically illiterate who read this blog, is taken from 1 Kings 18.) Now - was said elder right? Or was the altar and the sacrifice (the time spent in preparing the sermon and crafting it) enough?

Olyott v Luther, Part Two

Luther wrote:

I opposed indulgences and all papists, but never by force. I simply taught, preached, wrote God’s Word: otherwise I did nothing. And then, while I slept, or drank Wittenberg beer with my Philip of Amsdorf, the Word so greatly weakened the papacy that never a prince or emperor did such damage to it. I did nothing: the Word did it all. Had I wanted to start trouble… I could have started such a little game at Worms that even the emperor wouldn’t have been safe. But what would it have been? A mug’s game. I did nothing: I left it to the Word.

Olyott says he should have written:

I opposed indulgences and all papists, but never by force. I simply taught, preached, wrote God’s Word: otherwise I did nothing. And then, while I slept, or drank Wittenberg beer with my Philip of Amsdorf, God, working with his Word so greatly weakened the papacy that never a prince or emperor did such damage to it. I did nothing: God did it all. Had I wanted to start trouble… I could have started such a little game at Worms that even the emperor wouldn’t have been safe. But what would it have been? A mug’s game. I did nothing: I left it to the Lord, having pleaded with him to accompany his Word.

(Banner of Truth magazine, December 2009)

Olyott v Luther

In this month’s Banner of Truth, Stuart Olyott has a provocatively titled article: ‘Where Luther got it wrong – and why we need to know about it.’

Of course there are many places where Luther got it wrong, and some of them Banner wouldn’t write about (infant baptism, anybody?). But this is a different issue.

Famously, Luther wrote ‘I simply taught, preached, wrote God’s Word: otherwise I did nothing… I did nothing: the Word did it all.’

Not so, says Stuart: ‘The truth is that he did nothing and the Word, on its own, did nothing either. Yes, the Word, on its own, did nothing. When the gospel has success, we can’t write about it as Luther did.’

The error, says Stuart, is called ‘mediate regeneration’ and it ‘did terrible damage to the Lutheran movement’ and ‘is on the march once more…[and] has taken over vast sectors of British Evangelicalism…. If we don’t wake up, it will soon take us over completely. From then on, gospel work in this country will be ruined.’

Strong words. What on earth is he talking about? WHO is he talking about?

The error is this: ‘the Spirit, or the principle of new life, is shut up in the Word… Just sow the seed and people will get converted! If they don’t, it will be because they have persistently resisted the appeals of God’s Spirit coming to them through that word. His power is resident in the Word, but that power has been resisted. Where the gospel has little success, there is a human explanation.’

Stuart goes on to argue that the Holy Spirit does not Work through the word, but that (normally) his operation accompanies the Word; sometimes, however, he can work without the Word.

It is, I think, (some of) our Anglican brethren that Stuart has primarily in his sights, including the Proclamation Trust, though they are not mentioned. ‘The great emphasis among those of this mind-set is therefore on what they call ‘Word Ministry’.’ And what it leads to, among other things, is ‘Most British preachers study more than they pray.’

I can only speak for myself. I ‘came under the influence’ of the Proc Trust in the early 90s. They taught me a great deal about careful exegesis. About structuring sermons. About care to make sure that the sermon said what the text said. About using illustrations. About compelling introductions and conclusions. They're all good things.

I shuddered a bit when one of their star preachers (rightly much respected) told me that all-night prayer-meetings in Korean churches were a sign that they hadn’t shaken off Buddhism properly (!); but generally, I lapped up what I heard.

And gradually, ever so gradually, I began to realise that I was putting my confidence in the sermon: if I structured it right, exegeted the text right, illustrated it right – then that’s all that was necessary. Nice of you to show up, Holy Spirit – but we don’t need you thanks. We’ve got your Word.

And that’s not right. Is it?

Packer and Noah's Ark

Over at Helm's Deep, the always-instructive Paul Helm has begun to look at why Jim Packer is an Anglican, using Packer's own words whenever possible.

Both Packer and Helm make me want to ask 'Well, yes - but...', but the blog is definitely worth a read.

A question

Why are British ministers so depressed? So low? So negative? So sure nothing much is going to happen? It may not be true of all (I hope not); but it seems to be 'the general tone' amongst the Reformed.

It came home to me with some power when I was at a well-known ministers' conference earlier in the year. I asked one friend - young, at the beginning of his ministry - what he thought to the conference and as far as I remember his answer was 'It's great to be among so many men who are as depressed as I am!' He wasn't joking.

So perhaps it's Calvinism? Perhaps it has a depressing effect?

Hardly: Spurgeon suffered from depression triggered by gout, but was not by nature (or grace) an unhappy individual. Nor, for that matter, is Piper. Ah, Piper - yes, he's American.

In fact, reading 'Young, restless and reformed' suggested to me that it's only British Calvinists who're so miserable. Across the Pond, Calvinists have great conferences, joyous conferences, with thousands in attendance and a vision of the glory of God that virtually forbids misery. Nobody there would say 'It's great to meet so many depressed people.'

So - it's a serious question. Why are British Calvinistic ministers so depressed? And what can we do about it?

When forgiveness is wrong

The news today reports the tragic story of a teenage rapist - tragic, that is, for his victims. He raped a seven-year old boy and was tried. The seven-year old's parents - committed Christians - said at his trial that they forgave the boy and wanted his sentence to reflect that. He was given a three-year community order. Eight days later, he raped a five-year old boy whose father says the crime has destroyed the whole family.

We've become familiar with such stories of forgiveness, often the 'forgiveness' of terrorist attackers and often, if not usually, because the victims are Christians. It's hard not to admire the grace of those who offer forgiveness under such circumstances; harder still to criticise them.

But they're wrong. Scripure commands that we are to be perfect, as our Father in heaven is perfect. Does our Father in heaven forgive? Yes, of course. Who does he forgive? Those who repent, and only those who repent.

Sin, according to the Bible, must be punished. And it always is punished - either the sinner himself is punished in hell for all eternity, or the Saviour is punished in the sinner's place on Calvary's cross.

Crime, too, according to the Bible, should be punished: the state wields the sword (Romans 13:4) as God's representative for that very purpose. The state has no duty to forgive, and no right to forgive, either, as far as I can see.

When the well-meaning Christian mixes his 'forgiveness' with the weakness of the State in punishment, the innocent are bound to suffer. And the sufferer may only be five years old.

For more on forgiveness, from a truly Biblical perspective, see Chris Brauns' book 'Unpacking Forgiveness'.

She's arrived!

Announcing the safe arrival of Anna May Morris, 29.8.09. Anna means 'grace' and May means 'longed for child' - she's certainly that. We bless God.

Here's a picture, with joyous and beautiful Mum Joanne:

Historical (Biblical) Cessationism

The guys over at Team Pyro from time to time let it be known that they’re not all that enthusiastic about the charismatic movement, and this time Phil Johnson’s weighed in with a thoughtful piece on gullibility and faith. Inevitably, one of their correspondents came back with a quote from Spurgeon’s autobiography:

“While preaching in the hall, on one occasion, I deliberately pointed to a man in the midst of the crowd, and said, ‘There is a man sitting there, who is a shoemaker; he keeps his shop open on Sundays, it was open last Sabbath morning, he took ninepence, and there was fourpence profit out of it; his soul is sold to Satan for fourpence!’ A city missionary, when going his rounds, met with this man, and seeing that he was reading one of my sermons, he asked the question, ‘Do you know Mr. Spurgeon?’ ‘Yes,’ replied the man, ‘I have every reason to know him, I have been to hear him; and, under his preaching, by God’s grace I have become a new creature in Christ Jesus. Shall I tell you how it happened? I went to the Music Hall, and took my seat in the middle of the place; Mr. Spurgeon looked at me as if he knew me, and in his sermon he pointed to me, and told the congregation that I was a shoemaker, and that I kept my shop open on Sundays; and I did, sir. I should not have minded that; but he also said that I took ninepence the Sunday before, and that there was fourpence profit out of it. I did take ninepence that day, and fourpence was just the profit; but how he should know that, I could not tell. Then it struck me that it was God who had spoken to my soul through him, so I shut up my shop the next Sunday. At first, I was afraid to go again to hear him, lest he should tell the people more about me; but afterwards I went, and the Lord met with me, and saved my soul’… I could tell as many as a dozen similar cases in which I pointed at somebody in the hall without having the slightest knowledge of the person, or any idea that what I said was right, except that I believed I was moved by the Spirit to say it; and so striking has been my description, that the persons have gone away, and said to their friends, ‘Come, see a man that told me all things that ever I did; beyond a doubt, he must have been sent of God to my soul, or else he could not have described me so exactly.’ And not only so, but I have known many instances in which the thoughts of men have been revealed from the pulpit. I have sometimes seen persons nudge their neighbours with their elbow, because they had got a smart hit, and they have been heard to say, when they were going out, ‘The preacher told us just what we said to one another when we went in at the door’”.

I recognise the quote, and it’s authentic; though I haven’t checked its accuracy it is just as I remember it. And it’s as I remember it from the Banner of Truth edition of the autobiography.

That’s interesting, isn’t it? Banner of Truth – a cessationist publisher if ever there was one. They edited the biography before publishing it: why didn’t they remove this quote, if it promotes a charismatic understanding? Integrity, perhaps? That could be it; but surely a footnote would be in order then, to prevent misunderstanding? Yet there is none: why not? I think it’s because the story does not run contrary to Banner’s own cessationism; it certainly doesn’t run contrary to mine.

What the brother giving the quote doesn’t tell us – and he couldn’t, because he doesn’t believe it – is that Spurgeon was a cessationist. I’m not documenting it: if you’re interested, go look – reading Spurgeon is always worthwhile in its own right.

Historically, cessationism doesn’t mean that God never does anything remarkable, or even miraculous. Take a look at the Westminster Confession, chapter 5, paragraph 3:

God, in his ordinary providence, maketh use of means, yet is free to work without, above, and against them, at his pleasure.

What does that mean? God can ‘work without means’ or ‘above means’ or ‘against means’ if he chooses: he can work miracles. And note, not ‘he could, in days gone by’ but rather, in the present tense, ‘God… yet is free…’

Historic cessationists believe that. I don’t know if Phil and the team do, but I’d guess so.

What is cessationism?

It’s the belief that some, at least, of the miraculous gifts known in the early church were ‘signs of the apostles’ – 2 Corinthians 12:12. They were given to authenticate the ministry of the apostles; once the apostles had passed from the scene, there was no longer any need for such things, and they passed. We cessationists believe that in particular the gifts of tongues and of prophecy were temporary, and also believe that the New Testament itself indicates that this would be the case. It's the historic view of the church: cessationists may be in a minority now, but that's purely a recent phenomenon.

Do we pray for healing, even miraculous healing? Yes, and some of us have stories to tell. Those stories don't threaten our cessationism. But we are not impressed by the dishonest claims of many present-day ‘healers’, nor, generally, by the naïve claims of many sincere brethren. We’ve discovered, all too often, that when careful investigation is made, the evidence isn’t there.

Evolution

I became an evolutionist last week. I can't help it - sorry. The logic is so compelling.

See, I was watching this program on Channel 4 where they autopsied some kind of giant whale. And Richard Dawkins explained with such charm how it got to be the way it is. Here it is - at the moment.

The way it happened, said Richard, is that having come out of the sea and with a great deal of difficulty adapted itself to the land, it decided to go back into the sea. But the fur it had evolved on the land isn't a very good insulator in deep water, so it (or rather, they) swapped the fur for blubber. That's what he said. Swapped it.

And that did it for us. Suddenly, a mental picture formed of all these great bear-like creatures lining up to swap their fur for blubber, and everything slotted into place. It's so obvious. Light dawned. Let there be ligh -- oh, no, sorry; that's the Other Side. The penny dropped. It really did happen.

Yeah, right.

On the other hand....

Not all philosophers are the same, of course - any more than all preachers, or all theologians. You'll find here the beginnings of Paul Helm on why Wright is wrong. Good stuff.

The Trouble with Philosophers

Partly because of a debate elsewhere on the blogosphere, I've started to re-read Bryan Magee's fascinating 'Confessions of a Philosopher'. Here's a passage that I think says something about 'the trouble with philosophers':

All the problems that plagued me were questions about the situation in which I immediately found myself. Some of them were questions about me, some were questions about the world around me, but all of them were practical questions, which is to say questions about how things are, to which something or other had to constitute a true answer, or so it seemed to me. To none of these questions would the existence of God have constituted an answer, and I never felt any inclination, no matter as how young a child, to believe in one. There is a story that G.E. Moore, when asked why he had never addressed himself to questions about God, replied that he had never seen any reason for taking such questions seriously, and the same applied in those days to me. The postulation of a God seemed to me a cop-out, a refusal to take serious problems seriously; a facile, groundless and above all evasive response to deeply distrubing difficulties: it welcomed the self-comforting delusion that we know what we do not know, and have answers that we do not have, thereby denying the true mysteriousness, indeed miraculousness, of what is...'

Well, where do we start? We could notice that he is, at the time, between nine and twelve years old, and since he was 'in a family in which religion was never mentioned', a little humility about the possibility of having missed something might be a good thing.

But look how he sees the existence of God: a theoretical thing, that might answer some problem, or be a cop-out as far as answers to the problems are concerned. He's missing completely the possibility that God might be an objective reality - and that, if he is, it's probably wise to know it. He thinks he's answering life's problems; or at least looking for them. But he's ignoring the elephant in the room because in his opinion it's no help at all. Sadly, Magee goes on to speak of the daily terror that his philosophic speculations brought: 'From that day on I wrestled with demons for at least a part of every day of my life...'

That's the trouble with philosophers - well, some of them. They think they're dealing with the big things and all they're doing is ignoring the big things in favour of academic games...