A good example of a bad argument (the Judge and the Resurrection)

21 Friday Sep 2018

Posted by memoirandremains in Apologetics, Uncategorized

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Apologetics, Argument, Kavanaugh, Resurrection

I saw this on social media today. This is good example of misleading argument:

My favorite part of the Kavanaugh controversy is how people who are absolutely convinced they know exactly what happened in Judea 2,000 years ago have gaslit many Americans into believing it is literally impossible to know what happened at an event in 1983.

Here, our correspondent has misstated both the Christian position on the resurrection and the argument respecting an alleged event involving Judge Kavanaugh.

Strawmen.

It is inaccurate to say that anyone is certain of everything which happened in Judea during the life of Jesus. No one claims to have comprehensive knowledge of the time and place. In terms of total facts, far more is unknown than known. The Christian position is that the facts which are known are sufficient to draw certain factual conclusions (such as the Resurrection).

The circumstance involving Judge Kavanaugh differs on the facts available at this time. If the only two facts are one person asserting X and another asserting not-X and there are no other facts, then drawing a conclusion is impossible on that basis alone. The difficulty with Kavanaugh’s case is a lack of a sufficiently detailed allegation (the X, and not-X are not even sufficiently defined) and a lack of evidence beyond the ultimate conclusion.

There are a number of facts which could easily lead to a definite conclusion. For instance, there were a definite statement of date, time and place, one could conclude that the event was more or less probable.

Thus, if the alleged event (again, I have no idea as to the truth, because I do not have a sufficient number of facts from which to draw a conclusion. Anyone who has had access to the publicly available statements “knows” anything is simply wrong.) took place on Date 1 and Kavanaugh was in another Michigan on that date, it is not likely that he took a jet home for this bad act and then returned without notice.

We can look to other corroborating facts: It is reported (goodness knows what has actually been said, this whole story is awash in false statements and nonsense). Are there witnesses? What do they say? Have the witnesses or alleged actors given consistent or inconsistent statements? Etc.

The Resurrection is quite different: it is a conclusion based upon a very definite statement and supported by substantial supporting evidence.

Indeed, the fundamental reason to question the Resurrection is not the evidence but the strangeness of the event. If the Resurrection were a normal historical event, it would be unquestioned.

But what about the passage of years?

As we move further from an event, the number of facts recoverable will lessen. If there are witnesses, the memory of witnesses will fade [I will make a note on eyewitness testimony below.] Witnesses will also become unavailable over the course of time (either through death or becoming lost to interview by moving or whatnot).

Physical facts will also diminish over time (duration will depend upon the nature of the artifact).

How does this not adversely affect the Christian claim?

Christians are not trying to recover facts from 2,000 years. The facts were established and recorded at that time. We are not trying to establish that information today for the first time. The 2,000 years misstates the salient fact of time.

Let’s consider an example: Imagine we have access to a trial transcript from 1940. The events underlying the trial took place one year earlier. If we were to speak of what happened in 1939, the time period between fact and conclusion is 1 year – not 78 years.

In Kavanaugh’s case we are trying to recover facts for the first time 35 years after the event (the 2012 notes are problematic at best. Even the accuser says the notes are wrong).

What about eyewitness testimony? Isn’t it unreliable?

Yes, and no. Eyewitness testimony about stressful events which took place at one time and over a short period of time are very often wrong – often wildly wrong. Crime victims routinely give flawed testimony about the criminal event: they are stressed, confused; their attention is misdirected; they try to reconstruct the event and make numerous errors in the recreation.

The Kavanaugh event concerns eyewitness testimony about an extremely stressful event. An important fact, which may weigh in favor of the accuser is whether she knew Kavanaugh prior to the event. If this was their first (alleged) interaction, she would more easily misidentify him. If they had been friends for years, she does not need to describe his appearance for the first time.

Compare that to testimony about normal events. You know would likely give excellent testimony about the color of your car, the number windows in your bedroom, the number of drawers in your dresser, how often you get paid for work, et cetera. Routine, repeated, normal events are fundamentally different than trying to remember what it was like to be robbed.

On this point, we should note that information obtained in therapy of a long unexpressed painful event which (supposedly) is causing significant bad effects in the present has a reputation for uncovering things which never occurred. Moreover, patients routinely lie to therapists and clients lie to lawyers (I’m not saying always; but it happens enough that it is not a strange thing).

Christianity is based upon claims from multiple witnesses about an event with corroborating physical evidence. For instance, if anyone had been able to produce Jesus’ body in Jerusalem, it would have stopped Christianity at its birth (Crossan’s claim that it was eaten by dogs is silly. Someone could have just said, we say dogs eat it. No one made that claim until Crossan – which a claim which suffers from the 2,000 year distance).

What about prejudice?

The Kavanaugh accusation is a great example of the policy behind Evidence Code section 352. The code essentially forbids the introduction of evidence which would prejudice a juror more than it would inform a juror. For example, let us say the defendant is a gang member charged with a particular crime. In most instances, the jury would never hear about the gang membership. If they heard he was a gang member, they would be more likely to find him guilty because he was in a gang than because he engaged in this particular bad act.

The people who speak confidently about what happened in the Kavanaugh case typically betray a personal prejudice (I was assaulted, therefore, she was telling the truth; I was falsely accused, therefore, she is lying; I hate/adhere to Kavanaugh’s judicial philosophy, therefore, ….).

Most of the people providing their opinion of the event have voiced personal prejudice: their opinion is worthless as to the truth of the accusation.

Well, weren’t the Apostles prejudiced in favor of Jesus? That misstates the issue. They were seriously prejudiced against the possibility of Jesus being resurrected from the dead in the manner in which he did (N.T. Wright’s Resurrection covers the evidence here exhaustively). Their prejudice makes it unlikely they would mistakenly believe Jesus had been resurrected.

What about reputation and motivation?

This does have some bearing. One who has a history of lying, might lie more easily than others. But no amount of lying before proves one is lying as to the instant assertion. No amount of prior conduct proves anything about conduct on one particular instance.

With Kavanaugh, the parties both have strong reasons to tell the truth; and they both have significant motive to lie. In fact, the pressure of examination is likely to cause each party to dig in their heels to insist upon their position (recanting has become more costly than the alternative – especially since the possibility of suffering penalty is minimal in this event). (There are event plausible scenarios under both believe that they are each telling the truth.)

This is a point which weighs very heavily in favor of the apostolic witness. They all suffered greatly (most often to death) for their testimony.

But don’t people die for false believes all the time?Yes, but that isn’t the case here.

Consider three scenarios:

1) Alleged Historical Event Z – never happened.

2) P1 who relates Z to P2.

3) P1 has lied to P2.

4) P2 believes P1

5) P2 dies based upon the false belief related by P1.

1) Historical Event Z.

2) Witnessed by P1.

3) P1 knows, based upon personal experience that Z took place.

4) P1 dies for Z.

1) Alleged Historical Event Z.

2) P1 knows it never happened.

3) P1 claims that Z happened.

4) P1 is challenged with death over Z.

5) P1 personally knows that Z is false.

6) P1 recants to stay alive.

People will recant things they believe to be true to save their life. It would be a remarkable day indeed for someone to go to death for a fact which they personally knew was false.

Conclusion

In conclusion, an analogy between Judge Kavanaugh’s circumstance and the Resurrection is poorly drawn.

As for the Judge and his accuser. I honestly have no definite idea what happened. I am not even certain what facts and accusation have been established. I have read any number of assertions made confidentially by people who are in no position to know any more than I do. I have seen a great deal of gossip, slander and vicious stupidity. (Apparently, there have been significant death threats made against almost everyone involved.)

I have seen that bias and prejudice have more importance than any consideration of evidence (not to say burden of proof — which is critical in this instance).

This political tempest is very sad; it has often been wicked; and I fear no matter how it ends, the result will be a further deterioration of our social fabric.

How to Create a Memory

20 Thursday Sep 2018

Posted by memoirandremains in Apologetics, John, Psychology, Uncategorized

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Creating Memories, Memory, Plastic Memory, Psychology

Many researchers have created false memories in normal individuals; what is more, many of these subjects are certain that the memories are real. In one well-known study, Loftus and her colleague Jacqueline Pickrell gave subjects written accounts of four events, three of which they had actually experienced. The fourth story was fiction; it centered on the subject being lost in a mall or another public place when he or she was between four and six years old. A relative provided realistic details for the false story, such as a description of the mall at which the subject’s parents shopped. After reading each story, subjects were asked to write down what else they remembered about the incident or to indicate that they did not remember it at all. Remarkably about one third of the subjects reported partially or fully remembering the false event. In two follow-up interviews, 25 percent still claimed that they remembered the untrue story, a figure consistent with the findings of similar studies.

Read the rest

The trouble with eye witness testimony

What then can help guarantee a good memory? Notice that events which are traumatic are questionable. Notice that distant, vague events are questionable. Compare that to events which take place over a period of time, events which are witnessed by multiple persons, events subject to objective independent corroboration. And with the case of the Scripture, Jesus speaks of receiving supernatural assistance of the Spirit. John 14:26

Higher Criticism Explained

31 Friday Aug 2018

Posted by memoirandremains in Apologetics, Uncategorized

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Higher Criticism, Pooh Studies

Higher Criticism in an intellectual exercise which makes scholars feel themselves above the text. It is made up of assumptions and inferences and deductions from inferences of others and is ultimately a speculative game. When it is applied to some other text, we can see just how silly this process is:

Composite authorship is clearly indicated by a number of linguistic peculiarities and literary unevennesses.[2] We observe the oscillation between various names for Pooh, an unerring pointer to diversity of authorship. He is called within the space of half a page (W 3.31)[3]:

Pooh
Pooh
Winnie-the-Pooh
Winnie-the-Pooh
Winnie-the-Pooh
Bear

This is brilliant — read it all

Selling a Child: Exodus 21:7

30 Thursday Aug 2018

Posted by memoirandremains in Apologetics, Exodus, Uncategorized

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Apologetics, Exodus 21:7

This is a verse in the Bible which is used routinely to taunt believers: the Bible says you can sell you child as a slave:

⁷And if a man sell his daughter to be a maidservant, she shall not go out as the menservants do.

Exodus 21:7(AV). Newer translations have the word “slave” in place of maidservant. For instance, the television show the West Wing, the President character says: “I’m interested in selling my youngest daughter into slavery as sanctioned in Exodus 21 : 7. She’s a Georgetown sophomore, speaks fluent Italian, always cleared the table when it was her turn. What would a good price for her be?”

Admittedly, selling a child sounds horrible to an affluent, well fed family. So let’s think about this for a moment: if we assume that Israelites loved their children as much as we do, we must assume that sending a child out of the home would be only undertaken in the most extraordinary circumstances.

Remember that there was no welfare state at that time. Most people lived in subsistence agriculture. The threat of starvation was real and likely constant.

But someone will say, that is just unrealistic; that does not happen. But today I read this:

Julian Pitt-Rivers, a British anthropologist who published a classic study of a traditional Andalusian community in the early 1950s, wrote that it was common in the rural south for children from impoverished families to be sent to the mountains to look after sheep and goats in exchange for money.

Let us consider again the passage in Exodus 21:7. First, we must remember that the covenant promised material wealth — if the people of Israel fulfilled their requirements under the covenant. Thus, poverty was the result of sin. We must also realize that there was a framework of kinship and other mechanisms built into the law to prevent poverty. Thus, for any family to become so destitute that Exodus 21:7 was a reality spoke to a serious degradation of society overall.

The law was not given to save anyone-Israel was never a kingdom of saints. The Bible makes it plain the people were repeatedly in vicious, sinful rebellion.

Next consider that the purpose of the passage is not approve or condone selling one’s children as slaves/servants (in a subsistence economy even the well-off live miserable lives). The purpose of the law was alleviate the damage which could come even in this wretched state. This passage is a matter of protection, a command to stop the sin and brutality. It was a limitation not a grant of authority.

Spurgeon’s Preaching: The Remembrance of Christ.1 (Introduction)

28 Tuesday Aug 2018

Posted by memoirandremains in Charles Spurgeon, Preaching, Uncategorized

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Introduction, Preaching, Preaching Book, Spurgeon

The Remembrance of Christ

Sermon 1.2 January 7, 1855

This do in remembrance of me.

1 Cor. 11:24

This sermon breaks out into five sections:

Introduction

(Slightly restated)

The Object of Memory

The Benefit of Memory

The Aid to Memory

The Command to Remember

The Introduction

Rather than tell a story (as is common in current preaching), Spurgeon picks up his text and makes an observation:

If memory is a command, then it implies that we might not remember:

The text implies the possibility of forgetfulness concerning him whom gratitude and affection should constrain them to remember.

C. H. Spurgeon, “The Remembrance of Christ,” in The New Park Street Pulpit Sermons, vol. 1 (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1855), 9. He will then do two things in the introduction: create an emotional connection; then, analyze the trouble.

First, to grain attention, he is going to elongate the “crime”, enforce the matter by means of a repetition of the initial word “forget”, and then turn the question upon his listeners (this is not the entire section) by means of asking two parallel questions:

It seems at first sight too gross a crime to lay at the door of converted men. It appears almost impossible that those who have been redeemed by the blood of the dying Lamb should ever forget their Ransomer; that those who have been loved with an everlasting love by the eternal Son of God, should ever forget that Son; but if startling to the ear, it is alas, too apparent to the eye to allow us to deny the fact.

Forget him who ne’er forgot us!

Forget him who poured his blood forth for our sins!

Forget him who loved us even to the death!

Can it be possible?

Yes it is not only possible, but conscience confesses that it is too sadly a fault of all of us, that we can remember anything except Christ.

The object which we should make the monarch of our hearts, is the very thing we are most inclined to forget. Where one would think that memory would linger, and unmindfulness would be an unknown intruder, that is the spot which is desecrated by the feet of forgetfulness, and that the place where memory too seldom looks. I appeal to the conscience of every Christian here:

Can you deny the truth of what I utter?

Do you not find yourselves forgetful of Jesus? etc.

C. H. Spurgeon, “The Remembrance of Christ,” in The New Park Street Pulpit Sermons, vol. 1 (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1855), 9. By means of the rhetorical structure, he has made them “feel” the importance of what he has to convey. Notice he doesn’t say, “this is very important listen to me.” Rather, he forces them to confront the issue and then describes what they both see. The listener comes to know that the question is important: there is no telling them: this is showng them.

Having then draw their hearts to the “crime” of forgetting, he asks the question What causes us to forget? In this section, he lessens the rhetorical intensity because his purpose here is more to think about the matter than feel the enormity of forgetting.

Introduces the answer:

The cause of this is very apparent: it lies in one or two facts.

First answer: In the first section he gives the answer in terms of “we”:

We forget Christ, because regenerate persons as we really are, still corruption and death remain even in the regenerate. We forget him because we carry about with us the old Adam of sin and death. If we were purely new-born creatures, we should never forget the name of him whom we love. If we were entirely regenerated beings, we should sit down and meditate on all our Saviour did and suffered; all he is; all he has gloriously promised to perform; and never would our roving affections stray; but centred, nailed, fixed eternally to one object, we should continually contemplate the death and sufferings of our Lord.

He then turns the knife upon himself:

But alas! we have a worm in the heart, a pest-house, a charnel-house within, lusts, vile imaginations, and strong evil passions, which, like wells of poisonous water, send out continually streams of impurity. I have a heart, which God knoweth, I wish I could wring from my body and hurl to an infinite distance; a soul which is a cage of unclean birds, a den of loathsome creatures, where dragons haunt and owls do congregate, where every evil beast of ill-omen dwells; a heart too vile to have a parallel—“deceitful above all things and desperately wicked.” This is the reason why I am forgetful of Christ.

By making himself the object of failure, he brings himself into the world of his listeners. He is not talking down to them; he is coming along side them. By confessing his weakness, he lessens the resistance that might come at this point. He will make the same shift in pronouns in the second answer:

Nor is this the sole cause; I suspect it lies somewhere else too.

We forget Christ because there are so many other things around us to attract our attention. “But,” you say, “they ought not to do so, because though they are around us, they are nothing in comparison with Jesus Christ: though they are in dread proximity to our hearts, what are they compared with Christ?” But do you know, dear friends, that the nearness of an object has a very great effect upon its power? The sun is many, many times larger than the moon, but the moon has a greater influence upon the tides of the ocean than the sun, simply because it is nearer, and has a greater power of attraction.

So I find that a little crawling worm of the earth has more effect upon my soul

than the glorious Christ in heaven;

a handful of golden earth,

a puff of fame, a shout of applause,

a thriving business,

my house,

my home,

will affect me more than all the glories of the upper world; yea, than the beatific vision itself: simply because earth is near, and heaven is far away.

What we would most often hear in this sort of section is a series of questions: “Do you love fame more than Christ?” And the effect is for the listener to drop out: No, I love Christ more. But Spurgeon takes away that defense by saying “I” love all these things more. And in hearing him charge himself, we see the same fault in ourselves.

He then ends with an encouragement:

Happy day, when I shall be borne aloft on angels’ wings to dwell for ever near my Lord, to bask in the sunshine of his smile, and to be lost in the ineffable radiance of his lovely countenance. We see then the cause of forgetfulness; let us blush over it; let us be sad that we neglect our Lord so much, and now let us attend to his word, “This do in remembrance of me,” hoping that its solemn sounds may charm away the demon of base ingratitude.

C. H. Spurgeon, “The Remembrance of Christ,” in The New Park Street Pulpit Sermons, vol. 1 (London: Passmore & Alabaster, 1855), 9–10.

There are many things happening here, but need to notice his shifts between reason and emotion, between “we” and “I”, between charge (we forget) and the end point of encouragement: some day we will not.

The sum effect of his introduction is make them listener feel and know that the subject matter is of great importance. By moving from a charge to an encouragement, he makes space to want to follow him into this question of forgetting.

How Conscience Functions

16 Thursday Aug 2018

Posted by memoirandremains in Preaching, Thomas Manton, Uncategorized

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conscience, Preaching, Puritan Preaching

By comparison with Spurgeon’s “argumentation”, here is a section from Thomas Manton who is in fact making an argument. In the First Sermon of Twenty Sermons (Vol. 2, pp. 175, et seq.) Manton is Psalm 32:1-2:

Psalm 32:1–2 (AV)

1 Blessed is he whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered. 2 Blessed is the man unto whom the LORD imputeth not iniquity, and in whose spirit there is no guile.

Manton purposefully makes an argument, stating propositions and inferences which lead from one to the other:

The necessity that lies upon us, being all guilty before God, to seek after our justification, and the pardon of our sins by Christ. That it may sink the deeper into your minds, I shall do it in this scheme or method:—First, A reasonable nature implies a conscience; a conscience implies a law; a law implies a sanction; a sanction implies a judge, and a judgment-day (when all shall be called to account for breaking the law); and this judgment-day infers a condemnation upon all mankind unavoidably, unless the Lord will compromise the matter, and find out some way in the chancery of the gospel wherein we may be relieved. This way God hath found out in Christ, and being brought about by such a mysterious contrivance, we ought to be deeply and thankfully apprehensive of it, and humbly and broken-heartedly to quit the one covenant, and accept of the grace provided for us in the other.

Thomas Manton, The Complete Works of Thomas Manton, vol. 2 (London: James Nisbet & Co., 1871), 178–179.

Here, Manton is not interested in necessarily creating an emotional response but rather in providing information: He is making an argument to change the way in which his hearers think: “That may sink deeper into your minds.” This is ultimately a mechanism to transform another’s affections, but the effect — if successful — is more lasting than merely provoking an emotion.

It is possible to provoke an emotion which results in no change. An emotion can arise and subside — and be very powerful in while in crest, but become invisible when it wanes.

Interestingly, in the first section of his argument, Manton notes how an emotion can have a passing effect, for the worse:

A reasonable nature implies a conscience; for man can reflect upon his own actions, and hath that in him to acquit or condemn him accordingly as he doth good or evil, 1 John 3:20, 21. Conscience is nothing but the judgment a man makes upon his actions morally considered, the good or the evil, the rectitude or obliquity, that is in them with respect to rewards or punishment. As a man acts, so he is a party; but as he reviews and censures his actions, so he is a judge. Let us take notice only of the condemning part, for that is proper to our case. After the fact, the force of conscience is usually felt more than before or in the fact; because before, through the treachery of the senses, and the revolt of the passions, the judgment of reason is not so clear. I say, our passions and affections raise clouds and mists which darken the mind, and do incline the will by a pleasing violence; but after the evil action is done, when the affection ceaseth, then guilt flasheth in the face of conscience. As Judas, whose heart lay asleep all the while he was going on in his villainy, but afterwards it fell upon him. Thou hast ‘sinned in betraying innocent blood.’ When the affections are satisfied, and give place to reason, that was before condemned, and reason takes the throne again, it hath the more force to affect us with grief and fear, whilst it strikes through the heart of a man with a sharp sentence of reproof for obeying appetite before reason. Now this conscience of sin may be choked and smothered for a while, but the flame will break forth, and our hidden fears are easily revived and awakened, except we get our pardon and discharge. A reasonable nature implies a conscience.

Thomas Manton, The Complete Works of Thomas Manton, vol. 2 (London: James Nisbet & Co., 1871), 179. Let’s pick apart the psychology of the conscience and passions:

First provides a definition for conscience:

Conscience is nothing but the judgment a man makes upon his actions morally considered

Conscience is a internal examination of our actions: Was that good or bad? Well, if we have this ability to judge ourselves, why do we not always choose the good? Because conscience varies in its strength:

After the fact, the force of conscience is usually felt more than before or in the fact;

Here is an interesting notice: we feel conscience more plainly after we sinned than before. Manton places the fault in a thoughtless flood of “passions”:

because before, through the treachery of the senses, and the revolt of the passions, the judgment of reason is not so clear.

In short, the desire for sin will swamp our conscience. The reason cannot function in the face of the dark desire:

I say, our passions and affections raise clouds and mists which darken the mind, and do incline the will by a pleasing violence; but after the evil action is done, when the affection ceaseth, then guilt flasheth in the face of conscience.

The result of this passion and sin is the return of conscience, which leaves us alone with guilt:

As Judas, whose heart lay asleep all the while he was going on in his villainy, but afterwards it fell upon him. Thou hast ‘sinned in betraying innocent blood.’ When the affections are satisfied, and give place to reason, that was before condemned, and reason takes the throne again, it hath the more force to affect us with grief and fear, whilst it strikes through the heart of a man with a sharp sentence of reproof for obeying appetite before reason.

Then passions — being a sort judgment — will appear pile upon the judgment of the conscience and bring on to despair. What then can be done in such a circumstance:

Now this conscience of sin may be choked and smothered for a while, but the flame will break forth, and our hidden fears are easily revived and awakened, except we get our pardon and discharge. A reasonable nature implies a conscience.

Spurgeon’s Preaching (Argumentation)

14 Tuesday Aug 2018

Posted by memoirandremains in Charles Spurgeon, Preaching, Stephen Charnock, Uncategorized

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Argumentation, Charles Spurgeon, Charnock, Preaching

Argumentation

In the Immutability of God, Spurgeon first speaks in great praise about the immutability of God. Rather than merely saying that this is something which should excite you, he speaks in such a way, using a combination of concrete imagery and a variety of rhetorical forms of repetition (for an excellent discussion of rhetoric, and these figures see http://rhetoric.byu.edu), “Repetition is a major rhetorical strategy for producing emphasis, clarity, amplification, or emotional effect.” (You will notice such repetition on occasion, but it is usually quite stilted in the mouth of preacher — you get the sort of feeling that he is wearing someone else’s clothes and he’s terribly afraid he’ll be found out.)

But having concluded with his praise of God’s immutability, Spurgeon now raises the implicit question — is this true:

Thus having taken a great deal too much time, perhaps, in simply expanding the thought of an unchanging God, I will now try to prove that he is unchangeable, I am not much of an argumentative preacher, but one argument that I will mention is this: the very existence, and being of a God, seem to me to imply immutability.

Here is his proposition: if there is a God, then such a God must be immutable. His argument here seems to derive from Charnock’s The Existence and Attributes of God, in the chapter “On the Immutability of God” (To be fair, his first section roughly tracks Charnock’s discussion of the subject. There is certainly nothing approaching copying between Spurgeon and Charnock — but rather Spurgeon makes good use of Charnock’s masterwork and turns into propositions which could be understood from a pulpit.)

His first argument is really no more complicated that it doesn’t even make sense to say one could be God and one could change — anymore than one could be a married bachelor.

Or here is the second argument raised by Spurgeon:

Well, I think that one argument will be enough, but another good argument may be found in the fact of God’s perfection. I believe God to be a perfect being. Now, if he is a perfect being, he cannot change. Do you not see this? Suppose I am perfect to-day. If it were possible for me to change, should I be perfect tomorrow after the alteration? If I changed, I must either change from a good state to a better — and then if I could get better, I could not be perfect now-or else from a better state to a worse-and if I were worse, I should not be perfect then. If I am perfect, I cannot be altered without being imperfect. If I am perfect to-day, I must keep the same to-morrow if I am to be perfect then. So, if God is perfect, he must be the same- for change would imply imperfection now, or imperfection then.

He takes a very narrow idea: if something is perfect, it cannot be more perfect. If it could be more perfect then it wouldn’t be perfect now. This is the second argument raised by Charnock for the proof of God’s immutability, “If God were changeable, he could not be the most perfect Being.” And lest anyone think that Spurgeon was merely cribbing from Charnock it is only fair to compare Spuregon’s summary with Charnock’s original

If God were changeable, he could not be the most perfect Being. God is the most perfect Being, and possesses in himself infinite and essential goodness (Matt, v, 48): “Your heavenly Father is perfect.” If he could change from that perfection, he were not the highest exemplar and copy for us to write after. If God doth change, it must be either to a greater perfection than he had before, or to a less, mutatio ‘perfectiva vel amissiva; if he changes to acquire a perfection he had not, then he was not before the most excellent Being; necessarily, he was not what he might be; there was a defect in him, and a privation of that which is better than what he had and was; and then he was not alway the best, and so was not alway God; and being not alway God, could never be God; for to begin to be God is against the notion of God; not to a less perfection than he had; that were to change to imperfection, and to lose a perfection which he possessed before, and cease to be the best Being; for he would lose some good which he had, and acquire some evil which he was free from before. so that the sovereign perfection of God is an invincible bar to any change in him; for which way soever you cast it for a change, his supreme excellency is impaired and nulled by it: for in all change there is something from which a thing is changed, and something to which it is changed; so that on the one part there is a loss of what it had, and on the other part there is an acquisition of what it had not. If to the better, he was not perfect, and so was not God; if to the worse, he will not be perfect, and so be no longer God after that change. If God be changed, his change must be voluntary or necessary; if voluntary, he then intends the change for the better, and chose it to acquire a perfection by it; the will must be carried out to anything under the notion of some goodness in that which it desires. Since good is the object of the desire and will of the creature, evil cannot be the object of the desire and will of the Creator. And if he should be changed for the worse, when he did really intend the better, it would speak a defect of wisdom, and a mistake of that for good which was evil and imperfect in itself; and if it be for the better, it must be a motion or change for something without himself; that which he desireth is not possessed by himself, but by some other. there is, then, some good without him and above him, which is the end in this change; for nothing acts but for some end, and that end is within itself or without itself; if the end for which God changes be without himself, then there is something better than himself: besides, if he were voluntarily changed for the better, why did he not change before? If it were for want of power, he had the imperfection of weakness; if for want of knowledge of what was the best good, he had the imperfection of wisdom, he was ignorant of his own happiness; if he had both wisdom to know it, and power to effect it, it must be for want of will; he then wanted that love to himself and his own glory, which is necessary in the Supreme Being. Voluntarily he could not be changed for the worse, he could not be such an enemy to his own glory; there is nothing but would hinder its own imperfection and becoming worse. Necessarily he could not be changed, for that necessity must arise from himself, and then the difficulties spoken of before will recur, or it must arise from another; he cannot be bettered by another, because nothing hath any good but what it hath received from the hands of his bounty, and that without loss to himself, nor made worse; if anything made him worse, it would be sin, but that cannot touch his essence or obscure his glory, but in the design and nature of the sin itself (Job xxxv. 6, 7): “If thou sinnest, what dost thou against him? or if thy transgressions be multiplied, what dost thou unto him? if thou be righteous, what givest thou him; or what receives he at thy hand?” He hath no addition by the service of man, no more than the sun hath of light by a multitude of torches kindled on the earth; nor any more impair by the sins of men, than the light of the sun hath by men’s shooting arrows against it.

Spurgeon’s summary and reworking of Charnock on this point demonstrates that Spurgeon had ingested Charnock, and understood the argument well enough to teach it. He didn’t merely read Charnock, he taught Charnock.

I am going to compare this simplicity in argumentation with the rigor and logic of Manton’s preaching.

Spurgeon’s Preaching

09 Thursday Aug 2018

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Continuing with Spurgeon’s Sermon, The Immutability of God

The next aspect of God’s immutability considered by Spurgeon is that God does not changes his plans. The purpose of this section of the sermon is dissuade anyone from thinking either that God does not go through with his plans, cannot go through with his plans or does not plan. To do this, he breaks up this section of his sermon along three questions. The rhetorical structure is less complex than the previous section. There are a couple of reasons for this one. One, varying up the speed of the information and density of the structure makes it easier to listen to. The rapid fire question and assertions of the previous section would quickly become overwhelming.

A second reason for the difference in structure concerns the amount of information he is trying to cover within a short period of time. The attributes of God entails everything about God. To make this point, Spurgeon asks and asserts about many attributes in clipped demanding sentences. In this section, he is considering God’s plans. Here has only one point: God makes plans and does not change them. He is not trying to lay what sort of plans God may have; only the proposition that God does not change his plans.

Spurgeon also does not consider every possible counter argument or consideration. Again, he makes a straightforward analysis: God plans and does not change his plans. Yes, of course God makes plans. God could not plan poorly and be thwarted. Therefore, God does not change his plans.

He introduces the proposition and gives a concrete example (a man planning to build); a man may build a building, but God builds planets:

Then again, God chances not in his plans. That man began to build, but was not able to finish, and therefore he changed his plan, as every wise man would do in such a case- he built upon a smaller foundation and commenced again. But has it ever been said that God began to build but was not able to finish? Nay. When he hath boundless stores at his command, and when his own right hand would create worlds as numerous as drops of morning dew, shall he ever stay because he has not power? and reverse, or alter, or disarrange his plan, because he cannot carry it out?

This introduces a technique which Spurgeon will often use, a hypothetical objector “some”. Spurgeon anticipates a question someone in his audience may have, raises and then answers the question:

“But,” say some, “perhaps God never had a plan.” Do you think God is more foolish than yourself then, sir? Do you go to work without a plan? “No,” say you, “I have always a scheme.” So has God. Every man has his plan, and God has a plan too. God is a master-mind; he arranged everything in his gigantic intellect long before he did it- and once having settled it, mark you, he never alters it. “This shall be done,” saith he, and the iron hand of destiny marks it down, and it is brought to pass. “This is my purpose,” and it stands, nor can earth or hell alter it. “This is my decree,” saith he, promulgate it angels- rend it down from the gate of heaven ye devils; but ye cannot alter the decree; it shall be done.

He argues from analogy: if even a human has a plan, how much more God. He responds to the objection with a question which undercuts the objection. He then repeats the argument in the form of an assertion: Do you use plans? Yes. How much more God. Men plan, God plans.

But not only that: God is a “master-mind”. God’s plans come to fruition and do not change. In fact, nothing could change it. The last bit reinforces the overall proposition of the section: God does not alter his plans.

Spurgeon could have raised any number of other objections than this argument. I don’t know why this particular objection seemed appropriate to him at this time.
We then come to the final third of this section of his argument: Why are even asking this question about God changing his plans. If God does plan, then what could stop it (this picks up on the last sentence – not even Hell could stop him. But here he pivots a bit: God does not have any lack which would cause him to alter his plans: he lacks neither intellect nor power.

God altereth not his plans; why should he? He is Almighty, and therefore can perform his pleasure. Why should he? He is the All-wise, and therefore cannot have planned wrongly. Why should he? He is the everlasting God, and therefore cannot die before his plan is accomplished. Why should he change?

He ends with a coda and interim application: How different is the enteral God from us. God will never change his plan — and what is his plan: to save me (which is a comfort):

Ye worthless atoms of existence, ephemera of the day! ye creeping insects upon this bay-leaf of existence! ye may change your plans, but he shall never, never change his. Then has he told me that his plan is to save me? If so, I am safe.

He concludes with a stanza from a hymn

“My name from the palms of his hands 

Eternity will not erase; 

Impress’d on his heart it remains, 

In marks of indelible grace.”

By ending with a hymn known to the congregation, he solidifies this point in their hearts. They could even begin to hum the words to themselves as he spoke. This form of writing where someone stops to accentuate a point was quite common in the 19th Century. When I have seen done in sermons, it most often comes across as stilted and awkard. If you are going to quote a poem, be familiar with the text; practice saying it aloud. There is a great beauty in quoting some lines if it is done well. When it is done poorly, it loses the emotional benefit and just sound uncomfortable.

This hymn is “A Debtor to Mercy Alone” by Toplady:

A debtor to mercy alone,  Of covenant mercy I sing;  Nor fear, with Thy righteousness on,  My person and offering to bring.  The terrors of law and of God  With me can have nothing to do;  My Savior’s obedience and blood  Hide all my transgressions from view

2. The work which His goodness began,  The arm of His strength will complete;  His promise is yea and amen,  And never was forfeited yet.  Things future, nor things that are now,  Not all things below nor above  Can make Him His purpose forego,  Or sever my soul from His love.

3. My name from the palms of His hands  Eternity will not erase;  Impressed on His heart it remains  In marks of indelible grace.  Yes, I to the end shall endure,  As sure as the earnest is given  More happy, but not more secure,  The glorified spirits in heaven.

Spurgeon’s Preaching

01 Wednesday Aug 2018

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This is again from “The Immutability of God” , volume 1, sermon 1, the Parkstreet Pulpit. This continues at the next paragraph.

When Spurgeon comes to the next section he enlists a completely different rhetorical strategy. In this section he uses a series of repetitions at the beginning of the lines.

First, he announces the proposition:

He changes not in his attributes.

He then expands the original proposition. But note that he does not merely repeat it, but it adds some new information.

Whatever the attributes of God were of old, that they are now; and of each of them we may sing ’As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end, Amen.

To underscore the point, he quotes from a familiar hymn:

Glory be to the Father, and to the Son:
and to the Holy Ghost;
As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be:
world without end. Amen.

Thus, the proposition attaches to something the hearer already knows. Having established the proposition, he then sets forth a series of questions which make the abstraction real:

Was he powerful?
Was he the mighty God when he spake the world out of the womb of non-existence?
Was he the Omnipotent when he piled the mountains and scooped out the hollow places for the rolling deep?

He asks three questions, which all have the implied answer “Yes”. Each question has a varied length but all questions can be said in a single breath (albeit with varied speed of speech). Note also have concrete he makes the second two question. The world comes from a womb. When it comes to mountains, he scoops them out of hollow places There is a concrete, tangible action in the physical world.

Then to avoid tedium, he makes a series of direct propositions:

Yes, he was powerful then,
and his arm is unpalsied now;
he is the same giant in his might;
the sap of his nourishment is undried,
and the strength of his soul stands the same for ever.

In this section he uses alliteration to balance the lines in sound (just as they are balanced in thought). Not the “powerful” and “unpalsied”. Then notice the “s” which ties the next lines together: “same”, “sap” “nourishment”, “strength” “soul” “stands” “same”.

We could also look at these lines as having (almost) the structure of Old English poetry (four beats, alliteration and a major pause in the middle of the lien”

Yes, he was Powerful then, and his Arm is unPalsied now
He is the Same Giant in his Might, the Sap of his Nourishment undried
And the Strength of his Soul Stand the Same forever

Spurgeon then returns to the question

Was he wise when he constituted this mighty globe,
when he laid the foundations of the universe?
Had he wisdom when he planned the way of our salvation,
and when from all eternity he marked out his awful plans?

Notice that these two questions are balanced by both having a second half of the question which begins with the word “when”.

Again following the pattern above, he answers with a “Yes”.

Yes and
he is wise now
he is not less skillful,
he has not less knowledge,
his eye which seeth all things is undimned,
his ear which heareth all the cries,
sighs sobs, and groans of his people,
is not rendered heavy by the years which he hath heard their prayers.

There are three “he” and two “his”. The final line is far longer and thus signals that he has come to the end of the section.

Spurgeon now turns to a different section which repeat a propositional structure built around “he is unchanged”.

The first section contains an initial clause “he is unchanged” and three subordinate clauses which explicate the original line:

He is unchanged in his wisdom;
he knows as much now as ever, neither more nor less;
he has the same consummate skill, and the same infinite forecastings.
He is unchanged, blessed be his name, in his justice.

Notice also the relationship between this section and the preceding section. Both work upon the idea of God’s wisdom. The first section emphasizes God has skill: which is an aspect of wisdom. The skill of God expends to specific action: seeing, hearing. The second section returns to “wisdom” but emphasizes the intellectual aspect of knowing. This little section begins and ends with the same phrase “He is unchanged”.

The final unchanged aspect is “justice”, which Spurgeon turns into its own couplet:

Just and holy was he in the past,
just and holy is he now.

Then he turns to truth, which is spoken. Thus, he begins with the general “truth”, provides a concrete aspect, “promise”; provides a fulfillment; and then repeats a line at the end which summarizes and emphasizes the aspect:

He is unchanged in his truth;-
he has promised,
and he brings it to pass;
he hath said it, and it shall be done.

He then turns to the a three line section on goodness:

He varies not in the goodness,
and generosity,
and benevolence of his nature.

He next applies what this means:

He is not become an Almighty tyrant,
whereas he was once an Almighty Father;
but his strong love stands like a granite rock,
unmoved by the hurricanes of our iniquity.

His goodness means we are not consumed: he is a gracious father. He turns that love and patience into a remarkable image: His love is a granite rock and our sin is a hurricane of iniquity. His love cannot be altered by the monster of our sin.

He ends at last with the emphatic application of God’s love:, the sending of His Son to die. This is really a remarkable section, because it makes the love of God concrete: it stands in a covenant, ratified by His Son’s cruel death.

And blessed be his dear name, he is unchanged in his love.
When he first wrote the covenant, how full his heart was with affection to his people.
He knew that his Son must die to ratify the articles of that agreement.
He knew right well that he must rend his best beloved from his bowels,
and send him down to earth to bleed and die.
He did not hesitate to sign that mighty covenant;
nor did he shun its fulfillment.
He loves as much now as he did then;
and when suns shall cease to shine,
and moons to show their feeble light,
he still shall love on for ever and for ever.

He ends and emphasizes the point by using the same beginning emphasis, but by using a different phrase “Take any one”

Take any one attribute of God,
and I will write semper idem on it (always the same.)
Take any one thing you can say of God now,
and it may be said not only in the dark past,
but in the bright future it shall always remain the same: “I am Jehovah, I change not.”

How then could someone do this who was not Spurgeon? First, there is the initial proposition: God is immutable. Okay, in what ways is God immutable? You then make a list, and on that list of immutabilities is “God’s attributes”. What then are the attributes of God? Or we could ask, How did Spurgeon come up wit this list?

Q: What is God?
A: God is a Spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable, in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth.

Compare that list and order to Spurgeon’s sermon. How would the average preacher work through those aspects?

The first word here is “being”, being comes from the Greek ….. At which point the congregation knows they are in for a poorly constructed lecture designed to prove to the congregation the pastor has studied — a lot — and does nothing to make them care. Spurgeon quotes a song. He then takes the rest of the attributes and provides some concrete instance.

This would be a good exercise: What is a concrete example of the impossibilities of God? What is infinite? Maybe you would quote a math definition. But before you do that, how does the Scripture convey the idea of God’s immensity such that the writers of the Westminster Confession come up with that list? How does the Bible describe wisdom? How does it describe God’s wisdom or power? Take a look through the Psalms or Job. You will be given specific concrete images of God’s wisdom, power, holiness et cetera. Use those images.

How do you know when to answer questions and when to ask? You listen — it takes a trained ear. How did Spurgeon gain an intuitive grasp of when to shift, how many questions to ask, et cetera? He read a great deal and listened to the movement of the language. By the way, very little contemporary writing will provide any good sense of the right use of language — and the theology books provided to seminary students often seemed as if they had been written for the sole purpose of tormenting the English language and making the greatest glory of all the ages dull (I have thrown books at the wall in disgust and anger at how a teacher could make such wonders annoying.)

Spurgeon’s Preaching

28 Saturday Jul 2018

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Here are some observations from the Sermon The Immutability of God (vol. 1, sermon 1). The sermon begins with a problem: how is one to explain the fact that God’s essence does not change. This is a profoundly difficult abstraction, and can easily become a thousand page book of philosophy. So how does Spurgeon preach on this subject without being either abstruse or banal:

Here is how he made the doctrine concrete:

He begins with a doctrine which is necessarily abstract: God’s divine nature — his essence — is unchangeable. The divine nature is pure abstraction for us: we have no experience of anything like this (other than God’s self-revelation). Therefore to make it concrete and comprehensible, Spurgeon uses two moves. First, he proves the point by a series of concrete examples from a contrast: God is not like the creation — nor us.

First, he states the doctrine and proposes the problem, “We cannot tell you what the Godhead is”:

I shall offer some exposition of my text, by first saying, that God is Jehovah, and he changes not in his essence. We cannot tell you what Godhead is. We do not know what substance that is which we call God. It is an existence, it is a being; but what that is we know not. However, whatever it is, we call it his essence, and that essence never changes.

Then he gives a series of examples from the physical creation. He sets up a series of changing things: the world in its seasons; even the sun which shines on the world:

The substance of mortal things is ever changing. The mountains with their snow-white crowns, doff their old diadems in summer, in rivers trickling down their sides, while the storm cloud gives them another coronation; the ocean, with its mighty floods, loses its water when the sunbeams kiss the waves, and snatch them in mists to heaven; even the sun himself requires fresh fuel from the hand of the Infinite Almighty, to replenish his everburning furnace.

Then he brings the proposition more to a point: Humanity changes, I change, my body changes:

All creatures change. Man, especially as to his body, is always undergoing revolution. Very probably there is not a single particle in my body which was in it a few years ago. This frame has been worn away by activity, its atoms have been removed by friction, fresh particles of matter have in the mean time constantly accrued to my body, and so it has been replenished- but its substance is altered.

He then makes a return to the original imagery of nature. This creates a logical A – B – A’ flow, like a simple piece of music:

The fabric of which this world is made is ever passing away; like a stream of water, drops are running away and others are following after, keeping the river still full, but always changing in its elements.

He then uses anthropomorphism to describe God, but saying that God is not like man:

But God is perpetually the same. He is not composed of any substance or material, but is spirit-pure, essential, and ethereal spirit-and therefore he is immutable. He remains everlastingly the same. There are no furrows on his eternal brow. No age hath palsied him- no years have marked him with the mementoes of their flight- he sees ages pass, but with him it is ever now. He is the great I AM-the Great Unchangeable. Mark you, his essence did not undergo a change when it became united with the manhood. When Christ in past years did gird himself with mortal clay the essence of his divinity was not changed; flesh did not become God, nor did God become flesh by a real actual change of nature the two were united in hypostatical union, but the Godhead was still the same. It was the same when he was a babe in the manger, as it was when he stretched the curtains of heaven- it was the same God that hung upon the cross, and whose blood flowed down in a purple river, the self-same God that holds the world upon his everlasting shoulders, and bears in his hands the keys of death and hell. He never has been changed in his essence, not even by his incarnation- he remains everlastingly, eternally, the one unchanging God, the Father of lights, with whom there is no variableness, neither the shadow of a change.

Now let us consider some the rhetorical and logical moves he makes in the second half of this paragraph:

Contrast:

He creates a logical contrast between the mutable human flesh and immutable divine nature. First, he asserts and “clears” the doctrine:

He is the great I AM-the Great Unchangeable. Mark you, his essence did not undergo a change when it became united with the manhood.

He then restates and clarifies the doctrine:

When Christ in past years did gird himself with mortal clay the essence of his divinity was not changed; flesh did not become God, nor did God become flesh by a real actual change of nature the two were united in hypostatical union, but the Godhead was still the same.

He then underscores that doctrinal position with a series of rhetorical contrasts. Note that the rhetorical form of contrasts and similarity — the same God despite the incarnation — serves to underscore the logical assertion. The rhetoric is not mere decoration but is used to make the point clearer:

It was the same when he was a babe in the manger,

as it was when he stretched the curtains of heaven-

it was the same God that hung upon the cross,

and whose blood flowed down in a purple river,

the self-same God that holds the world upon his everlasting shoulders,

and bears in his hands the keys of death and hell.

Tell them what you’r going to tell them, tell them, tell them what you’ve told them. This is a form used remarkably by Thomas Brooks (who was apparently Spurgeon’s favorite Puritan):

He never has been changed in his essence, not even by his incarnation- he remains everlastingly, eternally, the one unchanging God, the Father of lights, with whom there is no variableness, neither the shadow of a change.