Larry Dixon is a graduate of Emmaus Bible College and is currently Professor of Church History and Theology at Columbia Biblical Seminary and School of Missions in Columbia, South Carolina.
Introduction
The Ignorance of Christians
“The trouble with ignorance,” somebody once wrote, “is that it picks up confidence along the way.” Many contemporary followers of Jesus Christ possess only a bare understanding of Christianity, but it seems they have picked up confidence along the way. Few Christians readily acknowledge their unfamiliarity with the fundamental facts of the faith, but such ignorance manifests itself time and time again.
One evidence of such ignorance is the popular Christian game I call “Cultic Hide ‘n Seek.” This is pretending not to be home so that one will not have to answer the doorbell when the Jehovah’s Witnesses or Mormons come calling. The last thing such Christians feel like doing is hearing how Jesus is only “a god” or being told by Elders Smith and Young that the Bible is the Word of God “insofar as it is properly translated.” And so they pretend not to be home.
Another example which shows a poor doctrinal understanding by some Christians is what can be described as voluntary illiteracy. This refers to the conscious refusal to read any books which are not from their own religious perspective. The fear may be that they have never wanted to engage their minds in defending their faith, and they are too tired to start now. Few Christians really enter the public arena of debate with non-Christians, for the unspoken consensus seems to be that although their faith may not be much, it is all they have—and in order to keep it, they feel they must keep it to themselves.
Knowing and Believing Biblical Doctrine
But life is too short to miss the benefits of knowing what biblical Christianity teaches—and believing those doctrines fervently. In this age of support-groups, perhaps we need a therapy organization for doctrinally-deprived disciples of Jesus. I can just picture the scene: Late on a weeknight, in the basement of the First Church of the Empty Pew, a crowd of thirty or so individuals arrange themselves around rectangular tables. Amidst the chatter and shuffling of metal chairs a middle-aged woman calls the meeting to order, and then the testimony time begins. “Hello,” says an automotive mechanic of about twenty-five years of age, “My name is Mike—and, although I’m ashamed to admit it, I, uh, well, I have no idea what the doctrine of sanctification is!” “Hi, Mike!” calls out the group in supportive unison. And Mike begins to tell his sad story of doctrinal deprivation. A fanciful scene? We think so only because we do not realize that an addiction to ignorance is as dangerous as an addiction to alcohol or drugs. Perhaps more so.
Years ago people used the word “dumb” to refer not just to someone who was ignorant (a rather negative way of characterizing an individual), but also to describe someone who was mute, unable to speak due to some impediment. Although “dumb” is no longer used in the latter way, the point may still be made that if we are ignorant about the facts of our faith we will be silent about the faith itself. Learning what one ought to believe as a Christian gives one something to say.
Certain movies attempt to teach that dumbness can be charming, almost superior to intelligence. Dumb and Dumber, as well as the Academy Award winner Forest Gump, seem to suggest that ignorance is not only bliss, but blessed. But must ignorance be synonymous with innocence? Good fortune may come to those who are uninformed, but most likely despite that deficiency, not because of it. Absence of knowledge is not a virtue, and what one doesn’t know can be detrimental to one’s spiritual health.
Someone has defined a lecture as that which makes you feel dumb on one end and numb on the other. The installments for this journal are not meant to be lectures. Each chapter (after this first one) will introduce a doctrinal area with contemporary examples which will show the need for knowing—and putting into practice—what one believes. The biblical doctrine will then be briefly summarized and relevant implications will be drawn so that the particular truth under consideration will be seen in all its practicality. Lastly, for you scholars out there, some suggestions for further study and application will be made.
Back to the Basics is designed as a “low impact” presentation of Christian truth. However, this author’s desire is that such an introductory survey of the biblical fundamentals might have a high impact on the life of the one who reads—and thinks about—the truths which followers of Jesus Christ possess.
Chapter One
Developing a Distaste for Doctrine
- “Everyone is ignorant, only on different subjects.”—Will Rogers
- “I would not have you to be ignorant, brothers.”—The Apostle Paul
- “Your karma ran over my dogma.”—bumper sticker
Many Christians feel exactly that way about learning the doctrines of their faith. The very idea is as appealing as gulping down a mouthful of castor oil—straight! We do not need to prove that doctrine is already distasteful to many Christians, but we do need to ask why. Why has doctrine become so distasteful?
The Problem that Doctrine Seems Irrelevant
The “So What?” Factor
Many reasons may be given. Let me list three that come to my mind. First of all, doctrine is seen to be irrelevant to everyday life. The sheer impracticality of the theological concepts and debates for which ivory-towers are erected (and populated) causes the average Christian to yawn, and then turn away. However, not all ideas are equally worthy of dismissal. In the film Dead Poets’ Society Robin Williams plays a teacher of English literature to a group of young men. In one particularly inspiring scene Williams says to those wide-eyed students, “Men, no matter what anyone tells you, words and ideas can change the world!”
Words and ideas have changed the world—and continue to do so. The problem is probably not the words and ideas of the biblical faith, but the way those words and ideas are used—and the ones who use those words and ideas! The words and ideas which make up the doctrines of the Christian faith have set prisoners free, brought cleansing to the spiritually polluted, and rescued many from the power of sin and despair. But those who unimaginatively pour those words and ideas, like so much castor oil, down the gullets of the godly need to consider the doctrinal damage which they are doing.
Dorothy Sayers, an insightful defender of the Christian faith of the early twentieth-century, wrote:
It is not true at all that dogma is “hopelessly irrelevant” to the life and thought of the average man. What is true is that ministers…often assert that it is, present it for consideration as though it were, and, in fact, by their faulty exposition of it make it so. [1]Doctrine is not irrelevant to everyday life. Truth (and that is what doctrine must be, or else it is simply brain-washing) is always relevant because it tells us not only what is, but also what ought to be. Christianity is both genuine realism (because it depicts this lost world as it truly is) and authentic futurism (because it describes how things will be eternally).
I have often told my students in theology class that the problem is not the impracticality of doctrine, but the frequent incomprehensibility of the theologians. Theology, doctrine, is not boring—but theologians often are.
Biblical doctrine is not irrelevant to the everyday needs of believers. As a case in point, have you noticed how our society has become captivated by the subject of angels? There are literally dozens of books on angels, often marketed as leading features in book stores and supermarkets! An area which many Christians have given little thought to has become a major aspect of the New Age spiritual quest for meaning and significance. Without a knowledge of the biblical doctrine of angels, how will Christians sort out truth from error, accurate information about genuine angels from the propaganda dispensed by the one who “masquerades as an angel of light” (2 Corinthians 11:14)? Arguing how many angels can dance on the head of a pin is one thing; swallowing all that contemporary writers say about such spirit beings is quite another!
The Problem of Theological Jargon
Theologese
Not only is doctrine thought to be irrelevant to everyday life, but secondly, the language of doctrine is perceived as indecipherable and confusing. But technical language is a part of everyday life. Whether one is getting his car repaired or playing a game of chess, technical language is used by those who care about their area of knowledge. This objection to the technical language used in the study of doctrine deserves an extended response.
I discovered that when I was in the market for a CD player, I became very interested in the words used to hawk one brand over the other. In fact, I even enjoyed my time of comparison-shopping. But first I had to learn to navigate my way through the verbal sea of CD language.
There were a number of questions I had to answer before laying down my hard-earned plastic to purchase what was to me new technology. Did I want “Introscan”? With or without “Cue and Review”? Was a “30 Track Memory” going to be enough, or more memory than I find myself (a number of years over 30) possessing these days? “Bitstream” sounds impressive—would I regret buying a model without it?
I’m sure I mixed up the ads for CD players with those for other technical equipment. If the CD player comes with a hard disk drive, how exactly does one go about softening it up? If it comes with “double azimuth,” will that mean that a single person can’t listen to it? If the model I buy has a “Video Accelerator Card,” what do I do if I don’t want the music to play that fast? “Mash 1 bit technology” sounds like the CD player is broken before I even get it home to take it out of the box. I know that I need “8X oversampling,” but don’t ask me what the value of “X” is, or exactly what it will do for me.
What I really wanted in a CD player were practical features, such as: Do they make a model which will hopefully melt my son’s “Blind Melon” CD’s? Will a “Graphic equalizer” edit out the embarrassing lyrics of my daughter’s friends’ CD’s which she might naively borrow? None of the advertisements answered my real question, a very practical one, which was, “How often do I have to replace the needle—and why doesn’t the manufacturer tell you whether it is a diamond stylus or one made out of Philippino bamboo?”
I finally bought a CD player and let my son do the technical things with it, like turn it on. After all, he’s earned the right to push the buttons—he’s the one who programs our VCR.
The fact is, when we put our minds to it, we are able to learn the language necessary to make a reasonable decision. Interest and effort frequently provide sufficient motivation to learn the lingo. And terms are not always terminal; I actually enjoy explaining the features of my CD player to others.
The Usefulness of Technical Language
Technical Language Aids Communication
There are a number of benefits of technical language. The first is that it can aid communication. Imagine the following, admittedly improbable, scenario: A surgeon is in the middle of an operation, and, with perspiration beading up on his forehead, he says, “Nurse, quick! I need one of those metal things that works like a backwards scissors, because this patient’s tube thing is shooting out that red stuff pretty fast!” As the nurse ransacks the supply carts to find what the surgeon needs, the patient bleeds to death. Leaving the operating room, the doctor is met by the grieving—and very angry—nurse who demands, “Doctor, why in the world didn’t you simply bark out the order for a hemostat?”
Technical terminology is a kind of verbal shorthand that allows effective communication between parties who have the same understanding of the subject. But scholarly disciplines such as theology and medicine are not unique in their use of such language.
Occasionally, the highly sensitive side-line microphones used in the broadcasting of NFL football games pick up the quarterback’s instructions being given to the rest of the team in the huddle. Talk about technical language! “Slant-z-outlet six/eight, draw sneak—on three—break!” If I were in that huddle, I would grab the left halfback next to me, shake him, and have just enough time to panic and ask, “Huh? Whadda he say? Where do I go?” Time is at a premium in play-making, and communication needs to be precise. Those who belong in that huddle have spent long hours memorizing the plays. Such verbal shorthand communicates quickly and effectively. Those who don’t know the jargon have no business being on the playing field. In Christianity, however, every follower of Christ is on the team—and in the stadium. But being barely in the stadium isn’t enough; the plays need to be learned so that the Christian can leave the sidelines and get in the game!
For a number of summers I have shed my professor’s jacket and tie for a completely different outfit. I served as a registered volunteer baseball umpire in Canada. Having grown up in North Carolina, I love the game of baseball and joined the umpiring ranks several years ago. There’s a correlation between theologizing and umpiring, for the expression “You’re outta here!” can be used equally well with heretics in the church or unsuccessful third-strike bunters at the plate.
I will not become wealthy umping baseball games during the summer. At $10 a game, I will be lucky if I can pay off my expensive uniform in about seven years (umpire’s mask: $60; chest protector: $55; plastic ball/strike counter: $5; shin guards: $45; miscellaneous, uh, protective equipment: $8; etc.).
Are you aware of the technical language in the game of baseball? (I mean words that are more than four letters long). A “foul tip” is not the same as a “foul ball.” A “balk” is an illegal act by the pitcher attempting to purposely deceive a base runner. Other terms include “appeal on half-swing,” “double touch on a fair ball,” “interference of B-R to interfere with double play,” “minimal presence” (I’m sure this is true of some of my theology students), and my all-time favorite expression, the infamous “infield fly rule.” This rule is not a statement about a superior class of flying bugs, but rather an attempt to prevent the defensive team from purposely dropping a pop fly in the infield to initiate a double play. But listen to the official rule-book:
An infield fly is a fair fly ball (not including a line drive nor an attempted bunt) which can be caught by an infielder with ordinary effort, when first and second, or first, second and third bases are occupied, before two are out. When it seems apparent that a batted ball will be an Infield Fly, the umpire shall immediately declare “Infield Fly” for the benefit of the runner. If the ball is near the baselines, the umpire shall declare “Infield Fly, If Fair.” The ball is alive and runners may advance at the risk of the ball being caught, or retouch and advance after the ball is touched, the same as on any fly ball. If the hit becomes a foul ball, it is treated the same as any foul. When an infield fly rule is called, runners may advance at their own risk. If on an infield fly rule, the infielder intentionally drops a fair ball, the ball remains in play despite the provisions of Rule 6.05 (L.). The infield fly rule takes precedence.Clear? I personally think the infield fly rule was actually dreamed up by an infielder who always dropped infield flies to make it appear that he was doing so intentionally.
The fact is all of us learn the technical language necessary for coping with a variety of issues—and adventures. Let’s say that you are visiting the Carlsbad Caverns in southeastern New Mexico. As the guide leads you around a sharp and fairly dim underground bend, she suddenly shouts, “There’s a stalactite around this corner. Watch out!” The question is, do you duck—or do you jump? Knowing that a stalactite is a projecting downward formation of calcite from the roof of a cavern and that a stalagmite is a projecting upward formation of calcite from the floor of a cavern, you have enough sense to duck as you go around the bend. As others in the tour party get smacked on the head, you pat yourself on the back because you learned your high school teacher’s memory device that a stalactite is a formation which holds tight to the ceiling, while a stalagmite juts mightily up from the floor!
By the way, language which aids communication doesn’t have to be elaborate to be effective. Imagine that you are in a crowded theater. The play has just begun when all of a sudden a man in the third row stands to his feet, turns to face the audience, and cries out, “My olfactory organ is registering a vaporous essence which indicates the presence of noxious, pyrogenic activity in the approximate vicinity of this domicile!” Some would tell him to sit down and be quiet, some would not know how to react, and others would exit the theater as quickly as they could. It would have been far better for him to have simply stood to his feet and shouted “FIRE!”
Technical language facilitates discussion between those who have mastered certain common words in their area of dialogue. For outsiders, those terms may seem like secret passwords that they do not know. But passwords (if not kept secret) can be learned, and a learned password admits one into what we might call the communication clubhouse, so that real discussion can begin. In theology, the terms are more than passwords; they are frequently a vital part of the discussion itself.
Technical Language Aids Precision in Dealing with Concepts
Technical language not only aids discussion, but secondly, it develops precision in dealing with concepts. One writer said that “if it takes a lot of words to say what you have in mind, give it more thought.” Theological terms (such as the term “Trinity”) have been coined by dedicated scholars not to obscure the truth for the uninitiated, but to encapsulate the truth for those who take it seriously. In a discipline such as doctrine, where the subject matter (God and the things of God) could not be greater, it is logical that exact expressions would develop to aid students of Scripture to grasp its concepts.
Imprecision is occasionally found in laymen who misuse technical language. An older man recently told me that his friend had to enter the hospital for prostrate problems. I did not correct his language (he really meant prostate); but I was reminded that most Christians I know, including myself, have prostrate problems (we find it awfully difficult to prostrate ourselves before the Lord). Our confidence in a medical doctor, however, would be somewhat lessened if he or she used the wrong term to describe that particular condition. Precision in medical language is a prerequisite for those who have the awesome task of practicing the cure of the human body.
But why are our expectations different for those who are charged with the “cure of souls”? The spiritual ills which plague Christians necessitate precise language if theological therapy is going to be effective. Theological exactness is simply one evidence of taking the discipline and its truths seriously.
Audience and language. When I first began teaching in Bible college, I remember the great statesman of American Evangelicalism, Carl F. H. Henry, coming to our campus to deliver a series of lectures on theology. He began the first of his four addresses to our students and faculty with the words, “Good morning.” I didn’t understand a thing he said after that, and I was the theology professor! As a scholar, Dr. Henry has in his long life left us an impressive legacy of important writing in defense of biblical orthodoxy, but as a communicator to undergraduate Bible college students, he left us at the station!
Dr. Henry’s presentation is an example of an important principle: one’s audience determines one’s language. A truly educated person is one who can put into words understandable by his audience the truths which he wishes to communicate. Norman Cousins is right when he says, “It makes little difference how many university courses or degrees a person may own. If he cannot use words to move an idea from one point to another, his education is incomplete.” It is the communicator’s task to use language which communicates rather than confuses.
I am told about a sign which was posted in a government office which read, “The man who knows what he is talking about can afford to use words everyone understands.” The assumption in that statement is that the speaker is talking to everyone, and sometimes that is simply not the case. A contractor discussing the construction of your new kitchen with the finishing carpenter is going to use language, probably fairly technical, which communicates quickly and effectively. That contractor will likely not use the same language with you, the customer.
Perhaps the best example of someone proficient in the use of audience-sensitive language was C. S. Lewis. He could write children’s fiction (The Chronicles of Narnia) which anyone can understand, but he could also engage in vigorous debate over theological, philosophical, and philological issues, demonstrating his expertise as a literary critic. He practiced what he preached, and his challenge to Christians needs to be heeded:
You must translate every bit of your Theology into the vernacular. This is very troublesome and it means you can say very little in half an hour, but it is essential. It is also of the greatest service to your own thought. I have come to the conviction that if you cannot translate your thoughts into uneducated language, then your thoughts were confused. Power to translate is the test of having really understood one’s own meaning. [2]Lewis is right regarding the double benefit of translation. Using language understandable by one’s audience presupposes both an interest in its response and an effort not to confuse.
Technical Language Increases Confidence
We have seen that technical language can assist communication and develop precision. It can, thirdly, increase confidence (both in the listener as well as the speaker). Mr. Brown brings in his 1973 Datsun for service. The mechanic looks under the hood, and says, “Mr. Brown, I know exactly what your car’s problem is. You see that thingamabob next to that whatchamacallit? It’s all clogged up with that slippery stuff that comes out of that other doohickey next to it. Barnie,” he calls out to the other mechanic, “what do we call that part, anyway?” Such a discussion would not build your confidence in that mechanic. And if you want to fix your ‘73 Datsun, or become a mechanic yourself, you’d better be prepared to learn some technical language.
Granted, some technical language (especially that used in advertising) instills not confidence, but cynicism, in an audience. (I don’t know about you, but I’ve seen about all the television ads I can handle hawking Dristan “with Ammonia-D.”) There is probably a “believability threshold” which determines when technical language ceases to be a help, and becomes a hindrance.
Technical Language Increases the Enjoyment of a Subject
Fourthly, I would argue that a certain mastery of technical language increases one’s enjoyment of a subject. I am an avid chess player. Notice I did not say a successful one. Bobby Fisher can remain in retirement, but I do enjoy playing. Mostly I have a chess game going on my office computer while I am grading students’ papers. I am surprised that someone has not yet developed a wise-cracking chess program which hurls abuse on novice players like myself who take a whooping twenty seconds to make their chess moves. I am sure my computer thinks I have some dastardly plan up my sleeve whenever I make such a quick move. Because I don’t think very far ahead in chess, I make many silly mistakes, and I usually lose to my computer. Sometimes my only consolation is that I can always turn off the computer before it beeps that annoying beep to inform me that I have been checkmated.
On a recent church retreat, I played chess with one of the men who attended. I had my pawn on the fifth rank when he moved out his pawn two spaces, landing beside my pawn in the process. I then initiated the move known as an en passant. That is a perfectly legal move in which one can take his opponent’s pawn by moving behind it (rather than taking it in a diagonal fashion as is customary). The fellow I was playing looked at me as if I didn’t know which pieces went where on the board!
He knew that I was a theologian (which probably explained his suspicious look), but I assured him that I had performed a textbook chess move. After I explained en passant, he surrendered his pawn to me (reluctantly, I might add), then proceeded to look for opportunities to subject me to the same move! Needless to say, he never succeeded, although he did unfortunately win the game as I studiously guarded my somewhat beleaguered pawns. I believe he will enjoy chess more since he has learned the maneuver known as en passant. By the way, I don’t ever want to play him again. But the point is that terminology can increase one’s enjoyment of an activity or subject.
All of this is meant to say that the objection to doctrine’s terminology is greatly exaggerated. No matter whether one is engaged in scuba-diving, needlepointing, or volleyball, technical language exists and is learned by those who care the most about the particular activity or discipline.
The Problem that Doctrine is Divisive
The third and final objection to doctrine is that it is divisive. This objection seems to say that because Christians fight over words and ideas, it would be far better for everyone concerned if they kept doctrine out of their everyday lives.
I remember as a young preacher reading a note scotch-taped to the podium in a church in New Jersey just before I began my message. It read: “DON’T GIVE US DOCTRINE—JUST GIVE US JESUS!” I can appreciate the feelings behind that note, for someone apparently had heard too many dry doctrinal sermons with little relevance. But make no mistake—giving someone Jesus is giving them doctrine!
Do Christians divide over insignificant issues? Absolutely. I understand that David Lloyd George, the former Prime Minister of England, belonged to a small independent church which was going through a doctrinal squabble. He stated: “The church I belong to is in a fierce dispute. One faction says that baptism is in the name of Christ, and the other that it is into the name of Christ. I belong to one of these parties. I feel most strongly about it. I would die for it, in fact. But I forget which one it is.”
But can one not make the case that Christians fight over doctrines not simply because Christians are contentious, but because they care? Sometimes we are too apologetic about our disagreements on the issues of baptism, worship styles, the evidences of the Holy Spirit, etc., and the words we use to defend our viewpoints. I think G. K. Chesterton was absolutely correct when he wrote, “Why shouldn’t we quarrel about a word? What is the good of words if they aren’t important enough to quarrel over?” But the quarrels are not for the sake of quarreling, but for the sake of truth. And truth taken seriously both unites and divides.
Apart from our foolish and unnecessary arguments with other Christians, occasions when we should follow the dictum: “In essentials-unity, in distinctives-charity,” should Christians not be using doctrine—truth—to persuade the world to trust in Jesus Christ? The minimization of the intellectual side of the Christian faith appears to be at an all-time high. Experience is touted as the final determiner of what is valid and what is bogus. How is it that we have forsaken a pursuit of the truth? And pursuing truth means debating words and ideas.
Francis Bacon could not have been more prophetic when he said that “people prefer to believe what they prefer to be true.” But since when do our preferences determine truth? Our taste buds might help us decide which diet cola to buy, but that organ is fairly useless when it comes to determining what is worthy of our ultimate commitment and trust. In our preference-perverted society, we need to be reminded of the words of Flannery O’Connor, who, writing about the study of English, said:
The high school English teacher will be fulfilling his responsibility if he furnishes the student a guided opportunity, through the best writing of the past, to come, in time, to an understanding of the best writing of the present. And if the student finds that this is not to his taste? Well, that is regrettable. Most regrettable. His taste should not be consulted; it is being formed.God does not consult our tastes as He discloses to us in Scripture the doctrines that we need for spiritual survival. Some of those doctrines might not be what we would include if we belonged to a designer religion. But Christianity is neither a do-it-yourself or a design-it-yourself faith. O’Connor is again perceptive when he says that “the truth does not change according to our ability to stomach it.” Delving deeply into biblical doctrine reminds us that we do not develop our own truth. We are recipients of God’s revelation in the Bible, and therefore need to be faithful to what is contained therein.
A pastor named Stephen Brown put it this way: “People are experts in hearing what they want to hear, so they can believe what they want to believe, so they can do what they want to do.” Christians need to fight the societal assumptions that people create their own truth, that something becomes true because somebody somewhere believes it, and that there are no absolutes.
We can develop a taste for the truths of our faith, but we must remind ourselves that we are not our own authorities—although we frequently act as if we were. We desperately need a source of authority outside of ourselves which can be trusted and employed to lead us rightly. That source of authority we will investigate in our next article.
Notes
- Dorothy L. Sayers, “The Shattering Dogmas of the Christian Tradition,” in Christian Letters to a Post-Christian World (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1969),
- C. S. Lewis, “Christian Apologetics,” God in the Dock: Essays on Theology and Ethics (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1970), 98.
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