Our Culture of Reading and the End of Dialogue: An Essay

Christians are a people of the book, a people whose lives are formed and shaped by their encounters and interactions with a God whose works have been manifested in the words that bear witness to them. The early Christians understood this, which is partly why they paired the transmission of the Scriptures with their evangelistic zeal. The number of manuscripts we have of the Bible from that era far exceeds any other books, in part because Christians cared so deeply about getting the Word out that they eagerly got the words that bear witness to Jesus out as well.

We live in the paradoxical world, though, where the volume of books is matched only by that of the handwringing about whether anyone is reading them. The explosion in books may actually have little to do with the internet. Richard Nash points out that between the 1980s and 2010 the number of books published annually jumped from 80,000 to 328,259 (a surprisingly precise figure). And while worries about reading are not a recent phenomenon—Rudolph Flesch’s influential Why Johnny Can’t Read was published back in 1955—things haven’t much improved since then. The average reading level for students in high school is just barely above the fifth grade. Students may be reading as much, but they’re obviously not reading as well as they used to. The same study found that between 1907 and 2012 the complexity level of books assigned in high school plummeted.1 Even if we read more as a culture we do not read as well.

But a people whose curriculums are shot through with Shakespeare will have more tools to deeply understand the world than those who are assigned The Hunger Games, however enjoyable they might be or well they might be written. The plays can be tough reading and the pleasures and joys deferred until a re-reading (or, in some cases, a re-re-reading). And the work required to understand them is considerably greater than that which contemporary fiction demands of us, if only because of the gap between Shakespeare’s time and ours. We should struggle through books like Shakespeare because the sort of understanding about the world that we need often doesn’t come on a first read of it, but on a third or fourth. Confronting a text whose meaning is initially obscure to us and being impelled to press onward, to work and think and wrestle, gives us the sort of discipline and training that genuine wisdom demands.

As we move into a world where people can no longer read deeply or well, Christians will be in a territory we have charted once before but have long forgotten. We may be a people of the book, but we are not a people who thinks that book’s meaning is easily or quickly grasped. The perspicuity of Scripture, or the idea that Scripture’s meaning would be clear to anyone, never entailed that it could be grasped on a first reading. And we even have a Bible verse to prove the case. 2 Peter 3:16 notes that “[Paul’s] letters contain some things that are hard to understand, which ignorant and unstable people distort.” In a world that struggles to understand Shakespeare, we have Biblical reasons to think we will do no better with the Apostle.

Yet it is not simply reading that is imperiled. A culture where reading is in decline will be a culture where inquiry and learning struggle as well, and the possibility of genuine and meaningful dialogue with those who we disagree will erode too. There is a fundamental connection between how we take in the world around us and sort through it internally and how we participate in conversations with those around us. As our culture reads more poorly, it will speak more poorly and respond more impatiently and less charitably.

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Perhaps no part of Scripture is as insistent on the value of words to the Christian life as the Gospel According to John. The book opens with the magisterial identification of Jesus and the logos, the “Word,” a term that is as difficult to understand as any in Scripture. Yet throughout the Gospel, John highlights the value of the words that Jesus says and implicitly underscores the unique importance of the words he is writing that communicate them. In John 6, a controversial passage in recent church history, Jesus points out that the Spirit is the one who gives life, and that “the words that I have spoken to [the disciples] are spirit and life” (John 6:63b). Jesus qualified his famous line that “the truth will set you free” with the condition that it will happen “If you abide in [his] word” (John 8:31). In John 15, the symmetry of Christ abiding in us and us abiding in him is disrupted by the asymmetry of us abiding in Christ and Christ’s words abiding in us as the premise for power in prayer. Those words, interestingly, conspicuously stand in the very spot in the story where every other Gospel records Jesus instituting the Lord’s Supper. And in closing the Gospel, John himself point toward the truthfulness of his written testimony and its limitedness: “the world itself could not contain the books that would be written” about the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus (John 21:24-25).

There are two metaphors for what happens in reading a text like Scripture: on the one hand, we take it into ourselves and make it a part of us. The words abide in us, make their home in us, rearranging our thoughts and reframing how we see things. On the other hand, we enter into a world that the words create. There is a certain self-forgetfulness that happens in reading, particularly when we read fiction or read books that we struggle to understand. This is true of reading Scripture, too: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God” is not a sentence that has anything to do with us, at least not immediately. Only by entering the universe John points to with his words can we properly come to understand them.

On both metaphors, though, how we read a text significantly affects how it changes us. There is no substitute for slow, unhurried lingering over the words of a book—abiding, we might say—to come to grips with its subtleties, its nuances, and its depth. When we marinate ourselves in a text, we begin to think thoughts after the author—for good or ill. James Gray, an evangelical theologian whose career spanned the 19th and 20th centuries, once commended reading the same book of the Bible over and over again to master it (or rather, to have it master us) instead of simply reading through the whole thing.5 When Fred Sanders reminded us of the passage, one writer–my brother– humorously decided to test out the thesis by doing the same with Ralph Waldo Emerson, and spent his time thinking Emersonly about the world. Emerson isn’t the writer I’d commend starting with, but he makes the point well: words will change us, but only if we give them the time and space to do their work within us.

Abiding in a text, though, and allowing words to abide in us demands an attentiveness and care that we seem to increasingly struggle with. When we return again and again to a text, we may eventually get bored with it—but in doing so, we place ourselves in a situation where we can notice what we have not noticed before. By exhausting what we have to say about a text, we reach the point where we can open ourselves to something it might have to say to us. Continue reading

Special Feature: Why I am Opposed to Gay Marriage

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Preface

“I will always love you.”

Many of us don’t remember the first time we felt such a sentiment; some of us may have never felt it at all. If we first encountered it in our youth, as most do, we were probably advised not to consider it very closely. The first word the sixteen-year-old in love hears is that the emotions will not last, that love is a choice, that the heart is untrustworthy, that he really should give the whole business some time. It is the responsibility of adults to help the young direct their erotic impulses, but it is easier and safer to destroy them altogether. Love is intoxicating. And it should be, for it moves us to willingly take on obligations and commitments that help make us adults. Only the one thing the young lovers want in the midst of their rapture—for it to go on, always—is the one thing our society tells him will never happen.

The torrents of passion the sexual revolution released are now receding, leaving behind the ruins and rubble of broken lives and homes. We once thought we might have all the feelings of love without any of the boundaries; but by trying to set eros free, we instead shattered it. Once eros became a god, he laughingly absconded. It is in his nature to do so. Eros awakens us to mystery, and now that we have broken all the taboos, there is nothing left to enchant.

Except perhaps glittery vampires. The Greeks worshipped the deathless gods; Stephenie Meyer made teenagers love the benevolent undead. The intense longing and passions of eros depends upon the presence of an always and of boundaries, a combination that Twilight amplified and exploited.

Because there is nothing sacred left to profane, at least in matters of sex, amplifying love’s rules and costs is the only way to keep meaning alive. Unfettered sex might sound “fun,” but sexual pyrotechnics without sharp boundaries eventually lose their luster. We don’t have romantic comedies any more because there is no romance to lampoon. It is the absence of erotic desire that is now our grave social crisis, not its presence.

In our response to the great crisis of marriage, social conservatives have frequently objected to how emotional construals of love and romance have overwhelmed the institutional, covenantal, or procreative aspects of marriage. We have chastened against grounding the commitment of marriage in our feelings, have objected to ‘merely emotional’ unions, and have argued our society is besotted by ‘companionate models of marriage.’

Such critiques are aimed at showing how our changing intuitions around love and romance have stripped the power from the traditional view of marriage. They are meant to counterbalance and reframe the emotions of love, not to undermine them.

But it is with eros that I want to begin, with all the sentiments and the yearnings and the hopes and dreams that make it easy to roll our eyes at googly-eyed teenagers.

For it is in marriage—and marriage alone—that eros finds its consummation and discovers resources for its ongoing renewal. Eros can destabilize us and make us go topsy, but it also helps us see why marriage matters. There is only an adventure if we accept its dangers. And marriage is a good great enough to justify its demands. Continue reading

Mere Fidelity: Pentecost and the Prophetic Gift of the Spirit

Having just celebrated Pentecost, we consider the role that the frequently overlooked ‘prophetic’ gift of the Spirit plays in the life of the church.

Articles to consider include Peter Leithart’s essay on the seven spirits, and the “Alastair Roberts corpus.

Mere Fidelity: Should Women Preach?

John Piper answered “no.” Our own Andrew Wilson responded “yup.” Tom Schreiner weighed in with his “nope.” And then Andrew said “Still yes, mate.”

We discuss. Enjoy.

If you enjoyed the show (AND ONLY IF), leave us a review at iTunes.  If you didn’t enjoy the show, let us know and we’ll work to make it better.  Or we’ll ignore you.  And if you want to subscribe by RSS, you can do that here.

Finally, as always, follow DerekAlastair, and Andrew for more tweet-sized brilliance.  And thanks to Timothy Motte for his sound editing work.

Mere Fidelity: Evangelical Blind Spots with Collin Hansen

Collin Hansen is Editorial Director at The Gospel Coalition and author of the new book Blind Spotswherein he attempts to help evangelicals overcome some of the major faultlines in the movement by becoming more self-aware about the limitations of our own emphases and perspectives. To hear his take on that, well, you have to listen.

The article that Collin mentioned in the podcast, which I wrote, is here.

One other business note:  we have ordered new equipment and it should be arriving sometime next week. Thanks again to everyone who so graciously assisted us. We hope that it goes a long ways toward improving our sound.

Mere Fidelity: Free Range Parenting

A national debate on the nature and limits of childhood is currently underfoot, and as only one of us has children we decided to weigh in.  We mentioned a number of articles on the show.  For an overview of the Maryland case, read this. Megan McArdle provides a handy list of seven reasons we hate free range parenting, and Michael Lewis takes on what happens to children when they don’t play.  Finally, Michael Brendan Dougherty examines why we can’t be free range kids anymore.

Finally:  Thank you again to everyone who has given so generously to us.  New equipment is in the mail, so we’ll start using it here soon. We are so grateful for the enormous kindness many of you have shown to us.

Oliver O’Donovan against Decline Narratives

I’ve finished Oliver O’Donovan’s latest book, which I have mixed feelings about. However, in light of my recent musings on the rhetoric of ‘decline’ within the evangelical world, I was intrigued to see O’Donovan offer his own critique of those approaches.

The following is part of one long paragraph, broken up into smaller bits for ease of reading online.

If on looking back we fail to see the order and history of the world presented to us normatively, we shall fall into a historicist despair of world-time. “Say not, ‘Why were the former days better than these?’ For it is not from wisdom that you ask this” (Eccles. 7:10). We cannot not see goods in the past, for the world God has made is good as a whole, and it is full of goods.  But we may see these goods from a distorted angle, as doomed to be swept away by time, constantly succumbing to entropy, by their impermanence attesting the triumph of de-creation over the good hand of the Creator.

We must look on the past not only as history but as the history of God’s world, a goodness sustained and upheld to the end. Thus in framing normative laws prudence becomes a way in which we can remain constant to the vision of God’s goodness that has been given us. Jesus connects “remaining in my love” with “keeping my commands” (John 15:10). In the goods of earth and heaven we find provision for our present agency, affording resources for the moment in which we are given to act.

The unwisdom which asks why past times were better than these has assumed a false position, that of an aesthetic observer valuing goods of different ages from some supposed time-transcending viewpoint. Our position in time is not capable of judging the present against the past, any more than it can judge the present against the future. It is a moment of deliberation, of making up our mind to act.

Many detailed cultural comparisons between different times are, no doubt, not illusory: if it is said, for example, that the examinations routinely passed by eighteen-year-olds in Britain half a century ago are too difficult for university graduates today, the claim may be put to proof But even if we validate it, we cannot extrapolate from one moment of proven decline to universal entropy. It is not wisdom to pretend to do so. Luxuriating with morose aestheticism in the decadence of our times, we rob ourselves of the normative significance of our knowledge as law, showing the ends and modes of action we may presently conceive: to teach the young, and teach them carefully!

I’m actually curious how that final paragraph squares with O’Donovan’s emphasis on the unwisdom of comparing the goods of various ages. O’Donovan’s main worry seems to be the architectonic approaches to history, and while the emphasis here is against ‘decline’ narratives, he might easily have critiqued ‘progressive’ approaches from the same point of view.

 

Mere Fidelity: Beyond the Abortion Wars


Dr. Charles Camosy is the author of Beyond the Abortion Wars: A Way Forward for a New Generation, a new book which aims to get….well, beyond the abortion wars.  I (Matt have read it and strongly urge listeners to purchase a copy: it covers significantly more terrain than we were able to get to in our discussion, including incredibly helpful thoughts on public policy.  You can follow Dr. Camosy on Twitter here. 

Also:  Thank you to everyone who has given so generously to us.  I will be purchasing new sound equipment soon, and you should start hearing better audio in the next month or so.  We are so grateful for the enormous kindness many of you have shown, and are trying to sort out ways to express that kindness more tangibly.

The Limits of Dialogue: Q Ideas, Gay Marriage, and Chuck Colson

On Wednesday, Owen Strachan and Eric Teetsel offered a strong challenge to Q Ideas for hosting dialogues on questions relating to homosexuality and gay marriage with David Gushee and Matthew Vines, both of whom are affirming of gay marriage within the church. As Teetsel and Strachan put their objection:

By making their case for homosexuality on supposedly biblical grounds, Vines and Gushee sow confusion within the body of believers. The crux of the matter is this question: “Is there room within Christianity for different understandings of human sexuality?”

Now, in my previous essay on the subject, I wrote the following paragraphs about the role debate on gay marriages might play in evangelicalism:

Should Christianity Today host James Brownson on [the question of gay marriage]?  Sure, why not?  I think Brownson is wrong, and that conservative evangelicals should have the confidence to show that in our own fora. I mean, I even thought Russell Moore and the ERLC should have invited him to their big shindig on marriage for the same reason:  I have such a strong degree of confidence in the truthfulness of the traditional view that I want it side-by-side with views that are wrong. More of that, please, and the sooner the better. Will progressive thinkers persuade some people? Obviously. But conservative evangelicals have nothing to fear or lose from hearing dissenting views, and the sooner our leaders begin modeling those confident encounters, the sooner the laity will realize that the proclamation of our orthodoxy means more than preaching to the choir or rallying the faithful. 

Only:  if Christianity Today does that and then motors on with a traditional view and treats it as so serious that they exclude from leadership positions those who dissent, would it be enough for progressives?  That’s a rhetorical question, but I’d love to hear reasons from within the progressive outlook for why it would be. After all, viewing gay marriage as a “minor issue” is already a progressive Christian position. Downgrading marriage to a “disputed issue” on which “good Christians can disagree” itself claims that Scripture’s witness on this question is unclear, such that disagreement is a reasonable expectation. But it is precisely that claim which those who oppose gay marriage for theological reasons cannot adopt. We need not be Scriptural isolationists in making that claim: even if we couldn’t read the text on its own and come to the traditional view (we can), the vast and broad witness of the church confirms it. Only all of that evidence the “disputed issue” hope treats as neglible or irrelevant to the question—which is, again, a methodological move that conservatives cannot go for.

I didn’t expect another test to this method to happen quite so quickly, but here we are.  

Q IdeasTeetsel and Strachan’s question about whether there is “room within Christianity for different understandings of human sexuality” should be read much more narrowly than they actually frame it.  They’re worried about same-sex sexual activity, particularly, rather than (say) masturbation or any other potential act. I say that only because it matters to how we think about what Q is up to, and for putting in the proper context what I’m going to say now about all of this.

Three years ago Q Ideas hosted a panel discussion on handing contraception out to single people in the church, an idea that I timidly identified as a “hill to die on.” I was, to be blunt, outraged by the preposterous and obvious betrayal of Christian sexual ethics that the proposal represented. And, as with the question of gay marriage, I think the existence of a debate is a serious failure within the evangelical world. But what kind of failure, and what does it matter?  And now that the debate is upon us, how should we respond? 

Strachan and Teetsel go on to suggest that if the answer to the question of “whether there is room within Christianity for different understandings of human sexuality” is yes, then “the orthodox understanding of sex has already lost.”  But even if the answer is “no,” and the position of Vines and Gushee lies outside the bounds of orthodoxy, that does not entail the Church shouldn’t ask the question. Indeed, the existence of Gushee and Vines might mean that the Church should ask that question and in a hurrybecause by doing so, the Church might discover that the “orthodox understanding of sex” is in fact not there to be lost at all. 

Yes, I’m proposing that the Church should sometimes pursue questions that she already knows the answer to—or at least, certain leaders already know the answers to. The early church had a proclamation, that Christ is Lord, and that proclamation was suffused with the knowledge that the Lordship of the Christ required the Divinity of the Man Jesus. The orthodox answer to the questions of the heretics was, in one sense, an articulation of what she had already believed—but the debate needed to be had and the heretics had their day. Clarity on such issues is not a given: it is won through struggle and debate. The more confident we are in our knowledge, the more willing we can be to hear challenges to it. Countering the evangelical world’s capitulation on this issue by suggesting that there are some things that shouldn’t be debated yields the terrain: there are some issues we know too well to not debate, because how else will the goodness and truth of the traditional view stand out except when next to the barrenness of falsehood? 

I’ll grant that this isn’t exactly the kind of “debate” that I suspect Matthew Vines and David Gushee want within the church. Suggesting that we know the answer before we set out (in a sense—only in a sense) seems to invalidate the whole discussion, to turn “free inquiry” into a charade by assuming certain presuppositions. But that’s what living within a tradition means: it means that in receiving an inheritance, we honor those who died for it by testing it against the truth. And we dishonor them if we simply disregard their witness and claim that we’re on an epistemically neutral playing field, so that the whole business can be overturned by appealing to our “experience.” There’s an epistemic hurdle that advocates of the sexual revolution have to overcome, and the arguments for it simply aren’t there.  

But neither is the debate we are having now directly equivalent to that of the early church. Our struggle is a unique one. Evangelicals are here precisely because we haven’t known the orthodox view at all the past fifty years, not because we have known it and are now seeking clarity on it.  We are here because of a failure in ourselves, a failure to practice the very things that Strachan and Teetsel are defending. The “orthodox view of sexuality” from the past fifty years of evangelicalism hasn’t so much been tried found and wanting, as it’s been entirely left untried. Gay marriage is a lagging indicator: it’s the last of a whole host of a constellation of practices and ideas involving the nature of sexual pleasure, autonomy and control, remarriage, and any number of thoughts which evangelicals have, by and large, failed to see adequately.  

In short: evangelicals are having the debate we deserve, because we didn’t have the debates we needed. Or if we did, we settled them the wrong way.

Now, there’s an ecclesiological question here that deserves some attention. Q Ideas is a parachurch ministry, one that is confessionally oriented, but is not itself a church. How those two interact is an important question, and whether parachurch organizations can have “debates” that churches cannot have is a question entirely unaddressed by Strachan and Teetsel.

But the reality is that whether any conservative likes it or not, the debate is already upon us—and suggesting that churches and parachurch organizations have an obligation to ignore it seems like its own kind of spiritaul malpractice (to borrow a phrase).  Call it the “expulsive power of a better, more beautiful argument.” The way to get rid of bad ideas within the church is by promoting better ones, but the only way to do that charitably is by responding to those critics within the church who are saying the wrong things.  And doing that to their face, by giving them an opportunity to respond, seems at least more courageous and charitable than a unilateral sermon.  But if that’s not a “debate,” then I don’t know what is. 

Indeed, I might even go so far as to suggest that Q has a role doing these kinds of dialogues for evangelicals only because conservative evangelical churches have abdicated theirs. Evangelicals have been imitating culture for 50 years on sexual ethics: why should we be surprised that the latest manifestation of the sexual revolution has come into our own midst? Perhaps this is largely due to the outsourcing of so many functions to the parachurch because of the vaunted “thin ecclesiologies.”

But, conservative evangelicals who are worried about the “ideological orientation” of the parachurches which sprang up out of our movement could ease the burden of responding to this crisis from them by hosting those debates themselves. If such ‘conversations’ were happening in contexts where it was clear our moral convictions were not up for grabs, and we had winsome, cheerful people actually winning the arguments, then Q Ideas wouldn’t have a market. That might make Gabe Lyons sad, but something tells me he’d find other worthy things to do. 

It does, in other words, no good for conservatives to suggest that there can be “no debate” on this question. But it does a world of good for conservatives to own the debate, host it, and set the terms for it. Again, that may not seem “ideologically neutral” or like a fair fight. But no intellectual engagement ever is that fair, and the arguments for gay marriage aren’t very good. If we are afraid doing so will lose sheep….well, see above about having the debate we deserve because of broader failures within our movement. 

Or, as someone very wise once wrote: 

“In my experience, Bible-believing churches can sometimes be as unwilling to apply church discipline over matters of truth and morality as [Episcopalian] Bishop [Peter James Lee]. One politician I know boasts about his faith while voting for gay rights and against the partial-birth abortion ban. Not only is he not disciplined by his church in the name of truth, but he gets time and again to speak in the pulpit. Anything else, of course, might cause disunity.

As Pogo said, “We have just met the enemy, and he is us.” It’s all well and good for evangelicals to sit around and say “those crazy Episcopalians.” But they’re just reflecting what all of us do in lesser degrees. And Lee’s words ought to be a sobering wake-up call to us all.”

That wise person was one Chuck Colson, and he was responding to the appointment of Gene Robinson to Bishop of the Episcopalian Church USA back in 2004. Colson is sharp-worded in his criticisms of Lee, who suggested “If you must make a choice between heresy and schism, choose heresy.” But his final turn was inward, toward evangelicalism and its failures to discipline its own, because he knew that the confident proclamation of the truth could only go forward if we were unremittingly clear on where our own failures were, too. 

I’m almost universally opposed to claiming that we would know how someone would respond to today’s challenges. But we do know how people reacted to challenges in the past, and Colson’s legacy with respect to those he disagreed with is, well, complicated. In addition to the Manhattan Declaration, he also co-signed The Civility Covenant, a considerably less influential document that he teamed up with Jim Wallis on

And in April 2010, while he was still alive, his organization published a very interesting essay on Brian McLaren’s presence at…Q Ideas for a forum entitled, “Conversations on Being a Heretic.”  McLaren was only three months out from publishing A New Kind of Christianity, which proposed an old kind of liberalism—and significantly, for our purposes, also approved same-sex sexual relationships. While the essay might have lambasted Q for having McLaren, this is how the author ended it: 

As the struggle over guiding values affecting the direction of the nation have brought the American nation to a historic crossroads, so too issues are arising that affect the evangelical church today. Regular readers of the Colson Center and Worldview Church’s resources will detect a common thread of cultural critique, even criticism, of the operating ideas that influence the health of both the nation and the evangelical church. Worldview matters and in order to impact the various cultures of America in the direction of Biblical values, prevailing ideas are identified, analyzed, and faulted as necessary. This prophetic role of bringing to light aberrant beliefs is necessary for promoting Biblically sound thinking among the people of God in a spirit of civil engagement.

Let us pray that the spirit of Christian civility – the unity of God’s Spirit in the bond of peace (Eph. 4:3) – will prevail at the Q conference in Chicago, and that truth spoken in love will reinforce the evangelical convictions of the faith once for all handed down to the saints. [Emphases mine.]

In fact, just go read the whole thing.  It puts the loss of civility in politics on a parallel course with orthodoxy, and defends vigorous debate while worrying about the “irreperable harm” that might be done to young believers by those who obfuscate the truth. All of which makes its conclusion the more striking. 

Now, are those Colson’s words? No. But it is the person Colson entrusted to be managing editor of his center’s website. And it has the same kind of combination of internal critique without bending the truth that made Colson such a unique and important figure in the landscape of evangelicalism.  

And, it is worth noting, the Civility Covenant was officially published in March of 2010, four months after the Manhattan Declaration was released. In fact, at the time, Colson was criticized for the Civility Covenant by at least one blogger because Colson ruled out Mormon Glenn Beck from it because he’s not an orthodox Christian but was willing to sign the document with….that heretic Brian McLaren. Who knows what Colson would do today. But the lines he had then for his activism are clearly not the lines Teetsel and Strachan are drawing now.

The conclusion of the above Colson Center essay is also very generous toward Q. The tacit suggestion is that by bringing together those who proclaim the truth and those who distort it into one place, it is the truth that has the best odds of winning and the evangelical conviction will prevail. That kind of confidence is on the wane. But it is that kind of steady certainty in the truth that we need, and which I hope Gabe Lyons and Q’s leadership can help reinstill in the evangelical world.  

The Cost of Freedom

Let’s start with where we all, I think, can agree:  right now, there is a great deal of conflict and disagreement over what justice requires and what freedom should look like.

The religious liberty throw-down that we’ve recently experienced is only one instance of a wider set of conflicts.  There are questions about what “political correctness” hath wrought, or what kinds of mercies should be afforded those who err in public.  There are disputes about the kinds of liberties college campuses should have. Even our video game “industry” has been in the middle of a convoluted and terrible dispute.

We feel the disagreements very sharply, in other words, and it can be tempting to bemoan the death of any kind of unified civic life that doesn’t have to do with sports or our love of certain movies (as important as they are).  It’s tempting to think we need to have more in common, before we can even begin to speak properly about a common good. 

To these challenges, though, I would add one more:  a steady and unstoppable onslaught of words, which aggravates the problem by making it harder for everyone to find or discover wisdom.  (Yes, I am a part of that problem.  Yes, I do think often about whether I should stop writing.  No, that’s not an invitation for you to tell me otherwise.)

So when we have opportunities to hear directly from the wise, we would be foolish not to take them. On April 30th, at Biola University, there is just such a chance.  Robert George, Cornel West, and Rick Warren are going to be talking about the nature of the freedom we should seek and the kind of people we need to be to discover it, and we have the chance to listen in.  Each are well-known in their own right: to have them talking together, though, is a unique opportunity.

Full disclosure: I am currently being paid by the Torrey Honors Institute to help them market the event, so you can dismiss me if you want.  But I wrote a book that was basically a long sales pitch for the Institute (which they did not ask me to do), and I don’t do work that I can’t entirely, unequivocally support.  What’s more, this is just the kind of thing that the Institute does: host interesting dialogues among people who disagree.

And besides, this is an easy event to get excited about.  I mean, look at Cornel West’s Wikipedia page.  It’s long.  Robert George was once described as America’s leading conservative thinker…by the New York Times. Rick Warren has come as close as anyone to outselling Jesus.  Even if you don’t like any one of them, how can you not be intrigued by the three of them, together, in one conversation?  That’s got to be at least interesting, right?

The Cost of Freedom

If you know someone in Los Angeles, tell them to get a ticket.  If you’re not in LA, watch the livestream.  And join the conversation on Twitter or elsewhere, as we try to think together and–if we’re lucky–talk together about what freedom costs.