Driverless Cars and the Tower of Babble

by Jacob Roberts

Technology seems to become more complex by the moment. And accompanying this complexity I often find technology to have a saturating presence, an ability to work its way into every facet of our life. Because of this pervasiveness, questions concerning the intersection of technology and ethics have come to the forefront of our societal milieux.

For instance, on March 19^th the world saw its first fatality caused by a driverless car. Among the reactions of shock and heartbreak were questions concerning the ethical ramification of such driverless systems. Who was responsible for the death? Was it the team of software programmers? They were the ones who gave the vehicle the ability to “think.” Or perhaps the culpability rests with the car itself. There are, after all, court cases in the past where inanimate objects and animals were put on trial for murder. Even before the accident, The Atlantic published an article about other moral ramifications of driverless car systems, although these consequences were less serious than death.

While it can seem like the intersection of morality and technology is a relatively new concern, the truth is that questions about the moral ramifications of technology are as old as technology itself. How old is technology you ask?

The word technology comes from the Greek word τέχνολογία (technologia), which means the study of making objects. Thus, technology can be defined as anything that is not naturally occurring. So, while the phone or computer you are reading this devotional on counts as technology, so do the hinges on the door you just walked through or the ceramic tiles under your feet in the bathroom this morning.

In the 11^th chapter of Genesis, we are given an account of people using technology in an immoral way. According to Moses, a group of people settled in Shinar and decided to build a large tower (often referred to as the Tower of Babble) out of brick and mortar that would “reach to heaven” (Genesis 11:3-4). The use of brick and mortar is a relatively recent technological innovation, with the oldest known examples—found at the sight of Jericho—carbon dated to approximately 8000 B.C. 

Moses goes on to say that the reason these people employed this architectural technology was so they could “make for [themselves] a name” (Genesis 11:4). On the surface, this means that they wanted to gain for themselves a glory and renown that would last for generations. Thus, they sinned in their pride and the passage seems to be nothing more than a fairly simple story that teaches the danger of vanity. If you look more carefully at their motivation, however, you will find two important linguistic parallels that explain their pride in greater detail.

The word used by Moses for “make” in this passage is the exact word he uses just a few chapters before in Genesis 1:27 to describe the creation of Adam and Eve: “God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him; male and female He created them.” Similarly, the word he uses for “name” in this passage he would later use as a proper noun for God (Leviticus 24:16). Consequentially, when these people decide to “make for [themselves] a name”—a phrase constructed of words associated with God and His ability to create—what they are really saying is that they desire to use their technology to be God, or at least like Him.

After realizing the true nature of pride in this passage, I could not help but step back and look at my own use of technology. Do I use technology to make myself famous, or to paraphrase Moses, “to make a name for myself”? Do I attempt to replace God as creator and take control of my destiny?

While these questions may sound silly, they are extremely important to ask. If I had to guess, I bet that the majority of people reading this devotional rolled over this morning, picked up their phone, and checked their social media before they whispered their first prayer to God. It could be they did this to simply check on their friends, but we often instead look to see how many people viewed, commented upon, and reacted to our posts. We look to see if we have made a name for ourselves.

As you make your way through the week, I would challenge you to think about how you use your technology and to ensure that you do not put your own renown before God’s.

Creatures and the Creator

by Jacob Roberts

Nothing is true; everything is permitted. – The Assassin’s Creed’s Maxim

Taken from Vladimir Bartol’s novel Alamut, the “maxim” found in the popular video game series Assassin’s Creed poses a frightening reality. When nothing is true, everything is indeed permissible. In the game Assassin’s Creed Revelation, Ezio Auditore da Firenze attempts to clarify and justify the maxim asserting that, “to say that nothing is true is to realize that the foundations of society are fragile and that we must be the shepherds of our own civilization.” Although his desire for people to consciously engage society rather than passively let the course of history move forward is laudable, the foundation for that intellectual engagement seems shaky at best.

Lest you think that the logic of the maxim can only be found in videogames, recent events in our world have proven that when truth ceases to exist, anything is possible. For instance, Dr. Deanna Adkins, a professor at the Duke University School of Medicine, testified in a North Carolina federal court that, “from a medical perspective, the appropriate determinant of sex is gender identity.” In other words, Dr. Adkins believes that a person’s perception or feelings about their sex (not gender) can more accurately reveal their sex (again, not gender) than their XX or XY chromosome. She did not, however, explain how these perceptions would account for medical treatments that vary with sex, such as the dosing and selection of medication.

This rejection of genetic evidence marks an interesting shift in the intellectual climate of our world. Before, popular logic ran that our “gender” was a perception which could be shaped and molded by the person at will, while a person’s “sex” was a reality determined by their genetics. Even when accounting for chromosomal abnormalities such as triple X or XXY chromosomal anomalies, “sex” was understood to be scientifically verifiable. Now, according to Dr. Adkins, this empirical evidence does not hold as much weight as perceptions of gender.

Though this is just one example, it seems as if our world as a whole has continued to reject truth, even to the point of contradicting scientific evidence. Isaiah laments this kind of rejection of truth in a passage where he describes the woes of the wicked: “Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; Who substitute darkness for light and light for darkness; Who substitute bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter! Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes and clever in their own sight!” (Isaiah 5: 20-21).

In this passage, Isaiah notes how people have rejected reality, creating their own truth in which evil becomes good and good becomes evil. While sensations such as bitter and sweet can vary from person to person, Isaiah nails home the point of his woes in that last sentence. We have rejected God’s truth and reality for our own reality which opposes His. We, the sheep, have attempted to become the Shepherd.

Now, some would say that this move from sheep to shepherd is commendable, that man has finally cast off the oppressive shackles of the divine and placed the reigns of destiny rightfully into the hands of humanity. After all, this would seem to be the logic of Ezio Auditore da Firenze from Assassin’s Creed. While I absolutely think that Christians are called to intellectual excellence—as seen in the numerous passages of scripture that call the faithful of God to reason, discernment, and wisdom—there is an extreme danger in attempting to supplant God as author and creator of reality.

Paul addresses this danger in the very beginning of his letter to the church in Rome. He asserts that some have “exchanged the truth of God for a lie and worshiped and served the creature rather than the Creator” (Romans 1:25). The creature that we often serve and worship is ourselves, elevating us from the position of created to that of the creator. We reject God as the author of reality and instead install ourselves as the shaper and maker of truth. Such a rejection, Paul goes on to say, sets our mind on and fills us with evil (Romans 1:29).

Because of the supposed freedom and power gained by replacing God, doing so may seem like a profitable course of action; however, the evil that is generated by this usurpation of God’s role ends up destroying us. In one of his many psalms, David describes the self-destructive nature of evil:

Whoever is pregnant with evil
    conceives trouble and gives birth to disillusionment.
Whoever digs a hole and scoops it out
    falls into the pit they have made.
The trouble they cause recoils on them;
    their violence comes down on their own heads. (Psalm 7:14-16)

Even though becoming the creator looks as if it will give us the power and freedom we desire, it in reality only creates evil, something that David tells us will “recoil” back and destroy us.

As we reflect upon these ideas, we must be willing to ask several questions of ourselves and answer them honestly. In what ways have I attempted to move from sheep to shepherd, from created to creator? How has taking over God’s role as creator worked out for me? Has it produced the freedom, happiness, and fulfillment that I thought it would? Am I willing to deeply engage with God while still allowing him to be the shepherd and creator?

Though it seems as if our world continues to find new ways to try and take God out of his role as creator, we as his children should acknowledge and celebrate Him for who he is and what he has created.

The Master Poet and His Poem.

by Robert Jacobs

The year, 1585. The place, London. In an open-air theater on the banks of the Thames river, a new play opened, a drama that would change the direction of pop culture for centuries to come. Its name: The Spanish Tragedy.

Aside from being famous for inspiring Shakespeare’s Hamlet, the play saw continual production for over fifty years. Even accounting for visitors to London, the fifty-year run indicates that Londoners would have repeatedly paid to see the production. In fact, one archival source includes a passage in which a woman on her death bed repeatedly asked her family to take her to see the play one more time. Why would anyone see the same play over and over, let alone want to see it in the last moments of their life?

The answer has to do with the complexity of art. When an artisan (poet, sculptor, painter, etc.) produces a work, they often agonize over it. Rather than a simple object, the work is an extension of the artist herself. As a result, the final product possesses a level of complexity on par with the artist. This means that when others interact with the art, they are confronted with a deep complexity. This is why people can view the same painting, watch the same play, or read the same book time and time again, yet walk away with a new insight each time.

The Bible is a masterful work of art that indeed possesses this complexity. Though I have read it in its entirety (some sections countless times), I still find something new every time I interact with scripture. One such occasion came three weeks ago as I reread Genesis 3 while writing the “Enslaved by God?” devotional (http://livehopedevos.blogspot.com/2018/03/enslaved-by-god.html).   

Although I have read that chapter countless times and listened to many teachers explain the passage, I noticed for the first time that Genesis 3:14-16 is actually structured as a poem. If you look at the passage, you will see that the verses in which God describes the curse of sin and the eventual victory of Christ are set up in poetic verse, indented on the page like one of the psalms.

As I sat back and thought about why God would deliver that passage in poetic verse, I realized that God truly is an artisan, a poet of incomparable skill. From the foundation of the earth until the end of time, God has been and will continue to weave together a masterful poem, the story of His great love for His children.

Now, I know some of you are thinking, “Robert, my life has been anything other than a beautiful poem. In fact, my life looks less like a poem and more like a train wreck.” Having personally suffered through many messy times, I understand why some may feel that way.  Yet even in those times, I put my hope in the promises of God. Ephesians 2:10 says, “we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” The word “workmanship” is actually ποίημα (poiēma), or poem.  In other words, Paul specifically says that we are God’s poem.

As anyone who has done any kind of extensive writing will tell you, there are many drafts that never make it to a final text. Although these versions look as if they are worthless, they are in fact a vital step to reaching the polished end product. Poems are living documents, with each draft a necessary component of its development. Likewise, we are living poems, traveling through many phases as we make our way to our end.

Whenever I think about the hard times in my past, I can now see how God used each one of those situations to make something beautiful in my life. Think about your own past. Can you see ways that God has done something similar with you? Do you see yourself as a beautiful poem in the making, crafted and shaped by the loving hands of the greatest poet in the universe? Because that is what you are. You are his poem, one stanza in a love story reaching back generations.

Enslaved by God?

by Robert Jacobs

“Well, I guess God has a gun to my head,” the man exasperatedly said to his wife. “Either I do what He tells me, or He will throw me in hell; He has made me His slave.”

Years ago, I spoke the above words to my wife after confessing my homosexual infidelity to her. They reflect a common misconception that I find among those who struggle with same-sex attraction, a misconception that I believe to be demonic in origin.

In Genesis 3 we are offered a glimpse into the mind of Satan, our deceptive adversary. After Eve tells the serpent that God has forbidden them to eat of “the fruit of the tree that is in the midst of the garden,” the serpent tells her that the reason God has made such a prohibition is because God “knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like [Him]” (Genesis 3:3,5). Through his crafty response, the serpent calls the very nature of God into question. Rather than being a wholly good and loving creator, the serpent’s narrative casts God as a selfish deity who is holding out on his creation for any number of insidious reasons.

This doubt about God’s motives has plagued humanity from that fateful day. Are we some kind of cosmic joke to him? Does he get some kind of sick pleasure from telling us that we cannot do things we long to do? The Jacobean play The Duchess of Malfi puts it this way: “We are merely the stars' tennis-balls, struck and banded / Which way please them” (Act 5, Scene 4).

This very doubt fueled the above response to my wife. I reasoned that I must be some kind of perverse joke to God. I felt attracted to men, yet He clearly states in His word that such relationships were sinful. In my mind, I never even had any choice to not follow Him. Yes, I could have left my wife and gone into the Gay lifestyle, but if I renounced Christ and chose to run hard after my sin I ran the risk of hell. And such a choice was, to me, a non-choice. He had forced my hand. He had effectively taken away my freedom. He had made me a slave. And I would be obliged to, in the words of John Milton’s demons in Paradise Lost, “celebrate His throne with…forced hallelujahs.” (Book II).

The reality, though, is that I had bought into the lie of the serpent. God does not impose rules on us because He enjoys seeing us struggle or wants to curtail our freedom for some kind of perverse enjoyment. Quite the opposite. God places boundaries in our life precisely so we can safely enjoy that which is good.

Think of it this way. Let’s imagine that you volunteered to care for a 12-month old child from your church. Knowing that your home is not even close to baby-proofed, you decide to borrow a play pin fence from the church. You set up the boundaries and place all kinds of good toys for the baby within those boundaries. When the baby comes, you place her/ him within the play pin, allowing her/ him to enjoy all of the good gifts that you have prepared. Now, did you curtail the freedom of that baby? In some ways, yes. The baby was limited by the fence. However, because of the boundaries, the baby had the freedom to safely enjoy all the good gifts that you placed into the play area.

While I run the risk of being a bit reductive, I think this is very similar to the way that God works. In Psalm 23, David writes, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me” (Psalm 23:4). The rod and staff mentioned here are tools of correction used by the Sheppard to keep the sheep on the safest path, providing a kind of boundary for them. The sheep, in return, find the rod and staff to be a comfort, for they know that they need to stay on the safe and right path while traveling through “the valley of the shadow of death.” God uses this image of the Shepard and the sheep over and over to explain his relationship to his children. He does not want to harm us; rather, wants us to be safe to enjoy all of the good things he has created for us.

Yet some would say that God has still made us into a kind of slave. Either we choose Him or we go to hell. While the question of if we are “forced” into obedience is one for another time, I will say that slavery, in its purest sense, is absolutely the wrong metaphor for our relationship with God.[1] In the institution of slavery, the purpose of the rules governing the slave and the labor exerted by said slave is to fulfill some need of the master. God, however, has no needs. Rather than slaves, we are treated as children. The boundaries given to children do not benefit the parent but instead benefit the child. Throughout scripture, God is shown to be concerned with our good, which ultimately glorifies Him. God does not make us slaves. Instead, he has made us sons and daughters.

Who do you think God is? Is he some sadistic immortal sitting up in heaven, laughing at you as you are forced to follow His rules despite your feelings? Or is he a God who cares for you, showing his love for you through His boundaries? Do you see yourself as a slave or do you see yourself as a son, a co-heir with Jesus (Romans 8:17)? Answering these questions were absolutely vital for me as I began to truly deal with my sexual sin. My prayer is that you would see God as he truly is rather than as Satan wants you to see Him.

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[1] Although Paul uses the metaphor of slavery to describe abandoning everything to serve Christ, he never intends for us to attribute the coercive aspects of the institution of slavery to God.