Authority without Inerrancy? Part I: Setting the Stage

Progressive Christians tend to respect and even revere the Bible while at the same time rejecting the doctrine of inerrancy. The Bible is the book they'll typically turn to first when they want to deepen their relationship with God—and yet they are not above criticizing the text even as they search for God in its pages. For these Christians, the Bible is an important authority on matters divine…but not an infallible one.

Biblical inerrantists are often astonished at this approach to the Bible. They can almost understand a fellow like Richard Dawkins, who seems to view the Bible as nothing but a heap of dung, something to be laughed at and scorned. But can an attitude of respect and honor be divorced from allegiance to a doctrine of inerrancy? That seems almost incoherent to them.

A number of biblical inerrantists have expressed such views in this blog, and the ideas and arguments they espouse are representative. I want to carefully reflect on at least some of these views and arguments here. However, I cannot do justice to them in a single post of reasonable length. Hence, I’m going to turn this into a series of posts. Feel free to comment on each post as it comes up, but be aware that questions or concerns you have about earlier posts may be addressed in later posts.

In this post, I want to introduce the issues by doing three things. First, I want to outline what I take to be the four primary arguments against the progressive Christian view of biblical authority (by which I mean the view that the Bible is an important authority for Christians but not an inerrant one). Second, I want to briefly situate this series of posts in relation to “what has gone before” on this blog, and in the process offer an overview of what I intend to do in the forthcoming sequence of posts. Third, I want to offer some personal reflections on the significance that this issue has for me. In later posts, I will dig into the arguments against the progressive Christian view.

Let me begin, then, with an overview of what I take to be the four main objections to the progressive Christian view—or, I should say, the four main objections offered by inerrantists (although, interestingly, some of the same arguments are put forward by atheist critics of Christianity with slight modifications, in order to defend the “all or nothing” view of the Bible as a prelude to advocating the “nothing” alternative).

First of all, there are those who argue that if you think the Bible is less than inerrant, you have to admit that anything in the Bible could be in error. But then, what good is the Bible? How can you know that God is love, they ask, if you cannot trust the Bible when it teaches us that God is love? How can you come to believe that Jesus was the messiah, the incarnate God who died for our sins, without the testimony of the Bible? And how can you trust what the Bible says on this matter if you think the biblical witness is a fallible one? Their answer, of course, is that you can’t. And so, they think, you cannot rely on the Bible as a source of Christian doctrine. Let me call this “the Argument from Eroding Trust.”

Second, there are those who claim that the progressive Christian approach to the Bible puts human judgment above divine judgment. The argument is, roughly, that if we accept the progressive view, human beings are free to decide for themselves whether a particular injunction in the Bible is God’s word or just an error on the part of some human author. And if that is the case—if not even the Bible is something in response to which we feel compelled to set our fallible human judgment aside—what follows is that our fallible judgment ends up deferring to nothing. We become the ultimate judge of truth, and there is no longer any meaningful sense in which God’s Word serves for us as an authority to which we must bow. For these inerrantists, the progressive Christian approach is seen as simply a cheap excuse for believing whatever we want while still paying lip service to biblical authority. Let me call this “the Argument from Human Hubris.”

Third, there are those who say that in the absence of some kind of perfect and inerrant source of knowledge and wisdom, we are doomed to a radical skepticism about all things, especially concerning the divine. Since human judgment is so limited and prone to error, we cannot rely on it. And so, if human judgment is the best that we have to go on, we should all be agnostics about all kinds of things, including religious beliefs. To avoid such global skepticism (which, being global, would encompass religious doctrines and belief in God) we need a source of knowledge and wisdom we can rely on. And in order to be truly reliable, a source has to be inerrant. Hence, we need something inerrant so as to avoid a global skepticism that undermines religion along with everything else. For someone who identifies as a Christian, the Bible is the only legitimate contender for such an inerrant source of knowledge. Since you can be a Christian only if you are not a global skeptic, it follows that to be a Christian you must accept the Bible as inerrant. Since progressive “Christians” don’t accept biblical inerrancy, it follows that they cannot be real Christians at all. Let’s call this “the Argument from Avoiding Skepticism.”

Fourth, there are those who say that a good and almighty God, if He existed, would make His will available to the world in some inerrant repository of divine revelation, something to which all of us could turn for counsel and guidance. And so, if there is a God, there would have to exist such an inerrant vessel of divine revelation. They think, furthermore, that such an inerrant vessel would be recognizable by virtue of certain signs—and that all signs point to the Bible. Since a good and almighty God would ensure that His revelation were made available in an inerrant repository, and since the Bible is the only viable candidate for such a repository, to deny the inerrancy of the Bible is in effect to deny the existence of a good and almighty God. How can you revere the Bible, which is at heart a testament to the works of a good and almighty God, if your view about the Bible implies that such a God doesn’t even exist? Let’s call this “the Argument from Self-Defeat.”

These are, in my experience, the four main lines of criticism directed by biblical inerrantists against the progressive Christian approach to the Bible. This is not to say that there aren’t more than four arguments for inerrantism. Among other things, there’s room for mixing-and-matching elements of the above arguments. One might, for example, modify the fourth argument in terms of the third, so that instead of saying that the Bible is the only viable candidate for an inerrant repository of revelation, one says it’s the only candidate you can cleave to if you claim to be a Christian (any other choice making you a non-Christian).

And there are also going to be variations within each main argument. For example, defenders of the Argument from Self-Defeat might have different reasons for affirming the first premise (the premise that a good and almighty God would ensure there is an inerrant repository of divine revelation). Someone might think this premise is true because an inerrant vessel of divine revelation is necessary for salvation, and because a good and almighty God would provide all that is necessary for salvation. Others, by contrast, might argue that such an inerrant vessel is necessary for leading a good and righteous life, and that God would provide all that is necessary for us to lead a good and righteous life. (So, for example, in an earlier exchange I critiqued the first of these lines of argument, and Craig responded, in effect, but asserting the second.)

In any event, what I’ve tried to do here is sketch out the four main approaches as charitably as I can in a reasonably brief space. My hope is that, even if there are variations and recombinations of these arguments, a careful response to these arguments will also raise points that can serve as a response to these variations and recombinations. If anyone thinks I have egregiously misrepresented one or another of these arguments, please let me know. Also, if there are more inerrantist critiques of the progressive view not represented in some form here (or which wouldn’t end up being indirectly addressed when one addresses these four arguments), let me know that as well.

Readers of my work will know that I have already critiqued at some length (on this blog and in Chapter 8 my book) what amounts to the fourth of these arguments, what I am calling “the Argument from Self-Defeat.” Specifically, I have explained why I don’t accept the first premise of this argument—that is, the premise holding that a good and almighty God, if He existed, would ensure there is some inerrant repository of divine revelation (such as a book). I have argued that a loving God would want us to pay loving attention to our neighbors, and that a so-called “inerrant book” would likely lead many of us to stop listening to those neighbors whose lived experiences were judged to be at odds with the pronouncements of this book. I have also argued that I don’t think an inerrant repository of revelation is necessary for salvation

I have suggested, furthermore, that if God chose to reveal Himself to the world in some ultimate way, it would be in the form of a person who lived and walked among us for a time and then was gone, rather than in the form of an enduring book that people can keep turning to in favor of paying attention to one another. There are several reasons why I think so: first, because relationships with persons teach us more about love than do books; second, because devotion to such an incarnate revelation of God could translate more easily and directly into love of neighbors, especially if this incarnate revelation were not always with us in that form but told us He would continue to be with us in spirit in and through our neighbors (especially those in need), so that “insofar as you have done it to the least of these, you have done it to me.”

Implicit here is the following additional argument: A terrestrial artifact such as the Bible, which supposedly represents the Word of God without error, may easily become an object of devotion in its own right and hence an idol. To discourage idolatry, God would therefore ensure that terrestrial artifacts that testified to Him could not be mistakenly identified with Him. And the best way to ensure this would be to ensure that all such terrestrial artifacts contained errors.

In any event, all of this is simply to review and restate things I’ve already said, in this blog and in my book (and elsewhere), and to show how all of it amounts to a response to what I am calling here “the Argument from Self-Defeat.” And as I look back on the objections to my line of argument here, I find an array of interrelated challenges.

These challenges can be formulated as questions that run along the following lines: If God provides no inerrant repository of revelation, how can we trust the Bible enough to use it as a foundation for establishing Christian doctrine? And if we can’t, doesn’t that mean we need to abandon Christian doctrine along with the doctrine of biblical inerrancy, and hence throw out Christianity altogether? If we give up on biblical inerrancy, doesn’t it follow that we only have our own judgment left to rely on? Isn’t that just a convenient way for intellectuals to avoid the duty to submit their wills to a higher authority than their own intellects? And, insofar as human intellects are fallible, doesn’t it follow that we are left without any sure guide to knowledge, without any secure anchor on which to attach our understanding of God and how we ought to live our lives?

In short, it seems to me that the most pressing objections to my ideas are really concerns about the implications of doing away with inerrancy--and these concerns turn out to parallel the first three of the four arguments sketched out above. They think that if inerrancy is rejected, the Bible is thereby stripped of any trustworthiness (the Argument from Eroding Trust), or they think we are left with nothing to which human judgment must defer (the Argument from Human Hubris), or they think we are left without any sure anchor on which to ground fallible human reason (the Argument from Avoiding Skepticism).

To put it simply, my case against the Argument from Self-Defeat hinges on arguing that God would have decisive reasons not to create and preserve an inerrant vessel of divine revelation. But these reasons can be decisive only if there aren't more pressing reasons to create and preserve such a vessel. Opponents of my view maintain that God has such reasons--because an errant Bible would have the unacceptable implications identified in the arguments from Eroding Trust, Human Hubris, and Avoiding Scepticism. And so, to adequately make the case I want to make in response to the Argument from Self-Defeat, I need to address these other three arguments. And this is what I intend to do in subsequent posts.

But before turning to these issues directly, I want to say a few words about why this issue matters to me.

I'd like to begin by saying that I find myself in strong agreement with a blogger who, in a recent post, used an analogy based on the Matrix movies to explain the divide between conservative Christians who endorse biblical inerrancy and biblical scholars who reject it.

Let me make his point in my own way. Suppose there was a time when you took the doctrine of biblical inerrancy seriously. But then, for whatever reasons, you began to engage deeply with the range of contemporary biblical scholarship—scholarship that studies the history of the Bible and its origins, the likely intentions of the authors as seen through the lens of their own cultural context, the implications of analyzing textual clues for evidence of repeated revision and redaction, the interpretive traditions of the Bible, the patriarchal presuppositions that pervade the Old Testament and resurface in the New Testament in response to Paul's more progressive view, the debatability of interpreting key portions of the Bible in the ways expressed in orthodox Christian doctrine, etc.

Such serious engagement with this range of scholarship can be very much like “taking the red pill” that throws you out of the virtual reality "Matrix" and into the grim real world. You just can’t go back to embracing the doctrine of inerrancy. You can try, but it would be like living a lie. And when conservative Christians who ascribe to inerrancy try to convince you that you can go back, their arguments will sound at best strained (like intellectual contortion acts) and at worst naïve. (By the way, I am not here intending to make the case that contemporary biblical scholarship refutes the doctrine of inerrancy; I am simply trying to describe what it feels like experientially, at least to many biblical scholars, to consider the doctrine of inerrancy after having immersed themselves in this body of scholarship--they just are not able to take the doctrine seriously anymore).

Now, although I have read a great deal of biblical scholarship over the years, my own journey away from a doctrine of inerrancy was more literally a journey. During my first two years of college, I was involved with a campus group called BASIC (Brothers and Sisters in Christ), and was seriously attempting to embrace the biblical inerrantism that pervaded that community. (I say “attempting” because I was struggling with doubts and questions, and I say “seriously attempting” because I took seriously the argument that these struggles were the voice of my sinful nature, or perhaps the voice of Satan).

But then I went to India. When I came home, I'd turned into a philosophy major. And while I hadn’t discarded my Christianity, it was a Christianity transformed by conversations about faith and God with Hindus and Sikhs and Buddhists, with Indian Christians whose faith was so different from my own, with the old Jewish rabbi who still lived in the remnants of the Jewish enclave in Fort Cochin, where he presided over an ancient community that had all but died away.

A full account of my spiritual transformation will have to wait for another time. What I want to relate here is this: When I returned to college after my travels (which also took me to the great cathedrals of Italy, the white-washed chapels of the Greek islands, and the mostly empty sanctuaries of secular Norway), I attempted to return to the BASIC group--only to discover that it wasn’t even remotely possible. I simply couldn’t believe what they believed.

And the real question then became, “Can I still be a Christian?” My answer, then and now, is yes. In fact, only a year later I affirmed this answer by asking my grandfather, a Baptist preacher in Norway, to baptize me during the summer while I was in Oslo. And yet, even as he took me in his arms and plunged me into the water, even as I sensed the strength of those arms and felt in them the power of divine love, even as I resurfaced trembling with the presence of something vast and wonderful beneath the ordinary appearances of the world, I knew that I could never again take seriously the doctrine of biblical inerrancy.

Was I performing a lie on that day? I don’t think so. That ritual wasn’t, for me, about allegiance to some doctrine about the Bible. It was about symbolically entering the Jordan in the footsteps of Jesus, deliberately becoming His follower. It was about symbolically representing and affirming the redemptive, cleansing power of divine grace. And so it seemed fully possible to say yes to this God of love who washed over me that day, even though I could not say yes to an inerrantist theory of the Bible.

And I found an unexpected ally in this understanding of things—at least unexpected to me at the time. The ally was Martin Luther, the person who ushered in the doctrine of sola scriptura, who made the Bible available to the common people in their native tongues for the first time since the earliest history of the church, who revered the Bible so much he was willing to stand up to the power of Rome in defense of what he found in its pages.

This man who revered the Bible, who revived the concept of “evangelical” Christianity, was, I discovered in astonishment, not a biblical inerrantist. If you read his commentaries on the Bible, they often sound as if they're a scholar's critical commentary on the works of other scholars whom he admires but with whom he disagrees--as in when he decides that first and second Kings are more generally reliable than first and second Chronicles, or when he says that the prophets were often mistaken when they spoke of worldly events ("von weltichen Lauften"). Sometimes, his critical comments take on more passionate force, as in when he says that the epistle of James “does violence to Scripture.”

It suddenly became clear to me that Luther distinguished Scripture from the established canon of the Bible. Scripture was whatever was truly God-breathed—and in his judgment, there was considerable material in the biblical canon that was not God-breathed. When he called James an “epistle of straw,” he was actually drawing an explicit metaphor between the Bible and the manger in which Jesus lay. The manger contained the Son of God, but it also contained straw. This was Luther’s view of the Bible--and he relied on a "christocentric hermeneutic" to distinguish the divine from the straw.

As I began to study the history of Christianity, I was astonished to learn that the doctrine of inerrancy was actually first formally conceived only after Martin Luther's day, by early Protestant Scholastics who developed what they called "the doctrine of plenary verbal inspiration." This discovery really made me question those who insisted that a doctrine of inerrancy was essential to Christianity. Was there no real Christianity before the era of Protestant Scholasticism?

Of course, there are various responses that can be made to this line of thought. Right now, however, I am just summarizing a bit of personal intellectual history. And in this intellectual history, more than anything else, it was the example of Martin Luther that helped to convince me that it really was possible to be a Christian even if I was not and could not be a biblical inerrantist.

Here’s the thing: I endeavor to live my life in the faith that the universe was fashioned by a personal God of love, that this God redeemed the world by living among us and dying at our hands, and that the empty tomb was a promise that the finitude of our mortal existence isn’t all there is. I take seriously the radical and astonishing love ethic of Jesus, with its call to help the poor and work for justice. I strive in my life to follow the dictum to love even (perhaps especially) my enemies. I strive to respond to violence with the kind of creative nonviolence that Jesus talked about in the Sermon on the Mount and demonstrated in His response to those who sought (and achieved) His death. And I revere the Bible as a powerful testament to God’s presence in the universe and His enduring relationship with us.

Is this way of life, this encompassing worldview, untenable without a doctrine of biblical inerrancy to back it up? You can see why, for me, this is more than just an academic question. If it is untenable, then I must give up my way of life and my encompassing worldview. Because I’ve already taken the red pill.