A great strength of this book is the frankness with which Plantinga approaches his subject. Throughout, he does not shy away from detailing the horrible impact of sin to illustrate his argument. Real life examples are given, from cases of corporate or political corruption (p. 28) to stories that are personal and deeply confronting, such as the ‘Christian man’ who ‘also sexually molested his daughter Sylvia from age four to twelve’ (p. 46). By not shying away from the ugliness of sin, and by writing in a dispassionate (although not disinterested) style, Plantinga shocks his readers into confronting this reality for themselves. Readers cannot keep this book at a distance; Plantinga succeeds in drawing them in, exposing not only the evil that is outside of them but also that is within.

However, the climax of the book is, somewhat unexpectedly, the short epilogue. After spending the entire book looking at the stark and ugly reality of sin, Plantinga lifts the reader’s vision, briefly but powerfully, to the grace of God. Any discussion of sin, he claims, will only be part, and a lesser part, of the story of God and his world. As stubborn and perverse as sin is, it is ‘not as stubborn as the grace of God and not half so persistent, not half so ready to suffer to win its way’ (p. 199). Both sin and grace are needed – sin without grace forgets that at the heart of Christianity is ‘not our sin but our Saviour’; while grace without sin trivialises the cross and cuts ‘the nerve of the gospel’ (p. 199). Sin is much more pervasive and destructive than we realise, chiefly because of its power of self-deception (ch. 6); and yet the more we are exposed to its evil, the more we are exposed to the wonder and power of the gospel of grace.

The most serious weakness of Plantinga’s book, however, is the inadequate vision it gives of God’s original intention for life, what Plantinga calls ‘shalom’. Plantinga understands shalom to be ‘God’s design for creation and redemption’ (1995, 16). Sin, accordingly, is ‘disruption of created harmony and then resistance to divine restoration of that harmony’ (p. 5). Under this paradigm, redemption is essentially a return to Eden, a restoration of the kind of relationships enjoyed between God, humanity and the world before the fall. This restorationist eschatology, however, is inadequate and leads to an impoverished understanding of sin. What is needed, and what provides a decisively Christian, because christocentric, eschatology, is the trinitarian vision of creation provided in Scripture.

What becomes important within this trinitarian perspective is not only the way things were meant to be, but the way things were meant to become. There is, in other words, a teleology in creation. Creation before the entrance of sin was not a static existence of perfect, ‘shalomic’ relationships. Creation, as a work of the Triune God, was purposive. It is here that christology becomes central. As the Apostle Paul writes, the entire created order was created by, through and for the Son (Col 1:16). The Father’s plan is ‘to unite all things’ in Jesus (Eph 1:10), to ‘put all things in subjection under his feet’ (1 Cor 15:27). Creation, then, has a christological teleology, and any attempt to understand what it was that sin corrupted has to be approached with this framework in place.

If creation before the fall was not only a set of right and harmonious relationships but those relationships moving towards an appointed goal, then sin is not only that which corrupts those relationships but, more fundamentally, that which seeks to turn them away from their proper end. Redemption therefore is not a restoration but an eschatological completion, a redirecting of creation back to its original goal found in Christ.

In the light of this eschatological framework we are in a position to see the inadequacy of Plantinga’s definition of sin as the ‘culpable disturbance of shalom’ (1995, 16). Shalom is too weak to capture the fullness of God’s creative intention. The concept itself is, of course, good: relational wholeness, flourishing and delight were indeed present in God’s good creation and will be present again the new creation. But these rightly ordered and enjoyed relationships were not an end in themselves but only the context within which creation was to move towards its goal.

Sin, therefore, has a more direct God-ward element than Plantinga admits. While he does recognise the God-ward force of sin, the bulk of his book and illustrations are about horizontal sins – towards creation, not towards God. The reader is left feeling that sin is anti-life, tragic, self-destructive and in the end utterly foolish; but not that it grieves and angers the holy Father because of its affront to His great purpose to glorify His Son. For all the positive insights in Plantinga’s work, it would be better grounded and sin more accurately exposed, if this God-ward force of sin, arising from the biblical eschatology outlined above, were acknowledged.

You were late! The shuffle quickened its pace,
the expectant crowd kept up their happy hum.
I dared look round a few times, my face
all nerves, all hope, my dry mouth struck dumb.
But I didn’t mind waiting for just the girl for me.

When worlds collide they smash and roil and spark
and by God’s grace transform to something new
and bright and lovely that makes its special mark
and colours the world with its own unique hue.
A world-touching world, with just the girl for me.

And then – Ah! – you came and walked and stood
and vowed and kissed and hugged and smiled and sung
and turned to me and told me that you would;
with just two words a miracle had begun.
The miracle of just the girl for me.

Yahweh, our Lord,
how magnificent is your name in all the earth,
you who set your splendour over the heavens!

From mouth of child and infant, you established strength
because of your foes, stilling enemy and avenger.

When I see your heavens, woven by your fingers,
the moon and stars, which you set in place;

what is man that you remember him;
the son of man that you care for him?
You set him a little lower than God,
and with glory and honour you crowned him

You made him ruler among the works of your hands;
all things you set under his feet:
sheep and oxen together, and the beasts of the field
birds of the heavens and fish of the sea
traversing the paths of the seas.

Yahweh, our Lord,
how magnificent is your name in all the earth!

Download it here.

Colossians 2:6-7
6 So then, just as you received Christ Jesus as Lord, continue to live your lives in him, 7 rooted and built up in him, strengthened in the faith as you were taught, and overflowing with thankfulness.

For Paul the Christian life is not at its heart about being a good, ethical person. It’s not primarily about obeying commands, listening to wise advice, or exerting moral effort, although it has something to say about all those. It’s mode of operation is not a restless anxiety to earn the approval of God, of other people, or even of ourselves. It has no place for either pride at apparent successes or despair at apparent failures.

The ongoing, day-to-day life of a Christian is carried out in exactly the same way as that life began – as a passive, unworthy, loved receiver. We don’t move on from from grace to merit. We don’t progress from the simple gospel message that first gripped us. We are always, from start to finish, objects of God’s free, unmerited, overwhelming gift. At the heart of the Christian life is a profound, humbling, liberating receptivity.

And what we receive fills us up so abundantly. We have received Christ Jesus as Lord. How could we not overflow with thankfulness?

¹ Why do the nations conspire
and the peoples plot in vain?
² The kings of the earth rise up
and the rulers band together
against the LORD and against his anointed, saying,
³ “Let us break their chains
and throw off their shackles.”

⁴ The One enthroned in heaven laughs;
the Lord scoffs at them.
⁵ He rebukes them in his anger
and terrifies them in his wrath, saying,
⁶ “I have installed my king
on Zion, my holy mountain.”

⁷ I will proclaim the LORD’s decree:

He said to me, “You are my son;
today I have become your father.
⁸ Ask me,
and I will make the nations your inheritance,
the ends of the earth your possession.
⁹ You will break them with a rod of iron;
you will dash them to pieces like pottery.”

¹⁰ Therefore, you kings, be wise;
be warned, you rulers of the earth.
¹¹ Serve the LORD with fear
and celebrate his rule with trembling.
¹² Kiss his son, or he will be angry
and your way will lead to your destruction,
for his wrath can flare up in a moment.
Blessed are all who take refuge in him.

The universal, grandiose nature of Psalm 2 raises it to an eschatological level. The contrast between these promises and the political realities of the ancient Near-East is stark: for the king of a small nation, often threatened by powerful neighbours and internal strife, to say this psalm, was an act of faith. To declare Yahweh as the supreme Lord, who would one day subdue rebellious nations under his anointed royal son, was not politically reasonable. It was, however, based on the prior covenantal action and promise of Yahweh, and said in hope of an eschatological vindication in which Yahweh’s supremacy will be manifest and his king will rule in an uncontested way.

Significantly, the final stanza of the psalm indicates that this rule, while absolute, will fundamentally be one of blessing for all who take shelter in the anointed son, and leaves the reader with a final note of grace and hope held out to the nations.

I can run and jump and dance and skip,
I’m so tall I can open the door.
Sometimes I hurt my knee when I trip;
but not very often, ‘cause I’m Four.

I love craft with mum, the friends on my shelf,
and daddy reading to me.
One day soon I’ll be reading myself
’cause I’m a Learning-Girl, you see!

I told my daddy the other day
why birthdays are so fabulous:
they’re a present from Jesus! So we’d better pray
and say thanks for the life he’s given us.

Dear Ms. Plibersek,

In response to the current consultation regarding same-sex marriage, I wish to state my objection to making any changes to the current definition of marriage. While I deeply regret the often abrasive and pejorative nature of the debate from both sides, I nevertheless believe any change to the legislation to enable same-sex marriage would be a mistake, and ultimately detrimental to our society.

While the argument from tradition does not make the case on its own, it is still significant that marriage, defined as a lifelong exclusive union of a man and a woman and open to bearing and raising children, has overwhelmingly across cultures and through history been understood as the foundational unit of society. A change of this definition is a fundamental change to our understanding of society, a change which once made will be virtually impossible to retract. The magnitude of the change means that it must be given its full weight, not changed quickly due to pressure from lobby groups or minority parties. It certainly means it is unjustifiable for your government to seek to change this law without an election mandate, given that you went to the last election explicitly stating there would be no change.

I am not, however, interested in tradition simply for tradition’s sake. I believe there are good reasons behind the definition of marriage as it stands. As a Christian I believe marriage is a gift from God, given to promote human flourishing – for the good ordering of society, for the proper, self-sacrificial and full expression of our sexuality, and for the raising of children by their biological parents. I understand these purposes can not always be met, such as in the case of adoption; nevertheless the ideal ought to be maintained and promoted. I don’t expect convictions arising out of my commitment to Christ to be decisive for others. In a democracy, however, these convictions have just as much a place to be heard in the public square as do those of my secular atheist, agnostic, Muslim or Hindu fellow citizens.

There is one significant point that I believe we can and ought all agree on. In the current debate the needs and rights of children seldom feature as significant. Arguments for same-sex marriage seem to often focus exclusively on the desires of the adult couple. But the right and need of a child to be raised by their biological parents must be given serious consideration. As stated before, there are exceptions. What’s more, I happily concede that some same-sex couples are able provide loving environments for children. But the ideal of children being cared for by their loving male and female parents ought to be upheld and will, I believe, be undermined by allowing same-sex marriage. Scenarios such as the recent case in NSW of a father’s name being stripped from his child’s birth certificate in favour of the child’s mother’s lesbian ex-partner may well become more normal; something which undermines the fundamental connectedness between a child and both of their biological parents.

I appreciate the rhetorical and emotional power of arguments claiming that opposition to same-sex marriage is, a priori, bigoted, excluding loving couples from an institution out of fear of a marginalised ‘other’. However, I hope you can see that is not my position. My opposition is not based on fear or a desire to oppress my homosexual friends. Aligned with my Christian convictions, and consonant with the vast weight of social ordering through history, I believe the traditional view of marriage is genuinely good for society, providing, when it functions rightly, a safe, loving environment in which children can be raised by their biological parents.

Rom 13:7-8:

⁷ Give to everyone what you owe them: If you owe taxes, pay taxes; if revenue, then revenue; if respect, then respect; if honor, then honor.
⁸ Owe nothing to anyone, except to love one other; for the one who loves another person fulfills the law.

Love for the other is for Paul the one social obligation that has perpetual significance in the Christian life. However, Paul does not simply transfer concepts of obligation to the church, but rather uses the language of obligation to introduce a new way of relating. The indicatives of the gospel in Rom. 3:21-11:36, especially the declaration of God’s love in Christ in chapter 8, provide the context for this new way. Paul begins this section (12:1-13:14) by grounding his imperatives ‘in view of God’s mercy’ (12:1). While other debts can and should be paid, the gratuitous love and mercy of God in the gospel creates a community in which grace, not reciprocity, is the ground of its being and the ongoing grammar of its relationships. Obligation is therefore transposed to grace expressing itself in love.

I like not brains that can dispute on both sides, and yet conclude nothing certain. Such sophistications are mere crafty and subtle inventions and contrivances, to cozen and deceive people.
But I love an honest and well affected mind, that seeks after truth simply and plainly, and goes not about with fantasies and cheating tricks.

- Martin Luther, Table Talk CCLXXXV

Anyway, I came across this yesterday, and thought I’d share it. I think he’s on to something significant regarding ethics. He pictures the Christian’s relationship to God, not primarily in terms of commands and regulations, but in terms of faith, of a deep confidence that God is pleased with you. He gives this analogy:

When a man and a woman love and are pleased with each other, and thoroughly believe in their love, who teaches them how they are to behave, what they are to do, leave undone, say, not say, think? Confidence alone teaches them all this, and more. They make no difference in works: they do the great, the long, the much, as gladly as the small, the short, the little, and vice versa; and that too with joyful, peaceful, confident hearts, and each is a free companion of the other. But where there is a doubt, search is made for what is best; then a distinction of works is imagined whereby a man may win favor; and yet he goes about it with a heavy heart, and great disrelish; he is, as it were, taken captive, more than half in despair, and often makes a fool of himself.

So a Christian who lives in this confidence toward God, knows all things, can do all things, undertakes all things that are to be done, and does everything cheerfully and freely; not that he may gather many merits and good works, but because it is a pleasure for him to please God thereby, and he serves God purely for nothing, content that his service pleases God.

- Luther, Treatise on Good Works