John Ahern writes,

No way.

Beloved, believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God: because many false prophets are gone out into the world. Hereby know ye the Spirit of God: Every spirit that confesseth that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God: And every spirit that confesseth not that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is not of God…. 1 John 4:i-iii.

I don’t claim to understand St. John at all. He usually mystifies me to the point of distaste, but I find him much more palatable if I find a good Leithart or the occasional Johannine Wright commentary. This particular passage struck me in the Reading this Sunday, because he gives a simple delineation between a spirit of God and a spirit not of God. St. John seems to be saying that you distinguish the good ideas and bad ideas by how they take into account the truth that Christ came in the flesh. Obviously, the Bible would be far too long a book to discuss every little doctrinal point, so John is leaving the finer issues to the “little children”, provided they always keep in mind the doctrine of the Incarnation – Christ came in the flesh.

This seemed especially pertinent to me because I’m going through one of those phases where I see everything around me by how Platonic and Kantian it is. If I sense the slightest nod or curtsy towards anything spiritual, I get suspicious. I happen to think this is also why I’m going through an especially Postmillennial phase.

Let me explain. This is about eschatology – a zippy fiver, something like “the study of the last”. It’s the study of the “end times”. All that stuff in Daniel, the Apocalypse, etc. W. B. Yeats did a bad job of this, if you remember, as did Tim LaHaye. What most Christians hardly realize is that they essentially agree with Yeats and LaHaye on most things eschatological, relating to the “end times”. And here’s the stab.

Postmillennialism, in short technicality, is the belief that Christ will return after the 1000 years of peace on this earth. Premillennialism believes the opposite, that Christ returns, and then the happy 1000 years begin. Now, since Christ hasn’t returned yet, according to Postmillennialism, that must mean we’re in the 1000 years of peace right now.

There are two obvious objections to Postmillennialism, which I’ll address briefly. First, when did this 1000 years begin, if we’re in it right now? As it turns out, Postmillennialists interpret these 1000 years of peace figuratively. I’m sure we could get into a nice argument over this, but suffice it to say, there are plenty of places where it is permissible by anyone’s standards to interpret the Bible figuratively, and this may well be one of them. The 1000 years began at the Ascension, roughly, and we’re still in it right now.

The second objection is obvious. What peace? This certainly is not a very peaceful 1000 years. But the Bible has some strange views on peace. Christ is called the “Prince of Peace” and we hear references (and usually ignore them cozily or take them figuratively, which I think is in this case impermissible) to “the increase of government and peace”, and “judgment and justice”. Now, with all these nice peaceful prospects, why would Christ say that he did not come to bring peace, but a sword?

In this 1000 years of peace, we are fighting in a sanctification process, but on a cosmic scale. Obviously, there isn’t peace yet, but for Postmillers, we believe in the hopeful view – eventually, by the time this millennium (figuratively) is over, there will be peace. One simply can’t ignore all those places in the Bible – “For the earth shall be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea,” or “He hath remembered his mercy and his truth toward the House of Israel: all the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God.” Later, “Let the sea roar and the fulness thereof; the world and they that dwell therein.”

Now, keep in mind that Postmillennialism is essentially a Calvinistic position. (Not all Calvinists, however, are postmillers.) Calvinists are notorious for their belief in “Limited Atonement”. What most people don’t know is that Postmillennialism is complementary to Limited Atonement. We believe in a Limited Atonement – sombody’s going to Hell. But it’s Limited only so far as we believe that the entire world can be saved, (all the ends of the earth have seen the salvation, remember?). It’s not universalism, but it is the belief that eventually there will come a time where everyone alive on this earth will be more than a nominal Christian.

If you think of it, this idea – not just individuals, but the whole catholic Church goes through a process of sanctification – only makes sense. In this is 1000 years of peace, you could draw the analogy to the salvation of the individual. Even though we are the new man, even though we are spotless and sinless as Christians, we are still struggling in the grip of sin. It’s a paradox, but no bigger a paradox than the idea that the Church is in this 1000 years of peace, even if we are still struggling to bring it about.

A quick word on that – I do believe it is the Church’s job to bring this about. Again, this is a Calvinistic idea, and if you’re thinking, “Well, it’s God who has to bring it about, not us,” you are still in a very Enlightenment modernist grip. As Ransom realizes in Peralandra that he is God’s hand in the matter, and there’s no contradiction between God doing it and him doing it, so too the Church can bring this about, and God can still be sovereign. It sheds a whole new light on the idea of the Church being the Body of Christ if it is the Body of Christ bringing this about.

In short, it is an exceedingly depressing and unhopeful view that everything we do here on this earth is going to be eventually destroyed by the Devil before Christ comes. To draw the Doug Wilson analogy, any other view than Postmil treats this earth as if it were a spiritual Vietnam, and we’re asked to hold down the fort until the choppers to and evacuate the situation. Or rapture it. Or whatever. Then everything collapses. That makes Richard Nixon look way too good, and God look really bad.

More importantly, this seems to fit in with that St. John passage up there. Unfortunately, the Vietnam model concentrates on spiritual salvation, forgetting that Christ came in the flesh. This material world and its spiritual contents are what Christ came to save. The world, not just your soul. If all that matters is your spiritual salvation – forget saving material things – then you’re believing in a Platonic but hardly Incarnational gospel. I hate to do this to Philip and Nick, but I feel obliged to point out that this St. John passage traces doctrinal error to a misunderstanding of Trinitarian and Incarnational theology. And apologies to Mark, but he seems to be tending dangerously towards Platonism.

The Bible doesn’t always talk of salvation as soul-saving. Remember, God saved Israel in the act of saving them from the Egyptians. He saved them countless times from other pagan enemies who had them in a corner. All this taken in the broader picture of bringing about world peace shows you a very material, hands-in-the-dirt salvation. But it is salvation in Biblical (if not evangelical) terms, and thinking it isn’t as important as spiritual salvation is a subtle way of denying that Christ came in the flesh.

Postmillennialism is a radical view, because as Christians, it means that everything we do must be a concentrated effort to bring about this unfathomable, implausible Reign. Even to believe it can come about is the most absurd idealism, but keep in mind it’s the pessimistic frozen-chosen who are proposing this. Maybe a world full of happy Calvinists is possible….

We conferred about your Word to us, and all of us agree that you clearly do not understand and clearly cannot see that we are complex creatures who have many complex features, and these features can’t be listed in a word or two or three. No, these features of us creatures can’t be quickly comprehended, and they do not lend themselves to understanding easily. Now, for the sake of showing you our very best intentions, and to make you clearly see that we have no godlike pretensions, let us show you just three features that I’m sure you’ll love to see, and we’re sure you’ll see it’s simply best to simply let us be. For we are complex creatures with so many complex features that it really would be better if you just would let us be.

We’ve found through centuries of study — we don’t mind our fingers muddy — man has three primary traits: he loves, he’s blind; he also hates. Another thing that we’ve discovered — this we’ve recently uncovered — man must have a reason for each little thing he does. Do you know why? We do! Because — the reason there’s a reason for each little thing he does — because he is a complex creature with so many complex features! That’s why there’s a reason for each little thing he does.

He has reasons when he’s cruel and he has reasons when he’s kind. We have not yet found out all the reasons for his being blind. But for example, when a man is kind unto the others — to the point that you could even swear that all men are his brothers — it’s because they serve to activate a nerve inside his gut, or to ease the guilt from years of hate that’s made a nasty cut. But that same man will gladly hate if someone makes him second-rate, and he will jump to being cruel if someone shows him he’s the Fool.

The mind of man has reasons that will change to match the seasons, but every single deed of man is sure to have a seed. It really wasn’t necessary for you to get so bloody hairy — you certainly should not have died just to get us justified — for here’s the thing that’s relevant, to which we’ve given our assent (we really hope that you do too; it’s certainly a thing that’s true): in every matter known to man, if you should ere presume to scan, no matter if it’s lust or trust, each act of his is always just.

That’s all we have to say to you, and now that we have shown you through, there’s one more thing I want to say before you have to go away, and please, God, please don’t answer me:

I just hope you appreciate our crass attempts to justify the ways of man to you.

Oh God, we all deserve to die.

N. D. Wilson, a children’s author for Random House, consented to an interview with Pontification Ad Nauseam on what advice he could give to young authors – style, plot, the ideogenesis of themes, characters, milieu, and, of course, personal influences.

Mr. Wilson passed all our expectations, and I really recommend the interview below to anyone who’s writing fiction. It completely changed my approach to writing a (serious) story, in any case. You may have heard the things he’s said before, but I can assure you you’ve never heard them quite like he says them. Nobody in my lilliputian knowledge has ever compared writing a story to a shopping spree.

The interview took place over Skype, and special and highest thanks to Mark DenHoed for putting in a lot of time and effort editing the file. He never officially gets heard or acknowledged during the interview, but he’s behind the scenes doing important things.

Still. We qualify Mr. Wilson as a blockhead.

N. D. Wilson Interview
The Bug — (no comment.)

We will be posting a Google Documents Text Transcript as soon as possible.

Hannah Roorda writes

It being the end of the school year, life is changing by leaps and bounds. Our group of young people at church, realizing that we are about to be scattered to the edges of the earth (Iowa, Texas, Oregon, and Minnesota are the edges of the earth, right?) quickly organized a farewell bonfire party. We played the dumbest game on earth (Capture the Flag in the dark) and sat around the campfire talking and singing Psalms and hymns. We also took the opportunity to offer toasts and wishes, although I don’t know that they took, since all we had to toast with was lemonade. Anywho, in searching for good toasts, I came across some good quotes appropriate for departures. Enjoy.

Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes. ~Henry David Thoreau

The world is round and the place which may seem like the end may also be the beginning. ~Ivy Baker Priest

No distance of place or lapse of time can lessen the friendship of those who are thoroughly persuaded of each other’s worth. ~Robert Southey

In the hope to meet
Shortly again, and make our absence sweet.
~Ben Jonson

Absence diminishes little passions and increases great ones, as the wind extinguishes candles and fans a fire. ~Francois Duc de la Rochefoucauld

The most beautiful discovery true friends make is that they can grow separately without growing apart. ~Elisabeth Foley

A gem is not polished without rubbing, nor a man without trials. ~Chinese proverb

Why should we hesitate to say “good-by” to each other? Are we not Pagans, to think that a word has power over God’s quiet purposes, and that saying “good-by” smells of death? Must men die intestate because they think that making their wills is cutting out their shrouds? If we were old Romans, who thought “vale!” meant “forever,” we might be shy of such a word, but “good-by,” even if it should be for the last time on earth, is only the difference between “good-night” and “good-morning.” Say it, then, like a Christian, and, if it still comes hesitatingly, stretch it out into the loveliest of wishes, “God be with you.” ~Maltbie Davenport Babcock

Never give up. Never, never give up! We shall go on to the end. ~Winston Churchill