Steven Davis

This article considers the concepts of revelation and inspiration. The two notions are distinct but closely connected in Christian theology; they come together preeminently in discussions of the Bible. The purpose of revelation is to bring it about that humans come into a personal relationship with God, one that involves freely chosen love as well as worship and obedience. Inspiration is that influence of the Holy Spirit on the writing of the Bible which ensures that the words of its various texts are appropriate both for the role which they play in Scripture and for the overall salvific purpose of Scripture itself. In other words, working in conjunction with the human author, God ensures that the words written are revelatory and fit God's purposes. Because of inspiration, God speaks to us in the Bible. Scripture is not just a record of revelation; it in itself is revelatory.

This book represents conversations between philosophers and theologians on several issues of current theological interest. God, the church, theological authority, atonement, the Holy Spirit, religious ethics, the problem of evil, and other topics are debated by top-notch theologians and philosophers of various theological and philosophical persuasions. Since contemporary philosophers and theologians seldom communicate professionally, this book represents a fascinating and highly unusual cross-disciplinary conversation.

There are two main theories to explain how incarnation was possible: classical christology and kenotic christology. This chapter defends one version of kenoticism. The biblical issue is: which theory best captures the Jesus that we find described in the Gospels? The philosophical issue is: in order to be “truly human”, must the Logos limit itself or divest itself of certain divine properties? Kenoticism is orthodox because it is consistent with Scripture and with classical creeds. Three objections to kenoticism are answered.

This chapter defends two venerable but largely ignored concepts in the general area of atonement: the wrath of God and the blood of Christ. The first is important because it constitutes a barrier against any sort of general moral or religious relativism. The second is important because it is always costly to rectify a terribly wrong situation. Contrary to the theory that Jesus’ life and death was essentially a fine moral example to emulate, some sort of robust atonement, like the death of the Son of God, is necessary. It is also argued that hell is compatible with the love of God.

The present paper is a response to, and critique of, Dale Allison’s recent book, Resurrecting Jesus. While deeply appreciative of much of the book, I try to assuage Allison’s doubts and worries about the traditional claim that Jesus was bodily raised. Accordingly, in the present brief paper, I briefly explain and try to solve three difficulties that Allison raises in this area. The first concerns personal identity; the second concerns differences between Jesus’s resurrection and our resurrections; and the third concerns Allison’s doubts that our future existence will be embodied.

This article is a rebuttal to Robert G. Cavin and Carlos A. Colombetti’s article, “Assessing the Resurrection Hypothesis: Problems with Craig’s Inference to the Best Explanation,” which argues that the Standard Model of current particle physics entails that non-physical things (like a supernatural God or a supernaturally resurrected body) can have no causal contact with the physical universe. As such, they argue that William Lane Craig’s resurrection hypothesis is not only incompatible with the notion of Jesus physically appearing to the disciples, but the resurrection hypothesis is significantly limited in both its explanatory scope and explanatory power. This article seeks to demonstrate why their use of the Standard Model does not logically entail a rejection of the physical resurrection of Jesus when considering the scope and limitations of science itself.

The article centres on a single document, the 1968 doctoral thesis of L. Bruce Archer. It traces Archer’s earlier publications and the sources that informed and inspired his thinking as a way of understanding his influential work at the Royal College of Art from 1962. Analysis suggests that Archer’s ambition for a rigorous ‘science of design’ inspired by linear algorithmic approaches was increasingly threatened with disruption by his experience of large, complex design projects. Reflecting on Archer’s engagement with other models of designing, the article ends with Archer’s retrospective view and an account of his significantly altered opinions. Archer is located as both a theorist and someone fascinated by the commercial and practical aspects of designing.

Let me begin with a true story. Years ago, early in my career as a professor of philosophy, I had a fascinating series of conversations with a student whom I will call Peter. He was a bright and incisive senior, with a double major in philosophy and psychology. Raised in a religious family, the son of a Christian minister, he was himself unable to believe. His doubts were too strong. But the odd fact was that he genuinely wanted to believe. His religious scepticism deeply troubled him; part of him envied the faith of his parents. How do you go about making yourself believe?, he asked me. How do you go about having the kinds of religious experiences that lead people to faith? These were long and intense conversations, and I was unable to move Peter away from his doubts. So far as I know he is still a sceptic.