- Articles from the early days of The Presbyterian Guardian
- Articles from the current denominational magazines New Horizons and Ordained Servant
- Pressing Toward the Mark (Compilation of Essays by OPC churchmen, 50th denominational anniversary)
- Confident of Better Things (Compilation of Essays by OPC churchmen,75th denominational anniversary)
- Gary North's Crossed Fingers
- John Muether and Darryl Hart's Fighting the Good Fight
- John Muether and Darryl Hart's Seeking a Better Country
- Darryl Hart's Between the Times
Those who know me well might be somewhat surprised at this, for my typical preferences tend towards writings that are more self-consciously "theological" or "philosophical."
A prologue to the main point: no work of man is neutral. A work of history - which primarily consists of a record of past events - is as much dependent upon the historian's presuppositions as a work of theology or philosophy will depend upon the theologian's or philosopher's presuppositions. For example, an historian makes value-judgments such as what past events are worth recording, what is worth omitting, how to frame conflicting reports of or interpretations about an historical event he wants to record, etc.
True, an historian may communicate truth as much as a theologian or philosopher. After all, Christianity is an historical religion, one which must and does rely upon the qualification of divinely revealed truths as a sufficient response to skeptics who might question the presuppositions of Moses, Paul, etc.
Nevertheless, most authors in history have not been divinely inspired. My experience is that historians are less likely than theologians or philosophers to examine or state their own fundamental beliefs, methodological presuppositions, or motivations for their work, so I often find historical works to be more opaque than theological or philosophical works. Additionally, it is easier to compare purported theological and philosophical truths to a rule of faith (Scripture) than it is to ascertain the truth of an historical report.
For example, it may take a little effort to discern that a Christology such as is ascribed to Nestorius is not compatible with Scripture, but such is manageable. On the other hand, most contradictory historical reports - such as whether Nestorius actually affirmed so-called "Nestorianism" - seem to equally cohere with one's rule of faith. Further, theological or philosophical works on "Nestorianism" would likely have more explicit dependence on [or, in heretical works, antagonism towards] Scripture than would be apparent in a primarily historical account of Nestorius.
Thus, if one's goal is to know (in the sense of having full assurance) any truths that are communicated, reading philosophical and theological works would seem to afford more opportunity for epistemic reflection. Theologians, philosophers, and historians may each communicate truth, but I find that the propositional content which is communicated through a theological or philosophical work may be known in a sense that that which is communicated through a strictly historical work typically cannot.
To return to the above example, suppose Nestorius never actually affirmed Nestorianism. A theological treatise on Christology need not even provide an historically accurate report of that to aid one in understanding what is the problem with affirming that Christ is two persons. Christological truths such a treatise could communicate would be valuable regardless of whether the work simultaneously communicated historical truths regarding the person of Nestorius.
If the reasoning thus far is legitimate, it begs a question: what profit is there in directing one's attention towards a field of study such as history, one whose primary content (propositions about the past) cannot usually be "known" in the sense of affording one full assurance (i.e. the content will not be strictly deducible from divine revelation)? While Christians may technically have the liberty to read such works, is there more that can be said in favor of reading works of history?
Of course, reading a historical work might incidentally stimulate theological or philosophical reflection. Given the non-neutrality of man's works, it is not surprising to consider that an historian's own theological or philosophical beliefs would be implicitly present in their efforts to record past events.
But a richer answer as to the favorability of reading historical works would be that one cannot divorce Christianity from history. Such an idea would be gnostic. The importance of this can be understood through the example that Christians have the responsibility of guarding the deposit entrusted to them (I Timothy 6:20). Guardianship entails contending for the faith (Jude 3) in response to heresies. Heresies don't arise ex nihilo but through heretics (Jude 4, 2 Peter 2:1), men who have lived and acted in time.
While it is unclear that the "knowledge" Christians may have of heretics (e.g. Matthew 7:15-20) is the same sort of "knowledge" which we may have of God's own word - again, I would suggest only the latter is the sort of which one may have full assurance (which is not to diminish the importance of the former sort) - what is clear is that Christians have a responsibility to identify and reject heresy when they think they hear it. This is an apologetic task. One must be able to fend off attacks to one's own faith.
As I've said in many other posts, apologetics depends on epistemology: a defense of one's knowledge depends on one's first having knowledge (link, link, link). We must know God's word to use God's word. If one doesn't know how to handle the sword of the Spirit, when it comes time to battle, he'll likely be cut down by his failure to make proper use of it. The wound one incurs might even be self-inflicted. This highlights the importance of reading theological and philosophical works, as such may help us more easily recognize what can be derived from Scripture with full assurance.
At the same time, apologetics is an important discipline in its own right. Because we are called to have answers at the ready when asked questions of our faith (1 Peter 3:15), merely having knowledge is not designed to be an end in itself. Wisdom entails application of one's knowledge to circumstance. It is obviously important to have a sword for a battle, but we should not forget that the sword is for battle. It is unrealistic to expect that God would give us a sword but never call on us to unsheathe it. Having a sword does one no good in a battle if he fails to parry or block with it.
Hence, to the extent that writings of all kinds - historical, theological, philosophical, etc. - pose and answer various questions which will either tend towards a defense or attack upon our faith, we have good reason to direct our attention to such writings. In fact, this principle expands to works of all kinds. Literature is just one example.
To return to the case in point, the historian is an apologist. He provides ready answers to questions he thinks are significant enough to ask: "Who is ______?" "What is ______?" "How did ______ happen?" As has been emphasized, historian have presuppositions too. Thus, historians may turn out to be allies or enemies.
This outlines my new interest in the works mentioned at the beginning of the post. Being a member of the OPC means it would be helpful to know the battle lines the OPC has drawn. And I believe that the aforementioned authors would tend to be my allies in most battles. However, to mix metaphors, one must also watch out for friendly fire. Historians are as susceptible to mistakes, biased framing, or incomplete information as theologians and philosophers (I have a few concrete cases in mind, but I'll return to those in a different post).
For these reasons, from an apologetic standpoint, one is better served by prioritizing the reading of primary, source documents when such is feasible. Admittedly, this learning process takes longer than would reading a summary. Summaries are useful to the extent that the content summarized is uncontroversial. On the other hand, when it comes to events that have varying interpretations, primary sources will be more reliable communiqués. In the case of the OPC, such would include approved minutes of general, presbytery, or local church assemblies, committee reports that have been accepted by said assemblies, etc.
One final point about history. It has been said that "history is written by the victors." Interestingly, we are seemingly approaching a point in time when this may no longer appear true (if it ever was). That is, peoples who lose battles - military or otherwise - are now in a position to record their perspectives of the past in ways which were not possible prior to the advent of the printing press, internet, etc. Can't losers write history after all?
Now, whose historical records are accepted in the mainstream is a separate question. But even this question may not seem to be definitively answerable insofar as people who are "losers" at one point in history may become victors or be accepted by victors later on (and vice versa for people who are "victors").
Gathering the strands together, we live in the middle of a long and ongoing battle. Those who live after us would seem to have the advantage of us. It is one thing to argue that Christians are called to read and convey history for apologetic purposes. It's another to wonder what confidence we can have that we will be remembered as we truly have been.
By His omnipotent Word, God has preordained what will occur in time. Even if we have reason to expect persecution - e.g. misrepresentation, slander, exclusion - we have assurance that when the long battle is consummated, what we have worked in Christ will come to light (John 3:19-21). Even during this battle we are more than conquerors, for we are the very letters by which the eternal and unchangeable decree of God is writ in time (Romans 8:37, 2 Corinthians 3:1-3). In a quite literal sense, then, it is true that "history is written by the victor[s]" - we are the words of God (link). If nothing else, meditation on this should give us some relief from our own, internal battles (Romans 7-8). Truth wins out in the end.
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