You Can Forget to Be Irritated

Scotty Smith
Desiring God

The more I remember God’s lavish, unwavering, inexhaustible love for us in Jesus, the more I forget to be irritated with others.

Unfortunately, I often remember to be irritated. But where I am weak, God is gracious to remind me of what I need to forget.

In any given day, hour, or moment, our thought-life greatly determines our heart-response (which flows out in our words and behavior). Being a broken person in a broken world among broken people, provocation is inevitable. What isn’t inevitable is a godly response. Thus, “fools show their annoyance at once” (Proverbs 12:16 NIV) and are “quick in (their) spirit to become angry, for anger lodges in the heart of fools” (Ecclesiastes 7:9).

Anger lodges in the heart of fools — the Holy Spirit used that phrase recently to convict me about the way I’d been rolling out the welcome mat, providing hospitality, a warm bed, and nourishment for thoughts that always prove to be horrible houseguests.

Weapons Against Irritation

I’m not a loud, fist-pounding, explosive type. But I can easily drift (at times even jump) into passive-aggressive, actively-harmful, joy-pillaging attitudes. Inevitably, I can trace those attitudes back to gospel-amnesia. What I mean is, in any given season (or second) of life, I’m either remembering the gospel and marinating in its implications, or I’m forgetting the gospel and letting my thoughts get hijacked by all kinds of foolishness and sin.

Writing to believers in Corinth, the apostle Paul described this dynamic in the language of warfare:

The weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh but have divine power to destroy strongholds. We destroy arguments and every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God, and take every thought captive to obey Christ (2 Corinthians 10:4–5)

Indeed, to work for one another’s joy (2 Corinthians 1:24) is to wage war for each other’s thinking and feeling.

Here’s how I’ve learned to apply this text to the daily issue of my attitude, specifically to irritation, and its ugly siblings (aggravation, grumpiness, self-pity, resentment, and more). Notice three elements in this passage: strongholds to be named, opinions to be destroyed, and thoughts to be captured.

Name the Strongholds

I wish bad attitudes were only episodic “oops” moments or “loose-holds,” rather than strongholds. But the truth is that bad attitudes often reveal that something or someone has more power over our hearts than the glory and grace of God. Some expression of the stronghold of self-idolatry is on display.

What kinds of things have irritated me? What moved my wife of 46 years to ask me the same question Paul asked the Galatians, “What has happened to all of your joy?” (Galatians 4:15 NIRV). It’s not a very noble list, so here’s to transparency and vulnerability.

• The colorful spinning disk on my computer screen, mocking me with, “Not yet”;
• Road construction on my main route interfering with my precious schedule;
• An empty peanut butter jar on the pantry shelf and empty milk carton in the frigde;
• Loud talkers in a quiet restaurant, and slow waiters fishing for a big tip;
• Delayed flights and deflated bike tires;
• Forgotten passwords and anonymous critics;
• Misplaced stuff and hidden charges.

What might your list of idolatrous provocations look like? It helps to name them.

Destroy the Opinions

So how do these normal, daily incidents of life in a broken world generate super-sized irritation? What was I remembering (believing) during that stretch? Notice, in our passage, Paul says certain opinions need to be exposed and destroyed, not ignored or coddled.

In context, he was talking about false teachers who infiltrated the church of Corinth. But all thinking that contradicts the gospel falls under the same judgment. To a certain extent, I was functionally believing that

• I’ve earned the right to an uninterrupted, manageable, and hassle-free life;
• If people would just do their jobs, and be responsible, my life would be easier;
• When it comes to my plans and preferences, the effects of the fall should be suspended;
• I’m a spiritual orphan, without a sovereign heavenly Father.

What might your list of functional beliefs look like? It helps to name them.

Capture the Thoughts

What do I tend to forget (or refuse to believe) when I lapse into irritability? Notice the main thing Paul emphasizes in this passage is the ongoing discipline of obeying Jesus with our thinking — that is, having our thought-life captured by Jesus and captivated with Jesus.

We will “forget to be irritated” to the extent we are remembering Jesus. Our primary calling is to “remember” Jesus — to re-member, to reconnect and stay connected with Jesus. We who are in union with Jesus must stay in communion with him.

Jack Miller, my spiritual father of 21 years, referred to this as the discipline of “preaching the gospel to your heart.” That is, cultivating a fascination and preoccupation with the person and work of Jesus.

This isn’t “mind over matter,” but Jesus over all things — Creator and Sustainer, Lamb of God, Lord of lords, Lamp of the city. It’s not “the power of positive thinking,” but the joy of focused gazing — seeing and savoring more of Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith. It’s not denial of pain, but delight in the Lord; not the absence of storms, but the presence of Jesus in those storms. It isn’t stoic resolution, but grateful adoration. Indeed, the gospel doesn’t make us less human or superhuman, but fully human.

Our ultimate goal is not being less irritated, but more like Jesus. It isn’t the promise to do better, but the commitment to repent quicker. The more we are remembering Jesus, our repentances won’t be fewer, but quicker, and more joyful.

What do you need to remember about Jesus when you are tempted to irritation? Once again, it helps to name those truths.

If you, like me, struggle with sinful irritation, name the strongholds, destroy the idolatrous opinions, and recapture any wandering thoughts for Christ. Ask God to remind you of what you need to forget, and then ask him to show you all you need to remember.

The Greatest Challenge in Discipleship Today

by Barry Cooper
Desiring God

Last year I had the privilege of traveling to five continents in three weeks. I did this as the writer and presenter of an eight-episode documentary series on Philippians called Discipleship Explored. The idea was to interview believers all over the world, many of whom had faced severe persecution, to show the difference Philippians has made to them in their Christian lives.

However, I must confess to some ambivalence about the word “discipleship.”

As one of my friends points out, although the Greek word “disciple” most definitely appears in Scripture, the word “discipleship” does not. And when we use that word, often what we mean is something like “the art or craft of being a disciple.” Almost inevitably, then, the word inclines us toward thinking in terms of methods and techniques, and focusing on the things we should be doing rather than on the one we are following.

In other words, we can be experts in disciple-ship, and never actually be a disciple.

Do We Dance to the Music of Joy?

Perhaps that helps to explain the sad reality noted by John Stott when he was asked to assess the growth of the evangelical church:

The answer is “growth without depth.” None of us wants to dispute the extraordinary growth of the church. But it has been largely numerical and statistical growth. And there has not been sufficient growth in discipleship that is comparable to the growth in numbers.

That was ten years ago, but the shallowness persists. Could it be at least partly because so much of our training in discipleship amounts to little more than a list of disciplines one is supposed to master?

Imagine a dancer. She’s dancing with grace and joy and rhythm. As you look closer, you see what drives all this beautiful movement: she has her earbuds in, hearing the music she loves best in all the world, and it’s transporting her. She’s captivated and enthralled by it. It’s almost as if she can’t stop dancing.

Now imagine a second person walks into the room. She looks at the dancer and thinks, “I’d love to be able to dance like that!” But she can’t hear the music. So, she tries to copy the moves. The technique. And it actually seems to be working, at least for a time. But because she hears no music, the movement is clunky, hesitant, and self-conscious. She doesn’t seem to enjoy dancing the way the first dancer does. Before too long, she’s exhausted, while the first dancer is still going strong.

What if much of our well-intentioned disciple training is actually forcing people to be that second dancer? Telling them to copy all the right moves — read your Bible, pray, go to church, love others, share the gospel — while doing relatively little to help them “hear” the beautiful music that must drive it all: joy in Christ.

Discipleship Is About Being Mastered

What would it look like if our discipling of others was less an act of technique-teaching, and more an act of “turning up the music”? What if it were less about mastering, and more about being mastered? What if our focus was on captivating and enthralling would-be disciples with the music of God’s surpassing love for us in Christ?

None of this, of course, is meant to imply that the Christian life involves no actual “doing.” One author rightly likens the Christian life to sailing, and there are plenty of things you need to do when sailing. You break a sweat. You have to stay attentive. You can’t just sit back and do nothing.

But there are two things you cannot control on a sailboat, and they make all the difference in the world: the tide and the wind.

Why is it, then, that so much of our discipling amounts to sitting people down in a boat and telling them to make it move by blowing into the sail? It shouldn’t be a surprise to us if many budding followers of Christ bail out, get burned out, or never make it out of the shallows.

The Gospel Music

I’ve been a Christian now for 26 years. The great adventure began on Easter in 1992, at the end of my second term at university. And I have to say, I look back on that first year as being one of the most fruitful years of my Christian life. The passion for evangelism. The eagerness with which I opened my Bible. The joy with which I said my prayers. The expectancy with which I came to church.

That first year, when Christ was new to me, was like the first time I heard my all-time favorite piece of music. Perhaps you remember the first time you heard yours — how besotted you were by it, how you put it on repeat and listened to it endlessly. You told your friends, “You have to hear this — seriously, it’s amazing.”

That was my Christian life in that first year. Effervescent. Overflowing.

And can I be honest with you? I’m not sure it’s been quite the same since. I suspect that’s partly because, as we go on in the Christian life, we often stop attending to the music that first moved us and begin trying to dance in silence.

We start focusing on the moves we’re supposed to be performing as disciples. The “quiet times,” the prayer meetings, the Bible study, the evangelism, and so on. Again, I want to stress that these are wonderful and appropriate things for a follower of Jesus to be doing. But without the music of the gospel to drive them, they become hollow — mere technique and artifice, the moves of a dancer, but with none of the joy, none of the energy, and none of the grace.

Our Greater Challenge

Much has been written about the threat to Christian disciples from an increasingly secular society. That’s true, no doubt. But is it possible that there is also — because of the way we disciple others, and ourselves — a significant threat inside the church too?

When Paul wrote to the young disciples in Philippi, seeking to build them up in the context of a culture which actively opposed them, he didn’t present them with a list of discipling to-dos. Instead, he filled the letter with the statement and restatement of one glorious reality: the supreme worth of Christ. He knew full well that all genuine Christian “doing” flows from that music. Yes, he tells them to “work out your own salvation” (Philippians 2:12), but in the very next verse immediately reminds them that the power to do so comes not from them, but from God who works in them “both to will and to work for his good pleasure” (Philippians 2:13).

As we make disciples for Christ, let’s do everything we can to turn up the music of the gospel. Let’s recapture our first love, and remember how to dance.

Why Is the Abortion Industry Run by Women?

by Rebekah Merkle
Desiring God

“Those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad.”

So goes the ancient pagan proverb in a flash of what could almost be Solomonic wisdom.

Think of the destructive insanity of the demon-possessed boy in Mark 9. He is writhing on the ground, foaming at the mouth, and perpetually throwing himself into the fire. Everyone in that story, from the father to the apostles to the crowds, knew that something was fundamentally wrong with the situation. It’s not a tricky diagnosis — ordinary, healthy people don’t behave in that way.

Ephesians tells us that “no man ever hated his own flesh but nourishes and cherishes it” (Ephesians 5:29). The insanity and brutality of the demon manifests by subverting all natural categories and causing the “self” to be attacked as if it’s an enemy. And of course, while in the grip of this demon, the boy actually is his own worst enemy.

Any sane person would instinctively fight to keep himself out of the fire or to save himself from drowning. This isn’t an indication of virtue. It’s simply the behavior of a normal human. But on the other side, the unnatural state that boy was in could only be caused by a massive spiritual problem — in this case, a demon so ferocious that not even the disciples could cast it out. Christ tells them later, “that kind can come forth by nothing, but by prayer and fasting.”

How Will Teachers Explain Us?

This sort of madness which demands self-destruction can happen not just to individuals but to societies as well. And we are right in the midst of watching it happen. The frenzy of self-annihilation that our nation is currently undergoing holds all the same inexplicable confusion of basic categories as the boy throwing himself into the fire.

Imagine what perspective a future generation might have as they look back at us. What possible explanation could we offer for our actions? Think of a history professor trying to explain to the students, “I know this seems unbelievable, but women in the twenty-first century demanded that they should be allowed to murder their own babies and sell the body parts — and if anyone tried to get in the way of this they were accused of being tyrannical abusers.”

What? Those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad.

Applauding Madness

In any ordinary and natural society, a woman who had her baby murdered would actually be the one we would feel sorry for. Right? Even in the animal kingdom, we know this to be fundamentally true. If we were watching a nature documentary and a mother panda lost her baby in some violent attack, we would all understand that we had just witnessed a tragedy. We’d even feel sorry for a mother snail who had her baby snail eaten by a bird.

But meanwhile, in another corner of the animal kingdom . . . a man tears apart a woman’s child, inside her womb, and all the other women applaud. In any normal world — not even a virtuous world, just a normal world — how would the other women respond to that situation? Obviously, we would weep for her. Grieve for her. Demand justice for her.

Instead, the women of America band together, wear pink hats, and demand that they be allowed to pay the man to do it again to someone else. Further, they insist that everyone be required to chip in and pay for him to do it to millions of other women.

Who Are the Villains?

Imagine a zoo in which all the mother bears inexplicably began killing all their own offspring. Just think of the publicity crisis. Imagine the anxious zoo-keepers frantically working to figure out what had gone wrong, searching for the cause of the insanity, and desperately trying to shield the traumatized onlookers from the situation.

What has happened to us? How can we, modern, enlightened Americans, contemplate a child being violently torn from his mother’s womb, and rather than seeing a shocking and unspeakable horror, we see it as empowerment for the mother?

This is an industry that takes the violence and the butchery of the battlefield and brings it into women’s bodies. But who are the villains who are responsible? The women themselves. It’s the women who are demanding that they be allowed to be violated in this way, women who are running the ad campaigns, women who are the CEOs, women who are marching in the streets, women who are lobbying Washington, and women who are operating the vile trade in infant body parts. It is women who are tearing at themselves and throwing themselves into the fire.

Those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad.

Help Our Unbelief

Christ’s words when confronted with the demon-possessed boy are especially poignant when applied to us, “O faithless generation, how long am I to be with you? How long am I to bear with you?” (Mark 9:19). But when the boy’s father begs for Christ to have compassion, he is told, “All things are possible for one who believes” (Mark 9:23). The man famously cries out with tears, “I believe; help my unbelief!” (Mark 9:24). And Christ casts the demon out and the boy is healed.

Those whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad — and those gods always wish to destroy. But Christ came to this sorry, self-destructive planet, this planet hell-bent on throwing itself into the fire, and cast out the demon. “And after crying out and convulsing him terribly, the spirit came out, and the boy was like a corpse, so that most of them said, ‘He is dead.’ But Jesus took him by the hand and lifted him up, and he arose” (Mark 9:26–27).

We can’t debate our way out of this madness because self-destructive frenzy can only be dealt with by prayer and fasting. Rational arguments and reasoned discourse don’t work on insanity. But we can look to Christ who is certainly capable of taking us by the hand and lifting us up.
Lord, we believe; help our unbelief.

Jesus Is Not Colorblind

by Cole Brown
The Gospel Coalition

If you met me in the mid ’90s you would have found me walking the halls of my high school in bright purple jeans and a famous white T-shirt that read, “Love Sees No Color.” Thankfully, the clothing was a fad that quickly passed away. Unfortunately, the idea that colorblindness is a virtue still remains.

A colorblind mentality contradicts both the nature of the God we worship and also the Scriptures we treasure. It does this in at least six ways.

1. To be colorblind is to be blind to God’s image on display

One implication of Genesis 1:27 is that God’s image can’t be fully reflected by males alone or females alone. Rather, the qualities of each gender reflect a different aspect of who God is and, when brought together, offer a fuller reflection.

The same can be said of our ethnic and cultural differences. This is why Christianity can fit in any culture (since all cultures reflect God’s image imperfectly) and also why our expression of Christianity often must be adapted when transferred from one culture to another (since all cultures reflect God’s image uniquely). Thus, to be colorblind is to be willfully blind to God’s image as it is distinctly revealed in each ethnicity and culture.

2. To be colorblind is to be blind to another’s identity

Our ethnicities and cultures aren’t accidents. They’re part of God’s sovereign plan for us. They’re part of who we are, our identity. And, as Acts 17:26–27 makes clear, they also shape our life experiences according to God’s intentions.

Some use Galatians 3:28 to argue that our ethnic identity disappears once we are united to Christ. Yet this is clearly not what Paul is communicating, as he himself so deeply valued his identity as an ethnic Jew that he wrote he would rather personally be cut off from Christ than see “my people, those of my own race” without Christ (Rom. 9:2–4).

When one person tells a person of another ethnicity, “I don’t see color,” they might as well be saying, “I don’t see that part of you that is incredibly important to you and your culture, your family history, your life experience, and your personal identity.” This is the equivalent of saying, “I don’t see you”—intended or not.

3. To be colorblind is to be blind to the uniting power of the gospel

It’s ironic that so many of us want to avoid seeing our differences when God goes out of his way to call attention to our differences. Galatians 3:28, Ephesians 2:14–16, Revelation 5:9, and Revelation 7:9 are just some of the passages where God calls attention to our ethnic and cultural differences in order to demonstrate the unifying power of Christ and his gospel.

We are not the same.

We are different.

And that’s what makes our unity in Christ all the more glorious.

One of the reasons colorblindness is attractive is because part of us believes that the basis for unity is similarity. But it’s not. The basis for our unity is Christ. Our differences don’t hinder that truth; they magnify it.

If you don’t notice the differences in musical notes, you can’t hear the beauty of harmony when different notes are artfully brought together. In the same way, if you don’t notice the differences in our ethnicities, you can’t behold the beauty of the gospel when different ethnicities are powerfully brought together.

4. To be colorblind is to be blind to injustice

God is just. This doesn’t mean he’s only committed to justly judging those who perpetrate injustice (though he is); it also means he’s aware of those who suffer injustice. He is present with them in their pain. In passages such as Psalm 146 and Amos 5:21–24, it seems God even grants special favor to those society mistreats.

As people created in his image, we are to reflect the same qualities. Of course, millions of Christians take this call seriously, which is why so many are committed to fighting injustices such as sex trafficking, abortion, and issues related to homelessness.

This is good. But it’s not good enough.

Because if we are colorblind, we will by definition be incapable of seeing injustice everywhere it resides. We won’t notice that certain groups are policed, tried, or incarcerated differently than others; nor will we see the correlation between skin tone and which neighborhoods, businesses, and people our banks, real-estate agencies, or governments strategically invest and disinvest in; nor will we note the discrepancies in public education and employment opportunities that result. Seeing disparities between racial groups requires us to actually see color.

5. To be colorblind is to be unable to fight injustice

Once a race-based injustice is recognized, it requires a solution that is correspondingly race-based. Only color-conscious strategies—not colorblind strategies—can successfully address color-based inequities.

This is certainly the model we see in Acts 6:1–7. Though the categories of race as we know them hadn’t yet been invented, the early church ran into a related issue that provides insight into how Christians might handle contemporary racial injustice. The division was based on the cultural categories of Hebraic Jews and Hellenistic Jews. Hellenistic Jews observed that while the Hebraic widows were receiving the necessary financial support from the church, the Hellenistic widows were not. They were being neglected despite the fact that Hellenistic Jews contributed to the church just like Hebraic Jews.

The apostles didn’t respond to this injustice with a culture-blind (or, for our purposes, colorblind) solution. They appointed seven Spirit-filled men to ensure both groups received equitable resources. And yet they didn’t randomly select just any Spirit-filled men. They intentionally chose seven Spirit-filled men who were also Hellenestic. Without question, there were Spirit-filled Hebraic Jews who could have fulfilled the job requirement. Yet the apostles chose to confront the injustice from a color-conscious perspective. They did this to bring justice where there was injustice, ensuring not only that Hellenistic widows would receive the same support as the Hebraic widows, but also that the Hellenistic community as a whole would have power and influence within the church.

6. To be colorblind is to be missionally ineffective

Paying attention to the categories of ethnicity and culture is key to being an effective missionary. Paul describes this famously in 2 Corinthians 9:19–23, where he explains that he became a Jew to the Jews, and one without the law to those without the law, so that “by all means [he] might save some.” The distinction between the Jews and those not under the law isn’t merely religious; it’s also ethnic. Those “not having the law” were Gentiles, a catch-all ethnic category for those who weren’t ethnic Jews.

Thus, under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit, Paul is saying that he not only notices ethnic differences, but also that those ethnic differences guide his gospel ministry to each respective group. This isn’t racism. This is the exact opposite of racism. Paul so values those of other ethnicities and so recognizes their unique identity that he gladly lays aside his own identity to make the message comprehensible and compelling to those who aren’t like him.

There is only one alternative to this approach. If we don’t intentionally adapt to those who aren’t like us to ensure the gospel is heard, we will require that others adapt to us to hear the gospel. It’s clear which approach most accurately reflects the image of the God who laid aside his privileges and came for those unlike him.

That shirt I wore in the ’90s said “Love Sees No Color,” but our Bible says just the opposite. Let us love the way our barrier-crossing Savior loves us.

Seven Things to Pray for Your Children

by Jon Bloom
Desiring God Blog

Some years back a good friend shared with me seven Scripture texts that he and his wife prayed for their two daughters from the time they were infants. The girls are now grown. And it’s beautiful to see how God has answered and still is answering the faithful, specific prayers of faith-filled parents in the lives of these young, godly women.

I have frequently used these prayers when praying for my own children. And I commend them to you.

But, of course, prayers are not magic spells. It’s not a matter of just saying the right things and our children will be blessed with success.

Some parents earnestly pray and their children become gifted leaders or scholars or musicians or athletes. Others earnestly pray and their children develop a serious disability or disease or wander through a prodigal wilderness or just struggle more than others socially or academically or athletically. And the truth is, God is answering all these parents’ prayers, but for very different purposes.

That’s why Scriptures like John 9:1–3 are in the Bible. We must not too quickly assess God’s purposes because they can be the opposite of our perceptions. God measures success differently than we do, which is why he often answers our prayers in ways we don’t expect.

So, pray for your children. Jesus promises us that if we ask, seek, and knock, the Father will give us good in return (Luke 11:9–13), even if the good isn’t apparent for forty years. And because Jesus regularly asked those who came to him, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:51), we know that he wants us to be specific with our requests.

So, here are seven helpful, specific things to pray for your children.

1. That Jesus will call them and no one will hinder them from coming.

Then children were brought to him that he might lay his hands on them and pray. The disciples rebuked the people, but Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for to such belongs the kingdom of heaven.” And he laid his hands on them and went away. (Matthew 19:13–15)

2. That they will respond in faith to Jesus’s faithful, persistent call.

The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance. (2 Peter 3:9)

3. That they will experience sanctification through the transforming work of the Holy Spirit and will increasingly desire to fulfill the greatest commandments.

And he said to him, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the great and first commandment. And a second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” (Matthew 22:37–39)

4. That they will not be unequally yoked in intimate relationships, especially marriage.

Do not be unequally yoked with unbelievers. For what partnership has righteousness with lawlessness? Or what fellowship has light with darkness? (2 Corinthians 6:14)

5. That their thoughts will be pure.

Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is commendable, if there is any excellence, if there is anything worthy of praise, think about these things. (Philippians 4:8)

6. That their hearts will be stirred to give generously to the Lord’s work.

All the men and women, the people of Israel, whose heart moved them to bring anything for the work that the Lord had commanded by Moses to be done brought it as a freewill offering to the Lord. (Exodus 35:29)

7. That when the time is right, they will GO!

And Jesus came and said to them, “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” (Matthew 28:18–20)

The Real Reason You Love Music

by Gavin Ortlund
The Gospel Coalition

I love music. I have more than 500 CDs of Dave Matthews Band concerts, and I have vivid memories of specific moments in my life listening to them. For example, I remember listening to the long buildup of “Seek Up” in June 2004, while driving to a dinner event at the church I was working at in Chattanooga. It is burned into my memory as if it were yesterday.

Many of us have similar memories. When we think about favorite music—whether classical or country, Beethoven or Bono—we have memories and associations that touch on the deepest emotions and experiences of life.

Recently I wondered: Why? As someone who studies theology, I’m interested in the philosophy of music. What does music mean? Is it merely pleasant—“auditory cheesecake,” as Steven Pinker puts it—or does it actually have a significance that corresponds to its effect on us?

As a thought experiment, here are two different ways to answer this question.

1. In a nihilistic worldview, music is like an opiate to a dying man.

Neuroscientists note that music accesses the same parts of the brain as sex, food, and addictive drugs. At the same time, they recognize that there is no obvious evolutionary basis for our enjoyment of music (as there conceivably is, for instance, with food, sex, and sleep). It’s not clear how music could help our ancestors survive. So, from an evolutionary standpoint, why do we like it?

One of the most popular theories on the market says it’s all about anticipation: the brain expects what is coming next, and gets dopamine when it’s right. In other words, it’s about pattern recognition. Another hypothesis is that music mirrors speech, and thus essentially fools our brains into reacting the way we react to speech (in which we often mirror the emotions of the person speaking). These ways of trying to explain music all approach it as essentially what Stephen Jay Gould called an “evolutionary spandrel”—something not directly the result of an adaptive process, but rather its byproduct. It’s a kind of “spin off” of evolution. In other words: it’s an accident.

Most of us find these explanations deeply unsatisfying, even if they tell part of the story. Just listen to this and try to imagine: I only like this because it helped animals survive. If the tides had rolled in differently, I might not like it.



Beautiful music like this communicates a sense of transcendence and significance. Music whispers, I mean something. I am telling you about something Profound and Beautiful. But meaning and transcendence are, of course, precisely what a nihilistic worldview disallows. Thus, when nihilism is confronted by the power conveyed through, say, the work of Hans Zimmer, it must ultimately interpret this experience as illusory.

If reality is blind and indifferent, and human life is ultimately meaningless and insignificant, then music is, in a way, deceiving you. It is like an opiate: its value is numbing you, directing you away from reality.

2. If a Trinity spawned the world, music is like a window to a man in a cellar.

One way to define music is an organized combination of melody, harmony, and rhythm. But surely this can’t encapsulate all music means, any more than love simply means chemicals in the brain, or time means the noises of a clock. What is the essence of music?

If a triune God created the world as a work of art—not out of necessity, but out of love and freedom—then music can be understood, along with everything beautiful in the world, as a faint reflection of the pre-temporal glory of God. It is a tiny echo of what was happening before time and space.
                                                 
Viewed in this way, music is not a distraction away from reality, but rather a clue toward it. It is not like an opiate to a man on his deathbed, but like a window to a man in a cellar—a light shining into the darkness, revealing something beyond. In this respect I associate music with art, reason, and sex. They are like little windows through which transcendence touches our lives, whispering to us of a world we have never dreamed.

Something of this worldview is implicit in Johann Sebastian Bach’s famous quip: “I play the notes as they are written, but it is God who makes the music.” This is an eloquent way of expressing a non-physicalist view of music. It’s more than the notes. It’s something God is doing through the notes.

A friend recently reminded me that J. R. R. Tolkien portrayed the world’s creation in The Silmarillion as, essentially, a work of music:

Then the voices of the Ainur, like unto harps and lyres, and pipes and trumpets, and viols and organs, and like unto countless choirs singing with words began to fashion the theme of Iluvatar to a great music; and a sound arose of endless interchanging melodies woven in harmony that passed beyond hearing into the depths and into the heights, and the places of the dwelling of Iluvatar were filled to overflowing, and the music and the echo of the music went out into the Void, and it was not void.

What effects the transition from the “Void” to a state of “not void” is, basically, harmony. And Tolkien portrays the intrusion of evil as a kind of discord and monotonous unity, with Melkor’s desire for self-glory producing a “clamorous unison as of many trumpets braving upon a few notes.”

What does all this mean? Perhaps not that music proves God (though that may also be true, for all I know—smarter philosophers than I, like this one or this one, have used aesthetic considerations to further theism). What I am saying is more like this: If you believe in God, you have a framework for enjoying music that is more satisfying to heart and mind, and more authentic to the actual experience of that enjoyment.

So imagine that man in the cellar. It’s dark. Stuffy. He has no clue what the outside world is like. He has never seen redwood trees soaring into the sky, or thundering cascading waterfalls, or the night sky lit up with stars. He knows nothing of this. But he can look up and see the light pouring in through the window, and sense that there “must be something more.”

What if music, and the nostalgic stab of longing it provokes, is like that window? What if we are the man in the cellar?

Lost in Space

By William Lane Craig
Reasonable Faith

Q:
Dear Dr. Craig,

I am having difficulty bringing myself to earnestly believe in Christianity. I have believed in the past with the intensity of a zealot, but of late I look to the stars and find that I cannot bring myself to truly believe in Christ as God. I believe in God, and I rationally believe this God to be one, but I cannot believe that God could truly concern himself with us in this way, that He would dangle the heavens above our heads and deny us from reaching them. The earth is a speck in a galaxy that is naught but a speck in the void, a void we can never reach or explore. We are certainly not alone in the universe. How can I believe, not in a personal God, but in a God that is focused on humanity? It feels as though all is in flux, and that I am only riding the currents of society which is lain on subjective ground. All in this modern age is subjective, and if mankind is not alone in the universe then all that we are is subjective as well. If that makes sense. I was truly happy when I believed, and I truly want to. Belief in some vague 'deity' is no help to me however. I seek Christ but I am pulled away. What am I to do, Dr. Craig? You're a much smarter man than I am. Your thoughts on this could help me greatly.

My deepest thanks,
Tom

United States

***
A:
Tom, I resonate with how you feel. When I look at photographs revealing to us the incomprehensible immensity of the universe and our virtually infinitesimal tininess by comparison, I feel almost overwhelmed by our utter insignificance. A sort of vertigo sets in, with  an attendant loss of confidence in human significance.

But it’s clear that this reaction to our physical size relative to the cosmos is purely emotional. Rationally, one of the implications of the study of the fine-tuning of the universe for embodied, conscious agents like ourselves is that the universe must be as old as it is in order for us to have evolved. For the heavy elements like carbon that compose our bodies need to be forged in the interior of the stars and then distributed throughout the cosmos by supernovae explosions in order to form planets where carbon-based life forms may come to exist. But now think: if the universe must be as old as it is, then, since it has been constantly expanding since its inception in the Big Bang, it must also be as big as it is. Thus, far from undercutting the significance of human life, the enormous size of the cosmos is actually a function of human life!  Unbelievable! The very size of the cosmos which dwarfs us is actually testimony to the Creator’s care for us, to fine-tune a universe suitable for our existence.

Moreover, maybe we are not alone in the cosmos. That we are, indeed, alone in the universe may be the almost inevitable conclusion on naturalism, but on theism—which is implied by the origin and fine-tuning of the universe—it’s not at all improbable that the Creator has created embodied, conscious agents throughout the cosmos. If they, too, have fallen into sin, then God will have a plan for their salvation as well—who knows, perhaps even multiple incarnations of the cosmic Christ! If the second person of the Trinity can assume a human nature in addition to his divine nature, then why not also multiple natures? The vast and perhaps unbridgeable distances separating intelligent life forms may actually be a manifestation of God’s mercy. The record of homo sapiens on this planet is pretty appalling. It may be a really good thing that extraterrestrial life forms are safely sequestered from homo sapiens as we launch out into space, lest the contagion of our violence and evil spread.

Such moral considerations prompt an additional point: a thing’s moral worth is not measured by its physical size. I recall the great philosopher Frederick Copleston once commenting that a single human person is worth more than the entire physical universe put together. That is self-evidently true: a moral agent like a human person has intrinsic moral value, whereas mere matter and radiation, no matter how much of it, is morally neutral, having no intrinsic value. This point alone changes everything. One little girl or boy outranks the cosmos in terms of moral worth. So why shouldn’t God be concerned? What does size matter?

Moreover, why not take the enormity of the cosmos to redound to the majesty and greatness of the God who created it? I think of God like a cosmic artist extravagantly splashing His canvas with colors and shapes that may serve no practical purpose but are aesthetically beautiful. He isn’t playing with us by “dangl[ing] the heavens above our heads and deny[ing] us from reaching them.” No, He’s putting on a show! And as mankind probes the mysteries of the cosmos, we come to see more and more the beauty and grandeur of the mind which created it. We need not be able to achieve intergalactic space travel in order to study the depths of the cosmos scientifically and to learn its laws and marvels. Aren’t you glad all this is out there for us to probe?  I am!

So I don’t see how the daunting size of the cosmos does anything rationally to undermine belief in the incarnation. Scripture has always emphasized what enormous act of condescension this was on Christ’s part, “who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.  And being found in human form he humbled himself and became obedient unto death, even death on a cross” (Philippians 2.6-8). That point is only driven home by what we’ve talked about.

Your final reflections, Tom, on the subjectivity of modern society are even more beside the point. You’re thinking like a naturalist, not like a theist, who has an objective basis for what we believe. I think you need to shake yourself loose of the non-rational, emotional way in which you’re reacting to the size of the cosmos and think rationally about it. Perhaps you need to review the evidence for Jesus and his resurrection. Then the size of the cosmos may actually lead you to praise and worship of God and Christ.

- William Lane Craig

Does God Know How a Pineapple Tastes?

by William Lane Craig
Reasonable Faith

Q:
Dr. Craig,

I have recently been studying Frank Jackson's Knowledge Argument. As you know, it suggests that there is a kind of knowledge that is a posteriori -- an experiential knowledge that cannot be had until the relevant experience is had. This kind of knowledge is usually described as a "what it is like" kind of knowledge. As Locke points out, I can only know what the taste of pineapple is like when I have actually tasted pineapple. I tend to agree with this intuition concerning knowledge. But, it raises a few questions for me regarding God's omniscience: 1. If God is omniscient (and I believe He is), how do we account for His having this kind of a posteriori knowledge? Should we conclude that God could have this knowledge without experience because of His infinite cognitive abilities as compared to our finite abilities? 2. Does the statement of the Hebrews penman in Hebrews 5:8: "Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered;" have any bearing on this question? Does this verse teach that Jesus, though God, gained experiential knowledge by taking human form? If so, would this imply that God lacked this kind of knowledge prior to Jesus' becoming flesh? 3. Does God know what it is like for a sinner to revel in sin or to desire to sin? Could He know that feeling without feeling that feeling? 4. Could God have been justified in creating man if He did not first have this "what it is like" (intentional) knowledge? Thank you for your work. It has been a tremendous help to my faith!

Nathan

United States

***
A:
These are difficult questions, Nathan, which we discuss in my class on divine omniscience.

Divine omniscience is defined in terms of propositional knowledge, e.g., for any proposition p, if p, then God knows that p and does not believe not-p.  Such a definition is meant to capture the intuitive idea that God knows all truths and believes no falsehoods. This kind of knowledge is knowledge “that ____.”

By contrast the kind of knowledge you are talking about (what it is like) is non-propositional knowledge.  It is not true or false. For example, knowing how a pineapple tastes is not true or false and so is non-propositional. There is something to be known here, but it is not a truth.

Omniscience, being defined in terms of propositional knowledge, does not require God to have non-propositional knowledge. He must know all truths about how a pineapple tastes, e.g., that a pineapple tastes tart, that a pineapple tastes refreshing, etc., but He needn’t have non-propositional knowledge of how a pineapple tastes.

It once seemed to me that God does not have the sort of non-propositional knowledge you describe because He lacks the requisite experiences. But then I got to thinking about a remark by David Lewis that there must be some sort of mental state that someone who is experiencing the taste of a watermelon is in. You could be in such a mental state without actually eating the watermelon. So why, it occurred to me, couldn’t God put Himself into such a mental state so as to know how a watermelon tastes?  It seems to me that this is clearly possible. In that case God could have non-propositional knowledge of tastes, colors, feels, sounds, etc., in addition to His propositional knowledge of such things. God’s greatness is thereby exalted, for it turns out that God’s cognitive excellence is even greater than omniscience!

So in answer to your questions:

1. “If God is omniscient, how do we account for His having this kind of a posteriori knowledge?” God’s non-propositional knowledge is not a function of His omniscience. His omniscience gives Him all propositional knowledge. If He has as well non-propositional knowledge such as you describe, it will be a function of His ability to assume the same mental state as someone having such an experience. Does God have “this knowledge without experience”? Yes and no; He can have the experience of tasting a pineapple but without actually eating a pineapple or having taste buds. Is this because of “His infinite cognitive abilities as compared to our finite abilities?” No, we can imagine a neuroscientist’s stimulating a person’s brain such that the person is put into a mental state of tasting a pineapple. God could do this Himself at will.  Of course, to have the unlimited range of non-propositional knowledge you’re thinking of, God’s cognitive abilities must be infinite.

2. “Does the statement in Hebrews 5:8: "Although he was a Son, he learned obedience through what he suffered;" have any bearing on this question?” No, because in this case we’re talking about knowledge which the incarnate Son had in his human nature. Jesus obviously knew, e.g., what roast lamb tastes like. But I’m suggesting that such non-propositional knowledge may not be limited to the Son. Moreover, “learning obedience” isn’t a matter of acquiring non-propositional knowledge; it’s an idiom for the moral sanctification of his human nature.

3. “Does God know what it is like for a sinner to revel in sin or to desire to sin? Could He know that feeling without feeling that feeling?” As explained, I once doubted that God has this sort of non-propositional knowledge, since it is impossible for Him to sin.  He could know every truth about how sinners feel, but He would not know how it feels to revel in sin. But now I’m inclined to think that God could have such non-propositional knowledge.  For there is surely a mental state had by someone reveling in sin, and by putting Himself in that mental state God could know just how such a person feels. God would not Himself revel in sin or desire sin, but He would know how someone who does feels.

4. “Could God have been justified in creating man if He did not first have this ‘what it is like’ knowledge?” Well, why not? Why wouldn’t propositional knowledge be enough, in particular, knowledge of all true counterfactual propositions concerning creaturely free choices (middle knowledge)?

- William Lane Craig