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''Editor’s Note'': Readers should be aware of the forum’s format. D. A. Carson, Kirk
Wellum, Todd L. Miles, Terry Mortenson, and C. Everett Berry have been asked
specific questions to which they have provided written responses. These writers are not
responding to one another. The journal’s goal for the Forum is to provide significant
thinkers’ views on topics of interest without requiring lengthy articles from these
heavily-committed individuals. Their answers are presented in an order that hopefully
makes the forum read as much like a unified presentation as possible.

'''SBJT: In any complex debate, it is not long before there are “hidden” elements in the discussion, i.e., elements that are gumming up the integrity of debate because one side or the other fails to recognize their existence and significance. What “hidden” elements are there in current discussions over science and origins?'''

'''D. A. Carson:''' I shall mention three, and
then offer a concluding reflection.

(1) Considerable confusion exists over
what a biblically faithful understanding
of the relationship between God and the
created order ought to be. Consider three
possibilities. (a) In an ''open'' universe (not
to be confused with “open theism”), God
interacts openly with the created order.
Everything that takes place in creation
takes place because of the explicit control
that God exercises. The only determination
of any event is the will of God,
directly and immediately controlling
everything. It is difficult to distinguish
“miracle” from any other event, because
God stands immediately behind ''every''
event; equally, it is almost impossible to
envisage what “science” might be, for
everything is immediately traceable to the
mind and will of God. Moreover, this way
of looking at things often leads to fatalism.
The only “cause” of anything is the immediate
will of God. (b) The direct opposite
of the first option is the ''closed'' universe. By
this I mean that everything that happens
in the universe is caused by other things
in the universe. There is no outsider, and
certainly no God who reaches in and
controls things. Cause and effect take
place within the closed order of creation.
Obviously, science is not only possible, it is
the only rational way to try to understand
sequences of events, whether in history
or in the physical order more broadly.
(c) An alternative to both is the ''ordered
and controlled'' universe. Here everything
that happens takes place within God’s
control: not a bird falls from the heavens,
Jesus reminds us, apart from God’s sanction.
Paul tells the Ephesians that God
orders all things according to the counsel
of his own will. Yet God normally does
things in a regular way. That is precisely
why science is possible. God has created
all things in a certain way, and ordains
things to interact with one another in a
regular and particular fashion. But God
does not then step away from the created
order and simply let things take their
course. He continues to be in charge, and
nothing occurs apart from his sanction.
The biblical writers know of the water
cycle: Qoheleth, for instance, knows of
rain that falls on the land, forms streams
and rivers, returns to the sea, is evaporated
into the skies, and falls again as rain.
But the biblical writers’ knowledge of the
water cycle does not prevent them from
preferring to say that God sends the rain.
All of the physical phenomena bound up
with the water cycle are ordered by God.
They are regular, analyzable, measurable.
Science is thus not only possible, but a
means of discovering how God ''regularly''
does things through means he himself
has established and ordered, and which
he continues to control. On the other
hand, nothing prevents him from doing
something very unusual, quite outside the
regular ordered array. That is what we call
a miracle, and, precisely because such an
event does not follow a regular pattern,
science is unlikely to have any useful or
accurate explanation. Moreover, this side
of the resurrection we may rightly insist
that it is Christ himself who upholds all
things by his powerful word; Christ is the
mediatorial king, i.e., all of God’s sovereignty
is mediated through him until the
end of the age (1 Cor 15). He is the One
who orders and controls all things, even
if most things in his watchcare are so
regular in their operation that science is a
great gift for uncovering this order.

These three are not the only possible
patterns for thinking of the relationship
between “God” and “the universe.” My
point, in any case, is simple: all sides
often bring certain assumptions about
this relationship to the table, and rule
certain arguments out of order simply
because they cannot see beyond their
assumptions.

(2) Two views of what science is are
battling to prevail in the public square.
Although the two overlap, the first is more
narrowly methodological than the second.
The first asserts that science is tasked with
understanding as much as possible of the
physical order, using the time-tested tools
of careful observation, measurement, controlled
experiments that can be replicated,
deploying testable hypotheses that win
consensus or are modified or overturned
by subsequent advances, and so forth. The
second view of what science is adopts all
the methodological commitments of the
first, but adds a philosophical commitment:
science in this second view steadfastly
refuses to allow into the discussion,
at any level, any appeal whatsoever to
anything supernatural.

In the present atmosphere, these two
views of science can often be distinguished
by how they respond to the best
of the intelligent design arguments. While
remaining rigorously scientific ''within its own definition of science'', the ''first'' view can
envisage the possibility that the proponents
of intelligent design may be on to
something. The best of the arguments
for “irreducible complexity” attempt to
introduce such mathematical rigor into
known physical processes that they can
be distinguished from the “God of the
gaps” errors so egregiously common
among nineteenth-century figures. These
scientists may want to tread cautiously to
be sure that no surreptitious “God of the
gaps” arguments are being smuggled in,
but they cannot see anything ''necessarily''
wrong with the physical world bearing
witness to its Creator. At very least, the
matter is worth further scientific probing.
By contrast, scientists who implicitly or
explicitly adopt the ''second'' understanding
of what science is will insist that even the
best arguments for intelligent design are
''necessarily'' unscientific. There ''cannot be'' any
connection between scientific method and
possible implications outside the material
order, as there cannot be any appeal
beyond the material order to explain what
takes place within that material order.

The links between this latter view
and the “closed universe” of the previous
point are pretty obvious. One
might therefore think that everyone
who adopts this second view of science
is necessarily a philosophical materialist,
perhaps an atheist, yet quite clearly
this is not the case. Some scientists who
are sincere Christians adopt this second
view of science, but think that God-talk
inevitably describes God’s relationship
with the universe in non-scientific terms,
i.e., in another dimension, or with other
categories. Science and theology become
alternative but mutually exclusive ways
of describing reality.

The tensions intrinsic to this position
are considerable, for transparently biblical
Christianity insists that God has disclosed
himself not only in private ways to particular
individuals, but also ''in the public arena of history, in the material space-time universe''.
The cardinal instance, of course, is the
resurrection of Jesus Christ. If a person
does not accept the real but miraculous
nature of this event, it is difficult to see
how he or she can be a Christian at all.
But if one accepts the facticity of this event
as described in the Scriptures, then one
necessarily allows that there are at least
''some'' occasions when the supernatural
God interacts with the material universe
in ways that transcend what science ''can''
treat. As Carl F. H. Henry once asked
Karl Barth in an open Q & A, “Was the
resurrection of Jesus Christ the sort of
event that could have been recorded by
contemporary news media had they been
present?” If one says no, one abandons
the biblical record: after all, the tomb was
empty, and the resurrected Jesus had the
tell-tale wounds, was seen and touched,
and ate with his disciples. If one says yes,
then one abandons the second definition
of science ''at least in this instance'', for scientific observation could observe in principle
the phenomenon of the resurrected
Christ ''without being able to allow it because
it defies “scientific” (under this definition of
“science”) explanation''. The tension is palpable.
If one chooses to live with it in the
case of the resurrection of Jesus, why not
allow it in some other events? For obviously
this argument could be extended
to other great revelatory moments, and
ultimately to ''creatio ex nihilo'' (After all,
how far can any Christian reasonably
push even the most speculative theories
of an infinitely repeating expanding and
contracting universe?).

But my point is at the moment a simpler
one: Very often conflicting definitions of
“science” lurk behind the intensity of our
debates.

(3) Hermeneutical discussions regarding
the opening chapters of Genesis often
hide another set of assumptions. We
might get at this challenge by thinking
our way through an example. Someone
might argue (Indeed, many have argued!)
that the Hebrew word for “day” always
refers to a solar day when it is modified by an adjectival number. So when
Exodus 20 tells us that the Lord created
the heavens and earth in “six days,” the
nature of the day (it is argued) is settled.
Let us for the moment grant the validity
of this argument without further dispute
or refinement. The next phase in the discussion
often revolves around whether
Genesis 1 is prose or poetry, with the
assumption that this is equivalent to asking
whether it is history or imaginative,
metaphorical description. At this juncture
one encounters lengthy debates over the
nature of Hebrew parallelism and its
place in poetry, over the possible relation
between the terminology of this passage
and the terminology of other creation
accounts in the Ancient Near East, including
''Enuma Elish'', and so forth. But one of
the possibilities is rarely probed very far.
Some have argued that this description
really is given in terms of solar days, that
the account is very much in terms of a
“creation week,” that it is wrong to think
of each day being a symbol for an age (as
in the “day-age” theory)—but that this
does not itself mandate a young earth
or a literal week-long creation, because,
it is argued, the creation week is itself a
creative representation of what happened
with its own theological purposes, but not
a “scientific” or “historical” representation
of what happened.

If this argument were admitted to
have any plausibility, then of course all
the evidence in the world that the days
of creation are solar days is irrelevant
to the debate. The question of literary
genre becomes far more central—and it
is far more difficult to adjudicate. Sadly,
its difficulty is exploited by both sides.
The conservative side sometimes treats
appeals to literary genre as mere excuses
for unbelief; the liberal side sometimes
appeals to the literary genre of Genesis 1
as if astonishing minimalism is mandated
by the text itself. But once again, my point
is the simpler one: on all sides of this discussion,
very often hidden elements gum
up the quality of the discussion.

And that brings me to my final reflection.
Thirty-five years ago, Francis Schaeffer
wrote a little book that I have often
found useful in helping some Christians
move beyond entrenched positions. That
book was called ''Genesis in Space and Time''
(London: Hodder & Stoughton, 1972). He
asked, in effect, a simple question: What
is the least that Genesis 1-11 must be saying
for the rest of the Bible to cohere, for
the rest of the Bible to make sense and
be true? That is not the same as asking
what is the ''most'' that one can reasonably
infer from these chapters. Rather, it is one
particular application of the old ''analogia fidei'' argument: the appeal to “the analogy
of the faith” as established by the rest of
the Scriptures is one crucial way to let
Scripture interpret Scripture.

The SBJT Forum: "In the Beginning..." - Revision history

JoyaTeemer: Created page with '{{info}} ''Editor’s Note'': Readers should be aware of the forum’s format. D. A. Carson, Kirk Wellum, Todd L. Miles, Terry Mortenson, and C. Everett Berry have been asked sp...'