3. The Theological Basis of Apologetics
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The Theological Basis of Apologetics
Apologetics is not a set of techniques for winning people to Christ. It is not a set of argumentative templates designed to win debates. It is a willingness to work with God in helping people discover and turn to his glory. As Avery Dulles once noted with some sadness, the apologist is often regarded as an “aggressive, opportunistic person who tries, by fair means or foul, to argue people into joining the church.”
It’s easy to see how these stereotypes arise. And it’s equally easy to see how dangerous such attitudes can be. The heart of apologetics is not about mastering and memorizing a set of techniques designed to manipulate arguments to get the desired conclusion. It is about being mastered by the Christian faith so that its ideas, themes, and values are deeply imprinted on our minds and in our hearts.
Far from being a mechanical repetition of ideas, apologetics is about a natural realization of the answers we can provide to people’s questions and concerns, answers that arise from a deep and passionate immersion in the realities of our faith. The best apologetics is done from the standpoint of the rich vision of reality characteristic of the Christian gospel, which gives rise to deeply realistic insights into human nature. What is our problem? What is our need? How can these needs be resolved? In each case, a powerful answer may be given to each question, an answer grounded in the Christian understanding of the nature of things.
As this book will emphasize, there is no substitute for long, hard, and prayerful reflection on the great truths of faith on the one hand, and the identity of the audiences we shall engage and address on the other. In this chapter, we shall consider how theological reflection on the central themes of the Christian faith informs good apologetics.
Setting Things in Context
To help us set our reflections in a proper context, let us recall one of the earliest recorded events in the Gospel accounts of the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth:
As Jesus passed along the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And Jesus said to them, “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And immediately they left their nets and followed him. (Mark 1:16–18)
This is a wonderful narrative, packed full of detail and insight. For example, we note that Jesus called fishermen. Contemporary Jewish literature had much to say about people whose jobs made them virtually incapable of keeping the law of Moses. Two groups often singled out for special (negative) comment were carpenters and fishermen—carpenters because they doubled as undertakers and were handling dead bodies all the time, and fishermen because they had to handle and sort mixed catches of clean and unclean fish. Both groups were incapable of observing the strict Jewish rules about ritual purity, which prohibited contact with anything unclean. Yet Jesus calls precisely such fishermen, who hovered on the fringes of Jewish religious life. It’s a powerful reminder of the way in which the Christian gospel reaches out to everyone—even those whom society regards as powerless or valueless.
That’s an important point. But it’s not the most important thing from an apologetic point of view. Here’s the apologetic question we need to ask: What made Simon and Andrew leave everything and follow Jesus? Does Jesus offer compelling arguments for the existence of God? Does he explain to them that he is the fulfillment of the great prophecies of the Old Testament? No. There is something about him that is compelling. The response of Simon and Andrew was immediate and intuitive. Mark leaves us with the impression of an utterly compelling figure who commands assent by his very presence.
Although this account of the encounter between Jesus of Nazareth and the first disciples by the Sea of Galilee is very familiar, we need to read it with an apologetic agenda in mind. It helps us set apologetics in its proper perspective. It reminds us that argument can be only part of our strategy. In many ways, our task is to lead people to Christ and discovery of the living God. Apologetics does not and cannot convert anyone. But it can point people in the right direction by removing barriers to an encounter with God, or opening a window through which Christ can be seen. Apologetics is about enabling people to grasp the significance of the gospel. It is about pointing, explaining, opening doors, and removing barriers. Yet what converts is not apologetics itself, but the greater reality of God and the risen Christ.
To explain this important point, we may turn to another account of the calling of the first disciples:
Philip found Nathanael and said to him, “We have found him about whom Moses in the law and also the prophets wrote, Jesus son of Joseph from Nazareth.” Nathanael said to him, “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip said to him, “Come and see.” (John 1:45–46)
Having encountered Jesus of Nazareth, Philip is convinced he is the one he has been hoping for. He then tries to persuade Nathanael that Jesus is the fulfillment of the hopes of Israel. Nathanael is clearly skeptical about this, and raises an objection: Could such a person really come from Nazareth? Yet instead of meeting this objection with reasoned argument, Philip invites Nathanael to meet Jesus of Nazareth and decide for himself.
Now Philip might have answered Nathanael with a detailed argument. Perhaps he might have argued that Jesus’s origins in Nazareth represented the fulfillment of a biblical prophecy. Or perhaps he might have set out the various factors that led him, Andrew, and Peter to follow Jesus of Nazareth and believe him to be the culmination of the hopes of Israel. Yet Philip has learned that encounter is to be preferred to argument. Why argue with Nathanael when there is a more direct and appropriate way of resolving the matter? And so Philip says, “Come and see.”
On meeting Jesus and hearing him, Nathanael comes to his own conclusion: “Rabbi, you are the Son of God! You are the King of Israel!” (John 1:49). We see here the importance of pointing people toward Jesus of Nazareth. We can, like Philip, explain what we find so powerfully compelling and attractive about Jesus. But in the end, the ultimate persuasion comes not from our testimony, but from one’s own encounter with the risen Christ.
The point is important. Apologetics, we are often told, is about persuading people of the truth of the Christian faith. Now there is some truth in that—but it is not the whole truth. There are serious limits to the scope of arguments. You may be able to persuade someone that an idea is correct—but is this going to change his or her life? Philip rightly discerns that Nathanael will be transformed not by an argument, nor even an idea, but by a personal encounter with Jesus. He does not argue for Jesus—he points to Jesus. Is this not a helpful model for Christian witness—pointing people to Jesus, whom we have found to be the fulfillment of human longings and the culmination of our aspirations, thus allowing them to encounter him for themselves, rather than relying on our arguments and explanations?
Yet the story continues, and there are further apologetic points to be made. A few days later, Jesus and his disciples attend a wedding at Cana in Galilee. There, Jesus performs a “sign”—he changes water into wine. The impact of this sign on the disciples is significant. As the Gospel narrative tells us, “Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him” (John 2:11). Faith is here seen as the outcome of a revelation of the glory of Christ. This goes far beyond reasoned argument. Faith is the response to the realization of the full majesty, glory, and wonder of Christ. Perhaps the most striking example of this is “Doubting Thomas,” who puts his faith in Christ when he realizes he has indeed been raised from the dead: “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28).
Even this brief discussion of the nature of apologetics indicates that it has a strongly theological dimension. It may be helpful to explore this in a little more detail before proceeding further.
First, the references in John’s Gospel to faith arising from the revelation of divine glory remind us that conversion is not brought about by human wisdom or reasoning, but is in its deepest sense something that is brought about by God. This is a constant theme in the New Testament. Paul’s preaching at Corinth did not rest on human wisdom, “so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God” (1 Cor. 2:5). Faith is not about a mere change of mind; it is about personal transformation through an encounter with the living God.
Second, the New Testament depicts human nature as being wounded and damaged by sin. We are not capable of seeing things as they really are. “The god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God” (2 Cor. 4:4). Arguments do not cure blindness, nor does the accumulation of evidence, powerful rhetoric, or a compelling personal testimony. Blindness needs to be healed—and such a healing is something only God is able to do. God alone is able to open the eyes of the blind and enable them to see the realities of life. Apologetics thus depends upon the grace of God and the divine capacity to heal and renew. This is not something we can do. This helps put apologetics in proper perspective!
Third, this theological perspective sets the apologetic task in its proper context. We realize we have an important but limited role to play in bringing people to faith. God is the one who will convert; we have the privilege of bringing people to a point at which God takes over. We point to the source of healing; God heals. We witness to the power of forgiveness; God forgives. We explain how God has changed our lives, transforming them for the better; God enters lives, and changes them. We have a real and privileged part in this process, but are not left on our own. Apologetics is always undertaken in the power and presence of the risen Christ.
An analogy may help make this critically important point clearer. Imagine you had blood poisoning some years ago. Certain symptoms developed, and you realized you were seriously ill. A skilled physician told you what the problem was. And there was a cure: penicillin. The drug was quickly administered, and within days you were on the road to recovery. It’s a very easy scenario to imagine, and you could rewrite it easily to widen its reach.
Here’s the critical question: Did the physician heal you? In one sense, yes. In another, no. The physician told you what was wrong with you, and what needed to be done if you were to be healed. But what actually cured you was penicillin. The physician’s diagnosis told you what the problem was. But in the days before penicillin was discovered, this condition meant only one thing: death. There was nothing that could be done to save you. Identifying the problem would not have been enough to heal you. A cure was needed.
This analogy allows us to get a good sense of how apologetics works, and how we fit into the greater scheme of things. To continue this medical analogy, apologetics is about explaining that human nature is wounded, damaged, broken, and fallen—and that it can be healed by God’s grace. The apologist can use many strategies to explain, communicate, and defend the idea that there is something wrong with human nature. Equally, we can use many strategies to explain, communicate, and defend the fact that there is indeed a cure. But apologetics itself does not heal; it only points to where a cure may be found.
We may provide excellent arguments that such a cure exists. We could provide personal testimonies from people whose lives have been changed by discovering this cure. But in the end, people are healed only by finding and receiving the cure, and allowing it to do its work. We may play a real and important role in helping them to realize they are ill and telling them how they could be cured. Without us, they might not find the cure. But the actual process of healing itself results from the power of penicillin, not from our words.
Apologetics and a Theological Vision of Reality
Apologetics is grounded in a deep appreciation of the intellectual capaciousness and spiritual richness of the Christian faith. The task of the apologist is not to make the Christian faith attractive or relevant to the world. Rather, we are called on to help people appreciate and discover its power, relevance, and persuasiveness. The apologist is called on to work out how to allow the intrinsic truth, beauty, and goodness of the Christian faith to be discerned.
Another analogy might help clarify this point. Imagine you are standing on a mountain with a friend, admiring the view. It’s a scene you know well, as you’ve been there many times before. But your friend hasn’t. It’s all new to her. Below you, the landscape stretches into the far distance. You can see forests, rivers, fields, and villages. You point out the villages, telling your friend about their histories. You show her the rivers, and tell her about the ancient forests. You point out a little waterfall that is easy to miss unless you know what to look for. She is delighted with the scene. But the point to appreciate is that you did not create its beauty or its history. You merely helped her to appreciate what was already there—something she didn’t know about, or hadn’t noticed.
Apologetics is not about inventing the rationality, imaginative power, or moral depths of the Christian faith. It is about pointing them out, and allowing people to see them clearly and appreciate them for what they are. This means the apologist must be able and willing to develop a deep and informed appreciation of the Christian faith. Yet this is not enough: it is also important to develop an outsider perspective. We need to be able to understand how the great themes of the Christian faith can be defended and explained to people who are not familiar with its vocabulary or practices. Perhaps even more importantly, we need to be able to work out how these themes relate to people, so they can begin to appreciate their relevance and power of transformation.
So, how can we appreciate the power and depth of the Christian faith through theological analysis? We begin by considering an analogy that many have found helpful in appreciating the importance of theology in apologetics. I first began to use this analogy in the late 1980s, and have been encouraged by how many people have adopted it (and sometimes adapted it as well!). The analogy? A prism.
In 1666, the great British mathematician and physicist Isaac Newton made a discovery in his rooms at Trinity College, Cambridge. If a beam of white light were passed through a glass prism, it was broken up into the seven colors of the rainbow—red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo, and violet. Newton realized that a similar process must lie behind the formation of the colors of the rainbow, with raindrops breaking down the white light of the sun into its constituent colors. Each color was already present in the beam of white light, but its individual identity was not obvious. The prism allowed the colors to be separated so that each could be seen and appreciated.
It’s a simple analogy, but it allows us to make a powerful point. The Christian gospel—like a beam of white light—is a rich, complex reality, consisting of a number of elements. Each of these elements deserves to be studied and appreciated in its own right. Theological analysis is about identifying each of these elements of Christian proclamation, determining its apologetic potential, and using it appropriately.
To make this point clearer, we shall undertake a piece of theological analysis and use this apologetically. Let’s ask a simple question: What is the significance of the cross of Christ? Although this is an important theological question, it is equally important apologetically. Different people have different needs and concerns. One aspect of the gospel may interlock with one group of needs, while another may match up with others.
A Worked Example: Theological Analysis of the Cross
It is impossible to summarize the immensely rich and complex message of the cross in a few words. Indeed, one of the great delights of theology is that it offers us the opportunity of reflecting deeply (and at leisure!) on the full meaning of the great themes of the Christian message, such as the cross of Christ. Yet it is important to note that a number of aspects can be identified within that message—each of which has particular relevance to certain groups of people. Each aspect of the Christian proclamation of the cross of Christ will resonate particularly with specific groups of people outside the church.
For our purposes in this section, we shall consider four leading themes associated with the cross of Christ. All four play an important role in the New Testament witness to the significance of the death of Christ and subsequent reflection on the extended meaning of this event within the Christian theological tradition.
Other themes could easily be added to this short list. My intention here is not to provide an exhaustive theological analysis of the cross, but to show how identification of its themes has significant and important apologetic applications. I shall elaborate briefly on each of these four theological points before exploring their apologetic implications.
1. The cross of Christ is the basis of the forgiveness of human sin.
A good starting point for our reflection is Paul’s declaration that “Christ died for our sins” (1 Cor. 15:3). It is not just the brute and crude historical fact of the death of Christ that is of such importance; it is what that event means for us. That Jesus died is history; that Jesus died for the forgiveness of our sins is the gospel. For Paul, the cross meant salvation, forgiveness, and victory over death. Thus the “message of the cross” is not restricted to the simple fact that Jesus was crucified, but extends to the significance of this event for us. Jesus died—in order that we might live. Jesus was numbered among sinners so that sinners might be forgiven.
Much more could be said about the theology of forgiveness. This book, however, is about apologetics, not theology. Our concern here is to focus on outsider perspectives. How does the proclamation of the possibility of real forgiveness of real sins through the death of Christ relate to people outside the Christian faith? How can this theological truth interlock with their anxieties and aspirations? We need to learn to think apologetically, reflecting on how this aspect of the cross might be a gateway for someone to discover the reality of the gospel. How might we use this idea of forgiveness as a bridge to God?
One way of beginning to make these connections focuses on the question of human guilt—a deep concern for many. Philosopher Immanuel Kant commented that a deep sense of guilt holds many people back from moral action. While there is some truth in this, there is a much deeper point that needs to be made. Some people have such a deep sense of guilt about something they have done—or, in some cases, have had done to them—that they feel they cannot really live properly until the problem has been resolved. How, they wonder, can they achieve this?
This, of course, is a central theme in one of the best-known works of English literature—John Bunyan’s classic The Pilgrim’s Progress. Bunyan depicts his pilgrim as struggling under a “burden of sin” that forces him to his knees, making him unable to walk properly. Finally, he is able to lay this burden at the foot of the cross and begin to walk properly for the first time. That is how many people feel: they are burdened with guilt, and realize they cannot begin to live properly until they know they have been properly forgiven.
The word “sin,” of course, is problematic for many today. We must avoid thinking that this is a recent development. Back in 1945, C. S. Lewis complained that “a sense of sin is almost totally lacking” in modern culture. The apologist must deal with “people who have been raised to believe that whatever goes wrong in the world is someone else’s fault.” Sin—like every aspect of the apologist’s vocabulary—needs to be explained.
2. The cross and resurrection of Christ achieve victory over sin and death.
One great theme of the gospel is that the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ free us from the fear of death. Christ has been raised from the dead, and those who have faith will one day share in that resurrection and be with him forever. Death is no longer something we need to fear. Christians celebrate this supremely at Easter, when they recall with gratitude the costliness of this victory and exult in its reality. This great message of hope in the face of suffering and death is crucial for us all. Yet it has a special relevance to those many people who wake up in the middle of the night, frightened by the thought of death. Many people in western culture are simply unable or unwilling to confront the reality of human mortality. They hope they can get through life without having to deal with it. But you can’t run away from reality. You’ve got to face up to the way things really are.
A classic study of the western reluctance to face the reality of human mortality is found in Ernest Becker’s prize-winning study The Denial of Death. Becker argues that many westerners maintain a pretense of immortality, refusing to concede their own mortality. It is too difficult and too painful a matter to think about. It is therefore sidelined and ignored—but it won’t just go away.
The cross liberates us from the fear of death and the need to live a lie. It acts as a powerful antidote to our natural tendency to be frightened or anxious about our situation in the world. It allows us to face death with a quiet and calm confidence, knowing that its sting has been drawn by the cross and victory given through the resurrection. The letter to the Hebrews makes this point powerfully when it declares Jesus died in order that he might “destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil, and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by the fear of death” (Heb. 2:14–15).
Now notice this approach isn’t saying, “Let’s pretend death has been defeated. Let’s pretend its power has been broken. And let’s live our lives as if death should not worry us.” That would be like closing our eyes to the harsh realities of life and living in a make-believe world of fantasy—like stepping into a fairy tale, or into an arcade game of Dungeons & Dragons. No! This approach is saying something very different indeed. It is saying, “Through the cross and resurrection of Jesus Christ, the power of death has been broken. We have been given victory over death through Christ. And that knowledge ought to change us. It ought to transform the way we think and the way we live. We need not fear death anymore, because on the cross Christ grappled with it, and defeated it.” This is no pretend world of an overexcited and fertile human imagination. It is the real world of the gospel, given and guaranteed by God himself.
The apologetic implications of this are momentous, especially for those who know the fear of death and want to break free from its thrall. Many have failed to come to life because they are so frightened of death. The Christian gospel meets these concerns head-on. There is no need to run away from reality anymore.
3. The cross brings healing to broken and wounded humanity.
One of the central themes of the Christian Scriptures is that God heals a broken world and restores damaged people. The prophets emphasized this hope of healing, comparing God to a physician or to a “sun of righteousness [that] shall rise, with healing in its wings” (Mal. 4:2). Jesus of Nazareth’s healing ministry can be seen as an extension of this theme, pointing to God’s renewal of his creation through his agency.
This theme is intensified through a focus on the cross, which the New Testament sees as a fulfillment of the “suffering servant” theme of the prophecy of Isaiah:
Surely he has borne our infirmities and carried our diseases; yet we accounted him stricken, struck down by God, and afflicted. But he was wounded for our transgressions, crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the punishment that made us whole, and by his bruises we are healed. (Isa. 53:4–5)
The crucified Christ’s wounds and suffering are thus seen in a deeper light. In some way, Christ bore this pain and suffering for others, in order that they might be healed.
Early Christian writers were aware of the apologetic importance of this theme. In the late first century, Ignatius of Antioch spoke of the “medicine of immortality”—in other words, comparing the gospel to a drug able to heal humanity’s fatal illness, so that death need no longer be feared. In the fifth century, Augustine of Hippo suggested the church was like a hospital—full of wounded and ill people who were recovering under the care of the good physician and the medicine he provided. The same theme is taken up, powerfully and memorably, in a great African American spiritual:
There is balm in Gilead,
To make the wounded whole;
There’s power enough in heaven,
To cure a sin-sick soul.
So how can this theme be used apologetically? How does it speak to the cultural mood and to the aspirations and concerns of ordinary people? Many people think of society as broken, or of themselves as damaged or wounded. This is a powerful and meaningful way of expressing a deep feeling that things are not right. Things need to be restored to what they were meant to be. But where is healing to be found?
At this point, a powerful connection can be established with the Christian faith. This can be developed iconically—in other words, through images. The familiar image of a wounded, suffering Christ on the cross, when rightly interpreted, speaks of God’s solidarity with those suffering and the possibility of renewal and restoration. It can also be developed intellectually, in terms of Christ entering into the vale of human sorrow and pain in order to transform it. It is no accident that the great New Testament vision of the New Jerusalem emphasizes that sorrow and pain have been left behind. They will not be part of the new order. God “will wipe every tear from their eyes. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away” (Rev. 21:4).
4. The cross demonstrates the love of God for humanity.
At the heart of the Christian faith lies belief in a trustworthy God who loves us. More than that: God demonstrates that love for humanity in and through the death of Christ on the cross. “God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us” (Rom. 5:8). The full extent of this love is revealed in the cross of Christ. Jesus died in order to convince and assure us of the tender love of God for us sinners (John 3:16), and thus to bring us home to God. Some people feel they are too deeply immersed in their sin to be loved by God; the New Testament takes a very different view, affirming that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ (Rom. 8:31–39).
The Christian faith declares that the love of God is revealed and confirmed in action. It is certainly true that “God is love” (1 John 4:8). Yet this could easily be misunderstood as some timeless truth that affirms God as the true ideal of human love. That is inadequate as a description of the Christian God. The Bible witnesses to a God who, like the shepherd who has lost a sheep, goes out in search of it and carries it home rejoicing (Luke 15:4–7). We see this supremely demonstrated in the cross of Christ, in which God acted to demonstrate this love. “God’s love was revealed among us in this way: God sent his only Son into the world so that we might live through him” (1 John 4:9). Actions, as we are continually reminded, speak louder than words. God is dynamic, a living God, an acting God, who does things in order to reveal the full extent of his love for us.
So how can this important theological insight be used apologetically? How does it speak to where our culture is at the moment? Everyone wants to matter. We all need a “secure base”—a context within which we are loved, affirmed, and enabled to grow and develop. Families, friends, and communities alike have the potential to offer support. Yet many people often feel lonely and lost along the road of life, overwhelmed by thoughts of the vastness of the universe and the brevity and insignificance of human life. Who cares about us?
The theme of the love of God speaks of a God who is present and who cares. We matter profoundly to him. God knows us individually by name. As the psalmist declares, contemplating the vastness of the starry heavens:
When I look at your heavens, the work of your fingers,
the moon and the stars that you have established;
What are human beings that you are mindful of them,
mortals that you care for them?
Yet you have made them a little lower than God,
and crowned them with glory and honor. (Ps. 8:3–5)
This powerful affirmation is deepened and strengthened through the message of the cross of Christ, which speaks of the God who created all things entering into his creation in order to redeem us. So “mindful” is God of each of us that Christ chose to die for each of us. He gave all that he had for us. As C. S. Lewis remarked, Christians do not think “God will love us because we are good, but that God will make us good because he loves us.”
Moving On
In this chapter, we have seen how theological reflection on core themes and elements of the Christian gospel allow us to begin to make connections with audiences. The same type of thinking can be applied again and again. The important thing is to bring the gospel into contact with people’s lives. Theology helps us identify the most appropriate point of contact with individuals, so that they can discover the joy of faith. This doesn’t mean we are reducing the gospel to just one point! It means we are looking for the aspect of the gospel that is of greatest relevance to the person we are talking to. The rest of the gospel will follow in due course. We have to start somewhere with each specific audience—and theology helps identify the best starting point in each case.
In the next chapter, we shall focus more closely on the identity of the audience. How does this impact the way we do apologetics?
For Further Reading
Allen, Diogenes. Christian Belief in a Postmodern World: The Full Wealth of Conviction. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 1989.
Grenz, Stanley J., and William C. Placher. Essentials of Christian Theology. Louisville: Westminster John Knox, 2003.
McGrath, Alister E. Christian Theology: An Introduction, 5th ed. Oxford: Wiley-Blackwell, 2011.
Sire, James W. A Little Primer on Humble Apologetics. Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity, 2006.
Sproul, R. C. Defending Your Faith: An Introduction to Apologetics. Wheaton: Crossway, 2003.