In the fall of 1998, I added what was at the time a pertinent, hot off the press book to my college dorm bookshelf alongside classics like Lewis’s Mere Christianity and Chesterton’s The Everlasting Man. The book, Francis Beckwith and Gregory Koukl’s Relativism: Feet Firmly Planted in Mid-Air, would help me wrestle with the spirit of the age, namely, a morality that, Beckwith and Koukl write, understands “moral truths to be preferences much like our taste in ice cream.”[1]
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