Bruce Ashford recently posted at Canon and Culture discussing the question: “Are we voting for a Pastor-in-Chief or a Commander-in-Chief?” Dr. Ashford writes:
More than any race in recent memory, the 2016 election cycle has caused Americans to debate whether or not a presidential candidate’s moral failures should affect his or her viability for office.
In the Democratic primaries, the debate centers on Hillary Clinton in general, and her email scandal in particular. Polls tell us that a large portion of the population perceives her as dishonest and untrustworthy. In the Republican primaries, the debate centers largely on Donald Trump’s candidacy, as he has been criticized for bragging about sexual exploits with women other than his wives and for employing rhetoric that many consider demeaning and unprincipled.
Often, the debate is framed in terms of a question: “Are we supposed to be voting for a Pastor-in-Chief or a Commander-in-Chief?” When asked in that manner, the implied answer is, “Of course we are not electing a pastor-in-chief, so stop whining about a presidential candidate’s track record in matters of morality.” But this question poses a false dilemma, and its formulaic answer is simplistic and unhelpful.
At his personal blog, J.D. Greear recently addressed the biggest questions he gets on Geneis 1 and 2. J.D. writes:
The opening chapters of Genesis are incredibly rich. (If you haven’t noticed, they’ve been bouncing around my head quite a bit recently. Consider Exhibit A and Exhibit B.) But I’ve found that it’s nearly impossible to bring up Genesis 1—regardless of the setting—without certain key questions coming up. For some people, these are the onlyquestions that matter. As you’ll see here, I don’t think that’s the case. But they’re important questions nonetheless.
Recently Karen Swallow Prior published a piece describing what it’s like to be in the middle of a life story, but you just want the spoilers.
This is how it begins:
A faded cotton gown that barely covers me as I lie on a hospital bed, one breast uncovered while the technician glides a probe across my cold flesh.
She stares ahead at the monitor, hunting for telltale signs of death, chatting blithely about her daughter and shopping at Target, and I gaze upwards at dull white ceiling tiles.
At the Peoples next Door, Keelan Cook recently discussed two reasons you should be a missionary.
A few days ago, I described three things that should keep you from going to the mission field right now. They were all character issues, and frankly they are very important. The damage that can be done to the missionary and family, the team they are going to work with, and the work itself on the field is jeopardized when people go who do not possess the necessary character outlined in the pages of the New Testament. It is a big deal.
But I do not want to leave it there, because that is only half the picture.
At the Intersect Project website, Amber Bowen posted: Love the Word: Redeeming Jacques Derrida (The Philosophical Blacklist)
If given the choice, would you prefer to read God’s word or to hear him speak? Which would make you feel closer to God? Which would give you greater sense of certainty?
My guess is that we would prefer the latter. Even those of us who are wholeheartedly committed to the doctrine of the sufficiency of scripture would intuitively say that hearing God’s voice would make us feel we are truly in His presence and have perfect clarity of what He is saying. I often wonder if we subconsciously consider the scriptures sufficient for the time being until the day when we will have true, unmediated access to God by physically seeing his face and hearing his words.
Why is it we intuitively think that hearing God’s voice would somehow be superior to reading his word? I believe the best person to help us answer this question is a contemporary, post-structuralist philosopher named Jacques Derrida.