A Christian Theology & Philosophy of History by Peter J. Wallace I. Introduction In recent years a dispute has arisen between Christian historians regarding our understanding of the work of the Holy Spirit in history. Both sides affirm the supremacy of God's providence, but differ in their interpretations of the "work of God." All Christian historians have attempted to answer the question, "what was God doing in this given period of history?" but they have answered in different ways. Theological historians like Iain Murray and David Calhoun have followed the ancient tradition of writing history to encourage and edify their constituency-- sometimes glossing over negative or sinful elements in their subjects--while academic historians such as Harry Stout and Mark Noll have taken what Stout calls the "warts and all" approach, which attempts to understand the social, economic and political factors which affect religious movements, facing up to the "darker" side of church history. At the root of this issue are the questions of the relationship between providence and history, and how far man can perceive the work of the Holy Spirit in history. The chief example in this paper will discuss the events surrounding the First Great Awakening, because much of the debate has swirled around the question of whether man can determine what is, and what is not a work of the Spirit. A distinctively Christian philosophy of history must acknowledge the providential rule of God in all human events, as well as the way in which the historian approaches his subject matter. The question therefore impinges both upon the realm of the Spirit's work in the application of redemption (in the historian), as well as the Spirit's work in the spread of the church (in history). I will argue that the Christian historian has a radically different starting point than the non-Christian historian, due to the Christian's understanding of creation, fall and redemption. This radical epistemological difference, however, needs to be qualified by the fact that ontologically all people live in God's world and ultimately think and act as though the Christian position were true. Hence non-Christian positions may contain significant portions of truth and historical understanding even while their philosophy of history is erroneous. The first section will discuss the problem of historical knowledge and briefly trace some of the key developments in modern historical thought. In the second section, I will attempt to outline a Christian philosophy and theology of history. The Christian historian understands that he is a creature who is tainted by sin and restored by grace, but is still qualified by all three factors. Therefore I will argue that a truly Christian approach to history writing must be grounded in a biblical understanding of the noetic effects of creation, fall and redemption. The final section will address the practical benefits of such an approach for the historian. I will discuss how the historian should understand the nature of the Holy Spirit's work in history, using a case study of the First Great Awakening. I will argue that the Christian historian must approach his work providentially--that is, by searching out the second causes of history. Hence the Christian historian should be able to recognize all of the insights of various perspectives, improving upon them through the wisdom of relating all historical events to the true structure of world history. II. The Dilemma of Modern Historiography A. The Problem of Historical Knowledge Can historical truth be known? Much of modern historiography has abandoned the quest for historical objectivity, and in the process has concluded that since history is written by the winners, and since everyone imposes his or her hermeneutical presuppositions upon the subject matter, there is no possibility to recover what Leopold Von Ranke considered the goal of historical study: wie es eigentlich gewesen (what actually/essentially happened). But while there is an element of truth in the skeptical enterprise-- especially as it reacted against the rationalism of the Enlightenment pursuit of absolute autonomous knowledge--I will argue that the rejection of Enlightenment rationalism does not necessitate adopting irrational skepticism. 1. Historicism and the Enlightenment Quest for Truth and Meaning The Cartesian synsthesis had proposed that the road to truth was found through reason, and that ultimate meaning could be found particularly through philosophy, mathematics, and physics. Starting particularly with Giambattista Vico's New Science in 1725, historians entered the search, as Vico argued that the proper study of man was "the study of the world of nations, or civil world, which since men had made it, men could come to know." Humans are fundamentally outsiders to nature--since that was created by God-- but since we are the creators of history, history is "inherently understandable." This focus came to full fruition in the development of historicism by the end of the eighteenth century. Put simply, historicism is the conviction that a culture's beliefs and customs are the product of its historical experience. This conviction developed in Germany as a reaction against the notion of progress in the French Enlightenment. The triumph of rationalism and deism in France and England had left the world a rational place, simply waiting for man to uncover the inherent principles which developed throughout nature and history. Man was basically good, and had reached the stage in his progress when he no longer needed to be tutored by superstitious religion, but could now stand in the blissful light of his own rationality. Human history could be seen as primarily as the emancipation of reason from the shackles of authority and dogmatism. Whereas the French philosophes and British positivists saw religion as the primary impedement to reason, the German aufklarung historians appropriated the geist of Christianity and viewed history as the outworking of that spirit in various ages. The modern age had stripped away the veneer of superstition from the essential core of the Christian religion--a core which was fully in accord with the canons of human reason. But while affirming reason as the final authority in historical judgment, German historians rejected the idea of history as the triumph of rationality over superstition, and tended to see each age of history as having equal value. This idea was expressed variously in Herder's concept of Volk (an organic collective whole which grew, developed and died throughout history) and Hegel's concept of Geist (the progressive unfolding of the world-spirit throughout history). Hence historicism affirmed the idea of progress, while avoiding the progressive tendency to spurn all previous cultures as backward. But while Hegelian philosophy permeated the theoretical structures of German thought, the details of historical methodology were worked out by Leopold von Ranke. Ranke developed the seminar method of historical education, requiring his students to engage in archival work, document their sources and refuse to let their prejudices interfere with their goal of reporting "wie es eigentlich gewesen [how it essentially was]." Nonetheless, Ranke was no positivist. He firmly believed that genuine historical inquiry required a certain historical intuition or sympathy which enabled the historian to enter into the world which he was studying. Neither did he wish to downplay the role of religion either in history or the historian. In order to provide a meaningful account of history, historians must study "humanity as it is, comprehensible or inexplicable, the life of the individual, of generations, or nations, and at times the hand of God above them." What underlaid all of this, however, was not the Christian doctrine of providence, but rather the romantic conviction that human rationality was sufficient to give meaning to the "facts" of the past. Hence, even while reacting against the rationalism of the Enlightenment, German historicism fell prey to the same rationalism in its acceptance of the autonomy of human thought. At the same time the positing of a "historical intuition" by which historians enter into the past demonstrates the irrationalism of historicism, because they were never able to articulate what exactly this intuition consisted of. Further, by what criteria does the historian judge culture? Historicism claimed that all cultures are equal--yet historicists inevitably found certain practices less good than others. Once divine standards of value are rejected, no universal standards remain. 2. The Skeptical Revolt: the End of History? Throughout the nineteenth century historicism was prevented from becoming relativism by the counterbalance of progressivism. But with the advent of World War I the certainty of progress had ground to a screeching halt in Europe, and even the idealism of German historicism proved hard to maintain. "Now that the traditional view of reality with its transcendent order had been rejected, historical scholars found that with the object of their study having become unclear their methods of understanding and reconstructing the past had been put in question, too." With the death of teleology in the emerging evolutionary world-view, historians were hard-pressed to account for why history moved in the direction it did. Throughout the twentieth century various attempts have been made to explain world history, but so far none has convinced the academy. Instead, historical relativism has generally triumphed by default. Theodor Lessing argued in the early part of the century that history is not a science "but a creative act which gave meaning to meaningless life." The task of history is not to articulate what was in the past, but to set forth a story which should inspire and direct the present. While American historians such as Carl Becker and Charles Beard rejected the extreme relativism growing in the German academy, they affirmed what Breisach calls a "joyous relativism" which still believed that history could be approached in a subject-object manner, but agreed that the "affirmation about the event . . . constitutes for us the historical fact." But if historical "facts" merely consist of the historian's affirmation about events, then all meaning is firmly located in the autonomous self. B. Marxist Historiography: Method or Meaning? As an approach to historical understanding, Marxism is a wide umbrella including those who find the Marxist critique of economics and society to be useful as well as those who claim that Marxism provides a complete hermeneutic for understanding all of reality. 1. The Marxist Interpretation of History Breisach correctly calls Marx's own historical theory as "paneconomic historiography." Hegel had claimed that the human mind understands/creates the flow of history through its participation in the World-Geist (Spirit/Mind). Man, therefore is the maker of history. Rooted in the Hegelian world of dialectical progress, Marx exchanged his mentor's concept of Geist for a materialistic understanding of progress rooted in economic forces. Society essentially consists in man's working to meet his needs. Subsuming religion, ideas, and culture under the ruthless force of economic hegemony, Marx argued that the flow of history is controlled by changes in the modes of production. In his own day, the third and final stage of history was dawning: capitalism would provoke its own overthrow through its cruel oppression of the working class. The proletariat would rebel against the bourgeois society and a socialist utopia would result. This economic flow of history, however, was under the control of man--not any external force. As capitalism proved more resilient and adaptable than Marx had predicted, Marxist historians adjusted his theory to explain more effectively the economic patterns of the twentieth century. Expounding the "materialistic conception of history" Marxist historians developed a more nuanced understanding of economic and other factors, such as Antonio Gramsci's concept of "cultural hegemony" in which the proletariat refuses to rebel because of the success of the ruling elite at subtly convincing them of the beneficence of the status quo. Rejecting the more or less orthodox Marxism of the Soviet Union, Marxist scholars focused their critique on the West as an example of the Enlightenment gone wrong. Mass society--communist and capitalist alike--mistook conformity for equality, hindered the creative life, deprived human beings of true sensibility, and turned reason into a mere instrument of calculation. . . . [The] drive to dominate also affected the social sphere and led to an ever harsher dominance of one group over others. Viewed in this perspective modern totalitarianism was not an aberration but the logical result of the West's development. Blending with much of Freudian and existentialist thought, twentieth century Marxism has taken a bewildering variety of forms, proving adaptable to feminism, liberation and other approaches. In Anglo-Saxon circles, Marxism as a world-view proved less convincing. Nonetheless, many British and American scholars have adopted much of the methodology, accepting Marxist models for historical interpretation without buying into the whole framework. Such historians as Eugene Genovese and T. J. Jackson Lears have utilized significant elements of the Marxist social critique without accepting the underlying conception of history--yet while producing excellent historical studies, neither has articulated a coherent understanding of history. 2. A Critique In short, the most significant weakness of modern historiographies is that they have no coherent understanding of history, and when it is more or less coherent, it has little or no similarity to reality. When Marxism attempts to be fully consistent with itself, it cannot explain religious or intellectual impulses which do not fit its paneconomic determinism; but when Marxists attempt to factor in religious or cultural impulses in history, it loses its internal coherence. This is largely due to Marxism's quixotic blend of progress and historicism. Progress is understandable only if there is some measure by which to determine it, yet the historicist emphasis on cultural relativism ensures that "progress" will always be ultimately relative. In the face of Stalin, Marxism could guarantee progress only for those who defined the terms for progress. While critiquing capitalism for its moral decadence, Marxism had no moral standards to put in its place. Here is where Cornelius Van Til's transcendental critique of the non-Christian approach is so valuable. Marxism as the rationalistic explanation of reality relies upon the autonomy of human rationality, yet posits a doctrine of progress without rationale. Alternately, Marxism as an irrational hope for progress depends upon a cultural relativism which assumes that man is capable of final moral authority. As David Bebbington says, "if there is no standard by which to assess progress, the whole notion of progress dissolves, . . . [and] the Marxist view of history invites man to an uncertain hope." III. Toward a Christian Philosophy and Theology of History In the light of the modern emphasis on historical relativism, how should a Christian historian respond? I will propose that a form of humble realism, based upon Van Til's transcendental method will provide the best philosophy and theology of history--one which allows for the recovery of the past, while accounting for the diversity of interpretations which have arisen. Such a "relativistic realism" is grounded in a biblical understanding of the noetic effects of creation, fall and redemption, which form the basic structure of the Christian world-view. A. Principles of Christian Historiography Mark Noll has outlined four principles of the relationship between Christianity and history, as it relates to the Christian historian. 1) Christianity is a religion of historical particularity. Any Christian attempt to understand history must bear in mind the factual character of biblical history-writing-- demonstrated in Luke's prologue and the introduction to I John, where the authors claim to have engaged in detailed historical investigation. The inspired writers believed that understanding historical events and their correct interpretations mattered a great deal. 2) God rules historical events. The Christian doctrine of providence does not allow for historical accidents. God is always doing something in history. Whether or not we understand why he has done something, we may be assured that his holy and gracious will is behind every historical event. 3) The Church is the focus of historical reasoning. Contrary to the way in which most world-historians have approached their task, history does have a beginning (creation) and an end (new creation), and the church is bound up in the center of that story. All history has value--never merely value-in-itself, but value as it relates to God's purposes in creation and redemption. This does not mean that Western history is more important than Oriental or African history, or that pre-Christian history is more remote than the history of the church itself, because all of history is woven together in a fabric more complex than any historian can unravel, and it may well prove that seemingly insignificant events in distant places and times remote are crucial to the marvelous plan of God. 4) History must be read and written from a Christian perspective. Such a perspective can provide the "best foundation and confidence in the ability for humans to know past reality." A fifth theme in a distinctively Christian theology and philosophy of history is the eschatological character of A.D. history. While the church as the sphere of God's special revelation and providence may be bound up in the center of history, she is also a testimony to the fact that the end of history is already accomplished in Jesus Christ. In Christ the new creation has come [II Cor. 5:17]. In Christ the end of the ages have come upon us who are in him [I Cor. 10:11], so that there is something unique about writing history since Pentecost. Almost fifty years ago the British historian Herbert Butterfield commented that since the Incarnation, "every instant is 'eschatological.'" It is with this same theological mindset, but with a theology molded more by Geerhardus Vos and Richard Gaffin that I would propose that the defining moment is not so much the Incarnation, but Pentecost. Ever since Pentecost Christian history writing has an eschatological character to it. First, since Pentecost history unfolds in the context of the tension between the (already defeated, but not yet destroyed) realm of the powers of this age, and the reality of the Spiritual dynamic of the Age to Come. Second, the believing historian is indwelt by the Holy Spirit--a situation unknown to any except inspired historians previously. Finally, the sphere of the Spirit's work in applying the benefits of redemption has been expanded to cover the whole globe, bringing all of history within the scope of this two-age reality. At Pentecost the age to come was ushered in, as Jesus Christ poured out the same Spirit with which he had been endowed by the Father [Acts 2 (especially verse 33); cf. Joel 2:28-32]. Nonetheless, we must not so strongly emphasize the reality of the new age of the Spirit that we neglect to remember that the age to come has only come in Christ, and through him to all who are in him. We participate in the new creation through the Spirit and not yet in the fullness of the consummation glory. So while the Spirit works in history and in the historian, his work is only ek merouV ["in part," I Cor. 13:9-10], which requires the believing historian to be wary of claiming a privileged status. Being a Christian does not give the historian any sort of "Spiritual" insight into the details of history, rather it gives him Spiritual insight into truths about God, the world, man, Christ, and therefore the nature of history. Whether or not this benefits the Christian historian depends upon how carefully he utilizes his understanding of these more basic truths in their application to the writing of history. B. The Noetic Effects of Creation, Fall, and Redemption Noll argues that the Christian historian should affirm both a scientific realism and a subjective relativism--with a slight emphasis on the realism--while presupposing the truth of a "non- Enlightenment" kind of Christianity. Grounding his position in creation, fall and redemption, Noll's argument echoes much of Van Til's transcendental epistemology. 1. The Noetic effects of creation The Christian doctrines of creation and providence provide the foundation for the possibility of human knowledge. Not only did God create the world and human minds, but he also created the mind in such a way that it can understand the world which he created. Since God is the one who is providentially ordaining and sustaining all things, the study of nature and history can provide a certain amount of understanding of the God whom we serve. Further, since human activity is meaningful and responsible before God, it is incumbent upon us to understand the dynamics of history if we wish to make responsible decisions of our own. Christian theologians have discussed in detail the various interpretations of the imago Dei, but here I would like to suggest the implications for historical research. Certainly the most important implication is that man, as God's vicegerent on earth, was given the task of ruling and guarding the creation, and along with that task was given the wherewithal to accomplish his task. Regardless of whether man's intellectual abilities are considered a part of the image of God, or as part of his created faculties separate from that image, certainly the relationship which Adam sustained to God suggests that he would properly (though never exhaustively) understand all that he encountered in the sphere of nature and history. Man, as creature-in-the-image-of-God, would naturally interpret reality through his unfallen, natural desire to serve and please his Creator. This confident "realism," however, needs to be tempered by a healthy dosage of "relativism." If God, the almighty, the infinite, the omniscient and all-wise is the creator and sustainer of the universe, then finite humans with our limited resources ought to have a certain amount of humility in our claims to historical knowledge. For instance, we do not have access to the infallible knowledge of God with respect to the true causes of the Great Awakening. Rather, even unfallen man sees events from a limited (though true) stand point. All human knowledge is shaped by our presuppositions. All contacts with historical facts are colored by our interpretive grids. Therefore it is proper--simply as creatures--to hold to a certain amount of historical relativism. This does not negate the possibility of knowing truly, rather it reminds us that there may be several correct vantage points from which to view historical events, all of which will provide accurate information. For instance, economic factors (particularly the rise of the commercial market economy) played a significant role in the First Great Awakening, but any historian who would claim that economics is a sufficient explanation for the Awakening would be howled down by others who posit social, political, or religious explanations. In any historical event there are a multiplicity of second causes, and most historians acknowledge that reductionism is futile, yet that does not prohibit debates over which factors were most prominent. Even in an unfallen world it is by no means clear that historians would necessarily agree on the relative influence of second causes. Hence, while the Christian doctrine of creation and providence gives the historian confidence as she approaches the historical task, it also warns her that only God has the exhaustive interpretation of history, and encourages her to humbly remember her finitude in offering explanations of history. The failure of historicism came in asserting the goal of exhaustive knowledge, and admitting the impossibility of that goal. Forever eschewing the Enlightenment project of attaining a rationalistic synthesis of human knowledge, the Christian historian must bear in mind that she is a creature, whose knowledge is derivative, and whose interpretations must always be subject to the pre-interpretation of the Creator. Therefore our confidence in undertaking the historical enterprise must be rooted not in some supposed empirical grounds, but in the specifically Christian grounds of the Creator/creature distinction. 2. The Noetic effects of sin If creation were still in its pristine state of innocence, the historical task would be challenging, but at least the historian's interpretive grid would be clean. As it is, the Christian doctrine of Original Sin warns us that even the task of ascertaining what has been is fraught with peril. In the fall man rejected God's interpretation of nature and history, preferring instead a blend of creaturely thought rooted in human and demonic pride. The noetic effects of sin include an epistemic blindness which rejects the idea that all of creation must be interpreted from "God's perspective," and an ethical perversion which rejects truth-telling as a moral imperative. Mark Talbot, in his discussion of Calvin's doctrine of the knowledge of God, discusses the nature of epistemic blindness as damaging the created "epistemic sets" which God has given to man, affecting even intellectual endeavors through the suppression of the knowledge of God. Resisting what your mind was created to believe, Talbot argues, can have serious consequences for your intellectual well-being. On the other hand he suggests that, "the serious practice of biblical Christianity may make its adherents uniquely sensitive to certain sorts of epistemic damage," as they develop the proper function of their epistemic sets. Therefore the biblical doctrine of sin enables us to understand why our minds are distorted in the way they are. Nonetheless the Christian doctrine of the fall does not entail the obliteration of man's intellectual capacities, but rather the corruption of the intellect. Therefore, while sin damages the historian's ability to provide an accurate account, it does not viscerate the whole enterprise. Our fallen moral condition obscures our vision and understanding, darkening our minds and enshrining our personal agenda over the truth of God. Such idolatries undermine the historical task in several ways: 1) the source material with which we deal are the products of sinful creatures who always have their own idolatrous agendas, which color the way in which they interpret their stories; 2) our pride insists that we are sufficient critics of other historians, so we assume that we could write better history than other scholars in our field; 3) our historical selectivity is shaped by our own prejudices so that we treat our subject with distinct biases which are no longer pure, but are infected by sinful ambition and desires. While it may appear that the doctrine of sin only leads us toward relativism, Talbot's study points us toward a realistic core: once we have accepted and understood our condition as sinners, it enables us to be more sensitive to certain sinful tendencies--and therefore to see the same idolatries functioning throughout history. As an example, when I understand my own selfish drive for praise and glory, I am better able to see how it has affected my historical subjects. As great and honorable a theologian as Jonathan Edwards was, he appears to have been more or less a failure as a pastor. His congregation considered him distant and aloof--more interested in his studies than in visitation and the care of his congregants' souls. He claimed that he was not very good at visitation, and that it was more profitable for them if he spent his time in study and writing. Iain Murray has argued that Edwards was right to do this. I am less sure. Perhaps Edwards had the same intellectual pride--dare I say arrogance?--which I face constantly. It is true that Edwards demonstrated great humility in many ways, but did he humble himself and shepherd his flock in the manner that Christ requires? I cannot give a definitive answer, but my understanding of total depravity requires at least that I reckon with the question. Such a doctrine, while urging caution in my own historical judgments, nonetheless suggests that there is a basic similarity between myself and my subjects: both of us are creatures flawed by sin. 3. The Noetic effects of redemption Nonetheless, the believing historian also knows that she has been redeemed. The definitive, "already" character of salvation declares that our minds have been, and are being renewed after the image of Christ. Not only have we been justified and sanctified in Christ, but we have also received "the Spirit who is from God, that we may understand what God has freely given us." [I Cor. 2:12] Only the Christian may properly understand the things of the Spirit, which primarily refer to spiritual things, but which inevitably influence every area of life. As such, the Christian, who has received the mind of Christ [I Cor. 2:16] now has at least some capacity to think the same thoughts and have the same mindset as Christ [Phil. 2:5-11], which should affect the way in which she interprets history. As the latter passage suggests, the chief characteristic of that mindset is humility, which should characterize the Christian historian as deeply as it should every Christian. The believer's intellectual pursuits are now freed from bondage to sin (although not yet freed from the effects of sin), and are now free to serve and obey God in taking every thought captive and interpreting nature and history through a biblical paradigm. But while redemption gives us confidence in one sense, it also strikes at the very root of our self-confidence, revealing all attempts to achieve a universal perspective on history to be fundamentally idolatrous. This does not, however, leave us with an ultimate relativism, because if we say that all humans have a relative, derivative view of the past, then we have a non-relative view of human nature! This de-relativizes the historical process. We are all, in the most essential way, the same: creatures of the living God, yet creatures whose eyes have been darkened by sin. Those who have been redeemed have been placed in a new relationship to the Father through Jesus Christ, and therefore are able to see how all things relate to Him, but only dimly and imperfectly, which means that we must all the more bow the knee humbly and recognize our fallen finitude. Bringing together our discussion of Creation, Fall and Redemption, with the understanding of Pentecost advanced above, we see that the Christian historian is no longer under the power of the first Adam, but has been united to the second--or the escatoV ("last") Adam [I Cor. 15:44-49; cf. Rom. 5:12-6:14]. Our ultimate identity is found in Christ, who has become the life-giving Spirit [I Cor. 15:45]. We still await the glorious consummation, but humanity nonetheless has been re-established in Christ as the rightful vicegerent of all creation [Rom. 1:1-4]. Therefore the Christian historian may rightfully engage in the task of interpreting the past, with a mind which is already renewed (though only partially and continually in process) after the image of Christ. In contrast, the unbelieving historian is hindered by his rejection and suppression of the truth of God's existence [cf. Rom. 1:18-32]. Further, the unbeliever cannot properly account for the reality of nature and history in its true "God-interpreted" form. As Noll has put it, the historical reality of Jesus Christ will always be an anomaly in the unbeliever's paradigm, and so "their paradigms are self-contradictory because they do not believe in Christ. . . . Everyone reasons in a circle--one circle, however is made by God." IV. The Holy Spirit in History A. Revelation and History Any Christian philosophy of history must be grounded in the biblical understanding of the relationship between history and theology. While the uniqueness of the inspired writings must be guarded carefully, their emphasis on beholding God's mighty acts in history provides the foundation for our perception of all history. 1. Lessons from Redemptive History In the Law and the Prophets (using the Hebrew canon), history and theology are inseparably bound together. If you wish to learn who God is, look at how he has done what he said he would do. Interpretive word is bound up around God's redemptive acts in history. The whole flow of the Deuteronomic history (Joshua through Kings) simply preaches the theology of Deuteronomy and illustrates its truth with the history of Israel and Judah from the Conquest to the Exile. Old Testament history writing in general is fundamentally theological, even sermonic, as it addresses the community of faith with lessons from the past in which covenant keeping or covenant breaking led to God's blessing or curse. Starting in the Old, and developing into the New, this historical approach also began to develop features of eschatological hope, as the continued failures of Israel and her judges and kings shape an expectation of a prophet greater than Moses [Dt. 18:15-19], a priesthood greater than Aaron's [Heb. 9:1-14], and a king greater than David [Acts 2:29-36]. But while the whole biblical paradigm is rooted in history, there is pre-eminently one historical event--the incarnation--which invites us to value the discipline of historical investigation. Jesus was born in a Semitic culture, yet he--this very particular man--is the Savior of the whole world. If the salvation of all was culturally particular, does this not mean that cultural particularities are appropriate to their own times and places? In the incarnation God demonstrates that their is no absolute culture, because his Son was born into a culture which was eliminated less than a century after his death and resurrection. As an example, contrary to popular opinion, Christianity has actually done more to preserve African culture than any other modern force through its drive to translate the Bible into every native tongue. In the face of Islamic monoculturalism, which forbids the translation of the Koran into the vulgar tongues and Western industrial capitalism, with its monolithic popular culture, traditional Christian missionaries, who themselves may not understand the native culture, nonetheless have given African believers the opportunity to maintain their own cultural distinctiveness by allowing them to retain their own language. As we recognize the astounding implications of the fact that Jesus Christ was a particular man, in a particular culture, and yet the Savior of those from every nation, tribe, people, and language [Rev. 7:9], we are given a theological--and particularly, as we see Christ's role as Eschatological Adam, a covenantal--framework to view all of history. 2. The Uniqueness of Redemptive History There are two dangers in imitating biblical history: 1) the modern historian is not inspired; and 2) biblical history is focused around events in the accomplishment of redemption, whereas modern history must content itself with the application of redemption--an area plagued by ambiguity from the human perspective. In particular, the Christian historian is faced with the inscrutability of the Spirit's work [cf. John 3:3-8]. Inspired historians were guided by the Spirit of God to make infallible judgments regarding God's work in history; post-biblical historians are not. Further, following Vos, we must assert that the redemptive act is bound together with the revelatory word. The outworking of God's plan of salvation in history is inextricably bound to his self-revelation which gave the authoritative interpretation of his deeds. No history written since the death of the apostles may claim such authority for understanding the work of the Spirit today. B. The Question of Providential History Reformed historians would generally agree that God is providentially sustaining and controlling all things, "powerfully preserving and governing all His creatures; ordering them, and all their actions, to His own glory." The issue is not whether God is at work, but rather what God is doing. The Christian historian is to write providential history--a term which I will argue has been greatly misused--explaining history primarily in terms of second causes, but occasionally drawing back the curtain to point to the reality of the Spirit's work. 1. Providence and the Great Awakening A recent example is the debate over the role of eighteenth century marketing techniques in the ministry of George Whitefield. Frank Lambert's provocative study of Whitefield as marketing genius acknowledges the great itinerant's "ambivalence toward the spreading consumer market," but nonetheless demonstrates that the Whitefield expertly utilized the burgeoning commercialism of his day to further his transatlantic ministry. Lambert's careful attention to how Whitefield was portrayed in the local papers, and his observation that William Seward (Whitefield's assistant) was often the one who prepared the accounts for the local papers, presents a useful picture of how Whitefield carefully crafted his ministry to engagingly and effectively communicate his message to the largest, best-prepared audience possible. Lambert suggests that this Pedlar in Divinity established the pattern of advance publicity, newspaper advertising, and utilization of technology which has continued to dominate evangelical religion ever since. This characterization, which also finds currency in Harry Stout's The Divine Dramatist, has been questioned by David White and Iain Murray's criticisms of Stout. Lambert does occasionally make reference to "the work of the Spirit," but only with reference to how Whitefield viewed the revivals, not necessarily to how Lambert views the revivals. White and Murray have claimed that in such portrayals "[w]hat is most important has vanished and the human and the cultural is made the key to it all." Previously Murray had gone further to claim that most Christian historians working in the academy have rejected "supernaturalism, the belief that the guiding hand in Christian history is the hand of God." 2. Two Approaches to History-Writing In response, Stout has articulated an important distinction between two different kinds of history, each with their own function. The first tradition is that of apologetic history-- "history-as-propagation," which serves the interests of faith and theology in order to serve as an example for the church today. The second tradition is that of "warts and all" history--an equally theological perspective rooted in the doctrines of sin and redemption--which is designed to present the historical significance of Christian figures, without offering judgment of the ultimate or providential significance of such history. The first tradition has a noble history, Stout suggests, stretching from Eusebius to Murray himself, but the second tradition is far older, as indicated in the honesty of the biblical histories as they shamelessly present the failings of their heroes. It is only this second tradition, Stout claims, that can be fruitfully received by the secular academy. Murray's reaction demonstrates that the question of providence needs to be more thoroughly defined and discussed. He writes: "it is impossible for us to see how the Great Awakening is, as you say, chiefly to be understood in terms of Whitefield's success in 'selling a product--the new birth', and at the same time to hold quietly that it was essentially an outpouring of the Spirit of God." So while Murray appears more than willing to leave general history writing to the sphere of providence, he seems to want supernatural intervention in Christian history. He seems to suggest that there are movements of the Spirit in the history of the Church which operate entirely independent of historical factors--and therefore entirely independent of providence! 3. Identifying the Work of the Spirit Murray's basic point is to demonstrate that it is possible and necessary to distinguish between "religious excitements, deliberately organized to secure converts, and the phenomenon of authentic spiritual awakening which is the work of the living God." There are two fundamental problems with Murray's approach. First, even if the Great Awakening was an outpouring of the Spirit of God, that does not eliminate the historical forces of man and of nature from their due activity in providence. Murray wants to say that sales techniques can never be properly utilized in "true evangelism" (begging the question of whether what Whitefield did was true evangelism). It is indisputable that Whitefield used all sorts of commercial techniques in his ministry. This leaves him in the awkward position of either rejecting Whitefield as a "true evangelist" (which is unacceptable, since he has built his understanding of evangelism--at least in part--on Dallimore and Whitefield's Journals) or modifying his position to allow for "technique" in evangelism (which is equally unacceptable because then it degenerates into "revivalism"). The only alternative left is for him to reject the scholarship of Lambert and Stout. Put frankly, Murray's doctrine of providence is too weak, and his confidence in the revivalists' account of conversions too strong. Murray states that "wherever conversions are multiplied, the cause is to be found not in men, nor in favourable conditions, but in the abundant influences of the Spirit of God that alone make the testimony of the church effective." In one sense this is indisputable. True conversion occurs solely through the work of the Spirit. But everyone who has ever been converted will recognize that there were all sorts of providential factors which played their role. Further, the historian has no access to the hearts of those who claim to be converted, and can only observe the external factors. For instance, one of the simplest sales techniques is persuasion--which is also at the root of the evangelistic enterprise. Reaching the affections is guaranteed to win the hearts of your clients--or your congregation. Both utilize similar techniques, simply by the nature of the case. Therefore a more nuanced understanding of the work of the Holy Spirit in history would enable us to recognize that the Spirit utilizes that which is common to human life and transforms it by the grace of God in Jesus Christ for the proclamation of the gospel. The question is not whether certain methods may be common to evangelism and commerce, but rather which methods are appropriate or inappropriate for evangelism which are also used in sales. The issue for the "warts and all" historian who recognizes the total depravity as well as the hopeful sanctification of his subject, though, is what were the methods which Whitefield used, and what effects did they have. Further, we may even conclude that Whitefield utilized some commercial techniques which were inappropriate for gospel communication without thereby invalidating his whole message. The second dilemma for Murray is his doctrine of the work of the Holy Spirit in history. Murray claims that there are "exceptional" outpourings of the Spirit throughout the history of the church. "Thus, although the Spirit was initially bestowed upon the church by Christ at Pentecost, his influences are not uniform and unchanging; there are variations in the measure in which he continues to be given." His biblical argument consists solely of Acts 4:31-33; 11:15-16; 13:52-14:1. The first passage refers to God shaking the place where the apostles met; the second to the Spirit's coming upon the Gentiles; the third simply refers to the fact that the disciples in Psidian Antioch "were filled with joy and with the Holy Spirit." Yet he argues that these provide a sufficient foundation to say that "through Christian history, the church has been raised to new energy and success by 'remarkable communications of the Spirit of God.'" Yet these passages all refer back to the outpouring of the Spirit at Pentecost, declaring that even as all believers participate in the death and resurrection of Christ, so also do they participate in the outpouring of the Spirit--regardless of time or place. Murray's view gives us a cyclical understanding of history--one in which some times are privileged with more of the Spirit than others. Scripture provides us with an eschatological-linear understanding of history: the end of the Ages has come upon us who are in Christ. The Age of the Spirit has dawned, and all of Christ's people have received the full measure of the Spirit. The whole point of I Corinthians 12 is to demonstrate that while the Spirit gives various gifts to various people, the one Spirit has been given equally to the whole church. The New Testament never suggests that the church should experience a cycle of stagnation and revival, but rather proclaims that believers have been given every spiritual blessing in Christ [Eph. 1:3]. Murray claims that times of revival will be "marked by eminent degrees of love between Christians. A narrow party spirit cannot coexist with a larger giving of the Spirit whose communion extends to the whole body of Christ." Applying this principle to our case study of the Great Awakening, we must conclude that what occurred in the Presbyterian Church from 1736-1743 was not revival. Whitefield and his supporters, the Log College men, bitterly attacked those fellow ministers who questioned their methods. Gilbert Tennent's infamous sermon, The Danger of an Unconverted Ministry (1740), is the prime example of the vituperation which the revivalists heaped upon their more traditional brethren. The Old Side did not oppose "revival" (even defined as a special outpouring of the Spirit), they merely denied that the extremes of Tennent and the New Side were a true Work of God. So on a historical level, even on Murray's own terms, the propriety of calling the Great Awakening a work of God's Spirit is problematic. C. Apologetics, Warts, and Providence In conclusion, I would suggest that the Christian historian must write providential history. But providential history is history which sees the hand of God working through second causes. Both apologetic and warts and all history may be considered providential history--as long as they are treating faithfully the means of God's providential activity. Here I must distinguish between two kinds of apologetic history. History written for the eyes of faith, with the intent of strengthening, encouraging and challenging the church, is definitely needed and should be a part of every Christian historian's repertoire. But history which claims to know what God was doing is mere insolence and hubris. Providential history rests in the understanding of creation, fall and redemption outlined in the first part of this paper, as the historian recognizes the noetic effects of nature, sin, and grace. The historian may either emphasize the high points of history for the obvious edification of his audience (apologetic history), or he may attempt to give a more nuanced treatment which reckons with the effects of sin upon his subject (warts and all history). The latter, although more sober, may prove to be more edifying in the long run as the reader may learn more of the nature of the struggle against sin, as well as the complexity of historical events (including the events of one's own life). It is disappointing that such a rift has developed between the apologetic historians and the academic historians within the Reformed tradition. Ironically, Stout's position seems to be able to lay better claim to the moniker "providential history" than Murray's view. But, if providence is the hand of God--usually hidden from human view--working through the everyday, ordinary affairs of men, then to scrutinize those affairs with integrity and clarity would seem to be the best representation of providence. Conversely, Murray's insistence upon bringing in the supernatural could actually ignore providence, because he is less willing to admit the influence of social, cultural and economic forces, and rarely discusses his subject's struggles with sin. Such an approach almost seems to cavalierly set aside the doctrine of total depravity when dealing with the heroes of the faith, as if to criticize them would detract from their status. This is where Stout's insistence upon "warts and all" history is so refreshing. We can cheerfully admit the flaws in our subject's life precisely because we hold so firmly to the same doctrines of sin and grace upon which they so faithfully relied. V. Conclusion: The Antithesis and Common Grace The Christian historian must recognize the theoretical chasm between himself and his fellow historians, but our doctrines of creation and fall must remind us that in practice, the gap may not be very wide at all. The antithetical chasm of redemption while never bridged, is at least narrowed by common grace. Hence the Christian historian cannot claim a privileged position in historical debates by virtue of redemption. Nonetheless, the Christian historian has the advantage in that he may recognize that certain arguments are false from the nature of creation, fall and redemption, and may synthesize the perspectives of others more easily into his account of reality, since he knows that all second causes fit together in the providence of God. Further, the Christian doctrine of sin at least allows the believing historian to be self-critical without destroying the foundations of truth-- something which the unbeliever (at least in theory) cannot do. Hence the Christian knows that he is writing from a certain point of view, recognizing his own finitude and fallenness, yet also confident that truth is not dependent upon his own construction, but rests upon the construction of Another, who is the source of all truth. Finally, the eschatological character of history reminds us that history is going somewhere because God has brought about the end of the ages in Jesus Christ, and is working all things toward the final consummation in Christ. Progress is defined in terms of the kingdom of God, not in terms of the kingdom of man. History is relative--but relative to God's fixed purpose and plan. Therefore a Christian perspective on history provides meaning and value for understanding and evaluating history--for passing moral judgments on the past, as well as for providing moral lessons for the future. This aspect of history brings us back to the question of providential history and the Great Awakening. Redemptive history is God's speech to man about what God has done in history--through human agency. Providential history is man's speech to man about what man has done in history--under the sovereignty of divine agency. While we may and must assert that God's hand is at work in history to bless and to curse, we must be very cautious in trying to discern the precise reasoning behind why God does what he does in history. Especially with respect to the regenerating work of the Holy Spirit, Christian historians must be very cautious to follow biblical criteria for discerning good and bad fruit--and should avoid speculation as to "new works" of the Spirit (particularly because the New Testament suggests that there is only one work of the Spirit which has been moving forward powerfully since Pentecost). This sort of perspective on history allows the church to avoid the triumphalism of hagiography, but also the pessimism of Marxism or historicism. It forces the church to recognize how far she has conformed to the culture, and challenges her to be transformed by the renewing of her mind into the image of her heavenly bridegroom. By appreciating insights from other perspectives she can be self- critical, but by accepting her identity as created, fallen, and redeemed by the One Who Is the Truth, she has no fear of losing her foundation.