Breakpoint

John and Maria comment on how reactions to the images from the James Webb Telescope tell us about God and humans. Moving to the fallout after the Dobbs decision, they discuss Gov. Whitmer's stance in Michigan to restrict extradition due to abortion. They also respond to the accusation of transphobia aimed at Senator Hawley when asking for clarification for women's rights. Finishing, they touch on two popular stories from this week's Breakpoint.

The Declaration of Independence's statement that "all men are created equal," which Chuck Colson called "the American creed," often elicits a response: since slaves were anything but equal, was this creed a lie? Many signers of the Declaration were abolitionists who compromised on this issue so that the hope of independence would not end before it started. And without excusing the injustice of slavery, it's notable that Thomas Jefferson originally included a condemnation of slavery in the Declaration, but was forced to remove it due to opposition from the Southern colonies. And, it takes time for an idea to take root, to spread, to move from abstract principle to practical implementation. Jefferson was himself a slaveholder, and though in principle he opposed slavery, he failed to make Monticello work without them. The existence of slavery was assumed at the time, and many could not imagine a world without it. They should have but didn't. The American creed is an aspiration which neither our founders nor we have perfectly achieved. Rather than dismiss it as hypocrisy, we should commit ourselves again to work toward it.

The moment Roe v. Wade was overturned last month, desperate activists began to dust off the oldest and oddest arguments for abortion. These "gotcha" scenarios are supposed to prove that pro-lifers don't really value human life or consider preborn babies from the earliest stages of development to be human. Instead, these pretend scenarios demonstrate that pro-lifers are simply hypocrites. On closer inspection, however, these scenarios fail to convince. For example, there's the so-called "burning fertility clinic" scenario. A friend emailed me recently and asked for a response to this one, which as best I can tell, was invented by author Patrick Tomlinson. It goes like this. You're in a burning fertility clinic and hear a 5-year-old child crying for help. Across the room is a container marked "1,000 Viable Human Embryos." The flames are rising, smoke is filling the air, and you can only save one: the child or the container of embryos. According to Tomlinson, if you would choose to save the crying child, you're betraying the fact that, whatever you may say, you really believe embryos aren't equivalent to human beings. How, otherwise, could you justify saving one over 1,000? "Gotcha," right? Not really. First, this argument has nothing whatsoever to do with abortion. In no instance does a woman or her doctor ever choose between saving the life of one child at an advanced stage of development, or 1,000 at an earlier stage. Abortion involves the intentional killing of one or multiple children who, in most cases, would have lived if left alone. There's no analogy, here, which means as an argument for abortion, the burning fertility clinic is toast. But even setting that important point aside, the decision to save the imaginary 5-year-old over the embryos—which for the record, I would make—doesn't necessarily reflect my view of the embryos' humanity. It only reflects what I would do with limited time in a no-win situation. Perhaps, I would be acting on an impulse to stop conscious suffering, or to prevent parents from losing a child whose face and voice they know, or from a spur-of-the-moment instinct to answer a cry for help. None of these actions has any equivalence to an intentional killing, and none of them means I consider embryos less than human. Of course, abortion activists continue to repackage this flawed scenario, again and again, with help from media sources. Last week in The Washington Post, another and even more bizarre form of this argument surfaced. Harvard ethics professor Daniel Wikler and Northwestern University law professor Andrew Koppelman argued that if state lawmakers who are now outlawing abortion really believe embryos are human beings, they should be panicking over the sudden statistical spike in their states' infant mortality rates. As these professors write: "30 percent of human embryos spontaneously self-abort"—or are miscarried. These deaths aren't normally counted in infant mortality statistics, which only account for deaths after birth. But if embryos are human persons, these profs argue, infant mortality stats should include miscarriages. If we did that, though, we would be looking at mortality rates more than twice those of the most dangerous countries on earth—a true public health crisis! They conclude: "the fact of spontaneous abortion shows that opponents of abortion do not themselves believe what they are saying." This "gotcha" scenario has nothing to do with abortion, which is, once again, the intentional killing of unborn babies. Their use of the term "spontaneous abortion" instead of "miscarriage" may be medically acceptable but muddies this crucial distinction. And consider their logic: Lots of miscarriages, tragically, do happen. If pro-life lawmakers aren't adequately panicking about this, they must not really think intentionally killing unborn babies is wrong? That is like saying if you aren't panicked about children dying during a pandemic, you can't be against a shooter gunning them down in a school. It's an absurd line of thinking yet, in the frenzy of a post-Roe abortion movement, passes for Ivy-League-level ethical reasoning. None of these "gotcha" arguments should intimidate pro-lifers, especially Christians. We have the truth on our side, and now, thank God, the law in an increasing number of states. Bizarre hypothetical scenarios cannot change the moral reality that elective abortion is evil. On close inspection, the "gotcha" scenarios, like the imaginary fertility clinic in which they so often take place, just go up in smoke.

A line typically attributed to George Orwell states that "in times of universal deceit, telling the truth will be a revolutionary act." Well, we live in times in which "deceit" has been joined by "confusion." So, even claiming to know truth can mean being called a "liar," even when it comes to the observable realities of shared history or biology. In other words, telling the truth today requires nothing short of revolutionary courage. That's why I hope you can join me, Lee Strobel, and Brett Kunkle for Great Lakes Symposium on Christian Worldview this August 4 at the stunning Great Lakes Center for the Arts, located in Bay Harbor, Michigan. Thanks to generous sponsors, the event is completely free for those who can attend locally and will be livestreamed for everyone else. To attend in person or livestream, register at GreatLakesSymposium.org. Christians must re-embrace the idea of truth. Please join us August 4 at Great Lakes Symposium on Christian Worldview, where we can spur each other on to do exactly that.

In response to the recent Dobbs decision and the Supreme Court's clear, consistent support for religious liberty throughout this term, many progressives are warning of an imminent "Christian theocracy." Among the loudest voices predicting our collective doom are mainstream media outlets. For example, a recent story in Reuters claimed, "U.S. Supreme Court Takes Aim at Separation of Church and State." What's missing in virtually all of these pieces is a proper understanding of the "establishment clause." The establishment clause is derived from the opening lines of the First Amendment which states, "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof …" There are two ways this statement is commonly misunderstood. First, it is often described as establishing a "wall of separation between church and state." In fact, those words are found nowhere in the Constitution. The phrase actually was coined later in a letter by Thomas Jefferson. Second, and more importantly, it is assumed that if organized religion cannot be supported by the state, then secularism is somehow "neutral." Thus, by default, anything goes as long as it's "secular." Understanding the historical context is essential. In the 18th century, an "established" religion referred to an official state church. In the U.S., individual states had already established churches, such as the Anglican Church in Virginia. The First Amendment specifically applied to Congress and prohibited a national church. To prefer the Anglican Church over the Congregationalists or Presbyterians would, at the time, mean alienating certain citizens and entire states. States continued to have established churches well into the 19th century. In addition, the First Amendment was not intended to prohibit religious activities in governmental institutions. From the very beginning, Congress started each session with prayer. That continues today and is led by an official chaplain. Our founding fathers, particularly James Madison, believed that religious liberty was an innate right, and inseparable from the freedom of conscience. He also believed that religion would better flourish in a free marketplace of ideas. That thinking was the basis for the free exercise clause. This understanding of the freedom of conscience is the foundation for the other freedoms protected in the First Amendment. Without conscience rights, we cannot truly speak, write, assemble, or advocate freely from our deepest beliefs. That's why the freedom of religion is often called "the first freedom." Its position in the Bill of Rights highlights its importance. Although the rights of conscience should not be controversial, somehow, that's what they have become. How this happened is worth considering. By claiming secularism to be neutral, proponents of secularism ,as far back as the 19th century, attempted to broadly apply laws originally intended by Protestants to prevent Catholic schools from accessing state funds. In the 20th-century, secularists embraced the concept of "a living Constitution" in order to transform the meaning of the First Amendment, attempting to keep religious institutions from accessing state funds and allowing only "secular" views in the public arena. Though many court cases illustrate this, among the more important was Torcaso v. Watkins (1961), which declared unconstitutional Maryland's requirement that officeholders state belief in God. Rather than ruling on the basis of Article VI, which prohibits religious tests for public office, the Supreme Court ruled on the basis of the establishment clause of the First Amendment and of the Fourteenth Amendment, which prohibits states from violating the rights guaranteed to U.S. citizens. The same line of reasoning has since been used to challenge prayers at public meetings, Bible studies in schools, and nativity scenes on public property. In the process, the First Amendment was turned on its head, taking a clause intended to keep the state from backing any one denomination and construing it to position the state in opposition to all organized religions. In footnote 11 of the Torcaso v. Watkins decision, Justice Hugo Black listed secular humanism as one of a number of religions "which do not teach what would generally be considered a belief in the existence of God." Calling humanism a religion was not outlandish. For a century, humanists such as John Dewey and Julian Huxley had defined their beliefs as a religion. After all, secularism involves certain claims about the cosmos, existence, and human nature. And yet in 1994, the Ninth Circuit Court ruled in Peloza v. Capistrano Unified School District that while "religion" should be broadly interpreted for free exercise clause purposes, "anything 'arguably non-religious' should not be considered religious in applying the establishment clause." In other words, secular organizations were able to play both sides, qualifying as a religion for the free exercise clause but free from constraints from the establishment clause. To further determine whether religious activities could utilize public spaces, the Supreme Court derived the so-called "Lemon Test" in the case Lemon v. Kurzman (1991). According to this rule, a religious activity is only licit on public grounds if it performs a secular purpose, neither advances nor inhibits religion, and does not foster excessive government entanglement in religion. This test maintained an obviously secular bias: Secular organizations were not required to pass any tests to obtain access. In the recent decision in the Coach Kennedy case, the Supreme Court continued its long-overdue corrections to the anti-religious way the First Amendment had been interpreted. Particularly by unequivocally tossing the "Lemon Test," the Court has stopped the active suppression of religious beliefs and practice. We ought not fear an impending theocracy, but instead welcome a redress to the unjust and ahistorical understandings of religion.

Since SCOTUS overturned Roe, sales of the morning-after pill have exploded. Amazon had to restrict purchase numbers as did the pharmacies CVS and Rite Aid. One company saw a 600% increase in purchases within 24 hours of the Dobbs decision, with 72% of those for multiple units. Morning-after pills, colloquially called by the brand name Plan B, don't need a prescription. They range from $10 to $50 a pop. Women take it within three days of unprotected sex to deter ovulation and, if not that, to prevent the fertilized egg from implanting in the womb, which as many Christians have pointed out is abortion. It's not the same as what's called "medication abortion"—two different pills used up to 10 weeks of pregnancy. In a recent commercial for a new show, a woman hands a friend a bag with the morning-after pill, so the friend can sleep with a guy spontaneously. In other words, the phrase "emergency contraceptive" is most often a misnomer. Most of the talk of reproductive justice is really about sex without restraint.

In most of the world today, slavery is unthinkable. Is it possible that we could ever reach that same place with abortion in America? Just as there were once states where it was legal to own slaves and other states where it wasn't, we are now a nation deeply divided on the issue of abortion on a state-by-state level. In certain states, abortion is allowed, encouraged, and even subsidized abortion. In others, abortion is all but illegal. The history of the Church's stance on both issues, abolition and abortion, is instructive as we seek to obey Christ in a post-Roe world. Clearly, the early Church did not like slavery. The New Testament condemns behaviors that were endemic to the slave trade. In his letter to Philemon, Paul gave broad hints that masters should free their Christian slaves. Early Christians often purchased slaves specifically to set them free. Even so, neither the New Testament nor the early Church pushed for full abolition of slavery, for at least two reasons. First, taking a public stand would have brought even more unwanted attention to an already targeted group. Second, the ancient world offered no model to Christians for a society without slaves, so few could envision what that would look like. Though Christians saw slavery as a curse, they could not conceive of being rid of it entirely (any more than they could imagine a world rid of disease or poverty). This failure of moral imagination meant that it would be centuries before the implications of the Gospel would lead Christian rulers to take definitive steps toward abolishing slavery. By the Middle Ages, overt slavery was rare in Europe, and Church leaders spoke out against it. Thomas Aquinas claimed that slavery might be part of the "law of nations" but was against the law of nature and therefore a sin. When, centuries later, the infamous Atlantic slave trade began, Portugal and Spain defied the decrees of four different popes to spread it in their colonies. In the English-speaking world, the rampant practice of slavery found opposition among Quakers and a rising evangelicalism that eventually ended first the slave trade, then slavery altogether. All this means that the American theologians who defended slavery were following the culture's lead, not Church teaching. Though it took far too long for the implications of the Gospel to become clear, the teaching of both Jesus and Paul of the spiritual and moral equality of all persons meant that slavery was incompatible with Christianity, and its abolition in Christian states was only a matter of time. Eventually, because of the commitment to the worth and dignity of every human being as created in the image of God, Christians fought to end the abuse of slavery. In contrast, the Christian position on abortion has been clear from day one. In the Didache, the earliest non-New Testament Christian work to survive, Christians are instructed "you shall not murder a child by abortion nor kill that which is born." Similarly, the late first or early second century Epistle of Barnabas, a manual of ethics in this early period, says "you shall not murder a child by abortion, nor again kill it when it is born." In "A Plea for Christians," written in 177, Athenagoras of Athens wrote, "[w]e say that those women who use drugs to bring on abortion commit murder …" Similar teaching can be found in the writings of Clement of Alexandria, the pseudonymous Apocalypse of Peter, Tertullian, Hippolytus, Cyprian, and Lactantius, which takes us up to the de-criminalization of Christianity by Constantine. The teaching of the Church on abortion has been clear from the start and continued to be clear well into the 20th century. Only recently have some claiming the name of Christ accepted abortion as morally licit, or worse, have celebrated it. Christian opposition to abortion is based on precisely the same reasoning as Christian opposition to slavery. Every human being is made in the image of God and is crowned with glory and honor, a dignity we dare not ignore. The same dehumanizing and depersonalizing claim that undergirded the idea that slaves were less worthy as human beings, and further undergirded the horrific treatment of African Americans in the Jim Crow South, is also at work in pro-abortion thinking. And yet, the same liberating power of the imago dei that broke the chains of slavery demands that we see the dignity of preborn children and work to protect them. Slavery and the subsequent dehumanizing treatment of African Americans was evil, and that the crusade to end both was (and is) God's work. May we also recognize that dehumanizing and killing the unborn is at least as evil, and rightly abhorred.

Yesterday in 1924, Eric Liddell (1902-1945) won an Olympic gold medal in the 400-meter race. As a devout Christian, Liddell decided to never race on Sundays. Imagine his dismay when he realized that his best race—100 meters—was scheduled for a Sunday. Liddell withdrew, to the derision of many Britons, who thought he was being disloyal to his nation. He quickly pivoted for the 200-meter and 400-meter races, taking third in the 200-meter and claiming the gold in the 400-meter. Liddell was the son of Scottish missionaries to China, and his story was memorialized in the film Chariots of Fire, which won the Oscar in 1981 for Best Picture. Despite athletic success, Liddell returned to China the following year. During World War II, the Japanese took over his mission station and placed him in an internment camp, where he faithfully served Christ and others before dying of a brain tumor in 1945. Liddell's Olympic-time decision was consistent with the life he lived in faithful service to Christ who "made [him] for China," but also "made [him] fast." He ran every race, including the race of life, to "feel God's pleasure." .

One of the most enigmatic, sensational, and misguided thinkers of the last 10 years is Israeli historian and pop philosopher Yuval Noah Harari. His book Sapiens, published in English in 2015, sold over a million copies as it told the story of mankind's evolution. His 2017 book Homo Deus predicts a transhumanist future, a world where technology fundamentally reshapes what kind of entity human beings are. "We humans should get used to the idea that we are no longer mysterious souls. We are now hackable animals," he told attendees at the 2020 World Economic Forum annual meeting. "By hacking organisms, elites may gain the power to reengineer the power of life itself," he said two years earlier. "This will be not just the greatest revolution in the history of humanity. This will be the greatest revolution in biology since the very beginning of life 4 billion years ago." Harari's prophecy doesn't end there: "Science is replacing evolution by natural selection by evolution via intelligent design," he continued in 2018. "Not the intelligent design of some God above the clouds, but our intelligent design, and the intelligent design of our clouds: the IBM cloud, the Microsoft cloud … these are the new, driving forces of evolution." Conspiracy theorists might be forgiven for having a field day with such statements. After all, Harari's outspoken fans include some of the most powerful people alive: Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg, former President Barack Obama, as well as executive chairman of the World Economic Forum Klaus Schwab. Despite a somewhat critical response from academics, the success of his books is undeniable. Still, Harari suffers from a fatal inconsistency. While positioning himself as a prophet, interested in solving the worst abuses that could befall our future hackable selves, he cuts the ideological ground out from anything standing in their way. A keen example is his critique of both liberal democracy and the entire concept of the "individual" as outdated political norms. "Liberalism," he wrote in the Guardian "is unprepared for a situation when individual freedom is subverted from within, and when the very concepts of 'individual' and 'freedom' no longer make much sense." Yet in nearly the same breath, Harari rushes us towards that exact conclusion: "In order to survive and prosper in the 21st century," he writes, "we need to leave behind the naive view of humans as free individuals—a view inherited from Christian theology as much as from the modern Enlightenment." Though he is right about the origins of classic liberalism, the result is a self-contradictory mess. In effect, Harari is saying we should stop people from being hacked by hacking ourselves first … and defend universal values by denying that they exist. "I don't know where the answers will come from," Harari admits, "but they are definitely not coming from a collection of stories written thousands of years ago." If those stories are just stories, Harari is correct. But as C.S. Lewis described, some stories ground us in reality. This is, in fact, what Christianity does, and what reductionist materialism makes impossible. Though new insight on technology may have helped Harari sell interesting books, dreaming of a world stripped of all values is as old as modernism itself. Had someone given him a copy of Lewis' The Abolition of Man, he may have seen his exact premise tackled by an Oxford don nearly 80 years ago. All of this matters because ideas have consequences. Harari and those like him may be attempting to shape the trajectory of transhumanism towards a utopian future but, as often the case, public intellectuals with good intentions but bad worldviews are often the blindest to the practical implications of their thinking. "How does liberal democracy function in an era when governments and corporations can hack humans?" Harari asked in the Guardian article. A better question is: How does liberal democracy function in an era when people rush to assume they are merely pre-determined "hackable animals" instead of moral agents who are responsible for their decisions, living in a society of people created equal and "endowed by their creator with inalienable rights?" History tells us the answer to that question. It can't. The entire concept of human rights is intimately connected with a Christian anthropology. Gut a society of that worldview, and there's no limit to how far we can fall. If Harari's predictions somehow do become reality, it will have less to do with technology, and far more to do with ideas: specifically, the nihilistic, reductionist humanity he so ardently promotes. Technology makes imagined futures possible, but ideas shape how and why we use technology. If he's looking for a worldview that's better for empowering techno-tyrants, corporatists, and demagogues, he could do little better than the one he's promoting. On the other hand, if he's looking to evade the oppression he fears, he should look to One of the old stories he derides.

I'm going to say it—a book is better than a phone. Stop me if you've heard this: A guy is walking his dog right beside a very busy road and he almost dies because he's staring straight into, wait for it . . . a book! You were expecting it to be his phone, right? If you're going to risk your life, at least do it for the printed word. We might tell ourselves there's no difference between reading on paper and reading on a screen. But as Dr. Martin Tobin writes, "Our eyes lie to us." "Cognitive scientists have discovered that reading is not only a visual activity, but also a bodily activity," Tobin writes. "A book is a physical object . . . you see and feel the texture of its pages. Leafing back and forth provides a mental map of the entire text, aiding comprehension …and recall." And, of course, when we read a book, we're not tempted to check email, voicemail, Facebook, texts, and on and on. So put down the phone. Grab a real book. But avoid traffic when you do so.