Book Review: Five Views on Apologetics, edited by Steven Cowan
Publisher: Zondervan, 2000

Cowan’s purpose in presenting his Five Views on Apologetics is to provide the reader with a “side by side” view of the varying apologetic methodologies so that one may make up their own mind as to which method is correct (Cowan, page 8). Cowan classifies the apologetic methodologies into five separate categories; classical, evidential, cumulative, presuppositional and reformed epistemology. The editor then attempts to accomplish his self-assumed task by allowing a contributor who represents each of the five categories to make a case for their unique methodology. After each apologist completes his presentation, the other contributors are provided the opportunity for rebuttal. While the content of this book is valuable, I do have a couple of quibbles.

The first problem with this text is the layout. While I appreciate that the contributors were afforded the opportunity to respond to one another, I feel that each of the five methodologies should have been fully presented prior to the rebuttals. For instance, on page 56 Gary Habermas begins his rebuttal to William Lane Craig’s take on classical apologetics by pointing out that it has much in common with his own evidential approach. This comment is made before the reader has read Herbermas’ essay and can fully grasp what evidential apologetics is. This problem could be addressed by simply reading the chapters out of order and in retrospect I wish I would have done so.

My second complaint with this book concerns taxonomy. The editor himself seems to suggest this is a problem when he says, “these five apologetic methodologies do not constitute an exhaustive list of apologetic approaches” (page 20). With that in mind, one wonders if Cowan’s choice of five methodologies was somewhat arbitrary. Couldn’t he have divided apologetics into six or seven categories with justification? My concern; however, isn’t that Cowan didn’t differentiate enough between methodologies, but rather that he could have focused more on their similarities. The classical and cumulative approaches seem to be very similar in approach to evidential apologetics; as Cowan observes on page 18, “The careful reader will no doubt note that this [cumulative] method belongs in the same broad family of methods as does the evidential (and perhaps classical) method.” Likewise, the reformed epistemology belief that it is reasonable for a person to believe something without evidence seems to place it in the same family as the presuppositional method. Cowan could have easily presented the material in this book under two wide classifications; an evidential approach verses a presuppositional one. My concern is that the reader will become more concerned with adhering to one of Cowan’s five camps than with presenting the best apologetical argument in a given situation. In all fairness, this issue is addressed somewhat in Cowan’s conclusion beginning on page 375 when he summarizes the agreements and disagreements between the five methods.

Despite the above criticisms, this book is highly valuable and should be recommended for newcomers to the subject of apologetics. Before reading this text, I had no idea of the complexities concerning apologetic methodologies and was unaware of the current debates between apologists. Despite the fact I have a natural affinity for the evidential methods of apologetics, I was extremely impressed with John Frame’s essay on the presuppositional method and his examination of how unbelief effects a person’s perception of the truth (beginning on page 210). Frame and the other contributors do a good job of stretching the reader’s perceptions of apologetics. In sum, will help prepare its reader to give an answer to all who ask and for that it is valuable.

While watching this debate between pundit Bill O’Reilly and atheist Richard Dawkins, something within me snapped. I suddenly grew very tired of the entire religion versus science debate. Rarely is anything ever accomplished when these two side clash; both have dug in their heels and are unwilling to budge. At this point, the entire dialogue has been reduced into a bunch of blustering sound bytes.

Perhaps my perspective is a little skewed. I’m in favor of both Christ and science. Obviously, I am a Christian. I believe that the Bible is inspired and fully confess a belief in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I am also a fan of science. Perhaps due to all the episodes of Star Trek I’ve watched in my life I am a huge proponent of space travel. I can get lost for hours looking at the images of space that NASA provides on their website. Also, I lost a mother to cancer and have a child with type one diabetes and a step son with epilepsy, so I get a little jazzed up anytime the news reports that scientists are one step closer to curing these and other diseases. Simply put, science is cool.

I do not believe; however, that science and faith-based religions are at odds.

I think atheists are out of line when they suggest that faith should play no part in science; rather, I feel that faith should be the driving force behind science. Let me explain. To be human is to be curious. The human race is born with an innate desire to explore and learn. We are programmed to ask really big questions. This programming, much like our innate moral code, comes from somewhere beyond ourselves; I would suggest the possibility that it comes from God. Dawkins and his kind suggest we should stop short of asking the really big questions. It is okay to ask how the human machine works or how it came to be what it is, but the second we ask “who” put the machine in motion, atheists slam on the brakes and tell us we’ve gone too far. I’m sorry, but if science is unwilling to even entertain the big questions, I want new scientists.

For example, when I look at look at a great piece of art, I can study its lines, shape, and composition for awhile, but eventually I’m going to want to know who painted it. To become truly intimate with a piece of music, you must eventually come to know the composer. Who was she? What type of mood was she in when she wrote it? Of what culture did she belong? Without asking these questions, we might as well examine art with our eyes half shut.

In all honesty, I don’t expect science to answer all of the big questions. Along with our innate curiosity, we are also born with a certain uncertainty about life after death and God. Christ has eased many of these fears for me, but I would be lying if I told you all my questions have been answered. It might be a little idealistic to believe that science can answer all of these questions; however, it is inspiring to know that every time there is a scientific breakthrough, we are one step closer to understanding our creator. I believe science has a high purpose that is encouraged by God. Scientific proof may not be required to believe in God, but if God is real, He can teach us and speak to us in a variety of ways including the Bible, His creation, and science.

It might surprise you to know that students in the United States currently rank 29th amongst other developed countries in science education. Atheists tell us we shouldn’t allow the big questions that concern creation in the classroom. Perhaps if we were able to ask those big questions and hint at the possibility of a God, our children would be inspired to accomplish more.

On a crisp late summer morning recently, I made a discovery about myself.  I was exiting the front door of my humble abode when I noticed a slip of paper sticking out of the mailbox in my peripheral vision.  I pulled the slip of paper out of the mailbox to find it was a religious tract.  Not just any tract mind you, but a ‘How will you spend eternity’ tract.  The modern equivalent of a ‘turn or burn’, ‘repent or be sent’ message.

Now I must confess that everything in the tract was the truth.  And yet despite the truthful nature of the tract, I hated the slip of paper.  And it occurred to me that I hate all religious tracts in general as well.  This realization for me is a substantive departure from what I used to think about this subject.  I used to be all in favor of them.  I used to like them.  I used to think they were an invaluable tool in reaching the lost.

And as I stood there in my driveway, staring at the piece of paper; I knew I could never look at tracts the same way again.  I’m not sure how long this change in my head and heart has been brewing.  It must have been coming for some time, and my conscious brain is only just now catching up to this.  The reasons I hate tracts, I discovered there in my driveway are many.  This tract in particular was endemic of the problems I have with them in general.

The premise involved in this tract, and tracts in general, I think are hopelessly flawed.  It assumes that someone can be persuaded too make a life-changing decision from the information contained in six detail panels on a total of both side of a sheet of paper smaller than a three by five card folded neatly three times.  There just isn’t room to have a substantive enough dialogue in this format for this to occur.  This format provides for no more than a few hundred words at most, less if there are any graphics involved.  Can someone be convinced to come to Christ from this?  The Bible says that with God all things are possible, so I have to assume the answer is yes, but in the vast majority of cases, it is highly doubtful.

The size and space limitations of this tract lead to another issue I have.  They are by and large truthful, but the format restrictions prevent any substantive discussion of any issues.  As such, tracts can only present a brief summary in a highly condensed format.  The format restrictions and summary nature means we are treating God like so much condensed soup.  The vast gulf of information is left out of this process virtually guaranteeing that an informed decision is impossible.

The theology that drives these things is in my view also troublesome.  Most commonly it is entirely a works based salvation that is being expressed.  This form of theology is something minimizes the role of grace in the life of the average believer.  It reinforces the role of self in terms of ‘getting things done for God’ as being important.  And in the opinion of many, myself included, it is a very egocentric almost narcissistic perspective.  This perspective seems to almost believe that if they work hard enough the grace freely given to them can be earned in some way, which isn’t even remotely possible.

The tone of most tracts also really bothers me as well.  Most of them tend to operate from a condescending perspective.  They tend to treat the reader like an idiot or a recently awakened coma patient with no memory.  Neither of which is an effective method of getting the point across.  Who wants to willingly read a document filled with condescension?  Who wants to be talked to like they’re a mental midget?

The tone is also usually absolutely negative.  This negativity can and often does create hostility on the part of the target audience.  It can reinforce all of the stereotypes regarding people of faith, that we’re arrogant no-it-alls mostly.  It also creates a division of us and them.  Can a highly condensed summary document of a few hundred words filled to the brim with negativity and condescension really overcome another divisive hurdle?  I find it highly doubtful.  And I am quite dubious of any claims to the contrary.

Given the flaws of the tract format, one cannot help but come to the conclusion that this is a tool that isn’t effective anymore, (assuming it ever was).  One cannot help but ask the most logical question at this point.  If tracts are not an effective tool, then why are they still used at all?  If its time has come and gone, why still use it?  The most proximal answer can be found in the form of evangelism that usually underpins those that use tracts.  The approach is quite often a shotgun method.  It assumes that if something is done often enough for a long enough period, it will hit someone receptive and be helpful.  This approach is horribly ineffective, most cases the response rate is less than one percent.  Comparatively speaking, any marketing firm whose main method of marketing got a less than one percent favorable response rate, wouldn’t be a marketing firm very long.

There is also a view that a low response rates are fine, because this tool is planting seeds for future germination.  Given the problems with this format, I can’t see how anything could germinate after having been exposed to this tool.  In fact, if anything, the use of this tool makes the work of true evangelism harder rather than easier.  It hardens hearts to the message and stiffens the resolve of the un-reached against any future contact by God to them.

Given all that I have said to this point, one might reasonably conclude, that I believe that the tool that is a tract needs to go the way of the dodo bird.  And that is a fair inference to make, as I do believe that the current construct is broken beyond repair and longer functions as intended.  And as a stand alone tool it is worthless and useless.  If however the tract were to jettison the entire existing construct, is retooled to rid itself of its negative traits, it could function as a device that supports a more effective tool.  Say using it in concert with a service evangelism project, or as a starting point for a proper dialogue in an appropriate setting.  It might even be possible to use it in concert with a real effort at evangelism.

What the tract needs to become is a supporting device.  It needs to embrace brevity to carry simpler messages that can actually entice someone to want to know more.  We need to realize that it is the starting point for discussion, not the place in which the entire discussion can take place.  The negativity, condescension, arrogance, problematic theology, and divisive nature all need to go away.  They should be replaced with a positive message, filled with humility, an event level tone, and an inclusive nature. We should see it as a mechanism to entice a believer to want to know more.  The current format doesn’t do that and ends up in our waste stream nearly as fast as toilet paper.