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The two-year-old speech “Why Does the Universe Look So Old?” by Al Mohler has been thoroughly praised and criticized point by point since it was first given at the 2010 Ligonier Conference, and I have no intention of arguing against the particulars here. But having read and listened to it for the first time today, I was struck by how much of a misnomer it is and nauseated by what this mismatch between speech title and speech content reveals about the viewpoint Mohler is espousing.

In a conference about difficult questions that Christians face, Mohler was assigned to answer the query “Why Does the Universe Look So Old?” (You can read it abridged here or listen to it here.) Astonishingly, his sixty-six minute speech spent only the final four minutes truly addressing his topic, offering the standard two woefully inadequate answers of appearance of age and catastrophism. The first sixty-two minutes addressed an entirely different issue, namely why belief in an ancient universe and evolution wrecks the doctrine of biblical authority and demolishes essential theological issues like Adam’s role in the fall of mankind. This topic has its place, and many people have disagreed strenuously with every point Mohler made, but to me, the very approach of answering the question in this way is startling. Imagine a Q & A at your church and someone asking the preacher the question given to Mohler. Now picture your pastor beginning his response with, “Well, first off, we cannot believe in an old earth because too much is at stake to essential Christian beliefs.” This is essentially Mohler’s approach.

It Messes Up Our System and Therefore Can’t Be True

At one point, he states, “[…] the exegetical cost…is just too high. […] The theological cost is actually far higher.” In other words, it cannot be true because if it were, it would wreck everything we believe to be true about God. It cannot be true because the Bible says it is not true. This answer shows a surprising disregard for objective truth. Mohler is effectively (albeit, unconsciously) saying, we cannot consider the idea of an ancient earth to be true because it would mean that what I believe is not true. It would complicate things too much. “Galileo, your theory cannot be true because it would mess up our whole system that we have labored so hard to build.” No one will be convinced by a faith that says this; no Christian struggling to reconcile faith and science will remain in a faith that says this. In order for there to be rational dialogue on the veracity of any position, there must be an understanding that it is possible for that position to be untrue. I am sure that Mohler would concede this, but the answer he gave does not.

There Are Two Books of Revelation, But One of Them Is Illegible

Mohler acknowledges that truth comes from nature as well as from scripture. However, he lowers the volume on nature’s voice so much that not much can be heard from her. “There is a book of nature. We do learn much from it. […] God has revealed nature to be intelligible.” But, as he ponts out, Paul teaches that “given the cloudiness of our vision and the corruption of our sight, we can no longer see what is clearly there.” I would need a lot more convincing before I accepted the notion that Paul really taught such a skeptical view of the comprehensibility of nature. About our knowledge of God from nature, yes, but not about our knowledge of nature from nature. Make as many qualifications as you like about the instrusion of Ptolemaic thinking into Christian dogma, the fact still remains that it was nature’s witness, not the Bible’s, that showed us clearly that the earth revolves around the sun. The fact also remains that if the descriptions of the Bible receive nary a one “Amen” from Mother Earth, that if she responds with nothing but dissent to Mohler’s understanding of Genesis 1, then the future congregations of this earth will not believe the claims of Christianity. “Disaster ensues when the book of […] general revelation is used […] to trump scripture.” Disaster also ensues when we are told to believe only the book of books and to stop up our ears to resounding calls of general revelation, as if nature were a brood of Sirens enticing us to the rocks of shipwreck.

“We would not be having this discussion today,” said Mohler, “[…] if these questions were not being posed to us by those who assume that general revelation […] is presenting to us something in terms of compelling evidence […] so forceful and credible that we are going to have to reconstruct and reenvision our understanding of the biblical text.” This is a statement of the obvious, and I am not sure what Mohler is driving at, since the fact is that people are posing these questions as well as assuming that the evidence is compelling. The operational word in this statement, I suppose, is “assume,” and I imagine that the implication is that there IS no “compelling evidence.” But to say this is to bury one’s head in the sand.

Don’t Look Too Closely, or It Might Be Compelling After All

The mountains of compelling evidence are out there, if one will only be humble enough to survey their heights. I do not think Mohler has given much more than a cursory glance in their direction, judging from the final minutes of his speech, in which he finally turns his attention to why the earth appears so old:  “In the limitations of time, it is impossible that we walk through every alternative and answer every sub-question,” but the two basic principles for understanding the illusion, he says, are that God makes things whole (i.e., they have an appearance of old age) and that creation has suffered from the consequences of sin (the flood, e.g.). These two answers can only be satisfying from a great distance, but the moment that you begin to look more closely, the moment that you do consider a sub-question or two, the more you see just how unsatsifying and inept these responses are. It’s one thing, for instance, to say that God created light to appear as if it had traveled millions of light years to get here, but quite another when you consider that those rays that were supposedly created en route tell stories of stars that exploded a billion years ago. This is just one of many “sub-questions” that have to be considered instead of being brushed aside in the concluding minutes of a speech. Most infuriating of all, Mohler says that really, the ultimate answer we have to why the universe is so old is that it is telling the story of the glory of God. “Any more elaborate answer, is known only to the Ancient of Days, and that is where we are left. And it is safe.” No, it is not safe. Mr. Mohler is effectively saying that if data pointing to an ancient earth cannot be explained by the appearance of age or the catastrophism arguments, then we should just trust that the earth is young regardless and that the answer lies with God. We should just not worry about it.

With all due respect to Mr. Mohler whom I consider a sincere Christian brother, I urge him to consider that we cannot reject the veracity of the belief in an ancient earth based on what is at stake. It does complicate our theological systems. It does cause us to reconsider how we read scripture. But what ultimately matters is whether or not it is true. It does no good to ignore the mounds of reasons why scientists believe that age to be 4.5 billion years (or why all life shares a common descent). Nor do we get off the hook by saying that our judgment is clouded by sin. We have to acknowledge the evidence and engage it. Please, Mr. Mohler, take some time to hear a scientist out on what that evidence is before you answer this question again.

The following is Part 4 in a series reviewing the book Understanding Genesis: The World of the Bible in the Light of History by Nahum M. Sarna.

Chapter 1C: Genesis 3-4

It is a bit artificial to divide Sarna’s first chapter, which focuses on Genesis 1-4, into sections as I have done in these past four blog posts. Doing so makes it seem like the author is examining these chapters individually, but he does not. Genesis 3, then, is part of his ongoing discussion on Genesis 2.

Having focused on the garden of Eden and the two trees at its center, Sarna next looks briefly at the serpent. He notes that the creature is a common feature of Near Eastern religion, symbolizing both deity and fertility, but, as so often happens in the opening chapters of Genesis, the writer/editor of chapter 3 reduces him to a mere creature of God, devoid of magical properties. Unlike Adam and Eve, the serpent is not dignified with an interrogation by God after the act of disobedience, nor does he say anything in God’s presence. This seems to be an intentional attack against and negation of the pagan cultures surrounding Israel. Sarna, however, does not address the possibility that this episode is alluding to the lure of nearby religions for Israel’s devotion. Instead, he interprets the snake’s role as tempter in light of the cosmic conflict between God and Leviathan, since this creature of chaos who opposes God is commonly described as a serpent (cf. Isaiah 27:1 and Job 26:13).

Sarna concludes chapter 3 by noting the difference of emphasis in Genesis 2-3 from other Near East cultures. They are focused on gaining immortaility as seen from the prominent usage of the tree of life symbol, but the Hebrews are focused on godliness. The serpent’s temptation to become like God is a distortion of the need to emulate his character into the desire to be like him in power. Adam and Eve’s disobedience shows that we are indeed free to obey or disobey, and their punishment teaches that evil comes from our own decision to rebel and is not inherent in creation. This principle of human freedom and the consequences of disobedience is illustrated nicely in Genesis 4 with the story of Cain and Abel.

First, though, Sarna rejects the interpretation that this episode reflects a preference in Israel for the nomadic lifestyle rather than the agricultural one, as some have commonly posited based on the rejection of farmer Cain’s offering and the acceptance of the shepherd Abel’s. He notes that the evidence for a nomadic ideal in Israel is very flimsy and that the opening chapters of Genesis itself argue against it. It is, after all, Adam’s occupation both in the garden and after his expulsion, and the sons of Cain after him are not given their father’s punishment. Instead, they the inventors of herding cattle, playing music, and working metal, all of which are “the three pillars of semi-nomadic culture.” Cain and Abel are treated as individuals, not types, and interpretating the story in that way departs from the intentions of the author.

Next, Sarna argues that the Cain and Abel story’s incompletion is an indication that it existed elsewhere as an independent and complete story. He notes that there is no explanation given for why Cain’s offering is rejected; how God communicated his opinion of the two offerings; who Cain, one of only a few humans alive, was afraid might kill him; where the “land of Nod” is; who inhabited it; and how he got a wife there. Such questions are often answered by literalists in terms of Adam’s descendents multiplying and Cain marrying one of his sisters or relatives, but this explanation seems to me to do injustice to the story. It seems more likely that this episode was pulled from tradition by the writer/editor and used for his own purposes in compiling Genesis. Questions about where Cain got his wife were not that important to him.

Sarna’s commentary on the story begins with the idea of worship. Cain and Abel both make an offering to God without any indication from the text that they were commanded to do so. To make a sacrifice to God, then, is an innate desire, but even this can be corrupted, as the story tells us. There is not an explicit reason given for why God accepts or rejects the offerings, but we do read that “Cain brought to the LORD an offering of the fruit of the ground” while Abel “brought of the firstlings of his flock, their fat portions” (Gen. 4:3-4). Worship, then, is a matter of the heart, not of form.

The story also continues the idea of man’s ability to choose between good and evil. God’s warning to Cain that sin’s “disire is for you, but you must master it” (Gen. 4:7) indicates the presence of a conflict within us between good and evil and the necessity of mastering the latter. Of course, Cain’s failure indicates our need for God’s power in overcoming the evil within.

Sarna also points out that even though the reader knows that Cain and Abel are brothers, the chapter indicates this fact seven separate times. The point of this emphasis is brought out in verse 9: “Am I my brother’s keeper?” The answer is that we are indeed our brothers’ keepers, and furthermore, “that all homicide is at the same time fratricide.”

Sarna draws out a few other points, as well. He addresses the fact that there was an unspoken moral law forbidding murder and that it is a sin against society and against God; the question of why God did not carry out the penalty against Cain for murder; and the principle that acts of injustice cry out to God.

I appreciate looking at Genesis 3 and 4 through Sarna’s lens. His commentary on Cain and Able especially shows me how much meaning and richness is packed into Genesis and how much we can gain from understanding something about the nature of ANE culture. When the distraction of wondering how Cain found a wife is removed, the story has a lot more to tell us. To me, the historicity of this story does not negate God’s inspiration. He is free to use this medium as he is free to use others.

Most young earth creationists who have studied the issue will make a distinction between evolution within a species (micro-evolution) and evolution from species to species (macro-evolution). The former they liberally embrace; the latter they reject as unbiblical. The distinction is that in microevolution, the gene pool is diminished, whereas it is increased in macro-evolution.

Is evolution really limited to occurring within species only? What about within a genus? Or a family? At what point does a YEC draw a line in the sand and say, “This far you may evolve and no farther!”

In the Answers In Genesis article “Were Dinosaurs On Noah’s Ark?“, the author makes an interesting observation about micro-evolution as he explains how so many different species could fit on the ark:

Creationist researcher John Woodmorappe assumed, for his calculation, that each “kind” would be the ancestor of all “species” in a modern “genus” (plural genera), meaning that only about 8,000 animal genera (including some extinct animals), and when multiplying by two, meant that over 16,000 animals had to be aboard. When you realize that horses, zebras, and donkeys are probably descended from the horse-like “kind”, it should be clear that Noah did not have to carry 2 sets of each such animal. Also, dogs, wolves, and coyotes are probably from a single canine “kind”, so hundreds of different dogs were not needed.

According to this article, the line in the sand for a YEC is the genus. Evolution can take place as much as it wants but only within the confines of a genus. But what if we go back one classification, from genus to family? Can evolution take place within a family? If we take Woodmorappe’s definition of “kind” strictly, then the answer is no. But let’s consider this within the following example. Lions are in the Panthera Genus, but house cats are not. Both, however, are in the Felidae Family. I do not doubt that a YEC would have no problem lumping both cats and lions under one “kind.” So should we include families, then?  If we can include families, what’s to stop us from going up an order, phylum, class, etc.?

If a YEC finds it acceptable that a horse “kind” can result in zebras, mules, and horses, why would it be unacceptable that a carnivorous “kind” should result in cat-like animals, dog-like animals, etc.? It all seems sticky to me. I would imagine that a YEC would say that the difference has to do with the gene pool increasing or diminishing. My knowledge of genetics is close to nil, so I really can’t contradict or agree with that answer. Even if this explanation is accurate, why can’t we say that a carnivor-like “kind” lost genetic material and became a lion in one instance and a wolf in another instance?

I think the issue goes back to Genesis 1:24, which says that God created animals according to their kinds.

And God said, “Let the land produce living creatures according to their kinds: livestock, creatures that move along the ground, and wild animals, each according to its kind.” And it was so.

It seems to me that there is an awful lot of straining over where evolution may happen and where it may not, all for the sake of maintaining the “kinds” mentioned in the above verse. This seems so unnecessary to me. Does evolution in any way negate the fact that God made animals according to their kinds? Whether God uses evolution or fiat creation, the end result is the same:  different kinds of animals. Verse 24 is still true.

So tell me, wordpress people (YECs and non-YECs alike). Am I missing the boat here? Is there a case to be made that it is one thing for a species to form within a kind and another thing for a species to form into a species that is markedly different? Is genetic information really lost going from the original horse kind to a zebra or a mule?

I think Job provides insight in how the ancients understood the firmament.

“Can you, like him, spread out the skies, hard as a cast metal mirror?”  Job 37:18.

It sounds like Job thinks the firmament is a hard structure.

Psalm 148 presents a good example of how the Hebrews saw the universe. The psalm is all about giving praise to God. It goes through all the creation, commanding the various elements to praise their creator. The first half deals with the heavens; the second with the earth and with man, God’s special creation. Here are the first six verses:

Praise the LORD. [a]
       Praise the LORD from the heavens,
       praise him in the heights above.

 2 Praise him, all his angels,
       praise him, all his heavenly hosts.

 3 Praise him, sun and moon,
       praise him, all you shining stars.

 4 Praise him, you highest heavens
       and you waters above the skies.

 5 Let them praise the name of the LORD,
       for he commanded and they were created.

 6 He set them in place for ever and ever;
       he gave a decree that will never pass away.

I find it fascinating that in verse 4 the psalmist commands the waters above the heavens to praise God. I have heard the argument used by some young earth creationists that these waters refer to a water vapor canopy that may have contributed to long life on earth. Also, others have said that this canopy collapsed and contributed to the waters of the flood. It seems like verse 4 blows this theory out of the waters. (Pardon the pun.) Clearly, the psalmist says that the waters are STILL there.

Genesis 1:6-8 confused me for the longest time.

6 And God said, “Let there be an expanse between the waters to separate water from water.” 7 So God made the expanse and separated the water under the expanse from the water above it. And it was so. 8 God called the expanse “sky.” And there was evening, and there was morning—the second day.

I was always confused by what the “waters above” were. Was it a thick mist? Was it simply the atmosphere? Was it just a poetic way of describing rain? Like many other Christians, I concluded that it was mist or rain. But the Bible says “waters,” not mist or rain.

The problem is further complicated by verses 16 and 17:

16 God made two great lights–the greater light to govern the day and the lesser light to govern the night. He also made the stars. 17 God set them in the expanse of the sky to give light on the earth…  (emphasis mine)

If the sun, moon, stars, and even birds (see verse 20) are in the firmament, then the firmament has to refer to everything above the ground, from the atmosphere to the farthest galaxy. This understanding presents a problem for modern readers, however, because the “waters above” would then be located over the sun and other celestial beings. If we interpret the “waters above” as rain or a mist, then we run into a conundrum.

Perhaps the best way to reconcile the problem is to understand that God spoke to the Hebrews using the cosmology of the day*. He spoke in a language that they would understand. Almost all Christians recognize that this happens in other parts of scripture. For instance, when we read that the sun rises and sets, we understand that the ancients probably imagined a geocentric universe and that God is speaking within this understanding. Likewise, when a passage talks about the floodgates of heaven opening, it is likely reflecting the beliefs of the day about where rain comes from.

So what was the Hebrews understanding of the universe? Did they know that the earth was an orb, that the universe was unimaginably extensive, or that the earth revolved around the sun? I hardly think so. This article may be a helpful explanation of their cosmology. Check it out and decide for yourself. To summarize the article, here is an image (taken from this blog) that illustrates many scholars’ view of Hebrew cosmology.

According to the article, the Hebrews believed that the firmament was a solid dome that formed a physical barrier between two bodies of water–the waters below (oceans, etc.) and a body of water that existed above the sky. If this understanding of Hebrew cosmology is correct, then a whole lot of light is shed on the subject of the firmament. The firmament and the waters above are not actual objects; they represent the Hebrews’ understanding of the sky and the universe beyond.

Bringing an understanding of Hebrew cosmology to the text dramatically affects the way it should be interpreted. This is really the whole point of this little exercise in thinking out loud. I have heard many Christians say that the correct interpretation of Genesis 1 is a strictly literal one because this is the “plain reading” of the text. In my last post, I tried to show that the passage was poetic and finely-crafted, and therefore, it was not intended to be strictly a plain account. In this post, I am suggesting that the passage is told in a way that made sense to the ancient Hebrews and to their understanding of the universe, and therefore, the account is not wholly true to what we have observed in outer space. That is not the point of the passage. The point is that the giant blue dome-like thing in the sky where the sun, moon, and stars move and the birds fly was built by our God. The passage is not any less true just because some of the elements are not literal.

 

 

* It is true that Hebrew cosmology is a reconstruction of scholars looking at the Biblical texts.

My parents taught me that Genesis 1-3 were literal, and that therefore, evolution could not be true. The earth, too, was not nearly as old as the scientific community indicated. For twenty-seven years I embraced this interpretation and countered the evidence of the scientific community at large with evidence from the Answers In Genesis organization. I thought that other Christians who embraced either evolution or an ancient earth were making a compromise that scripture would not allow.

Now, though, I am not so sure. For the past six or so months I have been reading books written by Christians defending evolution and/or a 4.6 billion year old earth. Everything I have believed about creation is now in the process of being re-examined, and honestly, it has been a disturbing process. If I accept an ages-old earth and/or evolution, will I lose my Christianity? And if I lose my Christianity, what hope remains in life?

The process of re-examination started when I realized that my scientist father-in-law, who was absolutely convinced that evolution was true, would never accept a Christianity that prohibited a belief in evolution or in an age-old earth. I began reading books by Christian scientists who explained the evidence for a universe that is many billion years old and for evolution occurring across species. It was so convincing that I began considering alternate ways of looking at Genesis 1-3.

What I want to do in the next couple of posts is consider the text of Genesis and then consider what science has said about the creation of the universe.

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