Topsy-Turvy (Part 2)

By Matthew Barrett –

[photo by Keitha McCall]

In my previous post, I explored the first half of C. S. Lewis’s “Introduction” to On the Incarnation, by Athanasius. In that article we sat at the feet of Lewis and benefitted from his wisdom when it comes to reading books, particularly the old books that have been tested in the classroom of church history. In this second article we shall go deeper, looking at what Lewis has to say about doctrine and devotion.

But how could they have thought that?

One of the major reasons to primarily soak ourselves in the old books rather than the new books is because generations of Christians in ages past saw certain truths that we need to hear afresh in our own day. We “need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period.” Each generation, including that of the 21^st century, has characteristic blind spots. It is blindness, says Lewis, about which our posterity will ask, “But how could they have thought that?” And since it is a blindness, it is snug, making itself at home in those nooks and crannies of our thought where we least expect it. No one is exempt from this blindness. However, “we shall certainly increase it, and weaken our guard against it, if we read only modern books.” What then is the solution? Lewis answers: “The only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be done only by reading old books.”

Be careful though. History has a way of being romantic. And romance is tricky. While reading the old books—sitting in the classroom of the theological giants before us—is essential, there is no secret magic about the past itself. Here I am going to take a little rabbit trail away from Lewis to make the point Lewis is trying to make. Many in our day are enchanted with the earliest fathers. Now I love the early fathers, but the point here is that there can be an assumption that those closest to the apostles knew best. After all, they lived in the “golden age” of Christianity. In this line of thought, Tertullian trumps Luther any day. Such an assumption, however, is easily refuted. Just read 1 and 2 Corinthians. The early church was a mess at times…and they had the apostle Paul! The point is the same one Lewis is making. There is no magic about the past. “People were no cleverer then than they are now; they made as many mistakes as well.”

So why then all the fuss about reading the old books? People may have made as many mistakes but, as Lewis observes, not the same mistakes. “They will not flatter us in the errors we are already committing; and their own errors, being now open and palpable, will not endanger us. Two heads are better than one, not because either is infallible, but because they are unlikely to go wrong in the same direction.” So when we read the theologians of the past, we are reading them not only to learn from their success but from their mistakes. Their mistakes will teach us. Their mistakes will expose our own, and, if we are humble and willing, correct our own.

Doctrinal Books More Helpful for Devotion

So far we have seen that it is important to read the old books as their authors do not make the same mistakes that we make today. The old books shed light on our blind spots. That said, what kind of books should we be reading? Surely we do not read for reading sake (though there may be a place for this), but as Christians we read to know God more, and by “know” I do not mean mere intellectual knowledge but personal affection.

It is typical for readers to think categorically. If we want to learn about the tough stuff of the Christian faith, go to the big theology books. And if we want to be stimulated in our affections for Christ, go to the devotional books. Lewis, however, explodes such an assumption.

For my own part I tend to find the doctrinal books often more helpful in devotion than the devotional books, and I rather suspect that the same experience may await many others. I believe that many who find that “nothing happens” when they sit down, or kneel down, to a book of devotion, would find that the heart sings unbidden while they are working their way through a tough bit of theology with a pipe in their teeth and a pencil in their hand.

Amen, Lewis. Amen. Much of the problem in our own day is that we have divided orthodoxy from orthopraxy, doctrine from devotion. The former we have called “intellectual” while the latter we have assigned to the heart. But this is all topsy-turvy! Theology is meant to birth doxology. If you read about the atoning work of Christ, whereby he took upon himself the wrath we deserve, and you are not moved to worship God for his great love and glorious grace, then either your heart is hard or you are reading a bad piece of theology.

J. I. Packer explained in his inaugural lecture, “An Introduction to Systematic Spirituality,” as Songwoo Yountong Chee Professor of Theology at Regent College, doctrinal study is not muddied by introducing devotional concerns. We must not divorce “knowing true notions about God and knowing the true God himself.” If we do, then theology will induce “spiritual pride” and produce “spiritual sleep.” “Thus the noblest study in the world gets cheapened.” I am with Packer, “I cannot applaud this.”

Therefore, along with Lewis and Packer, let us arrange a marriage, a marriage between systematic theology and our spirituality. Read not only the old books, but the old theology books, for they will ignite the flames of the heart in worship towards God. I close with Packer, who himself is leaning on Aquinas. “Theology is taught by God, teaches God, and takes us to God. So may it be, for all of us.”

 Matthew Barrett (Ph.D., The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary) is the founder and executive editor of Credo Magazine. Barrett has contributed book reviews and articles to various academic journals, and he is the author of several forthcoming books. He is married to Elizabeth and they have two daughters, Cassandra and Georgia. He is a member of Clifton Baptist Church in Louisville, KY.