Faith is often discussed in propositional, epistemological terms in philosophy of religion. The University debate, which dealt with logical positivism, enquired into the nature of religious belief. Wittgenstein, discussing religious language, asked what kind of propositions religious propositions were. John Hick considered whether faith was not so much assent to propositions (the medieval fideist framework), but a faculty of interpretation, by which we make sense of experience, being influenced by Kantian transcendentalism. He also rejected logical positivism by arguing that religious propositions were capable of eschatological verification.

In this post-Enlightenment age where atheism is socially acceptable (at least in certain countries), we are more likely to encounter opposition to religious faith generally and Christianity in particular. Faced with challenges to our faith, we can search for answers, push on blindly, become agnostic, or actively deny faith. The last two are generally considered a form of apostasy as far as outward appearance is concerned, but we also know that Christ searches for the lost sheep and that with Him all things are possible: He can find what was lost.

The arguments against our faith (or doubts that we experience) can be grouped into a two basic categories:

• Attacks on the a posteriori evidence for Christian claims (e.g. asking where is the evidence of the Israelites’ 40-year sojourn in the wilderness); and
• Attacks on the analytic coherence of Christianty (i.e. suggesting that there are contradictions in our theology).

Our temperament, experience, and intellect shape our response to these challenges. People who embrace a form of virtue epistemology (whether they realise they are doing so or not), probably tend to be more troubled than certain others when they are faced with a question they cannot answer. This is because virtue epistemology (as the name implies) sits at the conjunction of ethics and epistemology. It teaches that we know things when we have used our intellectual virtues to acquire the subject of the knowledge. In other words, inter alia, it means that we should believe the right thing for the right reason having applied ourselves to the task. When framed in these terms, this appears to be a high standard (arguably too high), and tends to remind one of the “scupulosity” experienced by Martin Luther and characteristic of certain forms of Protestantism.

Frequently it feels as if we are attacked on all sides. When seeking an answer, sometimes we are faced with silence; sometimes we are so distracted or perturbed that we have difficulty discerning the voice of God.

Within the Church, life is made harder by abuses: false prophets, scandals, and certain kinds of fundamentalism that will neither listen to reasoned argument nor offer comfort to those struggling with the intellectual aspect of faith. Sometimes being provided with a wrong answer is worse than not being provided with an answer at all.

The bible tells us to look always to Jesus, and says that He will perfect the work that He has begun in us. In the here and now spinning as we are from the fundamental changes to our way of living brought about by the disease, we find ourselves asking these uncomfortable questions more often than we would under normal conditions. The truth is, as St Peter once voiced, there is nowhere else to go. There is either Christ or there is nothing. No third option is left to us.

Archbishop Cranmer produced a recent post likening the extreme devotion to President Trump found in some circles to a religious cult. For the avoidance of doubt, while I did not agree with the President on all points, I greatly admire him and consider that he was the best thing politically to happen to America since the advent of the Tea Party (not that I agreed with its entire platform or the simplifications its members were sometimes apt to make). For my American friends, I would also like to recommend this post on next steps. Back to Cranmer: as I read the article, I was struck by the deep need for belonging and community that causes some people to join cults and sects rather than more “mainstream” organisations.

As Christians, most of us are struck from time to time by the level of community we see in the Gospels, relative to our own lives. By this, I mean that most of us live ordinary lives with ordinary social relationships. These can, of course, be very profound, and my intention is not to suggest they are of lesser value (far from it). But when it comes to religion, most of us do not spend all our time with other members of church in the way that the Disciples did with each other and Christ when they travelled with Him in Judea, Samaria and Galilee.

In addition, most of our relationships are not entwined with the kind of Messianic expectation and fervour that characterises eschatological cults. Hope and despair are powerful forces, and entertaining them can cause significant changes in one’s behaviour. Furthermore, we also have damaged and unpleasant relationships in this life, ranging from low-level friction to much more serious conflict.

So we can understand, even if not ultimately condone, why people join cults and sects. We can see the appeal: unity, clarity, devotion, belonging, community, hope, vision, and support. Of course, there are also special communities that we would call legitimate, such as monastic communities. These communities remind us, perhaps in a fashion their architects did not envision, of the Age to Come. They are apocalyptic symbols of the changes that will one day come to our relationships when Christ returns, just as they are of the community that exists invisibly in heaven among the Church Triumphant, which eagerly awaits the resurection and makes intercession for the Church Militant below.

We find ourselves longing for the transformation of our relationships and wider society. There is so much evil and destruction in the world. Sin comes from within, like a miasmic wind blowing from the cavernous depths of the human heart. In fighting against sin and hoping for the Age to Come, we are apt to become cynical and hardened: grieved and angered at every disappointment, from the big ones in the political arena to the everyday struggles of church, home, and workplace.

I think it is also very easy to feel alone, especially in this period of lockdowns and “social distancing” (which always struck me as an oxymoronic phrase). We are blessed to have the twin communities of AATW and NEO, where conservatives like us can share our thoughts and feelings. We are also blessed with other forms of communication among friends for matters that are more personal. It is important that we keep these relationships going, because we need every kind of strength that the good Lord provides. We are a community and we need to keep saying that.

The days ahead are going to be very difficult and we are not necessarily promised an answer in this life. The living hope of Christ within us is ultimately founded on the resurrection of Christ and His saints, and the Age to Come.

The Seventh Trumpet will one day sound: “The kingdom of the world has become the kingdom of our Lord and of His Messiah, and He will reign forever and ever.” Gloria Deo Omnipotenti: Patri et Filio et Spiritui Sancto – nunc et sempiternam, in saecula saeculorum. Amen.

Post script

I have recently been reading about the post-tribulational framework and may one day write about it when I have ordered my thoughts. For now, just bear that in mind if re-reading my previous eschatological posts, which are written from a pre-wrath perspective. The two view-points are actually fairly close (i.e. they overlap on a lot of points).

We cannot fathom the incarnation, what it meant for God to become man. One of the earliest heresies to emerge was docetism: the claim that Jesus did not possess a truly human body, but rather a celestial or illusory body and therefore that he did not truly suffer on the cross, but only appeared to. The Gospels and wider New Testament counter this heresy by repeatedly affirming the reality of the incarnation. Not only do we read about the feelings, experiences, and suffering of Jesus, we also see Him as an individual, not some generic human. He has particular friends and turns of phrase, particular moments of intensity, and a particular concern for His mother, the Blessed Virgin Mary.

Sometimes, I think we forget the human nature of Jesus. In seeing Him in glory or as the familiar figure from Sunday school and illustrate bibles, we can lose that dimension of Him that is His individuality as a human being. This has an impact on our relationship with Him. When we see any member of the Trinity or God generally in generic terms, we can become detached and distant. God becomes merely a concept and we lapse into the well-meaning, bland “spiritually” espoused by so many people of goodwill whose ethics are so often good, but whose connection with God is less than what He desires.

The bible speaks of friendship with God and Christ referred to His disciples as His friends. Thinking back on my own spiritual condition (this is not the forum to go into detail, however) and the remote methods we currently use for holding church services and bible studies, I am struck by how easy it is for church and our individual lives to lapse into a kind of two-dimensional form.

So often I take a broad view of things, necessitated by studying and understanding various aspects of Scripture. But we are supposed to have a personal relationship with Christ and the foundation of that is getting to know who He is in all aspects of His character and life. Prayer is one part of that, but so is looking with fresh eyes at the accounts of His life found in the Gospels.

Looking at them again, I see a man who wept when Lazarus died, who felt compassion for people who had been ostracised, and who used harsh language against religious hypocrites and spiritual tyrants. This Jesus is not some generic human but someone who was hungry at a particular time in history after fasting for forty days; and who grew up in Egypt and Nazareth. He was fond of John, His friend, and entrusted him with the care of His mother, Mary.

This is a real person and it behoves me, at least, to think about that more often.

Jess asked this question some time last year, and it has haunted me ever since. Prompted as it was by the strictures of our current woe, one possible answer was “social interaction.” Although many of us, working remotely as we are, do have plenty of “contact” on a daily basis, talking via Teams, Zoom, or some other remote platform is just not the same. Indeed, reflecting on a telephone hearing I attended on one matter, I am struck by how awkward it was because the Judge and counsel could not tell when each had finished speaking (I was a silent participant on mute, merely there to listen).

I suspect we all vacillate between stoicism and acknowledging our emotions. On the one hand, many of us do not feel entitled to complain. Those of us who have been working remotely since March last year, without being furloughed, have had work to keep us occupied and salaries to keep us provisioned. Those of us in good health (perhaps immune from having contracted the disease earlier) are faring better than those at risk, those suffering from the disease (or slowly recovering), and those suffering from other medical conditions. Remote working also has the benefit of avoiding the expense and time lost in commuting (not to mention all the annoyances and infection risks caused by crowded vehicles and compartments in an age where the social contract is dead or on its deathbed).

Against such a backdrop, our elders and ancestors would tell us to “count our blessings”. All good things come from God, so Scripture tells us. Accordingly, we should thank Him for all the good things that He showers upon us – whether we deserve them or not. Those of us who do not espouse a sacramentalism of the kind found in High Churchmanship can also be thankful for communion conducted in our homes or via Zoom and other such platforms. Jesus lives in our hearts by His Spirit and is present where only two are gathered in His name. Even for those who are sacramentalists, missing the eucharist as conducted by a priest, they can know Christ’s comfort through prayer. If we are to put any stock in the revelations given at Fatima, we should also consider that times such as these might be intended for the purification of our faith. Even without relying on those revelations, such a conclusion can be drawn.

But we are social creatures. We miss being present “in the flesh” and the comfort that comes from touch and other senses. While we are physically apart, we cannot offer those physical tasks such as childcare that help those whom we love.

We in this community are blessed. We were a virtual community before this crisis hit, and so we were able to continue as such. We have offered comfort and support to one another amidst depression, insanity, upheaval, and all the other turmoils of these times (for which I am thankful). I am grateful to Jess for her compassion, to NEO for someone who understands and respects my political and patriotic beliefs, to Audre for her good humour, and to Scoop for his respect for my eschatological convictions (which have a great deal of meaning for me). Chalcedon is also worthy of special mention because, among his many other good qualities, his time in various churches means he understandings something about where each of us stands and can therefore empathise with us. This is important in a multi-denominational community and also important in the context of debate and enquiry where we find ourselves asking questions and seeking answers (and sometimes not receiving them).

These days, I have a lot of questions. Sometimes I think, perhaps drawing on the Book of Job and the early chapters of Romans, it is not given to us to have all of those answers. When I taught Philosophy, I covered the soul-making theodicy of John Hick. While I would not necessarily offer a blanket endorsement of that system, he does make a number of interesting points. Part of our answer to “What are we living for?” is probably, “To grow a soul, to become human as God intended humanity to be.”

Psalm 46 is one of my favourite Psalms. It is referenced in the film “Zulu” by the Colour Sergeant, and is the inspiration for the worship song “Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise”.

This Psalm looks to God as a refuge and source of just rule in this earth. He is the Defender of Israel, and His kingdom is the only hope for the nations.

This Psalm, as so many others, has an eschatological aspect. It looks to the defeat and suppression of the Gentiles and the rule of God over this earth from a new Jerusalem, from Mount Zion. The river appears in Ezekiel, flowing from under the threshold of the Temple, and in Revelation John draws on Ezekiel.

We must have courage and trust in God. Though things may get worse, God will have the victory. On the Day of the LORD, He will be vindicated and take rulership of this earth. He will make wars cease and usher in a new age of peace.

It is important to note that chapters were added to the biblical text by later copyists and editors for ease of navigation and citation, not by the original authors themselves. The chapter break between 1 and 2 is artificial, for 2 continues the train of thought found in 1.

As Paul develops his narrative that mankind has descended into sin, he establishes that sin is universal. All humans are tainted by it, both Jew and Gentile.

In establishing that sin is universal, Paul can then develop this point to show that all humans need salvation if they are to survive the judgment of God. This idea Paul then focusses on Israel to expose hypocrisy.

He attacks the idea that one does not need salvation if one adheres to the Law of Moses, the Torah. It is important to understand the nuance here. Paul is not saying that the Torah is of no value. Nor is he saying that a person who keeps the Torah perfectly need fear the judgment of God.

Rather, he is saying that one must keep the Torah perfectly in order to withstand the judgment. But since no one can keep the Torah perfectly, as is evident from the sins of Israelites, one cannot be saved by attempting to keep the Torah.

This will become clearer in subsequent chapters, where Paul will discuss justification in more depth. At this stage, he is establishing that (1) Israelites are in need of salvation, just like the Gentiles, and (2) Israelites should be humble before God because of point (1), especially in light of the fact that the Gentiles themselves obey the moral precepts of the Torah (albeit imperfectly).

Paul is writing to a mixed audience, and he is trying to build a community where there is neither Jew nor Gentile in Christ, but all love one another as Christ loved us. (Although, as we shall see later, Paul’s doctrine of Israel is complex.)

Paul reminds his readers of the eschatological consequences of sin, for those who do not receive salvation: judgment during the Day of the LORD and in the hereafter. This note of warning and sobriety is another way of impressing upon the audience its need for salvation.

This Psalm is cited in the New Testament as a prophecy of the Messiah’s resurrection. We may not always think of the Psalms as prophetic – Isaiah, Daniel, and Ezekiel would more readily spring to mind, perhaps – but the Psalms are frequently cited as prophecy in the New Testament.

This Psalm is about trusting in the one true God, who will raise all people at the Last Day, and welcome His people into the kingdom prepared for them. Those who follow false gods and do not repent will not be part of this kingdom.

Seeking God and being intellectually honest are important. If we delude ourselves into accepting and staying in a false religion, we are not honest on this point. So many people around the world are trapped still, bound up with these systems because of personal, cultural, and national pressures.

Hope, trust, love, and honesty – these must guide us into the House of the Lord.

This Psalm is about righteousness. It is quoted by Paul in Romans to demonstrate that all are in need of salvation from sin, Jews and Gentiles alike.

The writer describes us as “filthy” and Isaiah, perhaps allusion to this Psalm, describes our righteousness as “filthy rags”, a poor covering for us to stand in God’s presence.

Experience bears this out. Not a single day passes without some sin transpiring in our lives, be it a thought, a word, a deed, or an omission. For centuries the Confiteor has been part of the Christian liturgy (http://www.preces-latinae.org/thesaurus/Basics/Confiteor.html).

Acknowledging that we are sinners and that we lack the means to overcome our sin by ourselves is the first step on the road of repentance. Sin comes in a variety of forms from “small” acts of self-indulgence to serious offences that will also result in criminal prosecution if picked up by the secular authorities.

Sin begins in the heart. Jesus taught in the Sermon on the Mount that we have only to think something sinful to have committed sin. We need not act on it to be rendered sinful. We are thus defiled at the root, unfit for God’s heaven, unless He first cleanses us.

Paul, building on the teachings of Jesus, emphasises that we are to focus on love and seek God’s Spirit. This requires self-discipline, but it would be wrong to think that by our effort alone we can overcome sin. Protestantism, looking to Paul’s teachings, advises that we should be conscious of our sin, but keep our focus on living in gratitude for what God has done for us. Where we fall into a deep pit of shame and despair, we are weak against temptation. Faith is, among other things, about trusting God, who is working in us to make us more and more like Jesus. We must focus on Jesus and benevolence and for those grievances in our lives, we must trust that God will make things right on the Last Day.

This Psalm, in combination with other verses (including from Revelation), inspired the modern worship song “O Lord our God, how majestic is Your name”. You can hear a performance of it here.

This Psalm is also referenced in The Epistle to the Hebrews, where it is applied to Christ. In becoming incarnate, the Creator assumed, for a time, a position lower than the angels. He became weak and tempted like we are, the better to overcome sin and serve as our Great High Priest. But now the LORD has given Him the name that is above every name, that He should receive worship in all corners of creation, to the glory of God the Father, now and forever.

This Psalm, along with other verses from Scripture, was also probably in the background of Paul’s mind when he wrote chapter one of The Epistle to the Romans. The glory of nature points to the greater glory of its creator. This is the “Book of Nature” spoken of by scholars and saints throughout the ages. The more we learn about nature, the more we should realise the existence and glory of its creator and long for the perfection of the age to come.

“For the creature was made subject to vanity, not willingly, but by reason of him who hath subjected the same in hope…” (Romans 8:20).

In the scheme of things, we are small. What is our seize compared with that of the planet, the solar system, the galaxy, the universe? What is our power, compared to that of the angels? What is our righteousness compared to that of God? What is our love compared with the Cross? Who are we that our Creator should take on flesh and die for us? And yet He did.

God created us to rule over this earth. We were to rule in accordance with His precepts, the greatest of which is love.

“Jesus said unto him, Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy mind. This is the first and great commandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets” (Matthew 22:37-40).

The Son of Man will rule this earth, enthroned on Mount Zion, in Jerusalem. He will commit authority to those who follow Him, who will rule in accordance with His statutes (Isaiah 53; Revelation 20).

On that day, the name of the LORD will be praised in all corners of the earth. How majestic is that name! There is no other given to man, by which he can be saved.

I leave you with another song inspired by this Psalm: “How Great Thou Art”.