“Theology: the Queen of the Sciences.” For many today, such a concept is reminiscent of times when knighthood was in flower. The man on the street may have difficulty comprehending that doctrinal differences involved in “that crash of light over Europe known as the Reformation played a mighty role in shaping the face of that continent. He cares little whether theology abdicated or was dethroned. He is more interested in the twentieth century monarch: natural science.
And natural science, or better, scientism, indeed seems regnant. But it wears its crown uneasily, its scepter twitches in a sweaty palm. For it threatens its dominion with destruction, its subjects with genocide. This is not out of character, for the youthful sovereign usurped the throne with a suddenness akin to violence. Indeed, of those performing the task of midwifery, of all the scientists and engineers produced by the human race, the majority are still alive. Their rushing flood of discoveries, by almost annihilating time and distance, has forced a reconstruction of geography. While the Industrial Revolution removed many of man’s muscular burdens, the current swift extension of electronics data-processing techniques, coupled with automation, will relieve him of many mental and decision-making functions. The unfolding of scientific discovery has been greater this past century than in all the others put together, and the acceleration shows no sign of slackening.
All of this promises man a golden age, but it has brought him into an era of mortal peril. His ability to cope with new forces matures slowly and is hopelessly outdistanced by the remorseless pace of his monarch-captor. The new discoveries, applied to weaponry and timed to the ideological division of the world into two armed camps, have propelled him into a balance of terror, with no guarantee of stability.
There are scattered cries for some word from the old Queen, but many theologians speak in uncertain accents (see editorial, “The Predicament of Modern Theology”). Their faltering words are often muffled by the blast of rocketry and echo meaninglessly in a yawning chasm of disaster. The world hears no clear warning of doom or promise of regeneration.
In such an hour, CHRISTIANITY TODAY begins with this issue a series of studies of the great Bible doctrines, in the classical tradition of biblical and systematic theology. The world hungers for such. Sometimes it takes a scientist like R.C.A. Vice President Dr. Elmer W. Engstrom to remind mankind, as he did government officials recently, that we need to develop faith and wisdom “more nearly the equivalent of our technical prowess.” These he finds in Christ.
Men outside of Christ are becoming more aware of their impotence. The illusory ideal of humanistic self-sufficiency is being seen more for what it is. But men cannot agree as to the proper source of aid. They seem lost in a never-ending war of ideas as they fight behind an armor of fluctuating notions which vanish with the polishing. Lacking are the transforming power of true doctrine, eternal principles, the certainty of a personal relationship with God.
What kind of God? Could evangelical theologians know whereof they speak as they tell us of the attributes of God? And what could have more thunderous relevance for the besetting uncertainties of our day than the providence of God? What of the enigma of man—his great capacity for good coupled with his stunning aptitude for evil? We have surely heard of God’s image in man and also of man’s fall, of his original sin. What is the present significance of these realities?
Explanations without solutions are surely inadequate. But how pale seem other messages beside the proclamation of Jesus Christ as Prophet, Priest, and King. How futile, solutions other than the gigantic Cross, its head reaching heaven, its foot piercing the bowels of hell, its arms encircling the world. How frustrating the quest for fullness of life apart from the emptiness of The Tomb. Where is there salvation apart from atonement? Where is completeness apart from mystical union with the Son of Man? Where is hope apart from faith? Where is satisfaction apart from justification? Where is purpose apart from sanctification? Where is confidence apart from assurance concerning the last things? And where is fellowship apart from God and his Christ?
But how may we know these matchless truths unless God tell us in ways we can understand and dare not evade? This is revelation. And it is at this point that Pittsburgh Seminary’s Addison H. Leitch begins our pilgrimage back to Jerusalem, treading with sure step as he avoids the common pitfalls of sacrificing either general or special revelation.
