...is kind of a pain. Get out of here with your alarmingly sensible papist reasonings from the Scriptures! Dude, I was kind of like a young woman, who finds that young man "kind of annoying," but her friends know she's in denial. I could see that all the Scriptures made sense with what Trent was basically saying,--I know, try not to die--but I fought it. I fought in stages:
1. "You're wrong!" Phase: I was utterly thwarted by two things: 1) I am in fact not the end-all, be-all, know-it-all from the Scriptures, talented as I may be, which necessitates a reasonably humble person to ask his community, which led to the second problem, which was 2) these obnoxious papists dared to say that my community did not have authority in the first place! Actually, the first problem blended with the second problem, because the hermeneutical pluralism in evidence should convince even the proudest fool that he doesn't have the hermeneutical magic bullet that everyone else trying their best somehow missed. The Noltie Conundrum, indeed. In other words, most Protestant theologies retain a plausibility that choosing between them with anything stronger than personal preference is a fool's errand. Once you feel the force of this, I don't blame you if you're tempted with atheism.
2. "We're all united in what actually matters" Phase: This one I spent the shortest time in, because I bloody knew this wasn't actually true. The passion with which a Protestant of any flavor can argue with another Protestant of any flavor--and in good will, most times--will cure you of this feeble defense. We're not united. We never were. Let's give our respective forefathers that much: We don't get that passionate about floral arrangements. But if you believe God said a thing, (and not another thing) I don't blame you for getting passionate.
3. "I don't know why I believe what I believe, but I know I believe it" Phase: You can't spend long here, unless you are a lazy fideist. Christian faith has reasons; it always has. Particular iterations of Christian faith have reasons, too. But of course, I can't guarantee that every iteration has good reasons.
4. "Alright, cards on the table" Phase: This is the comparison phase. Asking whomever, "Why this, not that?" Frankly, most people can't even do this part. All of us have those emotional attachments that at least have the potential to make any decisions completely irrational. If Aunt Dorothy taught you the Bible when you were 3, you might get touchy about someone saying Aunt Dorothy is doing it wrong, as it were. But you've got to remind yourself that there is only one God, and it's to Him you owe ultimate allegiance.
5. "Swear-words, this actually makes sense" Phase: You can see why a person might actually believe this Catholic stuff, and not in a smarmy, Protestant, "Well, they just haven't heard the gospel" way, either.
6. "If I don't do it, I'm betraying myself and God" Phase: If you get down here, just do it. Luther was right about one thing: Going against conscience is never right, or safe. At least we know he was paying attention in Moral Theology class. It is actually a mercy from God to have doubts about something false.
I had two basic presumptions, all the way through: The Presumption of Continuity, AKA God's Faithfulness, that is, there has to be a way to discern truth from falsehood, and marks of God's footprints that were not arbitrary, self-serving, or random. And secondly, The Presumption of Return. Or, "Tie Goes To Rome." That is, if Protestants and Catholics agree, or I'm not utterly convinced of the opposite position, it would not be reasonable to be separate on a coin-flip. The most interesting fruit from the first presumption is discovering the visible Church. The fruit of the second, I almost hate to say, is that the biblical evidence for Sola Fide is, at best, a coin-flip. I hate it when that happens.
1. "You're wrong!" Phase: I was utterly thwarted by two things: 1) I am in fact not the end-all, be-all, know-it-all from the Scriptures, talented as I may be, which necessitates a reasonably humble person to ask his community, which led to the second problem, which was 2) these obnoxious papists dared to say that my community did not have authority in the first place! Actually, the first problem blended with the second problem, because the hermeneutical pluralism in evidence should convince even the proudest fool that he doesn't have the hermeneutical magic bullet that everyone else trying their best somehow missed. The Noltie Conundrum, indeed. In other words, most Protestant theologies retain a plausibility that choosing between them with anything stronger than personal preference is a fool's errand. Once you feel the force of this, I don't blame you if you're tempted with atheism.
2. "We're all united in what actually matters" Phase: This one I spent the shortest time in, because I bloody knew this wasn't actually true. The passion with which a Protestant of any flavor can argue with another Protestant of any flavor--and in good will, most times--will cure you of this feeble defense. We're not united. We never were. Let's give our respective forefathers that much: We don't get that passionate about floral arrangements. But if you believe God said a thing, (and not another thing) I don't blame you for getting passionate.
3. "I don't know why I believe what I believe, but I know I believe it" Phase: You can't spend long here, unless you are a lazy fideist. Christian faith has reasons; it always has. Particular iterations of Christian faith have reasons, too. But of course, I can't guarantee that every iteration has good reasons.
4. "Alright, cards on the table" Phase: This is the comparison phase. Asking whomever, "Why this, not that?" Frankly, most people can't even do this part. All of us have those emotional attachments that at least have the potential to make any decisions completely irrational. If Aunt Dorothy taught you the Bible when you were 3, you might get touchy about someone saying Aunt Dorothy is doing it wrong, as it were. But you've got to remind yourself that there is only one God, and it's to Him you owe ultimate allegiance.
5. "Swear-words, this actually makes sense" Phase: You can see why a person might actually believe this Catholic stuff, and not in a smarmy, Protestant, "Well, they just haven't heard the gospel" way, either.
6. "If I don't do it, I'm betraying myself and God" Phase: If you get down here, just do it. Luther was right about one thing: Going against conscience is never right, or safe. At least we know he was paying attention in Moral Theology class. It is actually a mercy from God to have doubts about something false.
I had two basic presumptions, all the way through: The Presumption of Continuity, AKA God's Faithfulness, that is, there has to be a way to discern truth from falsehood, and marks of God's footprints that were not arbitrary, self-serving, or random. And secondly, The Presumption of Return. Or, "Tie Goes To Rome." That is, if Protestants and Catholics agree, or I'm not utterly convinced of the opposite position, it would not be reasonable to be separate on a coin-flip. The most interesting fruit from the first presumption is discovering the visible Church. The fruit of the second, I almost hate to say, is that the biblical evidence for Sola Fide is, at best, a coin-flip. I hate it when that happens.
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