knowledge is justified solely based on some non-cognitive benefit, then large parts of the university (most notably the humanities) will continue to struggle to justify their existence. In the biblical account and its shalomic view that all reality is rightly ordered, theoretical and (so-called) practical knowledge are both intrinsically valuable—illuminating the divine and fulfilling human purposes.21
Second, since God is the creator, human life is inherently religious and communal. We have been created by God to respond to him, to love him, to worship him, to delight in him and to enjoy him. Thus, at its core, human life is inherently religious. All of human life is lived in response to God in either communion or rebellion. Further, as image-bearers of the triune God, we are essentially communal. We were created to live in community with God and with others. Recall Genesis 1:31: all that God made was proclaimed “very good.” But then, in Genesis chapter 2, we find these startling words: “It is not good for man to be alone” (2:18). Think about this for a moment. Adam had the Garden of Eden; he had a guilt-free, shameless relationship with the God of the universe, yet he was lonely. The point is this. We need each other. It is not just, “Jesus is my personal friend and I don’t need anyone else.” Don’t let your ability to thrive on solitude as a scholar result in isolation both inside and outside the academy.22 We need the community to thrive; it is how we have been hardwired.
The final implication is related to the second: since man is inherently religious, there is no such thing as neutrality. Recall Paul’s speech to the Areopagus in Acts 17. His entry point with the Athenians was his observation that they were very religious. We can rephrase this statement by observing that in the academy, there is no such thing as neutrality. Every discipline has its own control beliefs, faith presuppositions, and axioms (we’ll talk more about this in chapter 8). Part of our job as scholars is to understand and expose the faith commitments of each academic discipline so that we can advocate an alternative picture of reality (where needed) based on the biblical vision of reality.
The Fall: Violation of Shalom
Act 2 of the biblical story is the fall of humanity. Things are no longer the way they are supposed to be. Shalom has been violated. Sin, suffering and death have entered the world. It doesn’t take much to convince us that something is not right. When we come face to face with evil—embodied either in a terrorist flying a hijacked plane into a building or an earthquake that devastates an entire nation—we have this sense in our gut that this isn’t the way the world is supposed to be. Daily we read of wars, famine, disease, disaster, injustice, slavery, genocide, rape, and murder. Time spent researching a topic doesn’t always bear fruit (e.g., in the form of a publishable article). Tenure isn’t always awarded. The prestigious position or hoped-for research money doesn’t materialize. Marriages struggle. Friendships grow cold. Children rebel. Our own hearts are often far from God. This is not the way the world is supposed to be. So, what exactly happened?
As Genesis chapter three opens, the question facing the first couple is, will they fulfill the purpose for which they were made? The answer is a resounding no. God tells Adam and Eve that they should not eat of one tree and that doing so results in death. The scene introduces another character, Satan, in the form of a snake. Satan’s strategy is to deceive Adam and Eve by first undercutting God’s authority (“You will not surely die,” Gen 3:4) and then God’s goodness (“For God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil,” Gen 3:5). Adam and Eve decide to try to meet their needs in their own way, instead of following God, and “fall” from the shalomic state of wholeness, delight, and grace. Because of sin, man no longer enjoys relationship with God, but rather is alienated from him; because of sin, man no longer enjoys harmony with others, but experiences strife and murder; because of sin, man no longer enjoys harmony with the created order, but encounters disasters and dangers at every turn. Because of Adam and Eve’s original sin, all of humanity is damaged, born into the world in a state of alienation from God and others. Sin defiles every inch of creation. It corrupts our inner lives, our relationships, our work and play, even our rest. We are no longer whole because of the wickedness in our hearts and the injustice of our actions.
There are at least two implications related to the fall for the Christian scholar. First, the received role of the academic is a fallen role; not fallen full stop, but nonetheless fallen.23 As a university professor, God and man are served. But just as the businessperson does not enter into the profession and uncritically play the received role of the businessperson, so too the Christian academic ought not to enter the academy and uncritically play the received role of the academician. As Nicholas Wolterstorff states, “To serve God faithfully and to serve humanity effectively, one has to critique the received role and do what one can to alter the script.”24 There is no aspect of the university untainted by the fallenness of humanity. The values, norms, and culture of an academic department or discipline are shaped by fallen humans and thus by the dominant stories they embody.
Second, people tend to deny culpable sin and thus misdiagnose the core human problem and solution. In our society, there is room for evil, i.e., bad things that happen to people. But sin, understood as an affront to a holy God, is rarely acknowledged. Hence, the solution to man’s problems can be found in education and technology (according to the naturalistic story) or in expression and giving voice to individual causes (in the postmodern story) instead of in repentance and trust in a gracious and personal God. Without culpable sin, there is no need for a Savior. Without an understanding of shalom in terms of a relationship with God (as well as its other dimensions), there is no need to seek forgiveness and restoration. As Christian scholars, we can help, in winsome and appropriate ways, to show how the strife, dissent, and pluralism so characteristic of the academy is ultimately due to the fallenness of man against a personal God.
Redemption: The Coming of the King
From Genesis 12 to Revelation 20, we read about a God on a rescue mission to redeem the enslaved, to save the lost. God calls Abraham to be a blessing to all nations (Gen 12:1–3). Sub-themes and individual scenes in God’s redemptive story include the exodus, the nation of Israel, the giving of the Law, monarchy, exile and return, and the prophets. Each event and sub-theme within the Old Testament weaves together a tapestry of the sovereignty and grace of God in the life of his people and sets the stage for the climax of God’s rescue mission. The climax is the coming of Christ. In the incarnation, God himself takes on a human nature and enters the created order. Think about this for a moment. It would be like the author of a book taking on the nature of one of its characters and entering into the story—Lewis going to Narnia (as a talking animal, surely) or Tolkien going to Middle Earth (as a Hobbit, undoubtedly).
Motivated by love, God sends Jesus: “This is how God showed his love among us: He sent his one and only Son into the world” (1 John 4:9a). The “good news” is that humanity can be redeemed and shalom can be restored through forgiveness of sins in Christ. “God . . . sent his Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins” (1 John 4:10). Man (and ultimately all of creation) is redeemed from all the consequences of sin: death, alienation, disintegration, and slavery to his passions. This is how love invaded our planet. This is how the revolution of the human heart began. And this is the great revolution in which God invites our participation.
Further, from Jesus’ opening words (in Matt 4:17–19) to his last words (in Acts 1:8), the progress of the gospel, this good news about the Kingdom of God, was foremost on his mind. God’s promise to Abraham in Genesis 12, that through him and his descendents all the nations of the earth would be blessed, finds its fulfillment in Christ. The mechanism, the thing that makes the gospel work, is the death and resurrection of Christ. As Paul states in 1 Corinthians 15:17, “And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins.” After his work on earth was done, Jesus went back to the Father, promising to send a helper,
