What Difference Would Gay Marriage Make to You?

Debates over gay “marriage” regularly spawn rhetorical questions like this.  What difference would it make to your marriage if the law began to refer to certain homosexual relationships as marriages?  It would mean so much to so many without harming anyone–it certainly sounds like a winning proposition.  So who does it hurt?  Why is it a big deal?  The problem with this particular rhetorical question is that it can indeed be legitimately answered–it shouldn’t be rhetorical at all.

Consider the following analogy:  What difference would it make to your car if all shoes were reclassified as cars?  After all, there are some superficial similarities between the two.  For example, with both shoes and cars, you put your feet in them, you traverse distances by means of foot motions, both have rubber tread on the bottom for the purpose of gaining traction while moving, etc.  If, for some reason, people had their heart set on the change, what would it hurt?  Would calling shoes “cars” have any impact on your car?  One might initially answer no–after all, it’s the shoes that are being reclassified, not the cars.  But our society treats cars in a particular way–a way that would have to be extended to shoes inasmuch as that is possible.  Inasmuch as that is not possible, either shoes or cars would have to change.  For example:

  • All new cars are required to have airbags, which leaves us with two options:  either all new shoes have to be equipped with airbags or the airbag regulation has to be dropped.  Since the former is absurd to implement, we would have to go with the latter as a matter of simple practicality.  This makes no difference to my car, but it will make a difference to every new car that rolls off the assembly line.  What’s that?  The lack of regulation doesn’t forbid including airbags in cars?  Sure, somebody could make cars with airbags if they wanted, but corporations notorious for cutting cost at the expense of consumer safety can hardly be trusted to do so out of good will.  This ubiquitous safety feature could become a luxury only for the rich.
  • Pedestrians have the right of way when crossing a street–a regulation that exists for their safety.  After the change however, those we now think of as pedestrians would become fellow drivers.  They could no longer be allowed this special protection.  What’s that?  You say the special protection could still be offered because some cars are less vulnerable to collisions than others just because they happen to have steel frames and crumple zones?  Sorry, but that would be discrimination.  That’s exactly the sort of thinking the reclassification was intended to forbid.
  • We have gas mileage standards for cars and are always looking for ways to improve them.  After the reclassification, however, there would suddenly be a type car which everybody already owns (even if they’re old clunkers) that don’t need gas at all.  Why then should we allow these environmental monstrosities that only get 60 mpg?   What’s that?  You say some cars are far superior at long-distance transportation compared to others just because they happen to have an engine and wheels?  Once again, you’ve begun to discriminate, and this cannot be allowed.  If we started having special rules for shoes or cars, they wouldn’t be considered the same thing at all.  Separate is not equal.

The list could go on until imagination runs out of gas, but a pattern should begin to emerge.  A strict reclassification would force us to reconsider everything about how we think of cars.  In many ways, the cars we have would not be affected–they would stay the same simply out of inertia–but future cars would be far different.  In other ways, our current cars would be affected because so much about how society treats cars would have to change.  The very idea of “cars” would be watered down and consequently, that idea would take a very different place in our society.  The same will be true if same-sex liasons are reclassified as marriages simply because both happen to include things like orgasms and ongoing companionship.

This effect is not merely theoretical; it is already evident among those who consider the eventual reclassification to be a foregone conclusion.  Consider this article in the New York Times from last year.  It reports on the way homosexual relationships tend to work in contrast to heterosexual marriages–specifically that half of homosexual couples have no expectations of sexual fidelity.  In fact, it says that unfaithful homosexual relationships actually last longer than faithful ones.  The article goes on to explain how this will help the institution of marriage to “evolve” even among heterosexuals by casting off unrealistic expectations of faithfulness.  Now, one could perhaps argue that this “evolution” is a good thing (although I certainly would not), but that judgment is not my present point.  What is very clear, however, is that calling same-sex liasons “marriage” will certainly change marriage for everybody.  What is more, the very people asking the rhetorical question know that it will–as the article points out, many try to hide this reality precisely because it could undermine their goal of legally reclassifying their relationships as marriage.  Open “marriages” may exist among heterosexuals, but they are highly peculiar–expectations of fidelity are normal.  It appears that “normal” means something very different in homosexual relationships.

In order to classify these kinds of relationships as marriage, the term will need to be watered down enough to make fidelity an arbitrary choice–something that will change how people treat the institution.  For example, when a husband gets the seven year itch, society has typically recognized it as a temptation that comes and goes and needs to be borne in the meantime.  However, if fidelity is only arbitrarily a part of marriage, then it would be just as legitimate for society to interpret the same situation as a wife unnecessarily repressing her husband’s natural desires.  After all, fidelity is only her chosen preference; why should her mere preference become such a burden to someone she supposedly loves the most?  It seems relatively clear that such a change in attitude will lead to a change in behavior.  The jilted spouse is no longer allowed to feel violated or betrayed; she must be made to feel guilty instead, for she had unreasonable expectations.  And so the victim becomes the villain.  Like orthodoxy, when fidelity becomes optional, it eventually becomes proscribed.

According to the popular theory, when a thing evolves, it usually evolves into something other than what it was before.  “Helping” marriage to evolve is no different.  We need a more honest conversation–one in which those who support the legal reclassification of same-sex liasons as marriage openly recognize the effects of what they propose rather than hiding behind rhetorical questions.

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Incarnate Value: A Case Study on Tradition

A few months ago, in the hype surrounding Prince William and Kate’s then-upcoming marriage, a story emerged that Prince William would choose not to wear a ring–apparently because he just doesn’t like jewelry.  Boundless posted about it, and the predictable comments that followed trod the well-worn path of nearly every argument I’ve witnessed concerning tradition.  On the one hand, you have the traditionalists.  They perceived that something was wrong with the choice, but because they could not articulate that perception (and perhaps did not understand it), they came off as saying that tradition should always be followed simply because it is tradition.  If you follow it, you’re morally correct, and if you do not, you are morally wrong.  On the other hand, you had the modernists who deemed that tradition was completely arbitrary and therefore could be dismissed for any reason–or no reason at all.  The ring, they said, is just a piece of metal.  It is a morally irrelevant ritual, and the only thing that makes the ritual symbolic of commitment is a choice to see it that way.  Since that choice is purely personal, there is absolutely no basis for moral judgment whatsoever.

Nearly every debate I’ve seen over any particular tradition ends up along these lines, which is unfortunate, since neither point-of-view is rich enough to really evaluate traditions.  We all know traditions are not moral absolutes, for the latter often demand that we violate the former.  We are allowed to question and, at times, reject them.  At the same time, however, relegating tradition and physical matter to mere symbols with only subjective meaning–in a way in which “merely,” “just,” and “only” are the key words–leads to a highly impoverished view of life which cannot take the world around us seriously.  Instead, I’d like to use this ring issue as a case study in which we examine tradition as a kind of incarnation of moral value–a way in which higher things become enfleshed.

The issue surrounding the wedding ring is all about marital fidelity–a commitment to be entirely faithful (including, but not limited to sexual fidelity) to one’s spouse.  If someone refuses to wear this ring, does that really indicate a rejection of marital commitment?  The answer, I think, is “probably.”

Commitment does not exist in abstraction anymore than humans exist in abstraction–both exist when they are incarnate in the world around us.  For example, if someone punched you in the face, would you accept the excuse that they didn’t really punch you they merely punched some bits of flesh and bone belonging to the real you that you happen to be rather fond of?  After all, we’re more than just flesh and bone, right?  While humans may be more than just flesh and not all flesh is human, we nevertheless are flesh.  It is in precisely this way that wearing a wedding ring is commitment.  Abstract commitment is no commitment at all just as an abstract human isn’t really a human.  Both must be incarnate.  Wearing a ring is marital commitment and a refusal to wear one is a rejection of the same.

But you say “our commitment is incarnate in our actions!”  Indeed it is, but in which ones?   In resisting temptations to divorce and other forms of adultery?  Certainly; if you don’t have that, you don’t have commitment at all.  Nevertheless, bare-minimum commitment is hardly what a spouse looks for.  It would be like eating only when you’re about to starve.  Sure, it’s “enough” in a purely mechanical sense, but that’s precisely the point:  why would a sane person want to reduce it to a purely mechanical sense?  Likewise, why reduce commitment to the mere mechanism of only inserting tab A into slot B rather than into slots C-Z?  In engineering, it is said that perfection in design is reached not when there is nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away (while still leaving the essence of the design intact).  It should be obvious, however, that life is deeper than just an engineering problem.  It is not all about tolerances and extremes–it is about living well.  Practicing commitment only when it is being tested to its breaking point is foolishness.  Rituals like wearing a ring give one the chance of making his commitment incarnate even when one is not under assault–to nurture it to withstand those breaking points when they do come.

But you say, “what about people who are allergic to metal, or those who work in a machine shop & have serious saftey concerns, etc?  Are they therefore less comitted?”  Certainly not, any more than someone who has lost an arm is any less human as a result.  Nevertheless, they clearly suffer an injury.  Whether it is mild or severe is up for debate, but it is an injury to commitment to be unable to participate in a key cultural ritual that enfleshes commitment.  A wise person in such a situation would make an extra effort to compensate for the injury by making commitment incarnate in different ritual.  On the other hand, only a fool would arbitrarily take deprivation upon himself for trivial reasons.  Rejecting a ring because one doesn’t like jewelry is akin (in kind, but certainly not degree) to cutting off an arm because one doesn’t like meat.  A sane person who actually does such a thing surely has a deeper reason than simple distaste.  Maybe this reason is good; maybe it is bad.  What we can be certain of, however, is that there is a reason.

But you say, “there are lots of ways to ritualize commitment!  A ring is just one among thousands–each one as good as any other.”  This is true as far as it goes.  Likewise, a person can become incarnate in an infinite variety of ways (skin tones, hair color, height, strength/weakness, intelligence/stupidity etc), but it’s always a combination of particulars which were handed over by those who begat their offspring.  In the same way, meaningful ritual is begotten by those who came before and handed over into the care of their successors.  There are certainly other ways in which commitment could become incarnate than wearing a ring; different cultures have produced an abundance of options.  Nevertheless, the ring was an incarnation that the prince’s culture handed over to him.  It is not merely a little piece of metal or a symbol that he willfully rejects, but an incarnation of commitment that he already posessed.

Perceptive readers will notice that none of this means that tradition and ritual ought never be changed–the key point of contention in the typical argument.  What it does mean is that changing such things is neither trivial nor meaningless–something implied by every commentator who described wedding rings in a way that hinges on “just” or “merely” or “only”.  We are not really in a position to appropriately judge the prince either guilty or innocent.  “He doesn’t like jewelry” is a reason he gave that the media picked up on, but is unlikely to be the whole story.  Those who assign him guilt make themselves into judgmental busybodies, but recognizing the real (not symbolic) meaning of wedding rings that he rejected is not the same thing as a guilty verdict.  Nevertheless, those who assign him innocence by means of shutting their eyes to real meaning impoverish themselves.

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Keynes vs. Hayek

If your economics program was like mine, Keynes was the only economist you were taught about in college.  Take a few minutes and rectify the “oversight” with this brilliant video.  It manages to be fun, fair, and cover the salient points of an ongoing debate.

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Apologetics Minute: God as Cosmic Engineer

I was listening to the White Horse Inn the other day and came across an interview with professional skeptic Michael Shermer.  While talking about whether God exists (at 2:55), he offered up this gem:

“I’d be very surprised if it turns out there was a God.  But in any case, what does that even mean?  Just some sort of higher power that is capable of genetic engineering and creating planets and universes.  That’s really just an engineering problem–just something like us scaled up considerably.  Take Moore’s law and carry it out for 50,000 years and you get what is essentially a deity–you know, a supercomputer that would be omniscient, omnipotent, omnipresent.  That is what God is defined as, and we’re on our way to becoming that anyhow.  What would it mean to discover that there was a God?  It wouldn’t really mean anything to me.”

Such an approach to the question can throw Christians at first.  Even setting aside the blind faith in raw computing power, most Christians do not think about God as a mere cosmic engineer.  No science, no matter how advanced, could be an adequate substitute in our minds.  Out first instinct is therefore usually to clarify–to explain more precisely what we mean by “God.”  This, of course, is a rather daunting task–one which some of the greatest minds in history have grappled with with varying degrees of success.  What is more, this sort of metaphysical argument is rather easy to get bogged down in. Before you know it, you’re having a heated discussion about some tangential speculation about God’s nature that’s only barely relevant to Christianity.  Such debates can be philosophically edifying, but they usually don’t make for good apologetic conversations.

Thankfully, it’s usually easier than all that.  As it turns out, Shermer only takes another couple of seconds to reveal that he doesn’t really think of God that way either.  He immediately goes on to say this:

“In any case, I’m not particularly worried about it because why would a deity care one way or another about whether I believed or not?  Isn’t it more important how you purported yourself in life, how you treated other people…?  I think it matters more how you behave.”

When he takes this opportunity to knock salvation by faith, Shermer reveals that he is, in fact, quite confident that the very same God that he, as an agnostic, claims is completely veiled from his perception is more concerned about whether he’s a good person than whether he believes in Him.  Though he allegedly can’t even tell whether God exists, he is nevertheless quite willing to speak about His character and concerns.  It seems that Shermer has a better idea about who God is than he is willing to admit, and “mere cosmic engineer” doesn’t even begin to describe it.  Engineering, after all, doesn’t have much to do with morality.  Reducing God to an engineer means reducing the universe to a machine.  Mechanics, however, are insufficient to undergird a concept of people “being good” in any kind of moral sense.

Shuemer’s latent beliefs should be no surprise.  As Paul puts it in Romans 1:19-20, “what may be known about God is plain to [men] because God has made it plain to them.  For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities–his eternal power and divine nature–have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse.”  Just a few paragraphs later, Paul proceeds to point out that Shermer is, in a sense, right about God caring more about what we do than about what we believe.

“To those who by persistence in doing good seek glory, honor, and immortality, he will give eternal life. But for those who are self-seeking and who reject the truth and follow evil, there will be wrath and anger. There will be trouble and distress for every human being who does evil: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile; but glory, honor, and peace for everyone who does good: first for the Jew, then for the Gentile. For God does not show favoritism.” (Rom 2:7-11)

The problem, of course, is that a moment’s honesty reveals that “being a good person” is pretty much academic at this point (as Paul goes on to point out).  We’ve all spent our lives lying, cheating, and hurting those closest to us.  Who hasn’t snapped at his wife when she didn’t deserve it without even apologizing?  Who hasn’t been completely thoughtless towards friends when they were in need?  Who hasn’t undeservedly antagonized their parents as a teenager?  “Everybody does that” is less of an excuse than it is an indictment.  Does the suffering of others suddenly not matter when everyone hurts people?  Psychologically writing off the bad things everybody does is a coping mechanism that humans need in order to function in a broken world.  Nevertheless, we can’t let that attitude overcome the very basic observation that we do not do as we ought–we are not good people.  So since we’ve screwed up the things about which even skeptics can discern God cares, maybe we should be looking at another option.  And contrary to Shermer’s attitude later in that interview, maybe we should be willing to consider the evidence for its being true.

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“But I Could Be Wrong”

Those are the five words that this contributor to Fox News thinks will save the Church, and it seems to be a fairly common sentiment among the Emergent crowd. Different theological and moral beliefs are a frequent source of friction, and many imagine that if we are only less confident in expressing them, the friction will begin to resolve.

Many people believe along with the author that this “humility” regarding our beliefs will “prevent public brawls between Christians who differ in their opinions on social and theological issues.” Would this approach really be successful, though? It seems to me that this sentiment already seems to underlie every such conversation. At the very least, most of us already believe those who disagree with us could be wrong without their having to confirm it for us. Likewise, aside from a very few arrogant exceptions, most of us have experience discovering that we were wrong about things, and the ongoing possibility of it really does occur to us from time to time. The big issue in these brawls doesn’t seem to be that people admit no possibility of being wrong, but that people act as though they are right. For example, I doubt a pro-choice person will be very satisfied if a pro-life Christian added a few but-we-could-be-wrong’s in their speech but continued to vote and otherwise staunchly support the pro-life cause. Likewise, I would take no comfort in a pro-choice person verbally admitting she might be wrong and then going right on supporting the ongoing slaughter of the unborn. If “but I could be wrong” provides us with any comfort in such disagreements, it’s because we think it indicates that the other side will be less likely to behave against our own wishes in the future.

Now there’s no question that there are Christians who are huge jerks even when they talk about Christ—the Church is full of sinners, after all. Nevertheless, I can’t say that I’ve observed an excess of confidence in our own message among my fellow American Christians—quite the opposite. Take, for example, the author of this piece who seems to think the Church needs us to save it. I suppose he thinks Jesus should have added that He could be wrong when He promised that the gates of Hell will not prevail against His Church (Matthew 16:18). Perhaps something like this would be more appealing to him:

“Blessed are you, Simon Bar-Jonah! [but I could be wrong]. For flesh and blood has not revealed this to you, but my father who is in heaven. [but I could be wrong]. And I tell you, you are Peter [but I could be wrong], and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it [but I could be wrong]. I will give you the keys of the kingdom of heaven [but I could be wrong], and whatever you bind on earth will be bound in heaven and whatever you loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven [but I could be wrong].”

Gee, it’s almost like the insertions contradict with what Jesus is actually teaching. I can’t help but notice that if we understand all of Jesus’ teachings in such a way, we would cease to be Christians at all.

Now, God works through means, so He might very well save His Church through the actions of Christians and non-Christians alike—He certainly has before. Nevertheless, as far Christians are concerned, our goal is not to find a pragmatic means of saving the Church, but to do what has been given us to do. For the jerks among us, that means giving answers with gentleness and respect (2 Peter 3:15-16). Maybe that means actually listening to those who disagree. Maybe that means being more genuine about our own doubts and experiences as well as those of others. None of these things, however, have anything at all to do with adding a hint of “but I could be wrong” to our assertions.

This is the tragic flaw in most of postmodernism, including its religious expressions in the so-called emerging church. It seeks to resolve conflicts and provide peace by encouraging people to be weak-kneed about their convictions. Unfortunately, the motivation to resolve conflicts and provide peace can only come from confident convictions about peace being valuable. What is more, it takes very little time before you see that people have all sorts of confident ideas about what peace is supposed to look like—ideas that speak to further values.  If we are going to live in any measure of happiness, it will only be because people become more right about what is valuable—not more wishy-washy. Likewise, if the Church is to be “saved,” it will because Christians begin to be everything that Christ has given us to be. Thankfully, the Holy Spirit is already at work making us precisely that.

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Parenting without Boundaries for Humans without Natures

I’ve seen a few sites churning over this story of a couple of foolish parents who are trying to raise a genderless baby so that he/she/it/they can make his/her/its/their own decision on the subject whenever he/she/it/they wants to.  The problems with the notion of being “genderless” and the reduction of male/female to plumbing differences which allegedly have absolutely nothing to do with anything at all! have been well covered elsewhere.

What has been overshadowed by the parents’ foolish perspective on gender, however, is their very rejection of the vocation of parent.  They describe their indecision as “a tribute to freedom and choice in place of limitation.”  This kind of “parenting” typically arises out of some form of relativism.  We are told that there is not any way people are supposed to be;  we only think there is because we were raised with a myriad of rules and traditions imposed on us by our culture.  Parents in general are often resented for having been too limiting by keeping their children from the things they really wanted.  Now that mankind is more enlightened, we can just get rid of this cumbersome baggage and grow to be whatever glorious beings we want to be.  From such a perspective, refraining from providing their child with rules and guidance is preemptively freeing them–they would grow up without any baggage to discard.

The problem with this is that human beings are not content to make decisions as such.  We want to make decisions that are good, informed, wise, etc.  Despite their efforts to the contrary, even these parents realize this on some level.  For example, they recognized the need for “good parenting skills” which could presumably be somehow distinguished from poor parenting skills.  Good, poor, informed, wise, and all the rest have something in common–they imply conformity.  Far from being detrimental to human free will, conformity is necessary for its fulfillment.  As G.K. Chesterton put it in Orthodoxy, “You can praise an action by saying that it is calculated to bring pleasure or pain, to discover truth or to save the soul.  But you cannot praise an action because it shows will; for to say that is merely to say that it is an action.  By this praise of will, you cannot really choose one course as better than another.  And yet, choosing one course as better than another is the very definition of the will you are praising.”

Part of being a parent is giving children opportunities to conform to things that are good.  This experience provides the very basis of their ability to make good decisions.  Parents who do not give their children rules, culture, and tradition–even for issues which are not moral absolutes–are impoverishing them.  Parental decisions become the basis for the decisions of their offspring.  If a child grows into an ability to consistently make good decisions, it is most likely because they observed and obediently experienced their parents’ decisions.  If they know how to love their neighbors at all, it is because their parents told them to say please/thank you, to share, to not bully them or harm them, etc–because their parents gave them rules.  Too many parents are so afraid of rules stunting their child’s growth that they provide no basis for them to grow at all.

There is no avoiding having a sense of how people are supposed to be.  Once you scratch the surface, you are bound to find of this hidden even in the most relativistic babble.  Do they throw their child out of the house because there are an infinite number of ways to acquire food & shelter, and they want to let him make his own decision on how?  Do they let the child defecate anywhere she pleases rather than confining her to the cultural hegemony of toilets?  There are some decisions that children are simply unequipped to make well without guidance from their parents.

And whether they want it to or not, that guidance does come.  What fools to think that they are giving absolutely no emotional reaction when they take their children to choose their own clothes.  Do they really think their own flesh and blood is so incapable or relating to them or so uninterested in what they think?  Are they really so disinterested that they don’t care what their child, who they love, does?  On the contrary, I think it very likely both that they emote their pride when their children conform to their ideology and that the children seek out more of their parents’ approval–just like any other child.  In the end, they are still telling their children how to be; they are merely deciding to be absentminded about it at best, and passive-aggressive at worst.

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Paradoxology: Finale

We spent a great deal of time on examining how paradox is mishandled—how pride in an ability to embrace paradox can itself damage the paradox that is to be embraced. But how can we resist such a temptation—particularly when so few Christians in America are willing to embrace paradox at all? How can we make a good confession without relying on a rejection of reason?

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Paradoxology Part 4: The Consequences of Rejecting Reason

Last time, we saw that it is not reason that destroys a paradox; it is when we put reason in God’s place by allowing it to overrule God’s promises. And so paradox is not protected by rejecting reason, but by embracing it rightly. In the example of the theology of the cross, we should not claim to be utterly unable to discern good from evil with our reason, but rather admit to not knowing how God redeems evil into good in most day-to-day cases. This is why our reason must be tempered by virtue with the humility to say “I don’t know” and by God with the faith to say “God has told me what I need.”

But why is approaching this paradox rightly a big deal? As we observed last time, even the Lutherans who stray too far into a rejection of reason do not really confess what they sometimes seem to say: that evil is really good—that the goods of sickness and death will follow us into heaven or that we shouldn’t thank God for His earthly gifts to us because we cannot know that they are good. What is more, heresy typically has its root in a preacher wanting something which orthodoxy will not allow; who would want to teach such things? But as we noted in part 2 with respect to predestination, erring in one point often leads to errors in many others.

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Paradoxology Part 3: Lutherans Mishandling Paradox

As we saw in Part 2, paradoxes are not contradictions and therefore accepting them does not necessitate rejecting reason. Nevertheless, paradox is difficult to accept primarily because our reason wants—nay, needs—to understand; understanding is, after all, the very thing our reason is for. It makes a kind of sense that Lutherans would be inclined to keep reason at arm’s length. And so when paradoxes are brought up, many (not all) Lutherans react by telling us that our wicked and fallen reason must be distrusted, ignored and rejected. Many go so far as to imply in their protests that our reason is only right in the way a stopped clock is (occasionally, but merely by coincidence). But do such actions really preserve paradox?

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Paradoxology Part 2: Refusing Paradox

Scripture presents Christians with a number of paradoxes—places where unresolved tension exists between two or more teachings.  One of the thornier issues is the doctrine of predestination—that God Himself chooses who will be saved.  How is the Lutheran approach to issues like this different from others’?

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