分类： 《归心》

　　（学期最后一次聚会，桌上多了一盒不知道谁带来的月饼，大家都比平时坐得靠近一点）

一、我到底算哪边的人？

　　Jenny：（搅着奶茶，情绪有点低落）我最近老在想一件事，说不清楚哪里不对，就是心里空空的。我妈是华裔，我爸是欧裔，我在温哥华出生长大，中文说得磕磕巴巴。上次回国内见亲戚，我表姐直接说「你其实是外国人吧」，虽然是笑着说的，但我心里挺不是滋味。可在学校，我又不完全算「主流」白人小孩，我从小就知道自己「不一样」。这两边好像都不完全是我的地方，那种悬空的感觉，你们懂吗？

　　Jack：（点头）我懂一部分。我是留学生，虽然是二代基督徒，从小在教会长大，但我在这边永远是「国际生」，选课分组的时候，本地同学的小圈子我很难真正进去。暑假回国，老同学又说我「你现在讲话都有点洋腔了，跟我们不太一样了」。两边都有点格格不入，我甚至开始怀疑，是不是我这辈子就注定要一直这样漂着。

　　Peter：我是CBC，从小在这边长大，倒没有Jenny和Jack那种「两边都不属于」的感觉，但我有另一种——我身边很多同学根本不知道「团契」是什么，我上周五晚上说要去查经，我室友愣了一下，说「哦，你还信这个啊，挺特别的」，那种被当成异类打量的眼神，我也不太舒服，好像我突然从「正常人」变成了博物馆里的展品。

　　Tom：（插话）我更惨，我是CBC，但我还没受洗，我自己都不确定该怎么定义自己——说是基督徒吧，我很多方面跟教会的期待对不上；说不是吧，我从小到大又一直在教会里，跟不信的同学聊起来，人家觉得我是「圈内人」。我自己都搞不清自己算哪边的。

　　John：（认真听着）你们几个说的，其实是同一个更大问题的几种面貌——「我到底属于哪里」。我自己也算半个「哪儿都不完全属于」的活案例——中文说得一般，英文带口音，每次回国被说「你怎么这么加拿大」，在这边又时不时被问「你的英文名是不是你真名」，属于两边通吃地不上不下，你们这个感觉，我太熟悉了。这个问题，不只是文化认同的问题，圣经其实一直在正面回答这个问题，只是它给的答案，跟你们现在想的「哪个群体、哪个国家、哪种文化」不完全是一回事。

　　Jenny：那圣经怎么回答？

　　John：彼得前书里，使徒彼得写信给一群分散在小亚细亚各地、被称为「寄居的」信徒，直接称呼他们是「被拣选的族类，有君尊的祭司，圣洁的国度，属神的子民」。这些人，很多是被赶出家乡、流散各地，跟你们的处境不完全一样，但那种「不完全属于当地、也回不去原来的地方」的悬空感，跟你们描述的很像。彼得没有跟他们说「别难过，你们其实很快就会找到一个新的地上家乡」，他说的是——你们最根本的身份，不是靠地上任何一个群体来定义的，是神自己给你们的，一个超越地理、超越文化的身份。而且彼得讲的不是一个人单独拿到一张「属神」的身份卡就够了，他一连用了好几个群体性的词——族类、祭司、国度、子民——老普林斯顿的圣经神学家沃斯（Geerhardus Vos）特别强调过这一点，大意是，神的国从来不是让一个个孤立的个体各自安放身份，是把不同背景的人放进同一个身体里，用一种比地缘、比血缘更深的方式彼此联结。所以你们说的这种「哪儿都不完全属于」的感觉，最终的答案不只是「我心里知道自己属于神就好了」，是神也把你们放进了眼前这群人当中——这个团契，某个意义上，就是那个更深归属的一个具体、看得见的样子，虽然不完美，但是真实的。

　　Jack：那这个身份，能不能真的解决我那种「悬空」的感觉？听起来还是挺抽象的。我表姐那句话说完，我难受了一整天，不是听一句「你是属神的子民」就能立刻消化掉的。

　　John：我理解这种抽象感，这不是听一次就能立刻消化掉的。我想换个角度问——Jenny，你觉得，如果有一天你回国内，亲戚不再说你是「外国人」，或者在这边，大家都完全接纳你「够本地」，那种悬空感会不会就彻底消失？

　　Jenny：（想了想）……可能会好一点，但我猜不会完全消失，因为我认识一些看起来「完全融入」了的朋友，比如我有个朋友，父母都是本地人，从小在这边长大，完全没有我这种文化夹缝的问题，可她心里其实也有类似的不安，只是理由不一样——她焦虑的是她好像「太普通」，没有什么特别的身份标签，反而羡慕我「至少有故事可以讲」。

　　John：这正是我想指出的——那种悬空感，不完全是「文化归属」这个层面能解决的问题，因为就算你找到了一个「完美融入」的群体，人心里那份「我到底是谁、我最终归向哪里」的不安，还是会用别的形式冒出来。圣经说的是，这份悬空感，背后其实是在指向一个更深的事实——我们本来就是照着神的形象被造，本来就是要在祂里面找到最终的归属，任何地上的文化、群体，都没办法完全填满那个位置，不是它们不好，是它们从来没被设计来扛这个位置。

　　Peter：（这时提出自己的困惑）那我说的那种「被当成异类」呢？我不是文化归属的问题，是我发现，现在学校里一讨论性别、政治、公义这些话题，气氛特别撕裂，一不小心说错话就被贴标签。我上周Sociology的Tutorial，讨论一个跟移民政策有关的话题，我随口提了一句跟主流意见不太一样的角度，结果TA当场脸色就变了，虽然没直接骂我，但那种「你是不是有问题」的眼神，我到现在想起来都不舒服。

　　Tom：这个我也怕，我室友知道我信教之后，有次聊到一个社会议题，直接说「哦那你肯定是保守派、反对这个反对那个」，我都没来得及解释，就已经被贴上标签了，之后他跟我聊天都带着一种防备。

　　John：这个处境确实不容易，我不会假装有一个能让你「既表达立场又永远不被误解」的公式。我想先说一件事——你感受到的这种撕裂，很大程度上是因为，这个时代很多讨论已经不再是「就事论事地辩论谁的理由更站得住脚」，变成了「先看你站哪一边，再决定要不要听你说话」。这个环境本身有问题，不完全是你个人的问题。

　　Jack：那我们该怎么参与这些讨论，才算有智慧？

　　John：我想给几个方向，不是万能公式。第一，先问自己，我开口，是想「赢」这场辩论、证明自己对，还是真心想帮对方看见一些他可能没想过的东西？这两种动机，说出来的话，语气会完全不一样。

　　Peter：可有时候不是我想不想赢的问题，是我发现，我跟同学根本没有共同的出发点可以讲道理。比如那次讨论移民政策，我用的理由，他们完全不接受，因为他们的整个框架里，压根不认同「有一个客观的对错」这回事，他们的说法是「每个人的处境不同，谁也没资格评判谁」。我一开口讲「这样做是不对的」，他们第一反应就是「你凭什么定义什么是对的」。

　　John：这正是我想跟你们说的第二个方向，也是更根本的一个——你遇到的这个墙，不是「我这次的理由不够好」，是对方压根不承认，有一个大家都能站上去、共同讲道理的地基。这种时候，光是拿出更多的证据、更精巧的论证，往往没用，因为问题不在证据这一层，是在更底下——他到底相不相信，这个世界有一个不由他自己决定的、真实的对错标准。

　　Jenny：那怎么办，难道就没法沟通了？

　　John：不是没法沟通，是要先把这个更底层的问题摆出来，而不是绕着它打转。你可以老实问对方——你说「每个人的处境不同，谁也没资格评判谁」，那你自己刚才评判我「没资格评判」，这句话本身算不算也是一种评判？如果连「不该评判」这句话都要被当作一条普遍适用的规则来讲，那他其实已经在用一个「大家都该遵守」的标准，来反对「有大家都该遵守的标准」这件事，自己先绊倒了自己。

　　Tom：（挑刺）这听起来是个语言游戏，把人绕晕而已，能真的说服人吗？

　　John：不一定能当场说服人，说实话，很少有人会因为一次逻辑上被抓到破绽，就立刻改变立场，人不是这样运作的。我说这个，不是给你们一个「辩论必胜技巧」，是想让你们自己心里先站稳——不要因为对方说得斩钉截铁、气场很足，就开始怀疑「是不是真的没有客观对错，是我们基督徒太死板」。你们可以带着尊重、带着谦卑去听对方，同时心里清楚知道，对方那套「什么都相对」的说法，他自己其实也没有真的活出来，包括他反对你的那一刻，他心里其实也在用一个他自己不承认、却真实存在的标准。

　　Amy：（这时开口，带着自己观察到的困惑）我旁听你们聊这些，发现你们说话的方式，跟我在网上、在课堂上看到的很多「基督徒 vs 世俗」的辩论完全不一样，没有那种「我们才是对的，你们都错了」的架势。

　　John：这本来就该是这样，我们不是要「赢」这个世界，是要活出、也说出一个更真实、更完整的图景，那个图景，本身就该比这个时代任何一个简化的立场，都更能容纳复杂性、也更能承载对人的爱。

　　Grace：（想起自己的经历）我想到我事奉的时候遇到的一件类似的事。我带的一个查经小组里，有个姐妹是Political Science的，她说她在系里，一提到自己是基督徒，同学就默认她「一定支持某些立场、反对某些立场」，好像基督徒身份跟一整套政治光谱直接画等号，她说她一次次解释「圣经的教导没有完全对应任何一个现有的政治阵营」，但没什么人愿意听，太累了，她后来干脆在学校尽量不提自己的信仰。

　　John：这个处境我完全理解，而且我想说一句可能会让大家不太舒服的话——有时候，「基督徒 = 某个政治阵营」这个刻板印象，不完全是外面的人凭空捏造的，是过去这些年，确实有不少教会、不少基督徒，把福音和某一套政治立场绑得太紧，好像信耶稣就等于必须支持某个党派的全部主张，这也是教会需要反省的地方。圣经确实有清楚不能妥协的教导，但圣经的教导，从来不完全对应这个时代任何一个现成的政治阵营，两边阵营各自都有一些立场，是圣经会肯定的，也各自有一些立场，是圣经不会认同的。

　　Grace：那她该怎么办，总不能一直不提自己的信仰吧？

　　John：不用一直不提，但可以换个方式——不是一上来就宣告「我是基督徒，我的立场是这样」，是先在具体的问题上，认真讲道理、认真听对方，让人看到，你的思考不是套模板出来的，是真的经过思想的。慢慢地，「原来这个人不是我以为的那种人」，这个印象本身，比任何一次辩论赢了对方，更能松动那个刻板印象。

　　Sophia：（这时换个话题，声音带着现实的重量）我毕业之后，其实一直在纠结要留加拿大、回国、还是去美国。这个决定里有太多现实因素——工签好不好拿、房价、还有我爸妈年纪大了，身体也不像以前那么好。我该怎么把信仰放进这个决定里，而不只是纯粹算一笔利益账？

　　John：这个问题很实际，我不想假装信仰能给你一个「标准答案」告诉你该去哪个国家，圣经没有那样的清单。我想给一个思考的方向——不管你最后去哪里，先问自己，我去那个地方，是不是也愿意在那里，找到、也建造一个真实的信徒群体，继续被塑造、也去服事人？如果一个决定，纯粹只是「哪里对我最有利」，完全没有考虑「我在那里要怎么活出信仰、怎么参与神的国度」，那可能这笔账，只算了一半。工签、房价、家人，这些都是真实、需要认真考虑的因素，不是不重要，是不该是唯一的因素。

讨论：

这一场聊到了两边都不完全属于的悬空感、在撕裂的社会议题讨论里被贴标签的处境、「基督徒=某个政治阵营」的刻板印象、还有毕业去留决定背后的信仰考量。John说，那种悬空感背后，其实是在指向一个更深的事实——我们的最终归属，不是任何地上的群体能完全给出的。请讨论：

1) 你有没有过「两边都不完全属于」的悬空感，或者因为信仰、立场被人贴标签的经历？

2) 听完今天的讨论，你觉得彼得说的「属神的子民」这个身份，能不能真的安放你心里那份悬空感？

二、如果什么都散了，我还剩下什么？

　　Grace：（叹气）我想接着问一个更让我不安的问题。现在我有团契、有几个知心的朋友，我的信仰有人一起托着。可这些都是暂时的——毕业了，大家各奔东西，将来我一个人在陌生的城市、新的职场，如果连一个能说心里话的信徒朋友都没有，我的信仰靠什么撑住？

　　Paul：（这个问题正好戳中他自己）我可以说说我的经验。我大学信仰其实挺热心的，天天参加团契。工作后前两年，真的是一个人硬扛，团契散了，新城市也没找教会，加上工作忙、时差乱，礼拜天累得爬不起来。那两年信仰淡得厉害，几乎快没了，不是哪一天决定不信了，是一点一点地，跟手机电量掉光一样，你根本没注意到具体哪一刻没电的。

　　Grace：那你现在觉得，「靠什么撑住」，答案是什么？

　　Paul：我现在觉得，不是靠「刚好有没有朋友陪着」这种运气，是要主动地、一次次地选择——去找教会、去建立新的关系，哪怕一开始很尴尬、很费力。信仰这件事，好像从来不是「一次建好了就永远稳」的，是要不断重新扎根的。而且我后来才想明白一件事——我那两年不只是「没聚会」，是我心里其实有个念头，觉得反正没人看着我了，一些以前我在团契里不敢做的事，我开始一件一件试着放开，喝酒喝多了、也开始跟不太合适的人交往，最后是那些事把我搞得一团糟，才逼我不得不重新面对神。

　　John：Paul说得很实在，也很诚实地把最难堪的部分说出来了，谢谢你。我想补充一点——圣经讲的信徒群体，从来不是一个「可有可无的情感支持团体」，是神设计来让我们的信仰能持续、能被建造起来的正常方式，希伯来书特别提醒「不可停止聚会」。所以Grace你的担心，不是杞人忧天，是很实际、也很该被重视的问题——不是说「反正神会顾念，你不用担心」，而是要提前预备，把「找到、建立新的信徒群体」这件事，当成毕业之后跟找工作一样重要、甚至更优先的事去对待。

　　Jack：那具体怎么预备？总不能到了新城市再手忙脚乱找。

　　John：可以现在就开始练习几件事——第一，练习不靠团契的活动，自己也能维持读经、祷告的习惯，这样将来环境变了，这个根不会一下子断掉。第二，多留意、多学习怎么主动认识人、怎么鼓起勇气走进一个陌生的教会，这个「主动」的能力，是可以现在就练的。

　　Peter：（想到什么）我室友的经历可能可以给大家提个醒。他不是基督徒，但他去年转学到多伦多，本来在这边有一群很好的死党，他说到了新学校，前三个月他一直告诉自己「反正我朋友都在网上」，天天跟以前的朋友视频、打游戏，完全没有主动认识新同学，结果三个月之后，他发现以前的朋友聚会的时间点，因为大家都各自忙起来，越来越对不上，慢慢就淡了，新的地方他也一个人都没认识，那段时间他说他整个人特别孤独，甚至有点抑郁的状态。后来他逼自己去参加了系里的一个社团，才慢慢好起来。

　　Jenny：那这跟我们信仰的事一模一样，靠「以前的」撑着，不主动往前走，最后两边都落空。

　　John：对，这正是我想说的。Paul那两年信仰的滑坡，跟Peter室友那种孤独，机制其实很像——都是以为「关系是自动维持的」，结果发现关系需要持续、主动地投入，信仰也是一样。

　　Tom：（换个话题，语气变得沉重）我想说件更大的事，可能有点跑题，但我最近真的被这个事困住。我看新闻看得挺丧的——到处是气候危机的报道、还在打仗的地方、社会一天比一天撕裂，AI又搞得人心惶惶。有时候我会想，这个世界好像真的在一点点崩坏，我们这代人是不是就是要眼睁睁看着它变得更糟？作为基督徒，我该怎么活在这样一个感觉正在崩坏的世界里？

　　Amy：（这次是真心认同）我完全没有信仰，但这个感觉我特别有共鸣，我经常刷完新闻，整个人都很无力，甚至有点不敢生小孩，觉得把一个人带到这么乱的世界里，太残忍了。我身边好几个朋友都这样想，我们私下聊起来，都有一种「船要沉了，大家都在假装没事」的感觉。

　　John：（认真地）你们说的这份沉重，我不想用几句轻飘飘的话打发掉。这个世界确实是破碎的，圣经从来没有说「一切都很好，别担心」，恰恰相反，圣经用「呻吟」这个词来形容整个受造界现在的状态——罗马书说，一切受造之物一同叹息、劳苦，直到如今。你们感受到的这份沉重，圣经不但没有否认，反而先一步替你们说出来了。

　　Amy：那这样说，不是更绝望吗？连圣经都承认世界很糟。

　　John：恰恰相反，正因为圣经诚实地承认这份破碎，它给的盼望才不是廉价的「往好处想」，是建立在一件更扎实的事上——同一段经文接着说，这个叹息、劳苦，不是没有方向的，是像产难一样，指向一个终将到来的更新——「等候得着儿子的名分，乃是我们的身体得赎」。基督教的盼望，从来不是「相信这个世界靠人类自己会慢慢变好」，是相信，那位造了这个世界、又亲自进入这个破碎世界、死而复活的主，有一天会亲自回来，彻底更新这一切，把所有的痛苦、不公义、破碎，都终结、都翻转。

　　Tom：可这听起来还是很遥远，我们现在还是得活在这个一天天在崩坏的世界里，这个盼望能改变我今天具体要怎么活吗？

　　John：能，而且我觉得这正是最实际的地方。如果我相信，最终的结局已经被那位掌权、又良善的神定了，祂会亲自来更新一切，那我今天面对气候危机、战争、撕裂，就不需要用两种极端的方式回应——一种是彻底躺平、觉得反正没救了、什么都不做；另一种是把「拯救世界」的整个重担，扛在自己一个人肩上，最后被压垮、被那份无力感吞掉。我可以在我能做的、具体的、微小的事上，认真、负责任地去做——节约、去爱身边具体的人、参与推动一点点公义，同时把最终的结局，交托给那位真正能掌管全局的神，不需要自己一个人扛住整个世界的重量。

　　Amy：（若有所思）所以你们的盼望，不是「相信世界会自己变好」，是相信「有一个更大的、来自外面的力量，会来收拾这一切」？

　　John：对，而且这个盼望不是让人对现在的破碎无动于衷，恰恰相反，正因为知道神在乎公义、在乎受苦的人，基督徒历史上常常是最积极投入照顾穷人、推动社会公义的一群人，因为我们知道，这些努力不是在做无用功，是在预尝那个终将到来的更新，哪怕做得再小、再不完美。

　　Jack：（这时想起自己的挣扎）说到「无力感」，我想说件我自己一直很纠结的事。我知道我该「治死」那种遇事就逃避、遇到大问题就习惯性摆烂划手机的毛病，可我发现，我这个毛病不只是表现在刷手机上——面对气候变化这种大新闻我摆烂，面对自己成绩不好我也摆烂，好像是同一种「反正我也改变不了什么」的心态，从这件事漏到那件事上。

　　John：这个观察很准，而且跟我们前几次聚会提过的一样——不治死所有的罪，就不能治死任何一个罪，因为很多看起来不一样的表现，背后常常是同一个根。你说的这种「反正我也改变不了什么」的无力感，如果只单独处理「刷手机」这一个症状，很可能会从别的地方——比如面对世界的大问题时的冷漠、麻木——重新冒出来。真正要处理的，是那个更深的问题：我信不信，我做的这些小小的、看起来微不足道的努力，在一位掌管万有的神手里，是真的有分量的，不是白费的。

　　Grace：（这时把话题拉回到更个人的层面）那我想问最后一个问题。毕业几年后同学聚会，我心里其实希望，别人提起我，会觉得我「混得不错」——事业稳定、生活体面。但我也隐约知道，如果这就是我全部想要的，好像哪里不对。我到底想让别人记住我什么？

　　John：这个问题，跟我们过去几次聚会聊的很多东西，其实都汇到同一个点上——如果「混得不错」是你全部想要被记住的，那份认同，会跟AI焦虑、跟GPA比较、跟别人觉得你「厉害」一样，永远不够稳、永远要不断重新证明。我想反过来问你——如果十年后，有个学弟学妹提起你，说「我记得那个学姐，她不是最厉害、最风光的那个，但她是真诚的、是我难过的时候会想到的人」，这样的话，你会失望吗？

　　Grace：（想了想，眼眶有点湿）……不会，其实这样更让我想被人这样记住。

　　John：那这份渴望，比「混得不错」更接近圣经说的、真正值得追求的东西——不是要你放弃追求把事情做好、活得体面，是当你把「被爱、被真实地认识」放在「被认为厉害」前面的时候，你会发现，那份不安，慢慢会松开一些。这不是一次谈话就能彻底改变的，是要在接下来很多年里，一次次重新选择。

讨论：

这一场聊到了毕业后独自撑住信仰的挑战、Peter室友因为不主动而陷入孤独的故事、面对一个感觉正在崩坏的世界该怎么活、还有Grace对「被记住什么」的重新思考。John说，基督教的盼望不是相信世界会自己变好，是相信那位造了世界、又亲自进入破碎的主，终将回来更新这一切。请讨论：

1) 如果十年后有人提起你，你希望他们记得的，是你「混得怎么样」，还是别的什么？

2) 这份渴望，跟你今天正在过的生活，之间还有多远的距离？

Lesson 10: Where Do I Really Belong? — Identity, Culture, and Staying True to What I Believe

(The last gathering of the semester. There is an extra box of mooncakes on the table—no one knows who brought them. Everyone is sitting a little closer together than usual.)

1. Where Do I Really Belong?

Jenny: (Stirring her bubble tea, looking a little down) I’ve been thinking about something a lot lately. I can’t really explain what’s wrong, but I just feel kind of empty inside. My mom is Chinese Canadian, my dad is European, and I was born and raised in Vancouver, but my Chinese is pretty broken. The last time I went back to China and saw my relatives, my cousin straight-up said, “You’re actually a foreigner, aren’t you?” She was joking when she said it, but it really bothered me. But here at school, I don’t completely fit in with the “mainstream” white kids either. I’ve known since I was little that I’m “different.” Neither side feels completely like home. It’s like I’m just hanging in midair. You know what I mean?

Jack: (Nods) I get part of that. I’m an international student. Even though I’m a second-generation Christian and grew up in church, I’m always “the international student” here. When we pick courses or form groups, it’s hard for me to really get into the circles of local students. Then when I go back to China during the summer, my old classmates say, “You even have a bit of a foreign accent now. You’re not quite like us anymore.” I feel out of place on both sides too. Sometimes I even wonder if I’m just destined to spend my whole life drifting between places like this.

Peter: I’m a CBC. I grew up here, so I don’t really have the same “I don’t belong on either side” feeling that Jenny and Jack have. But I have another kind of experience. A lot of the people around me don’t even know what “fellowship” means. Last Friday night, I said I was going to Bible study, and my roommate paused and said, “Oh, you still believe in that stuff? That’s pretty unique.” I didn’t feel great about the way he looked at me, like I had suddenly gone from being a “normal person” to an exhibit in a museum.

Tom: (Interrupting) Mine is even worse. I’m a CBC, but I’m not baptized yet, and I’m not even sure how to define myself. If I say I’m a Christian, there are a lot of ways I don’t line up with what the church expects. But if I say I’m not, I’ve still been in church my whole life. When I talk to non-Christian classmates, they see me as “one of the insiders.” I honestly don’t even know which side I’m on.

John: (Listening carefully) What you guys are describing are really different versions of the same bigger question: “Where do I actually belong?” I’m kind of a half-example of the “I don’t completely belong anywhere” experience myself. My Chinese is average, my English has an accent, and every time I go back to China people tell me, “Why are you so Canadian?” Then here, I sometimes get asked, “Is your English name actually your real name?” So I’m stuck somewhere in the middle, getting it from both sides. I know this feeling really well. But this isn’t just a question of cultural identity. The Bible has actually been answering this question directly all along. Its answer, though, isn’t exactly the same as the “which group, which country, which culture” answer you might be looking for.

Jenny: So how does the Bible answer it?

John: In 1 Peter, the apostle Peter writes to a group of believers scattered throughout different parts of Asia Minor, people who were described as “sojourners” and “exiles.” He directly calls them “a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for God’s own possession.” Many of these people had been driven from their homes and scattered across different places. Their situation isn’t exactly the same as yours, but that feeling of “not completely belonging where I am, and not being able to go back to where I came from” sounds a lot like what you’ve been describing. Peter doesn’t tell them, “Don’t be sad. You’ll find a new earthly home soon.” What he says is that your deepest identity isn’t something defined by any earthly group. It’s an identity given to you by God Himself, one that goes beyond geography and culture. And Peter isn’t talking about each person individually getting a “belonging to God” identity card and calling it a day. He deliberately uses several collective terms—race, priesthood, nation, people. The biblical theologian Geerhardus Vos, from old Princeton, especially emphasized this point. In other words, God’s kingdom was never about isolated individuals each finding somewhere to place their identity. It is about bringing people from different backgrounds into one body and connecting them to each other in a way that goes deeper than geography or bloodline. So that feeling you’re describing of “not completely belonging anywhere” ultimately isn’t answered simply by saying, “I know in my heart that I belong to God.” God has also placed you among the people right in front of you. In that sense, this fellowship is one concrete, visible expression of that deeper belonging. It isn’t perfect, but it’s real.

Jack: But can that identity really solve that feeling of being suspended in midair? It still sounds pretty abstract. When my cousin said that to me, I felt awful for the whole day. Hearing “You’re one of God’s people” doesn’t just make that feeling disappear immediately.

John: I understand why that sounds abstract. This isn’t something you hear once and immediately digest. Let me ask it from another angle. Jenny, do you think that if one day you went back to China and your relatives stopped calling you a “foreigner,” or if everyone here completely accepted you as “local enough,” that feeling of being suspended in midair would completely disappear?

Jenny: (Thinking) …Maybe it would get better, but I don’t think it would completely disappear. I know some friends who seem completely “integrated.” For example, I have a friend whose parents are both from here, and she grew up here too. She doesn’t have the cultural in-between experience that I do at all. But she actually has a similar kind of insecurity inside. The reason is just different. She worries that she’s “too ordinary,” that she doesn’t have any special identity label. She actually envies me because “at least I have a story to tell.”

John: That’s exactly what I’m trying to point out. That feeling of being suspended in midair can’t be completely solved at the level of “cultural belonging.” Even if you find a group where you fit in perfectly, that deeper human anxiety of “Who am I, and where am I ultimately going?” will still come out in some other form. The Bible says that this feeling is actually pointing to something deeper. We were created in the image of God. We were made to find our ultimate belonging in Him. No earthly culture or community can completely fill that place. It’s not because those things are bad. It’s because they were never designed to carry that weight.

Peter: (Bringing up his own concern) What about the “being treated like an outsider” thing I mentioned? For me, it’s not really about cultural belonging. I’ve noticed that whenever people discuss gender, politics, justice, and things like that at school, the atmosphere gets really polarized. If you say the wrong thing, you can get labeled immediately. Last week in my Sociology tutorial, we were discussing an issue related to immigration policy. I casually brought up a perspective that was somewhat different from the mainstream view, and the TA’s expression changed immediately. They didn’t directly criticize me, but that look of “Is there something wrong with you?” still makes me uncomfortable when I think about it.

Tom: I’m afraid of that too. After my roommate found out I was religious, we were talking about a social issue once, and he immediately said, “Oh, then you must be conservative. You must be against this and against that.” I didn’t even have a chance to explain myself before I was already labeled. After that, whenever he talked to me, there was this sense of defensiveness.

John: That situation really isn’t easy. I’m not going to pretend there’s some formula that lets you “express your position without ever being misunderstood.” But I want to say one thing first. A lot of the polarization you’re experiencing comes from the fact that many discussions today are no longer about “debating which side actually has the stronger reasons.” Instead, people first look at which side you’re on, and then decide whether they even want to listen to you. There is something wrong with that environment itself. It isn’t entirely a problem with you personally.

Jack: So how should we participate in these discussions wisely?

John: I want to give you a few directions, not a magic formula. First, ask yourself: When I speak up, am I trying to “win” the argument and prove that I’m right, or do I genuinely want to help the other person see something they may not have considered? Those two motivations will sound completely different when they come out in the way you speak.

Peter: But sometimes it isn’t about whether I want to win. I’ve realized that my classmates and I don’t even have the same starting point for reasoning. For example, in that immigration policy discussion, the reasons I gave were completely unacceptable within their framework. They don’t even believe there’s such a thing as objective right and wrong. Their position was, “Everyone has different circumstances, so nobody has the right to judge anyone else.” As soon as I said, “That’s wrong,” their first reaction was, “Who are you to define what’s right?”

John: That’s exactly the second direction I want to talk about, and it’s a more fundamental one. The wall you’re running into isn’t necessarily that “my reasons weren’t good enough this time.” It’s that the other person doesn’t even acknowledge that there is a foundation that everyone can stand on and use to reason together. At that point, simply bringing more evidence or making a more sophisticated argument often doesn’t help, because the problem isn’t at the level of evidence. It’s underneath that. Does this person actually believe that there is a real standard of right and wrong that isn’t determined by them?

Jenny: Then what do we do? Does that mean there’s no way to communicate?

John: It doesn’t mean there’s no way to communicate. It means you need to bring that deeper question to the surface instead of going around it. You can honestly ask the other person: You say, “Everyone has different circumstances, and nobody has the right to judge anyone else.” But when you just judged me by saying that I “don’t have the right to judge,” isn’t that itself a kind of judgment? If “you shouldn’t judge” is being presented as a universal rule that everyone should follow, then you’re already using a standard that “everyone should follow” to argue against the existence of standards that “everyone should follow.” You’ve already contradicted yourself.

Tom: (Picking holes in the argument) That sounds like a language game that just confuses people. Can it actually persuade anyone?

John: It might not persuade someone on the spot. Honestly, very few people completely change their position just because someone catches a logical inconsistency in one conversation. That’s not how people work. I’m not giving you a “guaranteed debate-winning technique.” I want you to first have a firm foundation in your own mind. Don’t hear someone speak with absolute confidence and such strong conviction and immediately start wondering, “Maybe there really is no objective right and wrong, and maybe we Christians are just too rigid.” You can listen to the other person with respect and humility while also clearly recognizing that they don’t actually live consistently with their own “everything is relative” position. Even in the very moment when they oppose you, they are actually using some standard that they themselves don’t acknowledge but that is nevertheless real.

Amy: (Speaking up, puzzled by what she has observed) I’ve been listening to you guys talk, and I’ve noticed that the way you’re talking is completely different from a lot of the “Christians vs. secular people” debates I see online or in class. There’s none of that “we’re right and you’re all wrong” attitude.

John: That’s how it should be. We’re not trying to “win” against the world. We’re trying to live out and speak about a truer, more complete picture. That picture should be able to hold more complexity and carry more love for people than any simplified position our culture can offer.

Grace: (Remembering something from her own experience) This reminds me of something similar that happened when I was serving in ministry. There was a woman in one of the Bible study groups I led who was studying Political Science. She said that whenever she mentioned being a Christian in her department, her classmates automatically assumed she “must support certain positions and oppose certain positions,” as if being a Christian automatically meant belonging to an entire political spectrum. She said she explained over and over that “the teachings of the Bible don’t completely line up with any existing political camp,” but hardly anyone was willing to listen. She got so tired of it that she eventually just stopped talking about her faith at school whenever possible.

John: I completely understand that situation. And I want to say something that might make some of us uncomfortable. Sometimes the stereotype that “Christians = one particular political camp” isn’t something outsiders simply made up out of nowhere. Over the past several years, there really have been churches and Christians who have tied the gospel too closely to particular political positions, as if believing in Jesus automatically means supporting everything one particular party stands for. That’s also something the church needs to reflect on. The Bible does have clear teachings that Christians cannot compromise on. But those teachings never map perfectly onto any existing political camp in our current culture. Both sides have positions that the Bible would affirm, and both sides have positions that the Bible would not affirm.

Grace: Then what should she do? She can’t just avoid mentioning her faith forever, right?

John: She doesn’t have to avoid mentioning it forever, but she can approach it differently. Instead of immediately announcing, “I’m a Christian, and this is my position,” she can first engage seriously with the specific issue, reason carefully, and listen seriously to the other person. Let people see that her thinking isn’t just coming from a template, but has actually been thought through. Over time, the impression of “Oh, this person isn’t who I thought she was” can loosen that stereotype more effectively than winning any single debate.

Sophia: (Changing the subject, her voice carrying the weight of real life) After I graduate, I’ve actually been struggling with whether to stay in Canada, go back to China, or move to the U.S. There are so many practical factors involved—the difficulty of getting a work permit, housing prices, and the fact that my parents are getting older and aren’t as healthy as they used to be. How do I bring my faith into this decision instead of just treating it like a calculation of which option benefits me most?

John: That’s a very practical question. I don’t want to pretend that faith gives you a “standard answer” telling you which country to go to. The Bible doesn’t give us a checklist like that. I want to suggest one way of thinking about it. Wherever you ultimately go, first ask yourself: Am I willing, in that place, to find and also help build a real community of believers, to continue being shaped, and to serve other people? If a decision is purely about “Where is it most advantageous for me?” without considering “How am I going to live out my faith there, and how am I going to participate in God’s kingdom?” then maybe you’re only doing half the calculation. Work permits, housing prices, and family are all real factors that need to be seriously considered. They aren’t unimportant. They just shouldn’t be the only factors.

Discussion:

This conversation touched on the feeling of being suspended between two places because you don’t completely belong to either, the experience of being labeled in polarized discussions about social issues, the stereotype that “Christians = one particular political camp,” and the faith considerations behind decisions about where to go after graduation. John said that the feeling of being suspended in midair is actually pointing to something deeper: our ultimate belonging cannot be completely provided by any earthly group. Discuss:

1) Have you ever experienced that feeling of “not completely belonging on either side,” or been labeled because of your faith or your position on an issue?

2) After today’s discussion, do you think Peter’s identity as a “person of God” can really give a place for that feeling of being suspended in midair inside you?

2. If Everything Falls Apart, What Will I Have Left?

Grace: (Sighing) I want to ask about something that makes me even more uneasy. Right now I have fellowship, and I have a few close friends. There are people helping carry me in my faith. But all of this is temporary. After graduation, everyone will go their separate ways. What happens when I’m alone in an unfamiliar city, starting a new job, and I don’t even have a Christian friend I can talk honestly with? What will keep my faith going?

Paul: (This question hits close to home) I can share my experience. When I was in university, I was actually pretty passionate about my faith. I went to fellowship almost every day. But during my first two years of working, I really had to carry everything by myself. My fellowship group fell apart, I hadn’t found a church in the new city, and on top of that, I was busy with work and my schedule was all over the place. By Sunday, I was so exhausted I could barely get out of bed. During those two years, my faith faded badly, almost to the point of disappearing. It wasn’t that one day I decided I didn’t believe anymore. It happened little by little, like your phone battery slowly dying. You don’t even notice exactly when it reaches zero.

Grace: So now, what do you think the answer is to “What will keep it going?”

Paul: Now I think it isn’t about luck, like whether you happen to have friends around you. It’s about actively choosing, again and again, to find a church and build new relationships, even if it’s awkward and takes a lot of effort at first. Faith seems like something that is never “built once and permanently secured.” You have to keep putting down roots again. And later I realized something else. During those two years, it wasn’t just that I “stopped attending gatherings.” There was actually a thought in my heart that went, “Well, no one is watching me anymore.” So some of the things I had been afraid to do when I was in fellowship, I started trying one by one. I drank too much, and I started getting involved with people who weren’t good for me. Eventually those things made a complete mess of my life, and that forced me to face God again.

John: Paul put that very honestly, including the most embarrassing parts, so thank you. I want to add one thing. The community of believers described in the Bible was never meant to be an “optional emotional support group.” It is the normal way God designed for our faith to be sustained and built up. Hebrews specifically warns us not to give up meeting together. So Grace, your concern isn’t unnecessary worry. It’s a very practical issue, and it deserves to be taken seriously. It’s not about saying, “God will take care of you anyway, so you don’t need to worry.” It means preparing in advance and treating “finding and building a new community of believers” as something as important as finding a job after graduation, or even something that should take higher priority.

Jack: So how do we prepare specifically? We can’t just wait until we get to a new city and then scramble to figure everything out.

John: You can start practicing a few things now. First, practice maintaining habits of Bible reading and prayer even without relying on fellowship activities. Then when your environment changes, your roots won’t suddenly be cut off. Second, pay attention to and learn how to take the initiative in meeting people and how to find the courage to walk into an unfamiliar church. That ability to take initiative is something you can practice now.

Peter: (Thinking of something) My roommate’s experience might be a good warning for everyone. He isn’t a Christian, but he transferred to a school in Toronto last year. He had a really good group of close friends back home. He told me that when he arrived at the new school, for the first three months he kept telling himself, “My friends are all online anyway.” He video-called and played games with his old friends every day and made no effort to meet new classmates. But after three months, he realized that because everyone was getting busy with their own lives, the times when his old friends were free were becoming harder and harder to line up, and the friendships gradually faded. At the new school, he hadn’t made a single friend either. During that period, he felt incredibly lonely and was even in a pretty depressed state. Eventually he forced himself to join a club in his department, and slowly things started getting better.

Jenny: That’s exactly the same as what happens with our faith. If you keep relying on what you had “before” and never take the initiative to move forward, eventually you end up losing both.

John: Exactly. That’s what I’m trying to say. The way Paul’s faith declined during those two years and the way Peter’s roommate became lonely are actually very similar. Both assumed that “relationships maintain themselves automatically,” and then discovered that relationships require ongoing, intentional investment. Faith is the same way.

Tom: (Changing the subject, his tone becoming heavier) I want to bring up something bigger. It might be a little off-topic, but I’ve really been struggling with this lately. I’ve been feeling pretty depressed reading the news. There are reports of climate crises everywhere, places that are still at war, society becoming more polarized every day, and now AI is making people anxious too. Sometimes I feel like the world really is slowly falling apart. Are our generation just supposed to sit there and watch it get worse and worse? As Christians, how are we supposed to live in a world that feels like it’s falling apart?

Amy: (This time genuinely relating) I don’t have any faith at all, but I really relate to this feeling. I often finish scrolling through the news and just feel completely powerless. Sometimes I’m even afraid to have children because I think bringing someone into such a chaotic world would be cruel. Several of my friends feel the same way. When we talk privately, there’s this feeling that “the ship is sinking, and everyone is pretending everything is fine.”

John: (Seriously) I don’t want to brush aside the heaviness you’re describing with a few shallow words. This world really is broken. The Bible never says, “Everything is fine, so don’t worry.” Quite the opposite. The Bible uses the word “groaning” to describe the state of all creation right now. Romans says that the whole creation has been groaning and suffering together until now. The heaviness you’re feeling isn’t something the Bible denies. In fact, the Bible gives words to it before we even do.

Amy: Doesn’t that make it even more hopeless? Even the Bible admits that the world is terrible.

John: Quite the opposite. Precisely because the Bible honestly acknowledges this brokenness, the hope it offers isn’t some cheap “look on the bright side” message. It is grounded in something much more solid. The same passage goes on to say that this groaning and suffering isn’t directionless. It is like the pain of childbirth, pointing toward a renewal that is ultimately coming—“waiting for the adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.” Christian hope has never been about “believing that humanity will gradually make the world better by itself.” It is about believing that the Lord who created this world, who Himself entered this broken world, died, and rose again, will one day return personally and renew all things, bringing an end to and reversing all suffering, injustice, and brokenness.

Tom: But that still sounds so far away. We still have to live in this world that seems to be getting worse every day. Can this hope actually change how I live today?

John: It can, and I think this is where it becomes most practical. If I believe that the final outcome has already been determined by a God who is sovereign and good, and that He will personally come to renew everything, then when I face climate change, war, and polarization today, I don’t have to respond in either of two extreme ways. One is to completely give up, thinking, “There’s no hope anyway, so why bother doing anything?” The other is to put the entire burden of “saving the world” on my own shoulders until I’m crushed by it and swallowed up by my sense of helplessness. I can seriously and responsibly do the concrete, small things that are within my reach—use resources wisely, love the specific people around me, participate in pursuing a little more justice—and at the same time entrust the final outcome to the God who truly has the whole picture in His hands. I don’t have to carry the weight of the entire world by myself.

Amy: (Thoughtfully) So your hope isn’t “believing the world will get better on its own.” It’s believing that “a greater power from outside us will come and set things right”?

John: Yes. And that hope doesn’t make people indifferent to the brokenness of the present. Quite the opposite. Precisely because we know God cares about justice and about people who are suffering, Christians throughout history have often been deeply involved in caring for the poor and pursuing social justice. We know these efforts aren’t meaningless. They are a foretaste of the renewal that is ultimately coming, even if what we do is small and imperfect.

Jack: (Thinking of his own struggle) Speaking of “feeling powerless,” I want to share something I’ve been struggling with for a long time. I know I’m supposed to “put to death” my habit of avoiding problems and mindlessly scrolling on my phone whenever I face something difficult. But I’ve realized that this problem isn’t just about scrolling. I give up when I see big news about climate change. I give up when my grades aren’t good. It seems like the same “There’s nothing I can change anyway” attitude keeps spilling from one area of my life into another.

John: That’s a very accurate observation, and it’s connected to what we talked about in our previous gatherings. If you don’t put all sin to death, you can’t really put any one sin to death, because many behaviors that look different on the surface often have the same root underneath. The kind of helplessness you’re describing—“There’s nothing I can change anyway”—if you only deal with the symptom of “scrolling on my phone,” may simply come back in another form, like indifference or numbness when you face the world’s bigger problems. The deeper issue we need to deal with is this: Do I really believe that the small, seemingly insignificant things I do have real weight in the hands of a God who is sovereign over all things? Do I believe they are not in vain?

Grace: (Bringing the conversation back to a more personal level) Then I want to ask one final question. When I have a class reunion a few years after graduation, part of me honestly hopes that when people talk about me, they’ll think I “did pretty well”—that I have a stable career and a respectable life. But I also know, somewhere inside, that if that’s all I want, something feels off. What do I actually want people to remember about me?

John: This question actually brings together a lot of what we’ve talked about over the past few gatherings. If “doing well” is all you want people to remember about you, that kind of recognition will never be secure enough. It will be like AI anxiety, comparing GPAs, or wanting other people to think you’re “impressive.” You’ll always need to prove yourself again. Let me turn the question around. Ten years from now, if a younger student talks about you and says, “I remember that older student. She wasn’t the most impressive or successful person, but she was genuine. She was someone I thought of when I was going through a hard time,” would you be disappointed?

Grace: (Thinking, her eyes slightly moist) …No. Honestly, that’s actually more like how I want people to remember me.

John: Then that desire is closer to what the Bible says is truly worth pursuing than simply “doing well.” That doesn’t mean you should stop trying to do things well or living a respectable life. It means that when you put “being loved and truly known” ahead of “being seen as impressive,” you may find that some of that anxiety slowly begins to loosen. This isn’t something one conversation can completely change. It’s something you have to keep choosing again and again over the years to come.

Discussion:

This conversation touched on the challenge of sustaining your faith on your own after graduation, the story of Peter’s roommate becoming lonely because he didn’t take the initiative to build new relationships, how to live in a world that feels like it is falling apart, and Grace’s reconsideration of what she wants to be remembered for. John said that Christian hope isn’t about believing the world will get better on its own. It is about believing that the Lord who created the world and personally entered into its brokenness will ultimately return and renew everything. Discuss:

1) If someone talks about you ten years from now, do you want them to remember how “well you were doing,” or something else?

2) How far is that desire from the way you are living today?

　　（期中周刚过，几个人顶着黑眼圈进来，桌上是打包回来的外卖盒）

一、我每天到底在忙什么？

　　Peter：（一边刷手机一边叹气）我室友昨天转发了一篇文章给我，说AI已经能写出比大部分Junior Dev更干净的代码了。我学CS的，本来觉得这专业挺稳，现在越看越慌——我拼命刷题、赶project、卷GPA，可能四年之后，我学的这些东西根本用不上，会不会毕业就等于失业？

　　Jack：（苦笑）你还算好的，至少CS还算「跟得上时代」。我是Business，我们班上一半人都在讨论要不要转专业，说以后连做PPT、写商业分析报告这种事AI都能干，招聘的岗位只会越来越少。

　　Tom：温哥华生活成本又这么贵，工签、PR一年比一年难，我们这一代留学生，感觉是在为一个越来越不确定的未来拼命，说白了就是不知道图什么。

　　Jenny：（小声）我倒不是特别焦虑「有没有工作」，我更常问自己——我每天刷题、写Paper、卷履历，这些事本身，除了「换一份工作」，到底还有什么意义？会不会我这几年做的，全部都只是为了一张能兑换成薪水的入场券，跟「我是谁」「我为什么活着」这些问题一点关系都没有？

　　John：（放下咖啡）你们提的这些，其实是两层不太一样的焦虑。我插一句题外话——我读书的时候还没有AI这个说法，我们那时候担心的是外包，「你学的东西会不会被印度的团队用三分之一的工资做掉」，跟你们现在的焦虑，本质上是同一种恐慌换了个马甲。Peter和Jack说的，更接近「我的专业会不会被淘汰」；Jenny问的更深一层——「就算专业没被淘汰，这一切忙碌本身有没有意义」。我们先说第一层。

　　Peter：好，那第一层，你怎么看AI这个事？你会不会觉得我在杞人忧天？

　　John：我不会说你在杞人忧天，这是个真实的处境，我没办法向你保证「你的专业绝对不会被冲击」，那样说不负责任。但我想先请你们看一件更根本的事——从工业革命开始，每一次重大的技术变革，都会有人问「我学的东西还有用吗」，纺织工人这样问过，会计师、翻译，这些年也这样问过。历史告诉我们的，不是「某个具体技能永远安全」，是人需要不断适应、学习，这本身从来不是新鲜事。AI这次可能来得更快、更猛，但焦虑的性质，其实不是全新的。

　　Jack：（挑刺）可这次不一样吧，以前是「某个行业」被冲击，这次听起来是「几乎所有脑力劳动」都可能被冲击，包括我们现在拼命学的这些「软技能」。

　　John：这个担心有道理，我不想轻描淡写。但我想先请你们退一步想一个问题——你们刚才描述自己每天的状态，「拼命刷题」「卷GPA」「卷履历」，这些词本身，透露出一种什么样的心态？

　　Tom：……就是怕落后吧，怕比不上别人。

　　John：对，那个「怕」字，才是我更想跟你们一起看清楚的东西。如果我每天学习、工作的意义，最终建立在「我能不能比别人更有竞争力、能不能保住一份好工作」上，那不管AI来不来，这个地基本身就是会晃的——因为总有比你更厉害、更年轻、更便宜的人，AI只是把这个真相，提前、更猛烈地摆在你面前而已。

　　Jenny：那意思是，AI这件事，其实是在逼我们面对一个本来就存在、只是被暂时掩盖住的问题？

　　John：我觉得是这样。圣经对「工作」这件事的理解，跟这套「工作=证明我的价值、换取安全感」的逻辑，从根上就不一样。创世记一开始，神造人，就吩咐人要耕种看守伊甸园——工作不是罪进入世界之后才有的惩罚，是神从起初就赐给人的、有尊严的呼召，是人被造去反映神、去有创造力地治理这个世界的一部分。

　　Jack：那工作到底是什么，如果不是「赚钱吃饭的工具」？

　　John：不只是工具，但也不用把它讲得太玄——工作首先是神给你的一个具体的场域，让你活出「你是照神的形象被造的」这件事：用你的头脑、双手、恩赐，去创造有价值的东西、服事别人、供应家庭。你今天写代码、做报表，如果那个工作本身是诚实的、对别人有益的，这本身就是有意义的，不需要靠「这份工作永远不会被取代」才有价值。约翰·傅瑞姆写基督徒生活的伦理学时，反复强调一个观点，大意是——基督的主权不是只管你礼拜天在教会里做什么，是管你整个礼拜、每一个领域，写代码、做报表，跟主日敬拜，不是分成「属灵」和「世俗」两块，而是同一位主在不同的场域里，都要求你忠心、都能被你用来敬拜祂。工作不是信仰之外的另一件事，是信仰活出来的地方之一。

　　Jenny：那是不是意味着，工作干得好不好、有没有果效，跟我信仰好不好也挂钩？

　　John：不完全是「挂钩」，是「同一件事的不同侧面」。你诚实地把一份工作做好，本身就是在活出信仰，不需要额外加一层「宗教意义」才算数。

　　Peter：可这样说还是没解决我最实际的焦虑——如果AI真的取代了我学的这些技能，我该怎么办，是不是就白学了？

　　John：我想诚实地说——某些具体的技能，确实有可能被取代，这是真实的风险，我不会假装它不存在。但我想邀请你们，把「我学的东西有没有用」这个问题，从「能不能换到工作」，往下挖一层——你在学习这些东西的过程里，锻炼出来的思考方式、解决问题的能力、跟人合作的能力，这些不是那么容易被一夜之间「淘汰」的，而且更重要的是，就算某一份具体的工作没了，神对你的呼召——用你的恩赐服事人、诚实地劳动、在群体中承担责任——这个更根本的呼召，不会因为某个岗位消失就跟着消失。

　　Jenny：（这时插话，语气认真起来）我想接着往下问。我这几年的困惑，其实不是「AI会不会取代我」，是更根本的——我爸妈一直想让我读一个好找工作、好移民的专业，比如Accounting或者Data Science，可我自己真正想走的方向是别的，是我觉得神好像在这方面给了我一些负担、一些热情的地方，但那个方向「钱景」不明朗。我夹在这两种「成功」的定义中间，快被撕裂了。

　　Tom：这个我懂，我爸也是天天念叨「学这个以后能找到工作吗」。

　　John：Jenny这个撕裂，我觉得特别值得停下来看。你爸妈那套「成功」的定义——稳定、高薪、能移民——不是完全没有道理，这些是真实的、需要认真考虑的现实因素，圣经也从来没说「不要考虑现实、只管凭感觉走」，那是不负责任的。但如果「成功」的定义，只剩下这一套外在的、可以量化的标准，那这套定义本身，其实跟AI焦虑背后那套逻辑是同一个根——都是把一个人的价值，绑在「外在的、可以被别人比较、可以被淘汰」的东西上。

　　Jenny：那我该怎么在这两者之间找平衡？总不能完全不管现实，任性地说「神呼召我」就不管钱的事了吧。

　　John：完全同意，不能不负责任。但我想给你一个具体的问题去想，而不是一个「随便选一个」的空泛答案——你觉得那个让你有负担、有热情的方向，是不是也能诚实地服事人、供应你自己和将来的家庭，只是可能不像另一条路那么「稳」？如果是，那这不是「任性 vs 负责任」的选择，是两种都需要智慧和信心去走的路，只是风险和确定性不一样，值得你认真祷告、也跟信任的人商量，而不是简单套一个「听神的就一定选冷门」或者「现实的就一定不属灵」的公式。

　　Amy：（这时开口，带着好奇）我想插一句题外话。我上学期修了一门Sociology of Work，教授讲，「工作有神圣意义」这种说法，本质上是资本主义为了让人心甘情愿被剥削、心甘情愿加班，硬塞给劳动者的一套意识形态，好让人不去质疑不公平的用工结构。听完之后我再看你们刚才说的「工作是神给的呼召」，会不会也是同一种套路——用宗教语言，让人更心甘情愿地接受一份可能本来就不公平的工作？

　　（一时安静，几个人对视了一下）

　　John：（认真地）Amy这个问题问得很尖锐，我要老实说，这个批判，某种程度上是有道理的——历史上确实有教会、有雇主，滥用「工作是神圣的」这句话，去让工人接受不公平的待遇，甚至压制工人争取正当权益，这是真实发生过的罪，教会该为此认罪，不该被美化或者洗白。

　　Amy：（意外）我以为你会直接反驳我。

　　John：不会，因为你说的那部分，我没办法否认，那是真的滥用。但我想指出，你教授那套理论本身，也有一个没有被摆到台面上的前提——它默认「意义」这个词本身，只是一种被权力结构制造出来、用来操控人的工具，没有什么「意义」是真实存在、不是被建构出来服务某种利益的。如果这个前提是对的，那你教授讲的这套「揭穿意识形态」的理论，会不会也只是另一种意识形态，服务着学术圈自己的某种利益结构？

　　Jack：（若有所思）就是说，用来「戳破」别人是骗局的那把刀，也可以反过来戳自己？

　　John：对，这正是这类批判理论一个常见的自我瓦解——它可以拆穿任何一种「意义」，说那只是权力的伪装，唯独不去拆穿自己「一切意义都是权力伪装」这句话本身，是不是也可能只是它自己那套框架的产物。我不是说这类理论完全没有洞见——它提醒我们，确实要警惕权力、警惕剥削，这是对的、也是圣经本身一直在讲的，先知书里神一次次斥责那些欺压穷人、亏待雇工的人。但它跟圣经不一样的地方是，圣经在揭露不公义的同时，仍然肯定「工作本身有真实的、不是被谁编出来的尊严和意义」，这两件事——反对剥削，跟肯定工作的意义——圣经是同时讲的，不是非此即彼。

　　Amy：（想了想）……好吧，这个我需要再想想，但至少你没有直接否认我说的那部分是真的。

　　John：我不想否认，因为教会确实欠了不少人一句「对不起」，在这件事上。

讨论：

这一场聊到了AI带来的职业焦虑、「工作=证明自己价值」这套逻辑本来就摇摇欲坠、Jenny夹在两种「成功」定义中间的撕裂，还有Amy提出的「工作神圣意义」会不会只是意识形态操控的质疑。请讨论：你现在每天读书、赶due、找实习，如果把「怕落后、怕被淘汰」这份焦虑先放到一边，你觉得这些努力，还剩下什么让你愿意继续做下去的理由？

二、到底谁在定义什么是「真」？

　　Tom：（有点不好意思）我想说件挺现实的事。我室友这学期GPA一直比我高，前几天他拿到一个大厂的Return Offer，我表面上恭喜他，心里却很不是滋味，忍不住会想——是不是我不够被神喜悦，才这么不顺，他比我「值」？我知道不该这么想，但心里就是会冒出这个念头。

　　Grace：我也有过，看到同龄人事业顺、工资高，会不自觉地觉得「神好像更祝福他」，虽然我脑子里知道这个逻辑不对。

　　John：（点头）这个念头，其实是一个很古老的谎言换了个现代包装——「外在的成功，等于神的悦纳」，约伯的三个朋友，整本约伯记里一直在跟约伯讲这套逻辑：你受苦，一定是你哪里得罪了神；你顺利，就是神喜悦你。神在约伯记最后，明确地斥责了这三个朋友的说法。

　　Tom：那神喜不喜悦我，到底跟我GPA、工资有没有关系？

　　John：没有直接关系。神对你的悦纳，如果你在基督里，是完全建立在基督已经替你成就的事上，不是你的GPA、你的Offer、你的银行余额。你室友拿到Return Offer，不代表他「更蒙福」；你暂时不顺，也不代表你「不够格」。这两件事，是完全不同层面的事，硬把它们绑在一起，是我们的心自己在编故事，不是圣经教的。

　　Peter：（换个话题，认真地）我想问一个更学术一点的问题，可能会讲得有点长，你们忍一下。我这学期修了Intro Psychology，教授花了整整一节课讲进化心理学，说人的道德感、利他行为、甚至「爱」，说到底都是基因为了让个体更好地生存、繁衍，演化出来的策略——比如父母爱孩子，是因为这样基因才能传下去；人会有「公平感」，是因为群居动物这样才能长期合作、不至于互相残杀。整套体系讲得挺自洽的，从头到尾都不需要提到「罪」「救赎」这些词，逻辑上也说得通，考试还要求我们用这套框架去分析案例。我听完之后有点恍惚——我的信仰和我学的这套心理学，到底谁在定义「真相」？我该怎么学，才不会觉得自己精神分裂，上课信一套，主日信另一套？

　　John：这个「精神分裂感」，我完全理解，很多念心理学、社会学、生物学的基督徒同学都经历过，我自己以前也有过类似的挣扎。我先说一句——你教授讲的那套理论，「逻辑自洽」这件事本身，不代表它就是完整的真相，只代表它在自己设定的框架内，能自圆其说。

　　Peter：这什么意思？

　　John：任何一套解释体系，只要它够精密，几乎都能在自己的框架内讲得通，问题是——这套框架的起点，也就是它最开始默认接受、却从来不去证明的那几个前提，对不对。你教授那套进化心理学，一开始就默认「人只是进化出来的生物机器，没有一位造物主，没有超越物质世界的东西存在」，在这个前提下，道德感、意义感，当然都只能被解释成「有利于生存繁衍的适应性特征」。这个前提没有被证明过，是被当成研究的默认起点。

　　Jack：那我们信的这套，不也是一个「起点」吗？凭什么我们的起点更「真」？

　　John：这正是关键的地方——每一个人，不管信不信神，都是从某个没办法先证明、只能先相信的起点出发去理解世界的，没有人是从一个完全「中立、没有任何预设」的地方开始思考的，包括最坚定的无神论科学家。真正该问的问题，不是「谁的起点听起来更学术、更客观」，是「哪一个起点，能真正撑得住我们生活里明明白白经历到的东西」——比如，你教授那套理论，能不能真正解释清楚，为什么「屠杀无辜」是真实地错的，不只是「不利于生存繁衍」这么简单？能不能解释，为什么我们会经历到爱、经历到良心的谴责、经历到对公义近乎本能的渴望，这些东西如果只是进化的副产品，它们凭什么真的「重要」？

　　Peter：（想了想）……好像还真没法完全解释，最多说「这是有利于群体生存的机制」，但那感觉不太够。而且我还想到一个更让我不安的地方——如果爱、道德感都只是基因策略，那我爱我爸妈、爱我女朋友，是不是说到底也只是基因在操控我，根本没有什么「真的爱」，只是一堆化学反应在演戏？

　　John：这正是这套理论最难自圆其说的地方——它一旦用来解释「别人」的道德感、爱，听起来还挺有说服力；可一旦你把它用回自己身上，用来看你此刻对你爸妈、对你女朋友的爱，你会发现，你没办法真的这样活——你不会在拥抱你妈妈的时候，心里想「这只是基因让我这样做」，你经历到的，是真实的爱，不是一个化学反应的旁观报告。这说明，就算是最相信进化心理学的人，实际生活里，也没办法真的按照这套理论去活，他们照样会真诚地爱人、真诚地为不公义愤怒，好像这些真的有超越基因的分量一样。这个「说一套、活一套」的裂缝，恰恰说明这套理论没有讲出全部的真相。

　　Jack：（这时插话，带着自己的经历）我想到我一个非基督徒的朋友，他学的是Anthropology，人类学。他上学期给我看了一篇论文，讲不同文化对「乱伦禁忌」「一夫一妻制」的态度差异特别大，有些部落文化甚至完全没有我们认为「天经地义」的那些性道德规范。他说这就证明了「道德根本没有客观标准，全是文化建构出来的产物，你们基督徒说的那套『性道德』，只是你们那个文化偶然形成的规矩而已，不比别的文化的规矩更『对』」。我当时没接上话，挺尴尬的。

　　John：这个论证的模式，我们上次聊「意义由读者建构」的时候其实碰过类似的——从「不同文化有不同做法」，直接跳到「所以没有客观对错，都只是相对的」，中间其实跳过了很关键的一步。

　　Tom：跳过了什么？

　　John：「不同文化做法不一样」，这个观察是真的，人类学家做的这些田野调查很有价值，我不否认。但「做法不一样」，跟「所以没有哪个做法更对」，这两件事之间，需要一个额外的假设才能连起来，那个假设就是——「道德真理，如果存在，应该在所有文化里长得一模一样，没有例外」。可这个假设从哪来的？没有人证明过它。而且反过来想——不同文化对「二加二等于几」也可能有不同的记数系统、不同的表达方式，但这不代表「二加二」本身没有客观答案，只是表达、理解的方式不一样。

　　Jack：那你朋友那句「你们那套只是文化建构」，怎么回？

　　John：可以反问他——他说「道德是文化建构出来的，没有客观对错」，那「奴隶制是错的」「种族灭绝是错的」，这些他自己大概也深信不疑的判断，是不是也「只是某种文化建构、没有客观对错」？如果他愿意为了保持逻辑一致，承认「连奴隶制、种族灭绝对不对，也只是相对的、看哪个文化」，那大部分人，包括他自己，其实没办法真的接受这个结论，会本能地反对。可如果他不愿意承认这一点，那他就已经在用行动证明——他心里其实相信，有些道德真理，是跨文化、不因文化不同而改变的，只是他还没想清楚，凭什么「屠杀无辜是错的」能有客观标准，别的道德问题却不能。

　　Amy：（这时又提出一个更具体的例子）我想说我室友的一件事，可能更贴近生活。她这学期修了Gender Studies，整个学期学下来，她说她现在觉得，「男女有本质差异」这种说法，本身就是社会建构出来、用来维持某种权力结构的东西，性别更多是一个光谱、一种流动的、每个人自己定义的东西。她跟我说这些的时候，态度挺笃定的，我听着觉得也有一定道理——毕竟每个人经历自己的性别认同确实不完全一样。但我也隐约觉得，这套说法好像走得有点远，具体哪里不对，我说不清楚。

　　John：这是个很实际、也很敏感的问题，我想认真地、也温和地回应，而不是简单地说「这是错的」就带过去。我先说一点——每个人对自己性别的经历、感受，确实是真实的、复杂的，这些感受背后往往也有真实的挣扎、真实的痛苦，这些不该被轻视或者嘲笑，这也是为什么面对这个议题，态度上要格外温柔。

　　Amy：那你们不同意她那套理论？

　　John：我想指出的是，跟刚才「乱伦禁忌」那个例子类似的一个逻辑跳跃——「性别的社会期待、角色分工，在不同文化里有很大差异」，这个观察是真的，比如「男生该做什么工作、女生该穿什么颜色」，这些确实很大程度上是文化习俗；但从这一步，直接跳到「所以男女之间根本没有神所设计的、真实的、有意义的差异，一切都只是流动的、自己定义的」，这中间又需要一个没被证明的假设——「凡是带着文化差异的东西，底层就没有任何客观、被造的实质」。圣经从创世记开始就讲，神造男造女，两者都完全平等地带着神的形象，同样宝贵，同时又是真实地、有意义地不同，这个「既平等又不同」的图景，本身就没有落入「男女完全一样」或者「性别完全是自己定义」这两个极端。

　　Amy：那对我室友那种真实的挣扎，你们会怎么回应，而不只是讲道理？

　　John：如果是我，我不会一见面就先辩论理论，会先想认识她这个人、听她的故事——她的挣扎从哪里来的，是不是曾经因为「不符合期待」被伤害过、被嘲笑过。很多时候，人接受一套理论，不是先被逻辑说服的，是先被那套理论「接住」了自己真实的痛，如果基督徒只顾着辩论对错，却没有先看见、没有先陪伴那份真实的痛，讲再多道理也没用，甚至会把人推得更远。

　　Jenny：（这时想起自己的一件事）说到「厉害」这件事，我想说说我的一个纠结，跟前面聊的这些都有点关系。我其实希望，将来别人提起我的时候，第一反应是「这人很厉害」——学历好、事业好、生活体面。可我也隐约知道，如果「厉害」这件事就是我全部想要的目标，好像哪里不太对，但我又说不清楚哪里不对，毕竟想被人认可、想活得体面，这不是很正常的愿望吗？

　　John：这个愿望本身不是罪，神造我们，本来就有这种渴望被肯定、渴望活出美好人生的心，这不需要压抑。问题不在于「想要被人认为厉害」，是在于——如果这件事变成了你全部的、最终极的追求，它撑不住那个位置，因为「别人怎么看你」这件事，太不稳定了，随时会变；而且就算全世界都觉得你很厉害，那份认同也没办法真正填满你心里更深的那个渴望——被真正、无条件地认识和爱。

　　Jenny：那要怎么把这两种想法理清楚？

　　John：不是叫你从此不在乎事业、不追求做得好，那也不现实、也不圣经。是把次序摆对——你可以真心地、努力地追求把工作做好、活出有见证的生活，这本身是荣耀神的；但你不需要靠「别人觉得我厉害」，来确认自己「够格、有价值」，因为那份「够格」，在基督里，从一开始就已经是确定的，不需要靠外在的成就再去挣一次。你追求卓越，是因为你已经被爱了，不是为了换来被爱。

　　Amy：（若有所思，总结似地）我发现你们说来说去，好像很多问题最后都绕回同一个点——不管是心理学的进化解释、人类学的文化相对论、还是性别理论，你们说的意思，都是「这些理论一旦走到底，都会自己推翻自己，或者没办法解释我们真实活出来的东西」。会不会有点……什么都往这上面套？

　　John：（笑，认真地）这个观察很敏锐，我也想诚实地承认——这确实是我们，包括我自己，一直在讲的同一个核心，不是因为词穷、找不到别的话讲，是因为我越观察这些不同领域的理论，越发现，它们大多都是从同一个起点出发的——先假定除了物质世界，什么都不存在，然后再用这个假定去解释爱、道德、意义、性别这些东西，解释到最后，往往没办法真正安放我们活生生经历到的那些最深的东西，甚至连它们自己讲的人，都没办法真的照着那套理论去生活。不是我们「什么都往这上面套」，是这些理论，走到底，真的常常会露出同一个破绽。

　　Tom：（沉默一会儿，若有所思）……行吧，我这次是真没法反驳了，虽然感觉心里还是有点不服气。

　　John：（笑）不服气没关系，这些不是靠一次谈话就能完全说服你的东西，你可以带着这份不服气，回去继续想、继续问，我完全欢迎你下次带着更难的问题回来。

讨论：

这一场聊到了「别人顺利就是神更喜悦他」这个古老的谎言、进化心理学对爱与道德的解释、人类学的文化相对论、性别理论背后的假设，以及Jenny希望被人觉得「厉害」的挣扎。John反复指出，很多这类理论，一旦走到底，要嘛没办法解释我们真实经历到的爱与道德，要嘛连提出理论的人自己都没办法照着它去生活。请讨论：

1) 在你自己修的课里，有没有哪一门课、哪一个理论，让你听完之后跟信仰产生过类似的「精神分裂感」？

2) 听完今天的讨论，你会怎么重新面对那门课、那个理论？

Lesson 9: AI Is Here—Is What I’m Studying Still Useful? — Calling and the Future

(Midterm week has just ended. A few people walk in with dark circles under their eyes, with takeout containers scattered across the table.)

1. What Am I Actually So Busy Doing Every Day?

Peter: (scrolling through his phone and sighing) My roommate sent me an article yesterday saying that AI can already write cleaner code than most junior developers. I’m in CS, and I used to think this was a pretty safe major. But the more I look at what’s happening, the more nervous I get—I’m grinding through coding problems, rushing through projects, obsessing over my GPA, and maybe four years from now, none of what I’ve learned will even be useful. What if graduating basically means being unemployed?

Jack: (smiling bitterly) At least you’re in CS, which is still considered somewhat “up to date.” I’m in Business. Half the people in my class are talking about whether they should switch majors, because AI can already do things like make PowerPoints and write business analysis reports. The number of jobs companies hire for is only going to shrink.

Tom: And living costs in Vancouver are so high. Work permits and PR seem to get harder every year. For international students like us, it feels like our generation is working ourselves to death for a future that’s becoming more and more uncertain. Honestly, we don’t even know what we’re working toward.

Jenny: (quietly) I’m actually not that anxious about whether I’ll have a job. What I ask myself more often is—besides “getting another job,” what meaning do all these things have in themselves? I spend my days doing practice problems, writing papers, building my résumé. What if everything I’ve done these past few years is just an entrance ticket that can eventually be exchanged for a salary, and has nothing to do with questions like “Who am I?” or “Why am I alive?”

John: (putting down his coffee) What you guys are bringing up is actually two somewhat different layers of anxiety. Let me make a quick side comment—I was in school before people even talked about AI like this. Back then, we were worried about outsourcing: “What if the things I’m learning get done by a team in India for one-third of the cost?” The basic fear is actually the same as yours today, just wearing a different outfit. What Peter and Jack are talking about is closer to “Will my major become obsolete?” Jenny is asking the deeper question: “Even if my major doesn’t become obsolete, does all this busyness itself have any meaning?” Let’s start with the first layer.

Peter: Okay, so what do you think about AI? Do you think I’m worrying about nothing?

John: I wouldn’t say you’re worrying about nothing. This is a real situation, and I can’t honestly promise you, “Your major will definitely never be affected.” That would be irresponsible. But I want you to step back and look at something more fundamental. Ever since the Industrial Revolution, every major technological change has made people ask, “Will what I’ve learned still be useful?” Textile workers have asked that. Accountants and translators have asked it in recent years too. What history tells us isn’t that “one particular skill will always be safe.” It tells us that people constantly need to adapt and learn. That part is nothing new. AI may be arriving faster and hitting harder this time, but the nature of the anxiety isn’t completely new.

Jack: (pushing back) But isn’t this time different? Before, it was “a particular industry” being disrupted. This time it sounds like “almost all kinds of knowledge work” could be disrupted, including the so-called “soft skills” we’re working so hard to develop.

John: That concern is reasonable, and I don’t want to brush it aside. But I want you to step back and ask a different question—when you describe your everyday life as “grinding through problems,” “chasing a high GPA,” and “building your résumé,” what kind of mindset do those words reveal?

Tom: …I guess it’s being afraid of falling behind. Being afraid I won’t be as good as everyone else.

John: Exactly. That word “afraid” is what I really want us to look at. If the meaning of my studying and working every day is ultimately built on “Can I be more competitive than other people? Can I keep a good job?” then the foundation is going to shake whether AI comes or not—because there will always be someone smarter, younger, or cheaper than you. AI is just putting that reality in front of you earlier and more forcefully.

Jenny: So you mean AI is actually forcing us to face a problem that was already there, but had just been hidden for a while?

John: I think so. The Bible’s understanding of “work” is fundamentally different from the logic of “work = proving my worth and earning security.” Right at the beginning of Genesis, when God created human beings, He commanded them to cultivate and care for the Garden of Eden. Work wasn’t a punishment that appeared only after sin entered the world. From the very beginning, it was a dignified calling God gave human beings. It was part of what we were created to do—to reflect God and creatively care for and develop His world.

Jack: Then what exactly is work, if it isn’t just “a tool for making money and putting food on the table”?

John: It’s not just a tool, but we don’t have to make it overly complicated either. First of all, work is a specific place God has given you to live out the fact that “you were created in God’s image.” You use your mind, your hands, and your gifts to create things of value, serve other people, and provide for your family. If you write code or prepare reports today, and the work itself is honest and beneficial to others, that work already has meaning. It doesn’t need to be a job that will never be replaced in order to have value. When John Frame wrote about Christian ethics, he repeatedly emphasized a basic idea: Christ’s lordship isn’t limited to what you do at church on Sunday. It covers your entire week and every area of your life. Writing code and preparing reports, just like Sunday worship, aren’t divided into two separate categories called “spiritual” and “secular.” They are all different places where the same Lord calls you to be faithful and where you can worship Him. Work isn’t something separate from faith. It is one of the places where faith is lived out.

Jenny: So does that mean how well I do at work, and whether my work is successful, are connected to how well I’m doing spiritually?

John: Not exactly “connected” in that sense. They’re different sides of the same thing. When you honestly do a job well, that itself is part of living out your faith. You don’t need to add an extra layer of “religious meaning” to make it count.

Peter: But that still doesn’t solve my most practical anxiety. If AI really does replace the skills I’m learning, what am I supposed to do? Does that mean all the time I spent learning them was wasted?

John: I want to be honest—some specific skills really may be replaced. That is a real risk, and I’m not going to pretend it isn’t. But I want to invite you to dig one level deeper into the question “Is what I’m learning useful?” instead of stopping at “Can it get me a job?” Through learning these things, you develop ways of thinking, problem-solving skills, and the ability to work with other people. Those things aren’t so easily “made obsolete” overnight. More importantly, even if a particular job disappears, God’s more fundamental calling for you—to use your gifts to serve others, to work honestly, and to take responsibility within a community—doesn’t disappear just because a particular position does.

Jenny: (interrupting, her tone becoming more serious) I want to take this one step further. My struggle these past few years actually isn’t “Will AI replace me?” It’s something more fundamental. My parents have always wanted me to choose a major that leads to a good job and makes immigration easier, like Accounting or Data Science. But the direction I genuinely want to pursue is something else. I feel like God has given me a certain burden and passion for that area, but the career prospects aren’t very clear. I feel like I’m being torn between two different definitions of “success.”

Tom: I get that. My dad is always asking me, “Will you actually be able to find a job with that major?”

John: I think Jenny’s sense of being torn is especially worth stopping to look at. Your parents’ definition of success—stability, a high salary, being able to immigrate—isn’t completely unreasonable. Those are real factors that need to be taken seriously. The Bible never says, “Ignore reality and just follow your feelings.” That would be irresponsible. But if our definition of “success” is reduced to those external, measurable standards, then underneath it, it’s actually driven by the same logic behind our anxiety about AI: both tie a person’s value to things that are external, that can be compared with other people, and that can be replaced.

Jenny: Then how do I find a balance between the two? I can’t just completely ignore reality and say, “God is calling me to this,” and then stop caring about money, right?

John: Absolutely. You can’t be irresponsible. But instead of giving you a vague answer like “Just pick something,” I want to give you a specific question to think about: Can the direction you feel burdened and passionate about also allow you to honestly serve people and provide for yourself and your future family, even if it isn’t as “secure” as the other path? If so, then this isn’t a choice between “being irresponsible” and “being responsible.” These are two paths that both require wisdom and faith. They simply have different levels of risk and certainty. You need to pray seriously about it and talk it through with people you trust, rather than applying some simple formula like “If you listen to God, you must choose the less practical option,” or “If you choose the practical option, you must be less spiritual.”

Amy: (speaking up, curious) Can I make a side comment? Last semester I took a Sociology of Work course. The professor said that the idea that “work has sacred meaning” is basically an ideology created by capitalism to make people willingly accept exploitation and willingly work overtime, so that they won’t question unfair employment structures. After hearing that, when I hear you say “work is a calling from God,” I wonder if it’s actually the same kind of thing—using religious language to make people more willing to accept a job that may already be unfair?

(There is a brief silence. A few of them look at each other.)

John: (seriously) Amy, that’s a very sharp question. And honestly, that criticism has some basis. Throughout history, churches and employers really have misused the phrase “work is sacred” to get workers to accept unfair treatment, and sometimes even to suppress workers from standing up for legitimate rights. That really has happened. It is sin, and the church should confess that rather than trying to glorify it or cover it up.

Amy: (surprised) I thought you were going to argue with me right away.

John: No, because I can’t deny the part you’re talking about. That kind of thing really has been an abuse. But I do want to point out that your professor’s theory also has an unstated assumption behind it. It assumes that “meaning” itself is simply something created by power structures to control people—that no meaning is actually real or exists independently of being constructed to serve some interest. If that assumption is true, then couldn’t your professor’s theory about “exposing ideology” just be another ideology, serving some kind of interest structure within academia?

Jack: (thinking) So the knife we use to “expose” someone else’s deception can also be turned around and used on ourselves?

John: Exactly. That is a common problem with this kind of critical theory. It can expose almost any kind of “meaning” and say that it is merely a disguise for power, while never turning the same criticism back on its own claim that “all meaning is a disguise for power” and asking whether that claim might itself simply be a product of its own framework. I’m not saying these theories have no insight at all. They remind us that we really do need to be alert to power and exploitation, and that is true. The Bible itself has been saying this all along. Again and again, the prophets condemned those who oppressed the poor and mistreated workers. But this is where the Bible is different: while exposing injustice, it still affirms that work itself has a real dignity and meaning that isn’t simply invented by someone. These two things—opposing exploitation and affirming the meaning of work—are both taught in the Bible. It isn’t an either-or choice.

Amy: (thinking) …Okay. I need to think about this more. But at least you didn’t just deny that the part I was talking about is real.

John: I don’t want to deny it, because the church really does owe quite a few people an apology for what has happened in this area.

Discussion:

This conversation touched on career anxiety caused by AI, the fact that the logic of “work = proving my worth” is already unstable, Jenny’s struggle between two different definitions of “success,” and Amy’s challenge that the “sacred meaning of work” might simply be a form of ideological control. Discuss: If you put aside your fear of falling behind and your fear of being replaced, what reasons do you think would still make you want to keep studying, meeting deadlines, and looking for internships every day?

2. Who Gets to Define What Is “True”?

Tom: (a little embarrassed) I want to talk about something pretty real. My roommate’s GPA has been higher than mine all semester, and a few days ago he got a return offer from a major company. I congratulated him on the outside, but honestly, I felt terrible inside. I couldn’t stop thinking, “Maybe things are going so badly for me because God isn’t as pleased with me. Does that mean he’s more ‘valuable’ than I am?” I know I shouldn’t think that way, but the thought just comes up.

Grace: I’ve had that too. When I see people my age doing really well in their careers and making a lot of money, I automatically start thinking, “Maybe God has blessed them more,” even though I know intellectually that the logic isn’t right.

John: (nodding) That thought is actually a very old lie wearing modern clothes: “External success equals God’s approval.” Job’s three friends kept telling Job exactly this throughout the Book of Job: If you’re suffering, you must have done something to offend God. If things are going well for you, then God must be pleased with you. At the end of the Book of Job, God explicitly rebukes these three friends for what they said.

Tom: Then does whether God is pleased with me have anything to do with my GPA or my salary?

John: Not directly. If you are in Christ, God’s acceptance of you is completely based on what Christ has already accomplished for you, not on your GPA, your offer, or the balance in your bank account. Your roommate getting a return offer doesn’t mean he is “more blessed.” And things not going well for you right now don’t mean you are “not good enough.” These are completely different levels of reality. Forcing them together is a story our own hearts are making up. It isn’t what the Bible teaches.

Peter: (changing the subject, seriously) I want to ask something a little more academic. This might take a while, so bear with me. This semester I’m taking Intro Psychology, and the professor spent an entire class talking about evolutionary psychology. He said that our sense of morality, altruistic behavior, and even “love” are ultimately strategies that evolved because they help individuals survive and reproduce more successfully. For example, parents love their children because that’s how their genes get passed on. Humans have a sense of fairness because social animals need that in order to cooperate over the long term instead of killing each other. The whole framework was pretty coherent. It didn’t need words like “sin” or “redemption” at all, and logically, it seemed to make sense. We’re even expected to use this framework to analyze cases on the exam. After hearing all that, I felt kind of disoriented. When it comes to “truth,” who gets to define it—my faith or the psychology I’m learning? How am I supposed to study without feeling like I’m living in two different worlds, believing one thing in class and another thing on Sunday?

John: I completely understand that feeling of being split in two. A lot of Christian students studying psychology, sociology, biology, and similar subjects have experienced it. I’ve struggled with something similar myself. Let me say one thing first: the fact that your professor’s theory is “logically coherent” doesn’t by itself mean it is the complete truth. It only means that within the framework it has set up, the theory is able to explain things consistently.

Peter: What do you mean?

John: Almost any explanatory system, if it is precise enough, can make sense within its own framework. The question is what the framework starts with—the assumptions it accepts at the beginning but never actually proves. Take the evolutionary psychology framework your professor is using. It starts by assuming that human beings are simply biological machines produced by evolution, with no Creator and nothing beyond the material world. Given that starting point, our sense of morality and meaning naturally has to be explained as adaptive traits that help us survive and reproduce. But that starting assumption itself hasn’t been proven. It has simply been taken as the default starting point for the research.

Jack: But isn’t what we believe also a “starting point”? Why should our starting point be more “true”?

John: That is exactly the key issue. Every person, whether they believe in God or not, starts from some point that cannot be proven first and has to be accepted as a starting assumption in order to understand the world. No one begins thinking from a completely “neutral” position with zero assumptions—not even the most committed atheist scientist. The real question isn’t “Whose starting point sounds more academic or objective?” It’s “Which starting point can actually support the things we clearly experience in real life?” For example, can your professor’s framework really explain why “massacring innocent people is wrong” is objectively wrong, rather than simply saying it is “bad for survival and reproduction”? Can it explain why we experience love, why we experience the condemnation of conscience, and why we have an almost instinctive desire for justice? If these things are merely by-products of evolution, why should they actually matter?

Peter: (thinking) …I guess it can’t completely explain them. At most, it can say, “This is a mechanism that helps groups survive,” but somehow that doesn’t seem like enough. And there’s something else that makes me even more uncomfortable. If love and morality are just genetic strategies, then when I love my parents or my girlfriend, does that mean, at the end of the day, my genes are just manipulating me? That there’s no such thing as “real love,” just a bunch of chemical reactions pretending to be love?

John: That is one of the hardest problems for this theory to fully explain. When it uses the theory to explain other people’s morality and love, it can sound pretty convincing. But once you apply the same explanation to yourself—to the love you’re actually experiencing for your parents or your girlfriend—you realize you can’t really live that way. You don’t hug your mom while thinking, “This is just my genes making me do this.” What you experience is real love, not merely an observer’s report about a chemical reaction. This shows that even people who strongly believe in evolutionary psychology don’t actually live according to the theory all the way down. They still genuinely love people and genuinely become angry at injustice, as if these things really have a significance that goes beyond genetics. That gap between “what the theory says” and “how people actually live” is precisely one sign that the theory doesn’t tell the whole story.

Jack: (jumping in with something from his own experience) This reminds me of a non-Christian friend of mine who studies Anthropology. Last semester he showed me a paper about how different cultures have very different attitudes toward things like incest taboos and monogamy. Some tribal cultures don’t even have many of the sexual moral norms that we assume are completely obvious and universal. He said this proves that “morality has no objective standard. It’s all culturally constructed. The sexual morality you Christians talk about is just a set of rules that happened to develop in your culture. It isn’t any more ‘correct’ than the rules of another culture.” I didn’t know how to respond at the time. It was pretty awkward.

John: We actually ran into a similar pattern of reasoning when we talked about “meaning being constructed by the reader.” It goes directly from “different cultures do things differently” to “therefore there is no objective right or wrong; everything is relative.” But there’s actually a very important step missing in between.

Tom: What step?

John: The observation that “different cultures do things differently” is true. The fieldwork anthropologists do is valuable, and I’m not denying that. But going from “people do things differently” to “therefore none of the ways is more correct” requires an additional assumption. That assumption is: “If moral truth exists, it should look exactly the same in every culture, without exception.” But where does that assumption come from? No one has proved it. And think about it the other way around. Different cultures may use different counting systems or different ways of expressing “two plus two,” but that doesn’t mean there is no objective answer to what two plus two is. It just means the way people express or understand it is different.

Jack: Then how would you respond to my friend saying, “Your morality is just culturally constructed”?

John: You could ask him this: If he says “morality is culturally constructed and there is no objective right or wrong,” then what about judgments he himself probably believes very strongly, such as “slavery is wrong” or “genocide is wrong”? Are those also “just cultural constructions with no objective right or wrong”? If he is willing to remain logically consistent and admit that even whether slavery and genocide are right or wrong is relative to whatever culture you happen to be in, most people—including him—would actually struggle to accept that conclusion. They would instinctively reject it. But if he refuses to accept that, then he is already showing through his own actions that he believes some moral truths are cross-cultural and don’t change simply because cultures are different. He just hasn’t yet worked out why “massacring innocent people is wrong” can have an objective standard while other moral questions supposedly cannot.

Amy: (bringing up another, more specific example) I want to talk about something my roommate said, because it might be closer to everyday life. She took Gender Studies this semester, and after the whole course, she said she now thinks that the idea that “men and women have essential differences” is itself socially constructed to maintain a certain power structure. Gender, she says, is more of a spectrum, something fluid that each person defines for themselves. She was pretty confident when she told me this, and I felt like there was some truth in what she was saying. After all, everyone’s experience of their own gender really is not exactly the same. But I also had a vague feeling that maybe this view was taking things a little too far. I just couldn’t explain exactly where the problem was.

John: This is a very practical and sensitive question, and I want to respond seriously and gently rather than simply saying, “That’s wrong,” and moving on. Let me say one thing first: each person’s experience and feelings about their own gender are real and complex. There can also be real struggles and real pain behind those experiences, and those things shouldn’t be dismissed or mocked. That’s one reason we need to approach this issue with particular gentleness.

Amy: So you don’t agree with her theory?

John: What I want to point out is a logical jump similar to the one we just talked about with incest taboos. The observation that “social expectations and gender roles differ greatly across cultures” is true. For example, ideas like “what jobs men should do” or “what colors girls should wear” really are heavily shaped by cultural customs. But going from that to “therefore there are no real, meaningful differences between men and women designed by God, and everything is simply fluid and self-defined” requires another assumption that hasn’t been proven: “Anything that differs across cultures has no objective or created substance underneath it.” From the beginning of Genesis, the Bible says that God created male and female, that both equally bear the image of God and are equally valuable, while also being genuinely and meaningfully different. That picture of being “equal yet different” doesn’t fall into either extreme of “men and women are exactly the same” or “gender is entirely self-defined.”

Amy: Then how would you respond to the real struggles my roommate is experiencing, instead of just arguing about the theory?

John: If it were me, I wouldn’t start by debating the theory the moment I met her. I’d first want to get to know her as a person and hear her story—where her struggles came from, and whether she has ever been hurt or mocked because she didn’t fit other people’s expectations. A lot of the time, people don’t accept a theory because they were first convinced by its logic. They accept it because that theory first “gave them a place to land” for some real pain they were experiencing. If Christians only care about debating what is right or wrong, without first seeing and accompanying that real pain, no amount of arguing will help. It may even push the person further away.

Jenny: (remembering something from her own life) Speaking of being “successful,” I want to talk about something I’ve been struggling with, and it connects with what we’ve been discussing. Honestly, I want people’s first reaction when they hear my name in the future to be, “She’s really impressive”—good education, a good career, a respectable life. But I also vaguely know that if being “impressive” becomes the only thing I ultimately want, something about that doesn’t seem right. I just can’t explain what. After all, isn’t wanting to be recognized by others and wanting to live a respectable life a pretty normal desire?

John: The desire itself isn’t a sin. God created us with a desire to be affirmed and to live a good and meaningful life. You don’t need to suppress that. The problem isn’t “wanting other people to think you’re impressive.” The problem is when that becomes your entire and ultimate pursuit. It can’t carry that weight, because what other people think of you is incredibly unstable and can change at any moment. And even if the whole world thinks you’re impressive, that recognition still can’t truly fill the deeper desire in your heart—to be truly and unconditionally known and loved.

Jenny: Then how do I sort these two things out?

John: I’m not telling you to stop caring about your career or stop trying to do things well. That wouldn’t be realistic, and it wouldn’t be biblical either. It’s about getting the order right. You can sincerely and wholeheartedly pursue excellence at work and live a life that reflects your faith, and that itself can glorify God. But you don’t need to rely on “other people thinking I’m impressive” to prove that you are “good enough” or valuable. In Christ, that “good enough” status has already been settled from the beginning. You don’t need to earn it again through external achievements. You pursue excellence because you are already loved, not in order to earn love.

Amy: (thoughtfully, almost summarizing) I’m noticing that no matter how many different issues you talk about, they seem to keep circling back to the same point. Whether it’s evolutionary explanations in psychology, cultural relativism in anthropology, or theories about gender, what you’re saying is that once these theories are taken all the way to their logical conclusion, they either end up undermining themselves or they can’t explain the things we actually experience and live out. Could that be a little too convenient? Like… are you just fitting everything into the same framework?

John: (smiling, but serious) That’s a very perceptive observation. And I want to honestly admit that this really is the same core point we—including me—keep coming back to. It isn’t because we’ve run out of words or don’t have anything else to say. It’s because the more I look at theories from different fields, the more I notice that many of them start from the same basic assumption: first assume that nothing exists beyond the material world, and then use that assumption to explain love, morality, meaning, gender, and everything else. By the time they reach the end of the explanation, they often can’t really account for the deepest things we experience as living human beings. Sometimes even the people who propose those theories can’t actually live according to them. It isn’t that we’re “forcing everything into the same framework.” It’s that when these theories are followed all the way through, they often really do reveal the same kind of weakness.

Tom: (silent for a moment, thinking) …Okay. This time I really don’t know how to argue back, even though I still feel a little unconvinced inside.

John: (laughing) That’s okay. These aren’t things you can completely convince yourself of after one conversation. You can take that feeling of being unconvinced with you and keep thinking and asking questions. I’d be completely happy for you to come back next time with even harder questions.

Discussion:

This conversation touched on the old lie that “if someone else is doing well, it means God is more pleased with them,” evolutionary psychology’s explanations of love and morality, cultural relativism in anthropology, the assumptions behind theories of gender, and Jenny’s struggle with wanting other people to think she is “impressive.” Discuss:

1) In one of the courses you are taking, has there ever been a class or theory that gave you a similar feeling of being “split in two” between what you were learning and your faith?

2) After today’s discussion, how would you approach that course or theory differently?

　　（选课系统刚开放，几个人一边等着抢位置一边聊天，手机还开着页面）

一、我还有没有自由意志？

　　Jack：（把笔记本电脑合上，一脸烦躁）我这几天为了选专业的事，差点跟我爸吵起来。他觉得我该转CS，好找工作好移民；我自己更想读的是别的方向，因为现在AI发展这么快，我认识的好几个CS大三大四的学长学姐都开始慌了，说以前那种「学CS等于铁饭碗」的说法，现在根本不管用，entry level的岗位一堆都被冻结或者被AI工具替代了。可我爸完全听不进去，说我这是找借口瞎折腾，「AI再厉害也不会取代所有码农，你就是懒得吃苦」。吵到最后我脑子里冒出一个特别丧的念头——如果神早就预定了我这辈子会做什么，那我现在这么纠结、这么拼命想清楚「神的旨意」，是不是根本是白费力气，反正结局早就定了？

　　Peter：这个我也想过。预定论这东西我越想越绕——如果神从创世以前就已经定好谁得救、谁不得救，那我今天信不信、努不努力，还有什么意义？我是不是只是在演一出早就写好剧本的戏？

　　Tom：（半开玩笑）那你干脆现在就躺平算了，反正剧本早就写好了。

　　Peter：（叹气）问题是我又躺不平。我一边觉得「反正都定了」，一边又很焦虑——我有没有选错专业？我有没有错过「神完美的计划」？这两种情绪在我心里一直打架，一会儿摆烂，一会儿又拼命纠结每一个选择对不对。

　　John：（坐下，认真地）你们俩描述的这个「打架」，其实很多认真思考这件事的基督徒都经历过，我自己念书那几年也是这样，一会儿宿命论式地躺平，一会儿又焦虑到失眠——现在回头看挺搞笑的，我那学期GPA最低的一门课，正好就是我一边跟自己说「都是神预定的，我复习不复习没差」、一边又整晚睡不着觉纠结的那门课，两种心态轮流上阵，结果两边都没做到，成绩自然也好不到哪去。我们今天可能没办法把预定论这个题目讲得面面俱到，但我想先把最容易被误解的那个环节说清楚——「神预定了一切」，跟「所以我的选择不重要、不是真实的」，这两句话之间，其实不是直接画等号的。

　　Jack：那怎么不是等号？听起来就是一回事。

　　John：我问你一个问题——你今天早上决定穿这件外套出门，那个决定，是你自己真实做的，还是有人拿枪指着你逼你穿的？

　　Jack：当然是我自己决定的。

　　John：那我们再往深一层问——你为什么会「想」穿这件外套？是不是有一整串原因，比如今天天气冷、这件比较好看、昨天那件还没洗，这些原因加在一起，让你「自然而然」做出了这个选择，而不是随机、无缘无故的？

　　Jack：……对，是有原因的。

　　John：那这些「原因」的存在，有没有让你觉得「所以我今天早上没有真的做选择，是被这些原因逼着穿的」？

　　Jack：（想了想）没有，感觉还是我自己在选，只是这个选择不是凭空来的。

　　John：这正是我想说的——圣经讲的神的主权，从来不是说神像操纵木偶一样，越过你的意愿、你的思考、你的渴望，强行让你做某件事。是说，神在祂的智慧和主权里，安排了包括「你会怎么想、怎么渴望、最后怎么真实地选择」这整个过程，而这个过程里你所做的选择，仍然是「你自己」真实做出来的，不是被逼的，也不是假装的。

　　Peter：（皱眉）这听起来还是有点绕，感觉是在用文字游戏把两件矛盾的事硬凑在一起。

　　John：我理解这个感觉，说实话，神的主权跟人真实的责任怎么同时成立，这是教会历史上被认真讨论了几百年的问题，我没办法今天给你一个能让你完全「想通」、逻辑上一点缝隙都没有的解释。但我想请你们注意——圣经里这两件事，从头到尾是并排放在一起说的，从来没被当成互相矛盾。约瑟对他哥哥们说「从前你们的意思是要害我，但神的意思原是好的」——哥哥们卖约瑟，是他们自己真实的、要负责任的恶行，同时，神在那整件事的背后，主权地安排了一切，最后成就了拯救整个家族的美事。圣经没有说「其实哥哥们没有真的犯罪，只是神安排的」，也没有说「神只是被动地利用了一个意外」，两句话，圣经同时肯定。

　　Tom：（挑刺）那这不就是圣经自相矛盾，然后你们就说「这是奥秘，不用想通」，这不是逃避问题吗？

　　John：如果我今天就跟你说「这是奥秘，别问了」，那确实是逃避，我不想那样打发你。我想说的是——「这两件事怎么在神那里同时成立、不矛盾」，这个问题的完整答案，可能超出了我们作为受造、有限的人能完全把握的范围，这跟「逃避」不一样，是诚实承认「我不是神，我没办法从神的高度、同时俯瞰看清整个宇宙的因果链」。但这不代表这两件事在圣经里、在逻辑上是真的矛盾，只代表我目前没办法把它们完全解开摆在你面前看。很多真实的东西，我们没办法完全解释，不代表它不真实。

　　Amy：（这时插话，带着课堂上的困惑）我想接着「自由意志」这个话题往下问，跟神没关系，是我Psych课上学的。我们教授上礼拜讲脑科学实验，说仪器能在你「意识到」自己做决定之前几百毫秒，就已经从脑电波里预测出你要做哪个选择了。教授说这基本证明，所谓「自由意志」只是大脑先做了决定，然后编了个故事让你以为是「你」在选。如果连世俗科学都说自由意志是幻觉，那你们说的「人真实的责任」，会不会本来就是个错觉，不用扯到神预定不预定？

　　Jack：（皱眉）那听起来更丧了，等于说不管信不信神，反正都是被脑子里的电信号决定的，我们现在讨论这些是不是也挺可笑的？

　　John：这个问题问得很扎实，Amy，谢谢你把它摆到桌面上，因为这其实是比预定论更釜底抽薪的挑战，我想认真回应一下。如果一个人真的相信，人的每一个念头、每一句话，都只是大脑里神经元按照物理定律「必然」放电的结果，不多不少，没有任何超出物理因果链的东西，那我想请你们想一件事——包括你教授说的那句话「自由意志是幻觉，这是科学证明的」，这句话本身，按照他自己这套理论，也只是他大脑里那一刻恰好发生的电信号，不多不少，跟一块石头往下掉、一片树叶被风吹动，性质上没有任何不同。

　　Peter：（若有所思）那……我们凭什么要「相信」这句话是「对」的、是「真」的，而不只是「碰巧发生了」？

　　John：正是这个问题。「这句话是真的、值得相信」，这个判断本身，需要一个前提——存在着「合理的推理」跟「不合理的胡言」的区别，一个念头能不能被信任，不只是看它「有没有发生」，是看它「有没有理由」。可如果一切念头，包括这句「自由意志是幻觉」，都只是物理因果链上被决定的一环，那它跟一块石头砸中你脑袋、你「碰巧」冒出一个念头，本质上没有区别——都只是「发生了」，谈不上「有理由」「该被信」。这套理论如果彻底套用到底，会把它自己讲出来这句话的资格也一起吃掉，因为它没办法说明，为什么单单它自己这句话，值得被当成「理性推论」而不是「随机放电」来相信。

　　Amy：（沉默一下）……你是说，如果一切都是纯物理决定的，那「相信」这个动作本身，就没办法立得住，包括相信「一切都是物理决定的」这句话？

　　John：对，这正是我想说的。反过来，圣经讲的神的主权，跟这种冷冰冰的物理决定论完全不是一回事——神不是一堆没有理性、没有目的的粒子在瞎撞，祂是一位有位格、有智慧、按着祂自己的美意做工的神，而且祂造你的时候，就造了一个真实能思考、能权衡、能负责任地做选择的你，你的推理能力、你判断对错的能力，本身就是神所赐、有根有据的，不是大脑随机放电碰巧蒙对了。所以我不是要用「神的主权」去否定你在Psych课上学的东西，是想请你注意——如果丢掉神，只剩下纯物理决定论，你连「相信这堂课讲的是对的」这件事，都没有站得住的理由；但如果承认背后有一位赐人理性的神，你反而更有理由相信，你此刻的思考、我们此刻的讨论，是真实、有意义的，不是错觉。

　　Jack：那具体落到我选专业这件事上，你的意思是——我该怎么做？

　　John：意思是，你今天认真地思考、跟你爸沟通、权衡AI时代这些真实的行业变化、祷告寻求，这整个过程，本身就是神安排你走向祂那个已经定好的美好计划的方式，不是跟那个计划「对着干」，也不是「反正结果一样、想不想都无所谓」。你的纠结、你的认真，不是白费的，是神使用的一部分，哪怕你爸暂时不理解。

　　Jenny：（这时开口）那「寻求神的旨意」这件事，我一直很有压力。选Major、申Co-op、找工作，每一步我都觉得像在走雷区，生怕自己走错一步，就永远偏离了「神为我预备的完美计划」，然后我这辈子就毁了。我甚至会花特别多时间列各种pros and cons的表格，比来比去，比到最后自己都快崩溃了，还是不敢按下「确认」那个按钮。

　　Grace：我也有这种感觉，好像神在什么地方藏了一张「唯一正确答案」的地图，我要是没猜中，就全盘皆输。我室友是个不信主的，她跟我完全反过来——她选课、选实习，从来不纠结，选了就选了，顶多说一句「大不了以后再改」，我看着都羡慕，可我又觉得，我一个信主的人，怎么反而比她更焦虑、更不敢做决定？

　　John：Jenny、Grace，你们刚才说的这种反复权衡、迟迟不敢按下确认键的状态，我想指出一件事——这背后很可能不只是「认真」，是一种想把「选择」这件事完全掌控在自己手里、一点风险都不留的心态，说白了，是把「我必须自己算准每一步」，悄悄当成了让自己安心的依靠，而不是真正把这件事交托给神。这种「必须自己掌控」的心态，其实是很多人心里一个很顽固的根，它不会只在选专业这一件事上出现——你们有没有发现，自己在别的事上，比如订机票、订餐厅、甚至约朋友吃饭的时间，也常常反复纠结、迟迟定不下来？

　　Jenny：（愣了一下）……还真是，我上次订回国机票，光比价就比了快两个礼拜，最后还是我室友受不了了替我下的单。

　　John：这就是我想提醒的——如果只是想办法「解决选专业这件事上的焦虑」，比如逼自己「随便选一个」，很可能过一阵子，这种「必须掌控一切才安心」的心态，又会从订机票、找房子，或者别的地方冒出来，因为真正的根没被处理。真正要往下走的，不是学会「随便选」，是回到一个更根本的问题——你信不信，就算你这次选择不是「最优解」，神仍然稳稳地掌管着接下来的路，不需要你自己先把每一种可能都算清楚，祂才能带领你。圣经确实讲神有一个对每个人生命的旨意，但圣经从来没有把这个旨意描绘成一张「你必须精准猜中、猜错就万劫不复」的藏宝图。神更多时候给我们的，是清楚的原则——诚实、爱人、圣洁、忠心地使用祂给你的恩赐——在这些原则之内，祂给了我们相当大的自由去做智慧的选择，选CS或者选别的、去这家公司或者那家，这些选择，只要不违背祂清楚启示的原则，都是在祂的看顾之下的，不是「猜错就完蛋」的赌局。

　　Jenny：（松了口气）所以我选错了也不会「毁了」？

　　John：不会。而且我要提醒一句，「选错」这个词本身可能就带着刚才那种「唯一藏宝图」的假设。你诚实祷告、认真权衡之后做的选择，就算后来发现不是最理想的，神仍然在那个「不理想」的处境里，继续带领你、使用你，祂的主权不会因为你走了一条弯路就失效。

　　Peter：（想了想，半开玩笑）那我室友的办法呢？他上学期为了不纠结，干脆学着「一切随缘」，说反正想那么多也没用，选哪个都差不多。他现在看起来确实比以前轻松一点，是不是这样也挺好，比我们纠结半天要健康？

　　John：（认真地）我理解那种「随缘」表面上带来的轻松，很多人也确实靠这个办法暂时把焦虑压下去了。但我想请你注意，「随缘」跟「交托」，表面很像，骨子里不一样——「随缘」是「反正想了也没用，那就不想了」，本质上还是觉得这件事背后没有一个真正在乎、在掌管的神，只是自己放弃思考；「交托」是「我认真想了、也认真做了，但最后的结果，我相信是在一位又真又活、爱我的神手里」，两者外表都是「不那么纠结」，但一个底下是空的、是一种逃避，一个底下是有根的。我见过一些用「随缘」硬撑的同学，撑一阵子还行，可一旦真遇上大事——比如工签真的批不下来——那种「其实我什么都不能掌控、也没有谁真的在乎」的空虚感，反而比一直焦虑的人垮得更彻底。

讨论：

这一场聊到了神的主权跟人真实的选择会不会互相矛盾、约瑟被卖的例子、脑科学「自由意志是幻觉」这类说法自己站不站得住脚，还有「寻求神旨意」变成走雷区式焦虑、甚至演变成「必须自己掌控一切」的心态。John说，我们真实做的选择，正是神安排祂计划成就的方式，不是跟计划「对着干」；「随缘」的轻松跟「交托」的平安，外表相似，底下的根不一样。请讨论：

1) 你有没有过因为「反正神都定了」而想躺平，或者因为怕「选错神的旨意」而焦虑到不敢做决定的时候？

2) 你身上那种「必须自己掌控一切才安心」的心态，除了在选专业、选工作这类大事上，还有没有在生活里别的小事上冒出来过？

二、这跟我今天的痛有什么关系？

　　Paul：（声音低沉）我想说点更实际的。我上个月申请了三份工作，全被拒了；考的那个证书也没过；本来想留在加拿大，结果PR评分一直不够，希望越来越渺茫。我表哥知道后跟我说了一句「这是神的旨意，你要顺服」，我听完那一刻，说实话，心里不是平安，是更愤怒、更困惑——神就是这么对我的吗？

　　Sophia：这话我也听过，每次听到都觉得很堵，好像别人是在用一句「属灵」的话，把我的痛苦轻描淡写地打发掉。我有个朋友当年申请工签被拒了三次，最后放弃留加拿大回国了，她说她那阵子最讨厌的就是有人一边喝着咖啡一边跟她说「神自有安排」，她说「你要是也经历一次被拒信淹没的感觉，你就不会这么轻松地说这句话了」。

　　John：Paul、Sophia，我想先说，你表哥那句话，还有Sophia朋友遇到的那些人，出发点大概是好的，想安慰你，但那样脱口而出，很容易变成一种「情感上的止痛贴」，而不是真正的安慰，甚至可能让你觉得自己的痛苦被否定了、不被允许好好难过。我要先说——你现在这份愤怒和困惑，不需要立刻被压下去，可以先诚实地待在这里。

　　Paul：（有点意外）我以为你会说「不该对神生气」。

　　John：诗篇里大卫、约伯，一次又一次对神发出近乎控诉的问题，这些话被收进圣经里，成为我们可以照着祷告的诗篇，这本身在告诉我们，把真实的愤怒、困惑带到神面前，不是不敬虔，可能反而是更深的信靠——因为你还愿意去问祂，而不是转身彻底走开。

　　Jack：那「神的主权」跟「顺服」这些词，到底该怎么用，才不会变成压制人痛苦的工具？

　　John：我觉得关键是次序——不是先拿「神主权」这个概念，堵住一个正在痛苦的人的嘴，是先跟他一起坐在痛苦里，陪他哭、陪他问，等他自己走到那一步、愿意再往前看的时候，才一起去想「神在这当中做什么」。次序反过来，很容易变成伤害，而不是安慰。

　　Tom：（换个话题，带着课堂上的疑问）说到「神主权」跟「人的责任」，我记得历史课稍微提过加尔文主义跟亚米念主义这两派，一个强调神的主权拣选，一个强调人有责任自由回应，好像吵了几百年。老实说，这些争论对我来说很遥远，我更想知道——这两种说法，会让我在面对考试压力、人生选择的时候，心态上有什么真实的不一样？

　　John：这是个很实际的问题，我很欣赏你这样问，而不是停在学术辩论的层面。我简单说说改革宗（也就是加尔文主义传统）的理解，怎么落到你说的这些日常处境上。如果我相信，我的得救、我人生最根本的安全感，从起初到末了都稳稳地在神主权的手里，不是靠我自己的表现撑住的，那当我考试考砸了、申请被拒了，这些事确实会让我难过、失望，但它们没有资格动摇我作为神儿女这个最根本的身份和安全感——因为那个身份从来不是我自己挣来的，也不会因为我表现不好就被收回。

　　Jack：那如果不信这套，会怎么样？

　　John：如果一个人的安全感更多建立在「我够不够努力、够不够好」上，那每一次的失败、每一次的挫折，都会直接威胁到他对自己、对未来的整个信心，压力会更容易压垮人，因为一切都靠自己扛着。这不是说亚米念主义传统的弟兄姐妹就没有平安，很多亚米念派的信徒信心也很稳固，我不是要贬低那个传统，只是想说，改革宗对神主权的强调，能给人一种特别扎实的安全感——你的根基不在你自己身上，在神身上，而神不会失手。

　　Amy：（挑战地）可这样说会不会有点本末倒置？你是先觉得「相信神主权让我更有安全感」，所以才选择相信这套，而不是因为它「更真」才信。说白了，是不是哪套神学让人心理上更舒服，就信哪套，那跟挑一件让自己穿着舒服的衣服，有什么本质区别？

　　John：这是个很锐利、也很公平的提醒，Amy，谢谢你这样追问，因为这确实是要分清楚的两件事——「相信一件事，因为它让我感觉更好」，跟「相信一件事，因为经过认真查考，我认为它是真的，而它恰好也带来了平安」，次序完全不一样。改革宗神学不是先设计出来「为了让人心安」的一套心理按摩，是历世历代的人认真查考整本圣经，看见神的主权、拣选、恩典这些主题反复出现，才归纳、整理出来的理解。它带来的平安，是「因为真，所以安」，不是「因为想安，所以选它当真」。当然，我没办法在这里一条一条把每处经文摆给你看，这个我们可以私下再约时间深入查考，但我想先请你注意——如果一套东西只是因为「让人舒服」才被信，那遇到像Paul这样连续三次被拒的处境，它多半撑不住，因为舒服的感觉早就被现实打碎了；但很多经历过深重苦难、真正认识神主权的信徒，反而在最痛的时候更稳，这说明支撑他们的，不只是一种「感觉良好」，是底下有真实的东西。老普林斯顿神学院的沃菲尔德（B.B. Warfield）讲过一句很直接的话，大意是——加尔文主义不是一套用来让人心情变好的技巧，是把「神是神、人是人」这件事想透了、想彻底了的结果，人一旦真的认识到，救恩从头到尾都是神在做工，不是靠自己撑起来的，那种平安才不是自我催眠出来的，是认清真相之后自然长出来的。

　　Amy：（沉默一下）……这个回答我没法当场反驳，但我大概还是需要自己去查一查，不能只听你这么说。

　　John：这个态度我很欣赏，这本来就不该只听我一个人讲完就下结论。

　　Sophia：（这时又提出一个更尖锐的问题）我想问一个可能有点冒犯的问题。如果神预定了一切，那世界上这么多无缘无故的苦难——小孩得绝症、地震海啸毁掉无数家庭——这些也是神定的吗？如果是，那这个神听起来挺可怕的；如果不是，那「神预定一切」这句话是不是就不成立了？

　　（一时安静）

　　John：Sophia，谢谢你敢把这个问题问得这么直接，这值得认真对待，不该被回避。我想诚实地说——改革宗传统确实相信，神的主权涵盖了包括苦难在内的万事，没有什么是「意外」发生、神完全掌控不了或者事后才知道的。但我要立刻加上一句同样重要的话——神的主权跟神的良善，圣经从来是一起讲的，从不分开。神掌管苦难，不等于神是苦难背后那个恶意的策划者，圣经很清楚地区分——罪恶、苦难的直接来源，是这个堕落的世界、是罪、有时候是恶者的作为，而神在这一切之上、之中，用祂超越我们理解的智慧，让即使是最深的黑暗，最终也不能逃出祂手掌、也不能拦阻祂最终要成就的美好。

　　Peter：那具体像那个孩子得绝症，神在其中「做」了什么，还是「允许」了什么？

　　John：圣经里的语言常常用「允许」这个词，来描述神跟罪恶、苦难的关系——就像约伯记里，撒但要攻击约伯，是在神明确划定的界限之内被「允许」发生的，不是神自己动手作恶，也不是撒但可以随心所欲、不受限制。这个分寸很重要——神不是苦难的作者，但也没有一件苦难的事，是完全脱离祂主权、祂能力所不及的。

　　Amy：那这样讲，还是没有真正回答「为什么」，只是把责任推给了「界限」跟「允许」这些词。

　　John：我完全同意，这没有回答「为什么这个具体的孩子、这场具体的地震」，我没办法给你那个层面的答案，我怀疑没有人能给。但我想请你注意，圣经给的，不是一个让每件苦难都变得「说得通」的解释系统，是一个更深的应许——这位掌管万有的神，同时也是那位在十字架上，亲自承受了世上最深的、最不公义的苦难的神。祂没有站在苦难之外，冷眼地「允许」着，祂自己进到了苦难的中心。这不能解决「为什么」，但它能回答另一个同样重要的问题——「这位神，靠得住吗，祂真的在乎吗」，而答案是，十字架已经证明了，祂在乎到亲自承受的地步。

　　Paul：（声音低，若有所思）那……回到我自己这些事，工作没了、PR没戏——我该怎么带着这些去信靠祂？

　　John：不是要你现在就说「这一切都是好的」，那样太快、也不诚实。是可以老实祷告——「神，我现在很痛，我不明白，但我选择相信，你没有丢下我，你在这一切当中，仍然掌权，仍然爱我」。这句祷告，不需要一次说完就永远平安，是要在接下来的日子里，一次一次重新说出来的。

　　Jack：那具体来说，如果下次我身边有朋友也遇到Paul这种事——被拒信淹没、PR没戏——我能做点什么，而不是又说出一句让人更堵的「属灵话」？

　　John：最实际的，是先别急着开口讲道理，先问一句「你现在还好吗，愿不愿意多说一点」，然后好好听。如果他愿意，你可以陪他一起祷告，老实把痛苦讲给神听，不用急着替神辩护，神不需要你替祂辩护，祂能承受我们的质问。等他自己愿意往前走的时候，你再陪他一起想「接下来怎么办」，而不是一开始就把「神的旨意」这四个字，当成一句能让对话结束的句号。

讨论：

这一场聊到了「神主权」这类话语被拿来压制痛苦的风险、「信一套神学是因为它真、还是因为它让人舒服」这个尖锐的追问、加尔文主义与亚米念主义两种理解在真实处境里带来的心态差异、还有神的主权跟世上无缘无故的苦难之间的张力。John说，圣经给的不是让每件苦难都「说得通」的解释系统，是一位亲自进到苦难中心的神。请讨论：

1) 你有没有经历过、或者听过别人经历过，用「这是神的旨意」这句话来打发一个正在痛苦的人？

2) 听完今天的讨论，如果下次身边有朋友正在经历类似Paul这样的挫折——被拒信淹没、工签PR没着落——你会怎么具体陪伴他，而不是急着给他一句「属灵」的答案？

Lesson 8: If God Has Already Decided Everything, Why Should I Even Try? — God’s Sovereignty and Our Struggles

(Course registration has just opened. A few of them are waiting for spots to become available while chatting, with the registration pages still open on their phones.)

1. Do I Even Have Free Will?

Jack: (closes his laptop, looking frustrated) I almost got into a fight with my dad over choosing my major these past few days. He thinks I should switch to CS because it’ll make it easier to find a job and immigrate. But I actually want to study something else. AI is developing so fast right now, and several upper-year CS students I know are already getting nervous. They keep saying that the old idea that “a CS degree is basically a guaranteed job” just doesn’t hold anymore. A lot of entry-level positions have been frozen, or parts of those jobs are being replaced by AI tools. But my dad won’t listen. He says I’m just making excuses and messing around. “AI isn’t going to replace every programmer. You just don’t want to work hard.” By the end of the argument, I had this really depressing thought: if God has already decided what I’m going to do with my life, then what’s the point of all this stress and effort trying to figure out “God’s will”? Isn’t it all a waste of time if the ending has already been decided?

Peter: I’ve thought about that too. The more I think about predestination, the more confused I get. If God decided before creation who would be saved and who wouldn’t, then what difference does it make whether I believe today or how hard I try? Am I just acting out a script that was already written?

Tom: (half-joking) Then just give up and do nothing. If the script’s already written, what’s the point?

Peter: (sighs) The problem is, I can’t actually do that. Part of me thinks, “If everything is already decided, then whatever.” But at the same time, I’m constantly anxious. Did I choose the wrong major? Did I somehow miss “God’s perfect plan” for my life? These two feelings keep fighting inside me. One minute I want to give up, and the next I’m obsessing over whether every little decision is the right one.

John: (sits down, seriously) That conflict you two are describing is something a lot of Christians who seriously think about this have experienced. I went through the same thing in university. One moment I’d fall into this kind of fatalistic “whatever happens, happens” attitude, and the next I’d be so anxious I couldn’t sleep. Looking back, it’s actually kind of funny. The course where I got my lowest GPA that semester was exactly the course where I kept telling myself, “God has already decided everything, so it doesn’t matter whether I study,” while also lying awake all night worrying about it. I kept switching between the two mindsets, and in the end I managed to do neither properly. Naturally, my grade wasn’t great either. We probably can’t cover every aspect of predestination today, but I want to clear up the part that’s most easily misunderstood: “God has predestined everything” does not automatically mean “therefore my choices don’t matter or aren’t real.”

Jack: How is that not the same thing? It sounds like exactly the same thing.

John: Let me ask you something. This morning, when you decided to wear that jacket, did you actually make that decision yourself, or did someone hold a gun to your head and force you to wear it?

Jack: Obviously I decided myself.

John: Okay, then let’s go one level deeper. Why did you want to wear that jacket? Wasn’t there a whole chain of reasons? Maybe it was cold outside, you thought that jacket looked better, and the one you wore yesterday was still in the laundry. All those reasons came together and naturally led you to make that choice. You didn’t choose randomly for no reason, right?

Jack: …Yeah. There were reasons.

John: And did the existence of those reasons make you think, “So I didn’t really choose this morning. Those reasons forced me to wear the jacket”?

Jack: (thinking) No. It still feels like I chose it myself. The choice just didn’t come out of nowhere.

John: Exactly. That’s what I’m trying to say. When the Bible talks about God’s sovereignty, it doesn’t mean God controls us like puppets, ignoring our desires, thoughts, and intentions and forcing us to do things against our will. It means that in His wisdom and sovereignty, God ordains the whole process—including how you think, what you desire, and what you ultimately choose—and yet the choices you make within that process are still genuinely your choices. You aren’t being forced, and you aren’t pretending.

Peter: (frowning) That still sounds pretty confusing. It feels like you’re using word games to force two contradictory ideas together.

John: I understand why it feels that way. Honestly, the question of how God’s sovereignty and genuine human responsibility can both be true has been seriously debated throughout church history for hundreds of years. I can’t give you an explanation today that will make everything perfectly click and leave absolutely no logical tension. But I want you to notice something: throughout the Bible, these two things are presented side by side. They’re never treated as contradictions. Joseph told his brothers, “You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good.” His brothers selling Joseph was a real, sinful action for which they were responsible. At the same time, God sovereignly worked through the whole situation and ultimately used it to bring about the salvation of the entire family. The Bible doesn’t say, “Actually, the brothers didn’t really sin because God planned it.” And it also doesn’t say, “God just happened to take advantage of an accident.” It affirms both things at the same time.

Tom: (pushing back) But isn’t that just the Bible contradicting itself, and then you guys saying, “It’s a mystery, you don’t have to understand it”? Isn’t that just avoiding the problem?

John: If all I said today was, “It’s a mystery, stop asking questions,” then yes, that would be avoiding the problem. I don’t want to dismiss you like that. What I’m saying is that the complete answer to how these two things can both be true in God without contradicting each other may be beyond what finite, created human beings can completely grasp. That’s different from avoiding the question. It’s honestly admitting, “I’m not God. I can’t stand at God’s level and see the entire chain of cause and effect throughout the universe all at once.” But that doesn’t mean the two ideas are logically contradictory in Scripture. It simply means I can’t completely unpack the whole thing and lay it out in front of you. There are many things that are real even though we can’t fully explain them.

Amy: (jumping in, still thinking about something from class) I want to take the free-will question one step further, but without bringing God into it. This is something we learned in my Psych class. Our professor talked about neuroscience experiments last week where researchers can detect brain activity that predicts which choice you’re going to make hundreds of milliseconds before you consciously become aware that you’ve made the decision. The professor said this basically proves that free will is an illusion—that your brain makes the decision first, and then your conscious mind creates a story that makes you feel like you chose it. If secular science is saying that free will is an illusion, then is the “real human responsibility” you’re talking about just an illusion too? Do we even need to bring God and predestination into it?

Jack: (frowning) That sounds even more depressing. So whether you believe in God or not, everything is just determined by electrical signals in your brain. Then isn’t this whole conversation kind of ridiculous too?

John: That’s a really serious question, Amy. Thanks for putting it on the table, because in some ways it’s an even more fundamental challenge than predestination. I want to take it seriously. If someone really believes that every thought we have and every word we say is nothing more than neurons in the brain firing inevitably according to physical laws, with nothing beyond that physical chain of cause and effect, then I want you to think about something. Even the statement your professor made—“Free will is an illusion, and science has proven it”—would, under that theory, just be a particular pattern of electrical activity that happened in his brain at that moment. Nothing more, nothing less. In that sense, it wouldn’t be fundamentally different from a rock falling or a leaf being blown by the wind.

Peter: (thinking) Then… what gives us the right to believe that this statement is actually true, rather than just something that happened to occur?

John: Exactly. For the statement “this is true and worth believing” to make sense, we need to assume that there is a real distinction between reasonable reasoning and irrational nonsense. We don’t trust a thought simply because it happened in someone’s brain. We trust it because there are reasons for it. But if every thought—including the statement “free will is an illusion”—is simply another predetermined event in a physical chain of cause and effect, then it’s no different in principle from a rock hitting you on the head and you randomly having a thought afterward. Both things simply “happened.” You can’t really talk about one having reasons or being something that ought to be believed. If you take that theory all the way to its logical conclusion, it undermines its own claim to be a rational argument, because it can’t explain why that particular statement should be treated as a rational conclusion rather than just another random brain event.

Amy: (silent for a moment) …So you’re saying that if everything is purely physically determined, then even the act of “believing” something becomes difficult to justify—including believing the statement that everything is physically determined?

John: Exactly. That’s the point I’m making. And the Bible’s teaching about God’s sovereignty is completely different from this cold idea of physical determinism. God isn’t just a bunch of particles randomly bouncing around without reason or purpose. He is a personal God with wisdom and purpose, working according to His own will. And when He created you, He created you as a real person who can think, weigh options, and make responsible choices. Your ability to reason and distinguish right from wrong is itself something God gave you. It isn’t just your brain randomly firing and accidentally getting things right. So I’m not using God’s sovereignty to deny what you learned in your Psych class. I’m asking you to notice that if you remove God and leave only strict physical determinism, you lose a solid basis for even saying, “What I learned in this class is true.” But if there is a God who gives human beings the capacity for reason, then you have a stronger basis for believing that your thinking right now, and our conversation right now, are real and meaningful rather than just an illusion.

Jack: So when it comes specifically to choosing my major, what are you actually telling me to do?

John: I’m saying that the whole process—seriously thinking about your options, talking with your dad, considering the real changes happening in the job market because of AI, praying and seeking God—is itself part of the way God brings you toward the good plan He has already ordained. You’re not fighting against that plan. And it’s not “the outcome is already decided, so none of this matters.” Your careful thinking and your struggle aren’t pointless. They are part of what God uses, even if your dad doesn’t understand that right now.

Jenny: (speaking up) Then I’ve always felt a lot of pressure about “seeking God’s will.” Choosing a major, applying for co-op, looking for a job—I feel like every step is walking through a minefield. I’m terrified that if I make one wrong move, I’ll permanently miss “God’s perfect plan” for my life, and then my whole future will be ruined. I even spend way too much time making pros-and-cons lists, comparing everything over and over, until I’m almost losing my mind, and I still can’t bring myself to click the “Confirm” button.

Grace: I feel that way too. It’s like God has hidden a map somewhere with one “correct answer,” and if I don’t figure it out, I lose everything. My roommate isn’t a Christian, and she’s completely different. When she chooses courses or internships, she doesn’t obsess over it. She just picks something and says, “Worst case, I can change it later.” Honestly, I’m jealous of how relaxed she is. But then I wonder, as a Christian, why am I somehow more anxious and more afraid to make decisions than she is?

John: Jenny, Grace, that constant weighing of every option and being afraid to finally click “Confirm”—I want to point something out. It may not just be “being careful.” There may be a deeper desire underneath it to completely control your choices and eliminate every possible risk. Put simply, you may have quietly turned “I have to calculate every step correctly myself” into the thing that gives you security, rather than actually entrusting the situation to God. That need for control can be a very deep-rooted issue, and it doesn’t only show up when you’re choosing a major. Have you noticed that you sometimes do the same thing with smaller decisions—booking flights, making restaurant reservations, or even deciding when to meet a friend?

Jenny: (pauses) …Actually, yes. The last time I booked a flight home, I spent almost two weeks comparing prices. Eventually my roommate got so fed up that she just booked it for me.

John: That’s exactly what I want you to notice. If all you do is try to “fix the anxiety about choosing your major,” maybe by forcing yourself to just pick something randomly, that same need to control everything may show up again later—when you book a flight, look for housing, or deal with something else. The deeper issue hasn’t been dealt with. The real step forward isn’t learning how to “just pick something.” It’s going back to a more fundamental question: Do you trust that even if this choice isn’t the “optimal” one, God is still firmly in control of what comes next? You don’t have to calculate every possible outcome before He can lead you. The Bible does teach that God has a purpose for each person’s life, but it never describes that purpose as a hidden treasure map where you have to guess the one correct route or your whole life is ruined. More often, God gives us clear principles—honesty, love for others, holiness, faithfully using the gifts He has given us—and within those principles, He gives us a significant amount of freedom to make wise choices. Choosing CS or something else, going to one company or another—so long as those choices don’t violate what God has clearly revealed, they can all be made under His care. They aren’t a high-stakes game where one wrong guess means everything is over.

Jenny: (relieved) So even if I make the wrong choice, I’m not going to “ruin my life”?

John: No. And I’d actually question the phrase “wrong choice” itself, because it may already assume that there’s only one hidden path on that “treasure map.” If you pray honestly and carefully consider your options before making a decision, even if you later discover that it wasn’t the ideal choice, God can still lead you and use you in that less-than-ideal situation. His sovereignty doesn’t stop working just because you took a detour.

Peter: (thinking, half-joking) What about my roommate’s approach, then? Last semester, he got tired of overthinking everything and decided to just “go with the flow.” He said, “There’s no point thinking about it so much. Either choice will probably be fine.” He actually seems more relaxed now than he used to be. Isn’t that better than obsessing over everything like we do?

John: (seriously) I understand the sense of relief that “going with the flow” can bring. A lot of people really do use that approach to push their anxiety down for a while. But I want you to notice that “going with the flow” and “entrusting something to God” may look similar on the surface, but they’re fundamentally different. “Going with the flow” says, “There’s no point thinking about it, so I just won’t think about it.” At its core, it assumes there’s no one who is actually caring for or governing what happens. You’re simply giving up on thinking about it. “Entrusting” says, “I’ve thought about it seriously, I’ve done what I can, and now I believe the outcome is in the hands of a real and living God who loves me.” From the outside, both can look like “not obsessing,” but one is empty underneath and can become a form of avoidance, while the other has something solid underneath it. I’ve seen students rely on “just going with the flow” for a while and seem fine. But when something genuinely serious happens—like their work permit actually gets denied—that emptiness of realizing “I actually can’t control anything, and maybe no one really cares” can hit them even harder than it hits someone who has been anxious all along.

Discussion:

This session talked about whether God’s sovereignty and genuine human choices contradict each other, the example of Joseph being sold by his brothers, whether claims from neuroscience that “free will is an illusion” actually hold up, and how “seeking God’s will” can turn into anxiety that feels like walking through a minefield, eventually becoming a need to control everything. John said that our genuine choices are themselves part of the way God carries out His plan, rather than something that fights against His plan. He also said that the outward calm of “going with the flow” and the peace of “entrusting things to God” may look similar, but they come from very different foundations. Discuss:

1) Have you ever wanted to give up because you thought, “If God has already decided everything anyway, what’s the point?” Or have you ever become so anxious about “making the wrong choice according to God’s will” that you were afraid to make a decision?

2) Besides major life decisions like choosing a major or a job, have you noticed that this need to “control everything in order to feel secure” shows up in smaller parts of your everyday life?

2. What Does This Have to Do with My Pain Right Now?

Paul: (speaking quietly) I want to talk about something more practical. Last month, I applied for three jobs and got rejected by all three. I also failed the certification exam I took. I was hoping to stay in Canada, but my PR score still isn’t high enough, and my hope of staying here is getting smaller and smaller. When my cousin found out, he told me, “This is God’s will. You need to submit to it.” Honestly, when I heard that, I didn’t feel peaceful. I felt even more angry and confused. Is this really how God treats me?

Sophia: I’ve heard that too. Every time someone says it, I feel like there’s a knot in my stomach. It feels like they’re using one “spiritual” sentence to brush aside my pain. I have a friend who had her work permit application rejected three times. Eventually she gave up on staying in Canada and went back home. She told me that during that period, what she hated most was having someone casually drink coffee and tell her, “God has a plan.” She said, “If you had ever experienced what it feels like to be buried under rejection letters, you wouldn’t say that so casually.”

John: Paul, Sophia, I want to say first that your cousin, and the people Sophia’s friend encountered, probably meant well. They wanted to comfort you. But saying something like that too quickly can easily become an emotional Band-Aid rather than genuine comfort. It can even make you feel like your pain is being dismissed, like you’re not allowed to actually grieve. So let me say this first: you don’t have to push your anger and confusion down immediately. You can honestly stay there for a while.

Paul: (a little surprised) I thought you were going to say, “You shouldn’t be angry with God.”

John: In the Psalms, David and Job repeatedly bring extremely intense, almost confrontational questions before God. Those words were preserved in Scripture as prayers we can pray ourselves. That tells us something important: bringing your real anger and confusion to God isn’t necessarily a sign of unbelief. It may actually be a deeper form of trust, because you’re still willing to bring your questions to Him instead of turning around and walking away completely.

Jack: Then how are we supposed to use words like “God’s sovereignty” and “submission” without turning them into tools for shutting down someone’s pain?

John: I think the key is the order in which we do things. We shouldn’t take the concept of “God’s sovereignty” and use it to shut up someone who is hurting. First, we sit with them in their pain. We cry with them, listen to them, and let them ask their questions. Then, when they’re ready to look forward again, we can start thinking together about what God might be doing in the situation. If you reverse that order, it can easily become harmful instead of comforting.

Tom: (changing the subject, thinking about something from class) Speaking of God’s sovereignty and human responsibility, I remember my history class briefly mentioning Calvinism and Arminianism. One side emphasizes God’s sovereign election, while the other emphasizes human responsibility and the freedom to respond. Apparently they’ve been arguing about this for hundreds of years. Honestly, those debates feel pretty far removed from my life. What I actually want to know is: how would these two views make a real difference in the way I handle exam pressure and major life decisions?

John: That’s a very practical question, and I appreciate that you’re asking about what this actually looks like in real life instead of keeping it at the level of an academic debate. Let me briefly explain how the Reformed tradition—what people usually call Calvinism—applies this to everyday life. If I believe that my salvation and my deepest sense of security in life, from beginning to end, are firmly in God’s sovereign hands rather than being held together by my own performance, then when I fail an exam or get rejected from a job, those things can still make me sad and disappointed. But they don’t have the power to destroy my deepest identity and security as a child of God, because I didn’t earn that identity through my performance in the first place, and it isn’t taken away because I performed badly.

Jack: What happens if someone doesn’t believe that?

John: If someone’s sense of security is built more around “Am I working hard enough? Am I good enough?”, then every failure and setback can directly threaten their confidence in themselves and their future. The pressure can become overwhelming because everything depends on them holding it together. That doesn’t mean our Arminian brothers and sisters don’t have peace. Many Arminian Christians have very strong and stable faith, and I’m not trying to put that tradition down. I’m simply saying that the Reformed emphasis on God’s sovereignty can give a person a particularly strong sense of security: your foundation isn’t ultimately in yourself. It’s in God, and God doesn’t lose control.

Amy: (challenging him) But isn’t that putting the cart before the horse? You’re saying, “Believing in God’s sovereignty makes me feel more secure,” and then choosing to believe it because of that, instead of believing it because it’s actually true. Basically, if one theological system makes you feel better psychologically, you choose that one. What’s fundamentally different about that from choosing clothes just because they’re more comfortable?

John: That’s a sharp and fair challenge, Amy. Thank you for pushing on it, because these are two things we really have to distinguish. “I believe something because it makes me feel better” is completely different from “I believe something because, after seriously examining it, I believe it’s true—and it happens to bring me peace.” The order matters. Reformed theology wasn’t designed as psychological comfort therapy. It developed as generations of Christians carefully studied the whole Bible and repeatedly saw themes like God’s sovereignty, election, and grace, and then tried to understand and organize what they were seeing. The peace it brings is “because it’s true, I can have peace,” not “because I want peace, I choose to call it true.” Of course, I can’t go through every relevant passage here. We can set aside time later and study them carefully. But notice this: if a belief is accepted only because it makes people feel comfortable, then when someone goes through something like Paul’s repeated job rejections, it probably won’t hold up for long, because reality will eventually shatter the comfortable feeling. Yet many Christians who have gone through deep suffering and genuinely trusted in God’s sovereignty have actually become more grounded in the middle of their hardest moments. That suggests that what supports them isn’t simply a “feel-good” experience. There is something deeper underneath it. B.B. Warfield, the old Princeton theologian, made a very direct point along these lines: Calvinism isn’t a technique for making people feel better. It comes from thinking seriously and consistently about the fact that “God is God, and human beings are human.” Once a person really understands that salvation, from beginning to end, is God’s work rather than something we hold together through our own strength, the resulting peace isn’t self-hypnosis. It grows naturally out of seeing reality clearly.

Amy: (silent for a moment) …I can’t really argue with that on the spot. But I probably still need to look into it myself. I can’t just take your word for it.

John: I actually really respect that attitude. You shouldn’t just listen to me and accept my conclusion without looking into it yourself.

Sophia: (raising an even harder question) I want to ask something that might sound a little offensive. If God has predestined everything, then what about all the seemingly pointless suffering in the world—children getting terminal illnesses, earthquakes and tsunamis destroying entire families? Did God predestine those things too? If He did, then God sounds pretty terrifying. But if He didn’t, then doesn’t that mean the statement “God predestines everything” isn’t actually true?

(The room goes quiet for a moment.)

John: Sophia, thank you for being willing to ask that question so directly. It deserves to be taken seriously, not avoided. I want to be honest: the Reformed tradition does believe that God’s sovereignty extends over all things, including suffering. Nothing happens completely outside His knowledge or control as though He only finds out about it afterward. But I want to add something equally important right away: Scripture always speaks about God’s sovereignty together with God’s goodness. It never separates the two. God being sovereign over suffering does not mean that God is the evil author behind suffering. Scripture makes a clear distinction: the direct sources of sin and suffering are this fallen world, human sin, and sometimes the work of evil spiritual forces. Yet above and within all of that, God works with a wisdom far beyond our understanding, so that even the deepest darkness cannot escape His sovereign care or ultimately prevent Him from accomplishing His good purposes.

Peter: But specifically, when a child gets a terminal illness, what exactly is God “doing” in that situation? Or what is He “allowing”?

John: Scripture often uses the language of “allowing” when describing God’s relationship to evil and suffering. In the Book of Job, for example, Satan’s attack on Job happens within boundaries that God explicitly sets. It is “allowed” to happen, but God Himself is not committing evil, and Satan is not acting without limits. That distinction matters. God is not the author of evil and suffering, but at the same time, no suffering happens completely outside His sovereignty or beyond His power.

Amy: But that still doesn’t really answer “why.” It just shifts the responsibility onto words like “boundaries” and “allowing.”

John: I completely agree. That doesn’t answer why this particular child got sick or why this particular earthquake happened. I can’t give you an answer at that level, and honestly, I doubt anyone can. But I want you to notice that the Bible doesn’t give us a system that makes every instance of suffering intellectually “make sense.” It gives us something deeper: the God who rules over everything is also the God who personally entered into the deepest and most unjust suffering in the world on the cross. He didn’t remain outside suffering, coldly “allowing” it from a distance. He entered into the very center of it Himself. That doesn’t answer the question “Why?” But it does answer another question that is just as important: “Can I trust this God? Does He really care?” The cross shows that He cares enough to suffer Himself.

Paul: (quietly, thinking it over) Then… going back to my own situation—losing my job, my PR plans falling apart—how am I supposed to trust Him with all of this?

John: I’m not asking you to say right now, “All of this is good.” That would be too quick, and it wouldn’t be honest. You can pray honestly: “God, I’m hurting right now. I don’t understand. But I choose to trust that You haven’t abandoned me, that You are still in control in the middle of all this, and that You still love me.” You don’t have to say that once and suddenly feel completely peaceful forever. It may be something you have to pray again and again in the days ahead.

Jack: So practically speaking, if I have a friend going through something like Paul is going through—getting rejection after rejection and feeling like their PR hopes are gone—what can I actually do instead of saying another “spiritual” line that just makes them feel worse?

John: The most practical thing is not to rush into explaining everything. Start by asking, “Are you doing okay right now? Do you want to talk about it?” Then actually listen. If they’re willing, you can pray with them and honestly bring the pain before God. You don’t need to rush to defend God. God doesn’t need you to defend Him. He can handle our questions. When the person is ready to move forward, you can help them think about what to do next. But don’t start the conversation by using the four words “God’s will” as if they’re a period that ends the conversation.

Discussion:

This session talked about the danger of using language about “God’s sovereignty” to shut down someone’s pain, the challenging question of whether we believe a theological system because it is true or because it makes us feel better, the differences between Calvinist and Arminian understandings when applied to real-life situations, and the tension between God’s sovereignty and the seemingly pointless suffering in the world. John said that the Bible doesn’t give us a system that makes every instance of suffering “make sense”; instead, it points us to a God who personally entered into the center of suffering. Discuss:

1) Have you ever experienced, or heard someone else experience, a situation where the phrase “This is God’s will” was used to brush aside someone who was hurting?

2) After today’s discussion, if a friend around you goes through something like Paul—buried under rejection letters, with their work permit or PR plans falling apart—what could you actually do to support them instead of immediately giving them a “spiritual” answer?

　　（Jack 一进门就把电脑包甩在桌上，还没坐稳就打开笔记本电脑）

一、这本书到底是怎么来的？

　　Jack：（把笔记本电脑转过来，屏幕上是一篇论文）我这学期修了一门Religious Studies的选修课，教授上周讲希腊文旧约《七十士译本》，说它跟希伯来文圣经有不少地方不一样，篇幅、章节顺序都有出入，甚至多出好几卷书，天主教圣经里有、我们新教圣经里没有。我当时脑子一下就懵了——如果连「圣经」这个东西的版本都统一不了，我怎么还能说这是「神的话」？我还特意去查了一下，光是《耶利米书》，七十士译本比我们现在读的希伯来文本短了差不多八分之一，这也太夸张了。

　　Peter：（皱眉）这我还真没细想过，我以为圣经就是圣经，一直都是这样，从来没变过。

　　Jack：教授还提到，希伯来文旧约本身也有不同的抄本传统，死海古卷出土之后，发现有些经文跟我们现在的圣经还有些出入，虽然大部分是拼写、用词的小差异，但确实有。

　　Tom：那这不就说明，我们现在读的圣经，可能根本不是「原版」，是一路传抄、翻译、挑选出来的东西？我室友是Comparative Religion的，他有次直接跟我说，「你们那本书，说白了就是好几百年、好几拨人东拼西凑改出来的，跟《一千零一夜》没什么本质区别，只是你们信的人多」。我当时被噎得说不出话。

　　John：（放下水杯）先给Tom的室友颁个奖，「跟《一千零一夜》没什么本质区别」这句话，我大学时候几乎每学期都会被不同的人用不同的方式说一遍，说明这套论证挺流行的，但流行不代表对。我先说一句，Jack说的这些事实，大部分都是真的，我不会否认，也不需要否认。死海古卷确实证实了旧约抄本在细节上有一些差异，《七十士译本》跟马索拉文本（希伯来文本）确实在某些书卷的篇幅、顺序上不一样。这些是研究圣经历史时真实存在的现象，不是教授编出来吓唬你们的。

　　Jenny：（有点慌）那……我们是不是应该更紧张一点？

　　John：我倒觉得该先问一个更基本的问题——「有抄本差异」跟「圣经不可信」，这两件事之间的距离，有没有你们想象中那么近？

　　Jack：怎么说？

　　John：我问你，你们Bio 100的教科书，跟十年前的版本相比，内容会不会有些不一样，用词会不会有调整？

　　Jack：会啊，科学一直在更新。

　　John：那这个「有版本差异」，会不会让你觉得「所以生物学根本不可信」？

　　Jack：不会，那是知识更新，不一样的事。

　　John：这个例子确实不完全对应，我承认圣经的情况更特殊——但我想指出的是同一个逻辑漏洞：「存在差异」本身，不会自动推出「整体不可靠」，得看差异的性质和范围。死海古卷出土之后，确实让学者们看到古代抄本传统里本来就存在的一些差异，不能说「完全一字不差」；但同时，死海古卷也提供了另一件很重要的证据——拿死海古卷（大概公元前二世纪抄的）跟我们现在用的马索拉文本（中世纪抄的，中间隔了上千年）相比，很大一部分经文，跟后来的文本高度一致，差异大多集中在拼写、极少数词序，跟教义、跟核心内容不相关的地方。更准确地说，死海古卷让我们更清楚地看到抄本传统里确实存在的变体，同时也给了我们大量材料，去比较、去判断哪个更接近原文——这不是「圣经一字未改」的证明，是「我们有办法认真核实这件事」的证明。

　　Tom：那我室友说的「东拼西凑」呢？他说得挺笃定的，好像这是学术界的共识。

　　John：如果他是说「圣经不是一次性写成的，是几百年间不同的作者，在神的默示下写成，后来被收集在一起」，那这个描述本身没有错，圣经自己也从不隐瞒这一点。但如果他的意思是「后来的人随意拼凑、篡改，最后凑成了一本没有历史根基的书」，那这个说法，其实没有真正的证据支持，更像是一种没有仔细查考、就先入为主的印象。你可以下次反问他一句——他有没有具体读过一份关于新约抄本证据的资料？新约希腊文抄本残片、抄本的数量非常庞大，有五千多份，时间跨度从公元二世纪一直到印刷术发明，这个数量和年代的密集程度，在整个古代文献里相当罕见，比荷马史诗、比凯撒的著作都多出不少，年代也更接近原作成书的时间。当然，抄本数量多，不等于「所以每一个字都自动没有问题」——真正重要的是，正因为有这么多不同年代、不同地区的抄本可以互相比较，文本批判才有材料可做，我们才有办法认真核查，而不是只能猜。

　　Peter：那《七十士译本》多出来的那几卷书呢？

　　John：那是另一件事，叫「次经」的问题。新教传统，包括宗教改革的时候，认定旧约正典就是希伯来文圣经这三十九卷，跟耶稣、跟新约作者引用旧约时所依据的那个正典范围是一致的；天主教后来在特伦特大公会议上，把次经也定为正典。这不是「原本统一后来分裂」，是历史上一直存在过的、关于「哪些书算正典」的讨论，教会最终按照几个标准做出了判断，不是随便挑的。

　　Sophia：（这时开口，语气带着困惑）说到「谁来决定」，我更想问这个——圣经正典到底是谁定的？凭什么是那几个人、那几次会议，就有资格决定「这卷是神的话，那卷不是」？我听说《雅煞珥书》圣经里都提到过，为什么它没被收进来？这整个过程，让我觉得很不安，好像正典是一群人开会投票投出来的。而且我还听过一种说法，说是君士坦丁皇帝为了政治目的，找人开会「定」了圣经，把一些「不方便」的书排除掉了，这个我听着特别不舒服，好像圣经从根上就不干净。

　　John：这个不安我理解，而且我要先纠正一个常见的误解——教会从来不认为自己「制造」了正典，教会的立场一直是「承认」正典。意思是，这些书卷的权威，不是因为某次会议投票通过才有的，是这些书卷本身，从一开始被写下来的时候，就带着神的权柄，教会做的，是辨认、确认哪些书是真的出于神，不是赋予它们权柄。

　　Sophia：那君士坦丁那个说法呢？

　　John：那个说法流传很广，但跟历史事实对不上。新约正典二十七卷书，早在君士坦丁公元四世纪召开尼西亚大公会议之前，就已经在教会里被广泛接受、使用了，那次会议主要讨论的，是关于基督神性的教义争论，根本没有讨论正典的问题。后来教会开会正式列出正典清单，做的是「确认」教会已经普遍接受的书卷，不是「创造」出一份新名单，更不是为了政治目的排除什么。这个说法之所以流传很广，很大程度上是因为一些小说、电影为了戏剧效果渲染出来的，不是严谨的历史研究结论。

　　Tom：那怎么辨认哪些是正典？万一辨认错了呢？

　　John：早期教会用了几个标准，不是拍脑袋——这卷书是不是使徒或者跟使徒有直接关系的人写的（新约）、是不是跟已经确立的正典教导一致、是不是被普世教会、跨越地域广泛地当作神的话来使用和传承。《雅煞珥书》没有被收进正典，不是因为哪次会议「漏掉」了它，是因为它从一开始就没有满足这些标准——圣经引用它，就像我们今天写文章引用别的历史书一样，引用一本书不代表那本书本身是「神的话」。

　　Jack：那如果哪天又发现一份更古老的抄本，跟现在圣经内容差很多，是不是整个正典又要重新洗牌？

　　John：从死海古卷这些近百年最重大的考古发现来看，答案其实是相反的——越是发现更古老的材料，越是印证了我们手上的圣经，在漫长的传抄历史里，惊人地稳定、可靠，不是越挖越发现「原来我们一直被骗」，是越挖越证实这个传承链条的严谨。

　　Grace：（这时开口，带着自己课堂上的经历）我想接着说一件更让我困惑的事。我上一门圣经文学的课，教授把圣经完全当成古代文献来分析——讲摩西五经不是摩西一个人写的，是好几个不同的文献来源（她管这个叫「底本假说」），在不同的政治背景下拼凑、编辑出来的；讲以赛亚书可能不是一个人写的，是好几位「以赛亚」写的，因为书里前半部分和后半部分的写作风格、历史背景明显不一样。听完之后，我没有觉得受启发，只觉得很乱——我还能不能相信这是神的话？而且更麻烦的是，这门课的Final Paper，就要求我们「运用底本假说分析摩西五经的一段经文」，我写的时候心里特别别扭，好像在写一篇我自己都不信的东西，只是为了拿分。

　　Peter：那你怎么写的？

　　Grace：我最后还是老老实实按照理论框架写了，写完感觉特别空虚，好像我把圣经当成一件「学术标本」解剖了一遍，而不是神的话。

　　John：这门课你上的，很可能是所谓的「历史批判方法」，这是过去两百年学术界研究圣经的一种主流方法，你会遇到，很多基督徒念大学都会遇到，这不奇怪。Grace你说的那种「空虚感」，我完全理解，我大学时候上过类似的课，也有过一模一样的感觉。我要说两件事。第一，这些理论里，有一些确实指出了圣经文本形成过程中一些真实值得思考的现象——比如摩西五经里确实有些段落，风格、用词跟别的段落不太一样，这些观察本身不是凭空捏造的。

　　Grace：那第二呢？

　　John：第二，也是更关键的一点——这整套「历史批判方法」，从一开始设定的前提，往往就已经排除了「这本书可能真的是神所默示的、有超自然来源」这个可能性，它默认圣经跟别的任何古代文献一样，只能用「纯粹人的、自然的因素」去解释，一旦有超自然的成分（比如以赛亚书里精确预言了几百年后波斯王居鲁士的名字和作为），就先假定「这肯定是后来的人事后写的、伪托前人名字」，而不是去问「会不会这真的是神启示的预言」。这个前提，从来没有被证明过，只是被当成研究的默认起点，你的教授上课时多半也不会特别点出来，因为在他们那个学术圈子里，这已经是习以为常的默认设定了。

　　Tom：（若有所思）所以不是「证据指向」这个结论，是「先假设了不能有神迹」，然后再去解读证据？

　　John：对，这正是我想让你们看清楚的地方。如果一个人一开始就排除了「神真的介入、真的默示了这本书」的可能性，那不管证据是什么样子，他最后得出的结论，一定是「这是纯粹人写的东西」，因为他的前提早就把答案锁死了。这不是「客观、中立的学术研究」打败了「盲目的信仰」，是两套不同的前提，在同一堆证据面前，得出了不同的解读。

　　Grace：那我该怎么面对上课学的这些？直接跟教授对着干吗？还是Final Paper就照着写、心里过不去？

　　John：不用对着干，你可以带着尊重去学这些理论，了解学术界在讨论什么，这对你有好处，甚至像你这次写Paper，按照要求运用那套框架去分析，这本身没有问题，是在学一种学术工具，就像学统计学的人要会用某个学派的方法，不代表他必须相信那个学派背后的全部世界观。但你可以诚实地意识到——教授的结论，不是从「中立的证据」里长出来的，是从他先接受的那套「不能有神迹」的前提里长出来的。你完全可以带着另一套前提——「这本书真的可能是又借着人、又出于神默示写成的」——去看同一堆证据，而且这套前提，跟圣经作者自己怎么理解自己在做的事，其实更吻合。写作业的时候按要求完成，心里知道自己在做什么，这两件事不矛盾。

讨论：

这一场聊到了不同抄本、译本之间的差异、「君士坦丁定圣经」这类流传很广却经不起查证的说法、正典是「教会确认」而不是「教会制造」，还有历史批判方法背后其实藏着一个先排除神迹的前提。请讨论：如果你身边的同学也跟Grace、Jack一样，在课堂上第一次听到这些「圣经不是原来想的那样单纯」的说法，甚至像Tom室友那样直接说圣经是「东拼西凑」的，你现在会怎么回应他们？

二、我的信任到底建立在什么上？

　　Peter：（换了个角度）撇开学术上的这些争论，我更困惑的是「圣经无误」这个说法。我们查经班以前学过这个词，可我一直没搞懂，它到底是说圣经每一个细节——年代、数字、地理——都精确到一个字不差，还是说，圣经在关乎拯救的核心真理上不会出错？我上次还被我一个学Astronomy的朋友问住了，他说圣经里「日头停住」那段（约书亚记），如果地球真的停止自转，按物理学根本不可能只是「太阳看起来停了」，会有毁灭性的后果，那这段经文到底是不是「错」的？

　　John：这个问题问得很好，而且这两种理解，在教会历史上确实都有人这样表述，值得说清楚。改革宗传统对「圣经无误」的理解，指的是圣经在它原初的手稿里，在它所宣告的一切事上——不管是关于神、关于救恩，还是关于历史、地理这些细节——都是真实可靠的，没有错误。但这句话有一个重要的前提，常常被忽略——圣经的每一句话，要按照它原本的文体、写作的方式去理解，才能判断它「说了什么」。

　　Jenny：这是什么意思？

　　John：比如，圣经里有诗歌体裁，用「大山踊跃如公羊」这种夸张的意象来描述神的荣耀，我们不会说这句话「错」了，因为它从来没打算做精确的地质学描述，它是诗歌语言。约书亚记那段「日头停住」，也要放回当时的写作习惯来读——古代近东的历史叙事，常常用「从观察者角度看到的现象」来描述事件，就像我们今天说「太阳下山了」，气象学家也这样说，没有人会因此说这句话「不科学」，因为大家都明白，这是从地面观察者角度说的话，不是在做天文学声明。这段经文，很可能是在描述一种超自然的现象——从约书亚和以色列人的角度，那一天的光照异常地延长了，具体物理机制圣经没有交代，也不需要用现代物理学的框架去逐字对应，才能判断它「对不对」。

　　Tom：（挑刺）那这样一来，是不是随便一处圣经跟别的地方对不上，都可以说「哦这是文体问题，不算错」，这不就是想怎么解释都行吗？

　　John：这个警惕是对的，我完全同意不能滥用这个说法当万能挡箭牌。真正负责任的做法，是老老实实去研究这段经文原本的文体、写作背景、当时的语言习惯，而不是随便套一个理由搪塞过去。这也是为什么好的解经，需要花功夫、需要严谨，不是拍脑袋。

　　Jack：（换个话题，带着点无力感）我说实话，我根本听不懂这些学术层面的东西，什么历史批判、抄本传统、正典标准，我一个念Engineering的，压根没时间去研究这些，我连每周的Lab Report都赶不完。那我对圣经的信任，到底建立在什么上面？会不会特别脆弱，一旦有人拿出一套我看不懂的学术论证，我就没法回应了？

　　John：这个问题，可能是今天最重要的一个，我想认真回答。我先说，历史证据、护教学的论证，都是有价值的，能帮助我们、也能帮助跟我们对话的人看到，信靠圣经不是不讲道理的盲信。但如果一个基督徒对圣经的信心，最终的根基是「我把所有学术论证都搞懂了、能把每个反对意见都驳倒」，那这个信心确实会很脆弱，因为总有更难的问题、更专业的学者，你没办法全部应付过来。

　　Jack：那到底该建立在什么上？

　　John：改教传统一直很看重一件事，加尔文在《基督教要义》里专门用一整章讲这个，叫圣灵的内证——意思是，我们对圣经是神的话这件事的最终确信，不是先靠一套完美无缺的外部论证「证明」出来的，是圣灵自己，藉着圣经本身向我们的心作见证，让我们里面真实地认出——这就是神在对我说话。就像你听一个真正认识你、爱你的人说话，跟听一个陌生人照着剧本背台词说话，你心里会有不一样的感觉，那种「认出来」，不是先经过一套逻辑推演才有的。

　　Amy：（好奇）这听起来是不是有点玄，会不会又是一种「我感觉是真的，所以就是真的」？我身边不少信别的宗教、或者信一些新兴灵修的人，也会说类似的话——「我打坐的时候能感觉到宇宙的能量」，这跟你说的「圣灵内证」，听起来结构上很像，那凭什么你们这个是真的，别人那个就不是？

　　John：这是个很公平的追问，我很高兴你提出来，而不是自己心里嘀咕。我要先澄清——圣灵的内证，不是取代证据、也不是叫你不管证据凭感觉信，是说，就算Jack这样的同学，没有能力去逐条驳倒每个学术论证，他仍然可以真实地、有根有据地信靠圣经，因为最终的确信，不是靠人自己的论证能力撑起来的，是神自己愿意让祂的百姓，借着祂的话，认出祂的声音。这跟外部的历史证据、护教论证不冲突，是两个层面的事，互相配合，不是互相取代。你提到的那种「感觉到能量」，跟这个不完全一样——它更多是脱离具体内容的、纯粹的主观体验，而圣灵的内证，是紧紧扣着圣经具体说了什么内容来的，不是一种模糊的、跟内容脱节的感受，而且它是跟外在的历史证据一起、互相印证地运作的，不是单独凭一种感觉就自证。

　　Jack：（松了口气）所以就算我不懂什么死海古卷、历史批判，我一样可以真实地信靠圣经？

　　John：可以，而且教会历史上绝大多数信徒，从来没有机会读那些学术论文，他们的信心一样是真实、稳固的。你如果有兴趣、有能力去多了解一些护教学的东西，那很好，能帮助你、也能帮助你身边质疑的朋友；但那不是信心「必须」建立的地基，只是能帮上忙的辅助工具。

　　Sophia：（这时又提起自己一直放不下的事）那我还是想回到旧约那些让我不安的经文——神对迦南人的灭绝令、约伯记里神竟然「允许」撒但去试探约伯。这些不只是学术上的争议，是让我对神的品格本身产生疑问。当圣经本身让我困惑、甚至反感，我该怎么继续读下去？

　　John：Sophia，这个问题我们上一次聚会也碰过一点，我想再补充一点。「圣经让我困惑」，不代表「圣经有问题」，也可能是「我此刻还没有足够的背景去理解这段经文原本要说的事」——就像你第一次看一部很复杂的电影，某一幕单独拿出来看会觉得莫名其妙，甚至反感，但看完整部片、了解了前因后果，你的理解会完全不一样。约伯记正是这样一卷书——它一开始就明明白白告诉读者一个约伯自己完全不知道的「幕后」信息：撒但的攻击是在神明确的许可和限制之下发生的，而整卷书最后的重点，不是「解释苦难的原因」，是约伯借着与神真实的相遇，认识到神的智慧远超过他能理解的范围，这卷书从头到尾都在提醒我们，人的理解力是有限的，不该拿它当作评判神的最终标准。

　　Sophia：（沉默一会儿）……那是不是意味着，我永远没办法真的「想通」这些经文？

　　John：有些经文，我们这一生可能真的没办法完全「想通」，我不想骗你说总有一天所有困惑都会消失。但「没办法完全想通」，跟「应该因此就不信靠这位神」，中间还有很长的距离。你可以带着诚实的困惑，继续留在神面前，继续读下去，这本身就是一种信靠的方式——不是因为你已经把每个问题都解决了才信，是因为你信靠的这位神，配得上你带着问题继续跟随祂。

　　Amy：（若有所思，这次是真心的）我发现你们讨论这些的方式，跟我以为的「信徒就是不许质疑」完全不一样。我一个学Philosophy的朋友以前说，宗教信仰说到底就是「不敢面对不确定性的人，找一个东西让自己心安」，听完你们今天聊的，我倒觉得，你们好像反而比很多不信的人，更愿意直面那些说不通、不舒服的地方。

　　John：谢谢你这样说，我希望我们真的是这样，而不只是嘴上说说。福音从来不需要靠回避难题才能站得住，如果它经不起认真的追问，那才真的该让人担心。

讨论：

这一场聊到了「圣经无误」到底是什么意思、Jack担心自己听不懂学术论证信心会不会很脆弱、圣灵的内证跟别的宗教「主观感受」有什么不同、还有Sophia始终放不下的旧约难题。John说，信心的最终地基不是我们自己驳倒每个反对意见的能力，是神自己让祂的百姓认出祂的声音。请讨论：如果有一天，有人拿一套你完全答不上来的学术理论，来挑战圣经的可信度，听完今天的讨论，你觉得自己会怎么回应——是急着找答案证明自己对，还是可以带着平静，继续信靠？为什么？

Lesson 7: Can We Really Trust the Bible? — The Bible and Authority

(Jack walks in, tosses his laptop bag onto the table, and opens his laptop before he has even fully sat down.)

1. Where Did This Book Even Come From?

Jack: (turning his laptop around; there’s a paper open on the screen) I’m taking an elective in Religious Studies this semester. Last week, the professor talked about the Greek Old Testament, the Septuagint, and said there are quite a few differences between it and the Hebrew Bible. The length is different, the order of some books and chapters is different, and it even includes several books that aren’t in our Protestant Bible but are in the Catholic Bible. My brain just kind of froze. If we can’t even agree on which version of the “Bible” we’re talking about, how can I still say that this is “the Word of God”? I even looked into it myself, and just in the Book of Jeremiah, the Septuagint is about one-eighth shorter than the Hebrew text we use today. That’s a pretty huge difference.

Peter: (frowning) Honestly, I’ve never really thought about that. I always assumed the Bible was just the Bible, and that it had always been exactly the same.

Jack: The professor also mentioned that there are different manuscript traditions even within the Hebrew Old Testament itself. After the Dead Sea Scrolls were discovered, scholars found that some passages differ from the Bible we have today. Most of the differences are small things like spelling or wording, but they are real differences.

Tom: So doesn’t that mean the Bible we read today might not actually be the “original”? Maybe it’s something that was copied, translated, and selected over and over again? My roommate is in Comparative Religion, and one time he just straight-up told me, “Your book is basically something that hundreds of years of different people pieced together and edited. It’s not fundamentally different from One Thousand and One Nights—the only difference is that more people believe in yours.” I honestly had no idea how to respond.

John: (puts down his cup) First, let’s give Tom’s roommate an award. I swear, “It’s basically no different from One Thousand and One Nights” is something I heard in a different form almost every semester when I was in university. So yeah, it’s clearly a popular argument. But popular doesn’t automatically mean correct. First of all, most of what Jack said is true. I’m not going to deny it, and I don’t need to. The Dead Sea Scrolls really did confirm that there are some differences in the details of Old Testament manuscripts. The Septuagint really is different from the Masoretic Text—the Hebrew text—in the length and order of some books. These are real phenomena in the study of biblical history. The professor didn’t just make them up to scare you guys.

Jenny: (a little nervous) So… should we be more worried about this?

John: I actually think we should ask a more basic question first: how close are “there are differences between manuscripts” and “the Bible isn’t trustworthy”? Are those two things really as closely connected as you think?

Jack: What do you mean?

John: Let me ask you this. Your Bio 100 textbook—is it exactly the same as the version from ten years ago? Wouldn’t some of the content and wording have changed?

Jack: Yeah, definitely. Science is always being updated.

John: So if there are different editions, would that make you think, “Therefore biology itself can’t be trusted”?

Jack: No. That’s just knowledge being updated. It’s a different thing.

John: The example isn’t a perfect match, I admit that. The Bible is obviously a more complicated case. But what I want you to notice is the same logical problem: the existence of differences does not automatically mean something is completely unreliable. You have to look at what kind of differences they are and how significant they are. The discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls did show scholars that there were already some variations within ancient manuscript traditions. So we can’t honestly say that every manuscript was “exactly identical word for word.” But at the same time, the Dead Sea Scrolls also gave us something very important: when we compare manuscripts from the Dead Sea Scrolls, some of which were copied around the second century BC, with the Masoretic Text we have from the medieval period—more than a thousand years later—a very large amount of the text is remarkably consistent. Most of the differences are in spelling, a small number of word-order issues, or other details that don’t affect the core teachings. More accurately, the Dead Sea Scrolls help us see more clearly that variations really did exist within the manuscript tradition, while also giving us a huge amount of evidence that we can compare to determine what is closer to the original text. That’s not proof that “the Bible was never changed by even one letter.” It’s proof that “we have ways to seriously investigate what happened.”

Tom: What about what my roommate said about it being “pieced together”? He sounded so confident, like it was basically the academic consensus.

John: If what he means is, “The Bible wasn’t written all at once. Different authors wrote different books over hundreds of years, under God’s inspiration, and those writings were later collected together,” then that description itself isn’t wrong. The Bible never tries to hide that. But if he means, “Later people randomly pieced things together and altered them until they ended up with a book that has no historical foundation,” then there really isn’t solid evidence for that claim. It sounds more like an assumption made before actually looking carefully at the evidence. Next time, you could ask him one simple question: Has he actually read any of the evidence about New Testament manuscripts? There are more than 5,000 known Greek New Testament manuscripts and fragments, spanning from around the second century AD up to the invention of printing. That number and the relatively early dates are unusually strong compared with most ancient literature. There are far more New Testament manuscripts than we have for works like Homer’s epics or Caesar’s writings, and many of them are much closer in date to the original composition. Of course, having lots of manuscripts doesn’t mean, “Therefore every single word is automatically perfect.” What really matters is that because we have so many manuscripts from different periods and regions, textual criticism actually has a large amount of evidence to work with. We can seriously compare the texts instead of simply guessing.

Peter: What about those extra books in the Septuagint?

John: That’s a different issue. It’s the question of the “Apocrypha,” or what some traditions call the Deuterocanonical books. The Protestant tradition, including the Reformers, understood the Old Testament canon to consist of the same thirty-nine books found in the Hebrew Bible. They understood that as corresponding to the collection of Scriptures used by Jesus and the New Testament writers. The Catholic Church later formally recognized the Deuterocanonical books as part of its canon at the Council of Trent. This isn’t a story of “there was originally one universally agreed Bible and then people later split it apart.” There were historical debates about which books should count as Scripture, and different church traditions eventually made decisions based on several criteria. It wasn’t just a matter of randomly picking books.

Sophia: (speaking up, sounding confused) Since you mentioned “who decides,” that’s actually what I want to ask about. Who decided what belongs in the biblical canon? Why did those particular people, at those particular meetings, have the authority to decide, “This book is the Word of God, but that one isn’t”? I’ve heard that the Book of Jashar is even mentioned in the Bible. So why wasn’t it included? The whole process makes me uncomfortable. It sounds like the canon was basically created by a group of people sitting around and voting on it. And I’ve also heard this story that Emperor Constantine, for political reasons, got people together and “decided” what the Bible would be, while removing books that were inconvenient. That really bothers me. It makes it sound like the Bible was compromised from the very beginning.

John: I understand why that would make you uncomfortable. But first, I want to correct a very common misunderstanding: the church has never understood itself as “creating” the canon. The historic Christian position has been that the church “recognized” the canon. In other words, these books didn’t become authoritative because some council voted to approve them. Their authority came from what they were from the beginning—the church believed they were writings that carried God’s authority. What the church did was recognize and confirm which books truly came from God. It didn’t give those books their authority.

Sophia: What about the Constantine story, then?

John: That story is very widespread, but it doesn’t line up with the historical evidence. The twenty-seven books of the New Testament were already widely accepted and used in the church before Constantine called the Council of Nicaea in the fourth century. That council was mainly dealing with theological debates about the divinity of Christ. It did not decide the New Testament canon. When later church councils formally listed the books of the canon, they were confirming books that were already widely recognized by the church, not creating a brand-new list. And they weren’t meeting to remove books for political reasons. The Constantine story became popular partly because novels, movies, and other popular media have exaggerated it for dramatic effect. It isn’t the conclusion of careful historical scholarship.

Tom: So how did they actually recognize which books belonged in the canon? What if they got it wrong?

John: The early church used several criteria. It wasn’t just guesswork. For the New Testament, they considered things like whether a book was written by an apostle or someone directly connected to the apostles, whether its teaching agreed with the faith already received by the church, and whether it was broadly recognized and used as God’s Word across different regions of the Christian church. The Book of Jashar wasn’t left out because some council accidentally “forgot” it. It simply never met those criteria for inclusion in the canon. The Bible can quote another book in the same way that we might quote a historical source in an academic paper today. Quoting a book doesn’t mean that the book itself is “the Word of God.”

Jack: So if someone discovers an even older manuscript someday, and its contents are really different from the Bible we have now, does that mean the whole canon has to be rearranged again?

John: Based on major archaeological discoveries over the past century, including the Dead Sea Scrolls, the evidence actually points in the opposite direction. The more ancient material we discover, the more we see how remarkably stable the biblical text has been through its long history of transmission. It isn’t a story of digging deeper and discovering, “Oh, we’ve been fooled this whole time.” Instead, the evidence gives us more material for examining and confirming how carefully the text was transmitted.

Grace: (speaking up, drawing on her own classroom experience) I want to add something that confuses me even more. I took a Bible literature course last term, and the professor treated the Bible entirely as an ancient collection of texts to analyze. We talked about how the Pentateuch wasn’t written by Moses alone, but came from several different sources that were combined and edited in different political contexts. She called this the “Documentary Hypothesis.” We also talked about how Isaiah may not have been written by just one person, but by several different authors, because the writing style and historical background in the first and second halves are noticeably different. After hearing all that, I didn’t feel enlightened. I just felt confused. Can I still believe this is the Word of God? And the more awkward part was that the final paper for the course required us to “use the Documentary Hypothesis to analyze a passage from the Pentateuch.” I felt really uncomfortable writing it, like I was writing an argument I didn’t even believe just to get a grade.

Peter: So how did you write it?

Grace: In the end, I just followed the framework honestly and wrote the paper. But afterward I felt really empty, like I had dissected the Bible as an “academic specimen” instead of treating it as the Word of God.

John: The course you took was probably using what’s called the “historical-critical method.” It has been one of the major approaches to academic biblical studies over the past two hundred years. You’re going to run into it, and a lot of Christians in university run into it too. That’s not unusual. Grace, I completely understand the emptiness you’re describing. I took similar courses when I was in university, and I had exactly the same feeling. I want to say two things. First, some of these theories really do point out things about how biblical texts developed that are worth thinking about. For example, there really are passages in the Pentateuch whose style and vocabulary are noticeably different from other passages. Those observations aren’t simply made up.

Grace: What’s the second thing?

John: The second thing—and this is more important—is that the historical-critical method often begins with assumptions that have already ruled out the possibility that the Bible could genuinely be inspired by God or have a supernatural source. It assumes that the Bible, like any other ancient document, has to be explained entirely through ordinary human and natural causes. So when something supernatural appears—for example, when Isaiah seems to name the Persian king Cyrus and describe what he would do centuries before he lived—the starting assumption is often that this must have been written later by someone pretending to be Isaiah. Instead of asking, “Could this actually be a prophecy inspired by God?” That starting assumption has never itself been proven. It’s simply treated as the default starting point for the research. Your professor probably doesn’t stop in the middle of class to point that out, because within that academic community, it has become such a normal assumption that people often don’t even notice it anymore.

Tom: (thinking it over) So it’s not necessarily that “the evidence points to that conclusion.” It’s that they first assume miracles can’t happen, and then interpret the evidence within that assumption?

John: Exactly. That’s the point I want you to see. If someone starts by ruling out the possibility that God really intervened or really inspired the Bible, then no matter what the evidence looks like, their conclusion is going to be that it’s purely a human product, because the starting assumptions have already limited the possible answers. That doesn’t necessarily mean “objective, neutral scholarship defeated blind faith.” It means two different sets of assumptions can look at the same evidence and arrive at different interpretations.

Grace: So how am I supposed to deal with what I’m learning in class? Should I just argue with the professor? Or should I write the Final Paper exactly as they want and just feel uncomfortable about it?

John: You don’t have to fight with your professor. You can study these theories respectfully and understand what scholars are actually debating. That can be good for you. Even writing your paper the way you did, using the required framework to analyze the passage, isn’t necessarily a problem. You’re learning an academic tool, just like someone studying statistics might learn how to use a particular school of statistical methods. That doesn’t mean you have to accept the entire worldview behind that school of thought. But you can honestly recognize that your professor’s conclusions don’t simply grow out of “neutral evidence.” They also grow out of a set of assumptions he or she has already accepted, including the assumption that miracles cannot be part of the explanation. You can approach the same evidence with a different starting point: “This really could be a book written through human authors while also being inspired by God.” And that starting point actually fits better with the way the biblical authors themselves understood what they were doing. So you can complete the assignment according to the course requirements while still understanding what you are doing. Those two things are not contradictory.

Discussion:

This session talked about differences between manuscripts and translations, popular claims like “Constantine decided what the Bible would be” that don’t hold up well when checked against history, the idea that the canon was “recognized by the church” rather than “created by the church,” and the assumption behind some forms of historical-critical scholarship that rules out miracles from the beginning. Discuss: If someone around you, like Grace or Jack, hears these ideas for the first time in university and starts thinking, “The Bible isn’t as simple as I thought,” or if someone like Tom’s roommate says the Bible is just something that was “pieced together,” how would you respond now?

2. What Is My Trust Actually Built On?

Peter: (looking at it from another angle) Putting all the academic debates aside, what I’m more confused about is this idea of “biblical inerrancy.” We learned the term in our Bible study group before, but I never really understood what it means. Does it mean that every single detail in the Bible—dates, numbers, geography, everything—is perfectly precise? Or does it mean that the Bible doesn’t make mistakes when it comes to the core truths about salvation? I was also stumped recently when a friend of mine who studies Astronomy asked me about the passage in Joshua where “the sun stood still.” If the Earth literally stopped rotating, according to physics there would be catastrophic consequences. So was that passage actually “wrong”?

John: That’s a really good question. And historically, Christians have explained “biblical inerrancy” in both of those ways, so it’s worth being clear about what we mean. In the Reformed tradition, biblical inerrancy means that the Bible, in its original manuscripts, is completely true and reliable in everything it teaches—whether it’s about God, salvation, history, geography, or other details. But there’s an important qualification that people sometimes overlook: every statement in the Bible has to be understood according to its original literary genre and the way the author intended to communicate it. Only then can we determine what the statement is actually claiming.

Jenny: What does that mean?

John: For example, the Bible contains poetry. It might say something like “the mountains leap like rams” to describe God’s glory through vivid imagery. We wouldn’t say that statement is “wrong,” because it was never intended to be a precise geological description. It’s poetic language. The passage in Joshua about “the sun standing still” should also be read within the writing conventions of its time. Ancient Near Eastern historical narratives often described events from the perspective of what an observer saw. We still say “the sun went down” today. Meteorologists say that too, and nobody thinks they’re making an unscientific statement, because we understand that it’s describing what things look like from the perspective of someone on the ground, not making a technical claim about astronomy. That passage in Joshua may be describing a supernatural event in which, from Joshua and the Israelites’ perspective, the daylight was unusually extended. The Bible doesn’t explain the exact physical mechanism, and we don’t need to force it into a modern physics framework word for word in order to decide whether the passage is true.

Tom: (picking at the argument) But then couldn’t you use that explanation for literally anything? Whenever something in the Bible seems to contradict something else, you could just say, “Oh, that’s a genre issue, so it doesn’t count as an error.” Doesn’t that mean you can interpret it however you want?

John: That’s a fair warning, and I completely agree that we can’t use “genre” as a universal excuse. A responsible approach is to actually study the genre of the passage, its historical background, and the language conventions of the time, rather than just making up an explanation whenever we get stuck. That’s also why good biblical interpretation takes real work and careful study. You can’t just make it up as you go.

Jack: (changing the subject, sounding a little defeated) Honestly, I don’t understand most of this academic stuff at all. Historical criticism, manuscript traditions, canon criteria—I’m an Engineering student. I barely have time to finish my weekly lab reports. So what is my trust in the Bible actually based on? Isn’t it really fragile if someone can come along with some complicated academic argument that I don’t even understand and suddenly I have no way to respond?

John: That might be the most important question today, and I want to answer it seriously. First, historical evidence and apologetic arguments are valuable. They can help us, and they can help people we talk to, see that trusting the Bible isn’t just irrational blind faith. But if a Christian’s ultimate foundation for trusting the Bible is, “I understand every academic argument and I can defeat every objection,” then that faith really would be fragile. There will always be harder questions and more specialized scholars. You simply can’t know enough to answer everything.

Jack: So what should it actually be built on?

John: The Reformation tradition has always placed a lot of importance on something Calvin discusses at length in his Institutes of the Christian Religion: the internal testimony of the Holy Spirit. Basically, our ultimate confidence that the Bible is the Word of God doesn’t come from first constructing a flawless set of external arguments and then “proving” it. It comes from the Holy Spirit Himself testifying through Scripture to our hearts, allowing us to genuinely recognize, “This is God speaking to me.” It’s like hearing someone who truly knows you and loves you speak to you compared with hearing a stranger recite lines from a script. There’s a difference in how you recognize the speaker. That recognition doesn’t necessarily come only after going through a long logical argument.

Amy: (curious) That sounds a little mystical, though. Isn’t it basically just “I feel like it’s true, therefore it’s true”? A lot of people I know who follow other religions or newer spiritual practices say similar things. They might say, “When I meditate, I can feel the energy of the universe.” Structurally, that sounds pretty similar to what you’re describing as the “internal testimony of the Holy Spirit.” So why should we think yours is real while theirs isn’t?

John: That’s a very fair question, and I’m glad you asked it instead of just keeping it to yourself. First, I want to clarify that the internal testimony of the Holy Spirit isn’t meant to replace evidence, and it doesn’t mean you should ignore evidence and just believe whatever you feel. It means that even someone like Jack, who doesn’t have the ability to respond to every academic argument one by one, can still genuinely and rationally trust the Bible. Ultimately, our confidence isn’t held up by our own ability to construct arguments. It’s based on God enabling His people, through His Word, to recognize His voice. That doesn’t conflict with external historical evidence or apologetic arguments. They operate on different levels and work together rather than replacing each other. The “feeling the energy of the universe” example you gave isn’t exactly the same thing. That kind of experience is more like a subjective feeling detached from specific content. The internal testimony of the Holy Spirit is closely connected to the actual content of Scripture. It isn’t just a vague feeling floating free from what the Bible says. And it works alongside external historical evidence, rather than trying to prove itself through a feeling alone.

Jack: (relieved) So even if I don’t understand the Dead Sea Scrolls or historical criticism, I can still genuinely trust the Bible?

John: Absolutely. And throughout church history, most believers have never had the opportunity to read academic papers about these things. Their faith was still real and solid. If you’re interested and have the ability to learn more about apologetics, that’s great. It can help you, and it can help friends who have questions. But that isn’t the foundation that faith “must” rest on. It’s a helpful tool.

Sophia: (bringing up the thing she still can’t let go of) I still want to go back to those Old Testament passages that make me uncomfortable—the commands concerning the destruction of the Canaanites, and the Book of Job, where God actually “allows” Satan to test Job. These aren’t just academic questions. They make me question God’s character itself. When the Bible itself confuses me, or even makes me uncomfortable or upset, how am I supposed to keep reading it?

John: Sophia, we touched on this a little at our last gathering, but I want to add something. “The Bible confuses me” doesn’t necessarily mean “there’s something wrong with the Bible.” It may simply mean “I don’t have enough background yet to understand what this passage was originally trying to say.” It’s like watching a really complicated movie. If you take one scene out of context, it might seem completely strange or even disturbing. But once you watch the whole movie and understand what happened before and after, your understanding can change completely. Job is exactly that kind of book. Right at the beginning, it gives the reader information that Job himself doesn’t know—the “behind-the-scenes” situation. Satan’s attack happens with God’s explicit permission and within limits set by God. And the main point of the book isn’t to explain exactly why suffering happens. It’s about Job encountering God personally and realizing that God’s wisdom is far beyond what he can fully understand. From beginning to end, the book reminds us that human understanding is limited, and that we shouldn’t treat our own limited understanding as the ultimate standard for judging God.

Sophia: (silent for a moment) …So does that mean I might never actually be able to “figure out” these passages completely?

John: There are passages that we may genuinely never be able to fully “figure out” in this life. I don’t want to lie to you and say that one day every question will disappear. But there’s still a huge distance between “I can’t fully understand this” and “therefore I shouldn’t trust this God.” You can continue to come before God honestly with your questions and keep reading. That itself can be an expression of trust—not because you’ve already solved every problem, but because you believe that the God you’re trusting is worthy of being followed even while you still have questions.

Amy: (thinking it over, this time sincerely) I’m realizing that the way you guys talk about these things is really different from what I assumed. I always thought “believers aren’t allowed to question anything.” A friend of mine who studies Philosophy once told me that religious faith is basically “people who are afraid of uncertainty finding something that makes them feel safe.” But after listening to you guys today, I actually feel like you’re more willing than a lot of non-religious people to face the things that are difficult, uncomfortable, or don’t have easy answers.

John: Thanks for saying that. I hope that’s actually true of us, and not just something we say. The gospel shouldn’t need us to avoid difficult questions in order to stand. If it can’t survive serious questions, then that really would be something worth worrying about.

Discussion:

This session talked about what “biblical inerrancy” actually means, Jack’s concern that his faith might be fragile if he can’t understand academic arguments, the difference between the internal testimony of the Holy Spirit and the “subjective experiences” found in other religions, and the difficult Old Testament questions that Sophia still struggles with. John said that the ultimate foundation of faith isn’t our ability to defeat every objection, but God Himself enabling His people to recognize His voice. Discuss: If one day someone challenges the reliability of the Bible with an academic theory that you have absolutely no idea how to answer, after hearing today’s discussion, how do you think you would respond? Would you immediately try to find an answer to prove that you’re right, or could you stay calm and continue trusting God? Why?

　　（新学期第一周，宿舍分配结果刚出来，大家围坐在沙发区，气氛比平时安静一点）

一、我到底在祷告什么？

　　Paul：（把手机扔到沙发上，靠着椅背叹气）刚收到One Card抽宿舍的结果，没抽中。我这几天认真祷告求神让我抽中的，比我准备Interview还认真，甚至还列了个清单，一条一条求。

　　Peter：那你现在住哪？

　　Paul：只能去外面租，贵了快一倍，而且还得重新找室友，麻烦死了。我不是在乎住哪，我是想不通——我这么认真求了，怎么还是这个结果？

　　Tom：（半开玩笑）那你祷告的时候是不是姿势不对，还是没跪够久。

　　Paul：（没心情笑）我是认真的。我上学期为GPA祷告，为Co-op面试祷告，那次面试前一晚我几乎跪着求了半小时，结果人家连二面都没给我，连拒信都是模板，连个理由都没给。我不是没信心，我是真的想不通——如果祷告有用，那它的「用」到底体现在哪？我求的事一样没成。

　　Jenny：（小声）我也有过这种时候，第一反应就是——是不是我信心不够？是不是我哪里做得不对，神才不听？我甚至有段时间开始「计算」，觉得自己是不是最近哪件事没做好、哪个小罪没认，才导致祷告不灵，跟还债一样，越算越焦虑。

　　John：（把外套搭在椅背上坐下）你们俩说的这两件事，其实是两个不同的问题，我们一件一件说。先说一句题外话，Paul，我当年抽宿舍也没中，最后在Wesbrook那边合租了一间没有窗户的地下室，冬天没有阳光，整个人都要发霉，所以这个痛我懂。Paul问的是「祷告到底有没有效果」，Jenny问的是「没被应允，是不是我的错」。这两个问题背后的逻辑不太一样。

　　Jack：那先说Paul这个。我也一直有个更底层的疑问——如果神已经定了计划，一切都在祂的主权底下，那我求祂改变结果，这不是在求神改变祂自己的旨意吗？这不是有点荒唐吗，我算老几，凭什么让全能的神听我的意见？我室友是学Philosophy的，他上次直接跟我说，「祷告本质上就是一种自我安慰的仪式，你求的东西成了，你说是神应允；不成，你说是神有别的安排——不管结果怎样，你这套解释系统都能自圆其说，那这套东西还有什么意义，反正怎么样都『对』」。我当时被他说得哑口无言。

　　Tom：对，而且这样想的话，祷告听起来更像讨价还价——「神啊求你让我抽中宿舍」，说白了不就是在跟神谈条件？

　　John：这两个问题都问得很扎实，我年轻的时候也被这些卡住过很久。先说Jack室友那个「怎样都对」的质疑——这个批评，如果套在一个不诚实的信徒身上，是成立的，确实有人会把「神应允」和「神有别的安排」变成一套「怎么讲都赢」的话术，不去认真面对失望，这是我们该警惕、也该悔改的。但这不代表「祷告本身」这套体系必然是这样，一个理论好不好，不能只看它有没有被人滥用来逃避问题，得看它本身经不经得起检验。我们等一下会具体讲，神应允祷告，不是随便一个「怎样都算数」的空白支票，是有具体、可以观察的内容的，只是很多时候，那个内容不是我们订购的那个「结果」。

　　John：至于Jack你问的「求神改变旨意会不会荒唐」——我先反问你们一句——圣经里神吩咐我们祷告，同一本圣经也说神的旨意从亘古就定了，还说连一根头发掉下来都在祂手里。这两件事，圣经放在一起说，从来没觉得矛盾，那会不会是我们默认了一个错误的画面——把祷告想象成「说服一个还没拿定主意的神」？

　　Peter：那不然是什么？

　　John：祷告更像是——神不仅定了结果，也定了通往那个结果的路径，而「你的祷告」，本身就是那条路径的一部分。神不是先定了计划，然后被你的祷告打断、临时改主意；是神在祂的计划里，从一开始就把「你会为这件事祷告」这件事也算进去了。荷兰神学家巴文克（Herman Bavinck）讲神的护理的时候，专门提到祷告这一点，大意是——神在祂的护理里，不只定了要成就什么事，也定了藉着哪些「凭借」去成就，阳光雨水是凭借，人的劳力是凭借，祷告也是神所定的凭借之一，不是跟神的主权对着干的东西，是被那个主权本身包括在里面的。

　　Jack：（皱眉）这听起来有点绕，感觉像是在硬圆场。

　　John：我理解这个感觉，我换个更笨的比方——你会不会因为「妈妈已经决定今晚做你爱吃的菜了」，就觉得「那我谢谢她做饭这件事没有意义，反正她本来就要做」？

　　Jack：不会，那还是要谢，而且我要是不说我爱吃这道菜，她可能压根不知道要做这个。

　　John：对，这就是重点。神的主权跟你的祷告，不是两个互相竞争、只能留一个的东西，是神亲自安排了「借着你的祈求」去成就祂的旨意。雅各书说「你们得不着，是因为你们不求」，这句话认真读，其实是说——祷告不是多余的仪式，是神安排的、真实有分量的一环。

　　Paul：（还是不服）好，就算这套逻辑说得通，可我求的事最后没成——没抽到宿舍，面试也没过。那祷告在这些事上的「作用」到底在哪？如果结果一样是「没成」，那我求跟不求，有什么区别？

　　John：这才是我觉得最该老实回答你的地方。祷告的「作用」，从来不等于「我求什么就给什么」，圣经从来没这样应许过。耶稣自己教我们祷告的时候，第一句是「愿你的名为圣，愿你的国降临，愿你的旨意成就」——先求的是神的荣耀和旨意，不是先列一张我想要的清单。

　　Tom：（挑刺）那这样讲，会不会又变成一种「万能借口」——只要没应允，就说「哦这是神的旨意，你该求的不是结果，是顺服」，这不就是把祷告的意义架空了吗？神到底有没有真的在乎我求的那件具体的事？

　　John：这个反弹是对的，我不想给你们一个把「结果」完全抹掉的答案，那也不诚实。神确实在乎你具体求的那件事——祂邀请你把GPA、面试、抽宿舍这些具体的焦虑都带到祂面前，这不是幼稚，这正是祂要的。只是，祂应允的「方式」，不只有「照你要的给你」这一种。有时候答案是「是」，有时候是「不是」，有时候是「不是现在」，还有时候，是借着「没给你」这件事，做另一件你当下看不见的工作。

　　Jenny：（迟疑地）那我可以说说我自己的事吗？我上学期考试前也认真祷告了，结果还是没考好。我第一反应真的就是——是不是我信心不够，神才不理我？我甚至跑去问过我们查经班一个学姐，她当时跟我说「你要是真信，神一定会应允」，我听完更慌了，好像考砸了这件事，直接证明了我信心不合格。

　　John：这个反应很常见，但我要老实说，这个反应本身，可能藏着一个不太对的假设——好像祷告是一套魔法公式，只要「信心够格」就一定换来我要的结果，没换到，就是我配方错了。这套逻辑听起来很属灵，其实骨子里跟拜偶像很像——把「信心」当成一种可以操控神的筹码，而不是单纯地信靠一位有主权的、又真的爱我们的神。你学姐那句话，我要老实说，出发点可能是好的，但那样讲，很容易变成一种伤害人的「信心公式」教导。

　　Grace：（这时插话，语气带点自己的挣扎）我在教会服事这几年，见过太多这种「信心公式」的教导——「你祷告没应验，是因为你信心不够、罪没认清楚」。我自己带过的一个姐妹，家人生病，她祷告了很久没见果效，结果有人直接跟她说「你肯定哪里信心不够」，那姐妹后来整整半年都不敢再祷告，她说她怕自己「祷告技术」不合格，反而害了家人。

　　Tom：这也太可怕了，那不就是往伤口上撒盐吗。

　　Grace：对，我当时也很生气，但我也承认，我自己有时候也会不自觉地这样想——祷告没应，第一反应是「我哪里做错了」，而不是老实承认，神的智慧本来就比我高，祂看得见我看不见的东西。

　　John：Grace说得很对，这正是我想说的——「是不是我信心不够」这个问题，问的方向错了。更该问的是：我信靠的，是不是一位真的良善、真的智慧、值得我交托的神？如果是，那祂没有照我要的给我，不代表祂不在乎，也不代表我不合格，是祂看见了一个更大的图景，而我此刻还看不见。

　　Paul：（沉默了一会儿）……那我该怎么调整我为面试、GPA祷告的方式？

　　John：不是不让你求具体的事，是求的时候，心里存着一个更深的顺服——「神，我真的很想要这个，求你成就，但如果你有别的安排，我愿意信靠你比我更清楚什么是好的」。这不是嘴上说说，是需要练习的功课，我们等一下会再说。

讨论：

这一场聊到了神的主权和人的祷告会不会互相矛盾、Jack室友「祷告怎样都能自圆其说」的质疑、祷告没被应允时容易冒出的「是不是我信心不够」的自责，还听到了Grace带的姐妹因为被灌输「信心公式」，半年不敢祷告的故事。请讨论：想一件你曾经认真祷告、却没有得到你想要的结果的事。听完今天的讨论，你现在回头看那件事，心里的感受和当时比，有没有一点不一样？

二、我到底信不信祂顾念？

　　Sophia：（低着头，声音有点闷）我想说一件更难开口的事。我一个很好的朋友生病了，不是感冒那种，是比较严重的病，我为她祷告了快大半年，天天求，可她的状况一点起色都没有，最近反而更差了。我不怀疑神有没有能力医治，我是开始怀疑——祂是不是真的顾念这件事。这样的怀疑，算不算罪？

　　（一时安静）

　　Amy：（这次也很认真，没有开玩笑）我虽然还没决定信不信，但听你们说这些，我一直有个疑问——耶稣在客西马尼那晚祷告，说「不要照我的意思，只要照你的意思」，那是他快死的时候说的，情境那么极端。可我们平时为考试、为找工作祷告，说真心话，我们心里想的其实就是「照我的意思吧」，没人真的一开口就准备好「不照我的意思也行」。这中间的落差，你们怎么处理？

　　Jack：（笑）这问题问得挺狠的，我确实每次祷告求的东西没成，心里都不是「哦那随主的意思」，是失望，甚至有点生气。

　　John：（对Sophia，先回应她）Sophia，我想先回答你的问题，因为这个不该被跳过——怀疑本身不等于罪。诗篇里大卫、亚萨，一次又一次在神面前发出近乎控诉的问题——「耶和华啊，你为何弃绝我？为何掩面不顾我的苦难？」这些话被收进圣经，成为我们可以照着祷告的诗篇，这本身就在告诉我们，把真实的困惑、甚至愤怒带到神面前，不是不信，反而可能是更深的信——因为你还愿意去找祂问，而不是转身走开、不再理祂。

　　Sophia：（眼眶有点红）可我心里那个声音，真的会问——如果祂顾念，为什么不做点什么？

　　John：这个问题我没办法给你一个让你立刻不痛的答案，我不想假装我有。我只能说，圣经里那位神，不是一个远远看着我们受苦、无动于衷的神。祂自己藉着耶稣，真实地进到人的苦难里——祂在拉撒路的坟墓前哭了，祂自己在十字架上经历了被离弃的极致痛苦。所以你朋友的病，还有你为她流的这些泪，神不是隔岸观火地看着，祂比你更早、更深地知道这份痛。

　　Jack：那这样说，祂知道，但祂还是没有医治，这不还是一样让人难受吗？

　　John：会难受，我不否认。但「知道并且亲身经历」跟「远远地不在乎」，是完全不一样的两件事。而且我们此刻看到的，只是这个故事还没写完的一段——圣经应许的，不是「今生一切都会照你要的方式变好」，是「神会把一切，包括这份痛苦，编织进一个最终导向复活和更新的结局里」，哪怕我们现在完全看不出来怎么编织。

　　Amy：（回到自己的问题）那客西马尼那个「不要照我的意思」，我还是没搞懂怎么落在我们身上。

　　John：我先说耶稣那晚祷告的完整画面——祂不是假装不害怕、假装无所谓地说这句话，祂是真实地、极其痛苦地求「若可能，叫这杯离开我」，祂真的不想经历十字架。祂先诚实地说出了自己想要的，然后才说「但愿你的意思成就」。这个顺序很重要——不是先压下自己真实的渴望，装出一副「随便，都听你的」，是先诚实地把自己真正想要的告诉神，然后在那份诚实之上，选择信靠祂比我更清楚什么是好的。

　　Amy：所以「照你的意思」不是先假装自己没有意思？

　　John：对，如果那样，那不是顺服，是压抑。真正的顺服，是先老老实实说「我真的很想要这个工作、这个成绩」，然后加上一句「但我信你比我更清楚，如果你不这样安排，我愿意信靠」。这两句话都要有，缺一句都不完整。

　　Peter：（想到什么）那我可以问一个听起来有点幼稚的问题吗？我有时候想为一些小事祷告——考试及格啦、找停车位啦，但每次话到嘴边又觉得太自我中心了，世界上还有战争、还有Sophia朋友那样的病，我怎么好意思为一个停车位打扰神？

　　Jenny：我也是，感觉小事祷告完自己都不好意思。

　　John：（笑）这个心态很常见，但我想反过来问——你觉得神的心力，是不是一种有限的资源，用在大事上多一点，小事上就没了？

　　Peter：……好像不该这么想，但确实心里是这样觉得的。

　　John：马太福音说，神连麻雀掉在地上都知道，连你们的头发都被数过。这不是说小事比大事重要，是说，对一位真正无限、又真正认识你的父亲来说，「大」和「小」的这个分类，本来就不是祂衡量爱的标准。你为停车位祷告，不是在浪费神的力气，是在操练一个习惯——把生活里每一件事，不分大小，都带到祂面前，这本身就是在活出「祂真的顾念我全部的生活」这件事。

　　Tom：（换了个角度，带点挑衅）说到「祂顾念」，我上学期修了一门Intro Neuroscience，教授讲，祷告能让人感觉平静，是因为祷告这个行为会激活大脑里跟压力调节有关的区域，跟冥想的效果差不多，是神经科学能解释的现象。他没说信不信神，但那个语气就是——「你觉得神在回应你，其实只是你自己大脑分泌的东西起作用」。我当时听着挺无力反驳的。

　　John：这个我完全理解你当时的感觉，因为表面上听起来确实很有说服力。我想问一句——你祷告的时候大脑里确实有生理反应，这个我不否认，神造的身体本来就是这样运作的。但「祷告的时候大脑有反应」这件事，能不能证明「祷告只是大脑反应，没有一个真实的对象在回应」？

　　Tom：……好像不能直接证明，只能说「有相关性」。

　　John：对，这正是关键。如果我现在跟你说话，你大脑里也会有一堆神经元在放电，这不代表「我说的话不是真的传到了你耳朵里，只是你脑子自己在放电」。神造我们，让我们借着一个有生理反应的大脑，去经历真实的关系——跟人的关系是这样，跟神的关系也是这样。神经科学能描述「祷告的时候身体发生了什么」，但它没办法回答「有没有一位神在那一头真的在听」，这个问题，从一开始就不是显微镜能看到的东西。而且，你那位教授在下这个判断之前，其实已经先假定了「除了物质和大脑反应，什么都不存在」，这个假定本身，才是他真正没有证明、只是拿来当出发点的东西。

　　Tom：（想了想，没有立刻反驳）……这倒是，他确实没证明这个前提，只是这么讲的时候听起来特别理所当然。

　　John：这正是这类说法最容易骗人的地方——听起来像是「科学证明了」，其实只是「科学观察到了一个现象，然后套上了一个没被证明的假设去解释它」。

　　Jack：（这时又提出一个更实际的疑问）那我还想问一个具体的——为病祷告到底有没有「用」？我表弟去年得了比较严重的病，我们全家、还有教会一起为他祷告了好几个月，他后来真的好转了，医生都说是奇迹。我表弟他自己开始信主了，说是这件事让他信的。可我另一个同学，跟Sophia朋友差不多的情况，一样很多人祷告，结果没能撑过去。这两个结果摆在一起，我该怎么理解？会不会只是「碰巧」——祷告的人多了，总有一部分「碰巧」好转，剩下的就用「神有更好的安排」来解释，跟我室友说的那个「怎样都对」的质疑，其实是一回事？

　　John：这是个很诚实、也很难的问题，我不想用一句「都是神的美意」就轻轻带过去。我先说，我不否认，有一些「奇迹见证」的故事，被讲述的时候确实有夸大、有选择性记忆的成分，这个我们该警惕，不该为了让见证更「感人」就添油加醋。但这不代表所有的医治，都能被简化成「碰巧」。

　　Jack：那怎么分？

　　John：我没办法给你一个能百分之百排除「碰巧」的证明，任何单一的个案，理论上都可能被质疑「只是自然恢复」。但我想请你注意一件事——不管结果是你表弟那样好转，还是Sophia朋友那样的处境，圣经从来没说「祷告的『用』，就是让病一定好」。祷告真正、稳定发生的「用」，不是每次都能让你看见的那种——是在你祷告的过程里，你跟神的关系被更新、你的心被塑造得更信靠、更谦卑；是神使用你们全家、全教会一起祷告这件事，把大家的心连结在一起、一起在苦难面前学习倚靠祂；有时候，也真的包括身体的医治，这是神在祂的自由和智慧里，选择要不要、什么时候要做的事，不是我们能预先订购、也不是「祷告人数够多」就能兑现的公式。

　　Jack：那这样说，跟「怎样都对」有什么不一样？

　　John：不一样的地方在于——「怎样都对」是说，不管发生什么，我都能编一套理由，让这件事「看起来」符合我的理论，逃避真正面对失望。我说的是，神应允祷告有具体、真实可以观察到的内容，不是抽象、什么都能套的空话——比如你表弟那件事里真实发生的信心的转变，比如Grace那个姐妹半年不敢祷告这件事本身提醒我们「信心公式」的教导是错的、需要被纠正，这些都是具体、可以被检验、也可能被证明是错的说法，不是一套怎么讲都赢的封闭系统。真正的差别不在「结果一定要如我所求」，是在于，我信靠的这位神，是不是真实地、在乎地介入我的生活，哪怕祂介入的方式，常常不是我预设的那一种。

　　Sophia：（重新回到自己的问题，声音还是低）那我朋友的病，我还是要继续祷告吗？就算大半年都没有起色。

　　John：要。不是因为祷告是一种保证书，是因为祷告本身，就是你跟神之间那份关系还活着的证据——你还愿意天天为她开口，说明你心里还相信，神在听、神在乎，哪怕祂选择的时间表你完全看不懂。而且，你不用一个人扛这个祷告，让我们今天在场的都一起为她祷告，这也是神安排我们彼此背负的方式之一。

　　Sophia：（点头，眼眶红着）……好。

讨论：

这一场谈到了对生病朋友的怀疑算不算罪、耶稣在客西马尼祷告时先诚实说出渴望再顺服的顺序、为小事祷告会不会太自我中心、神经科学对祷告的解释能不能否定神的真实，还有Jack提出的「奇迹见证会不会只是碰巧」的追问。请讨论：你有没有一件像Sophia那样，祷告很久却看不到起色、甚至让你开始怀疑神是否顾念的事？听完今天大家的讨论，你愿意今天就把这件事，用诗篇里那种诚实、甚至带着困惑的方式，带到神面前吗？

Lesson 6: Does Prayer Actually Work? — Prayer and Disappointment

(The first week of the new semester. The dorm assignment results have just been released. Everyone is sitting around the lounge area of the residence, and the atmosphere is quieter than usual.)

1. What Am I Actually Praying For?

Paul: (throws his phone onto the couch and leans back with a sigh) I just got the results from the One Card dorm lottery. I didn’t get in. I’ve been seriously praying these past few days, asking God to let me get a spot. I was even more serious about it than I was preparing for my interview. I actually made a list and prayed through it item by item.

Peter: So where are you going to live now?

Paul: I guess I’ll have to rent off campus. It’ll cost almost twice as much, and I have to find roommates all over again. It’s such a hassle. It’s not really about where I live. What I can’t understand is this: I prayed so seriously. How did it still end up like this?

Tom: (half-joking) Maybe you were praying in the wrong position. Or maybe you didn’t kneel long enough.

Paul: (not in the mood to laugh) I’m serious. Last semester I prayed about my GPA and about my co-op interview. The night before that interview, I practically knelt there begging God for half an hour. And they didn’t even invite me to a second interview. The rejection email was completely generic. They didn’t even give me a reason. It’s not that I don’t have faith. I genuinely don’t understand. If prayer actually works, then what exactly does it “do”? None of the things I asked for happened.

Jenny: (quietly) I’ve had times like that too. My first reaction was always, “Maybe my faith isn’t strong enough. Maybe I did something wrong, and that’s why God didn’t listen.” For a while, I even started keeping score—wondering whether there was something I’d done wrong recently, or some little sin I hadn’t confessed, that was making my prayers ineffective. It became like trying to pay off a debt. The more I calculated, the more anxious I became.

John: (puts his jacket over the back of a chair and sits down) What you two just described are actually two different questions, so let’s take them one at a time. Paul, as a side note, I never got my dorm assignment either. I ended up sharing a basement room around Wesbrook that didn’t even have a window. There was no sunlight in the winter. I practically started growing mold. So I understand the pain. Paul is asking, “Does prayer actually accomplish anything?” Jenny is asking, “If my prayer wasn’t answered, was it my fault?” The logic behind those two questions is actually quite different.

Jack: Then let’s start with Paul’s question. I’ve always had an even more basic question. If God has already determined His plan, and everything is under His sovereignty, then when I ask Him to change the outcome, aren’t I asking Him to change His own will? Isn’t that kind of absurd? Who am I to tell an almighty God what to do? My roommate studies philosophy, and he once said to me, “Prayer is basically a ritual of self-comfort. If what you ask for happens, you say God answered your prayer. If it doesn’t happen, you say God had another plan. No matter what happens, your system can explain it. So what’s the point? Whatever happens, you’re going to say you’re right.” I had absolutely no answer at the time.

Tom: Exactly. And if you think about it that way, prayer sounds more like bargaining. “God, please let me get the dorm.” Isn’t that basically negotiating with God?

John: Those are both very substantial questions. I wrestled with them for a long time when I was younger too. Let’s start with your roommate’s objection that prayer is a system where “anything can count as the right answer.” If you apply that criticism to a dishonest believer, it can certainly be valid. There are people who turn “God answered my prayer” and “God had another plan” into a way of always being able to claim victory without honestly facing disappointment. That’s something we should be alert to and repent of. But that doesn’t mean prayer itself necessarily works that way. You can’t judge whether a theory is sound merely by looking at how people misuse it to avoid difficult questions. You have to ask whether the theory itself can withstand examination. We’ll talk about this more specifically later. When the Bible speaks of God answering prayer, it isn’t giving us a blank check where “anything counts.” There are concrete things that can genuinely be observed. It’s just that the answer is often not the particular “result” we ordered.

John: And Jack, regarding your question about whether asking God to change His will is absurd, let me ask you something. The Bible commands us to pray. The same Bible also says that God’s will was established from eternity, and that even the falling of a single hair is under His sovereign care. Scripture puts those two things together without ever treating them as contradictory. Could it be that we’re starting with the wrong picture—that we’re imagining prayer as “trying to persuade a God who hasn’t made up His mind yet”?

Peter: Then what is it?

John: Prayer is more like this: God has determined not only the outcome, but also the means by which that outcome will come about. And your prayer itself is part of those means. God didn’t first make His plan and then have your prayer interrupt it, forcing Him to change His mind. From the beginning, within His plan, God included the fact that you would pray about this particular matter. The Dutch theologian Herman Bavinck, when discussing God’s providence, specifically addresses prayer. In essence, he says that in His providence, God not only determines what will happen, but also determines the means by which it will happen. Sunshine and rain are means. Human labor is a means. Prayer is also one of the means God has ordained. Prayer isn’t something that fights against God’s sovereignty; it is included within that sovereignty.

Jack: (frowning) That sounds a little complicated. It feels like you’re just trying to make the pieces fit.

John: I understand why it feels that way. Let me give you a much simpler analogy. If your mother has already decided to cook your favorite meal tonight, would you say, “Then thanking her for cooking it is meaningless, because she was going to make it anyway”?

Jack: No. I’d still thank her. And if I never told her that I liked that dish, she might not even know I wanted it.

John: Exactly. That’s the point. God’s sovereignty and your prayer aren’t two competing things where only one can remain. God Himself has ordained to accomplish His will through your requests. James says, “You do not have because you do not ask.” If you take that seriously, prayer isn’t a meaningless ritual. It is a real and significant part of the way God has chosen to work.

Paul: (still unconvinced) Okay, even if that logic makes sense, the things I asked for still didn’t happen. I didn’t get the dorm, and I didn’t get the interview. So where exactly was the “effect” of prayer in those situations? If the result is still “no,” what’s the difference between praying and not praying?

John: This is where I think we need to give you the most honest answer. The “effect” of prayer has never meant, “Whatever I ask for, God gives me.” Scripture never promises that. When Jesus teaches us to pray, the first requests are, “Hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come. Your will be done.” We begin by asking for God’s glory and God’s will, rather than starting with a list of everything we want.

Tom: (challenging him) But doesn’t that become another universal excuse? Whenever God doesn’t answer, we just say, “Oh, that was God’s will. You weren’t supposed to ask for the result; you were supposed to learn obedience.” Doesn’t that make prayer meaningless? Does God actually care about the specific thing I’m asking for?

John: That’s a fair pushback. I don’t want to give you an answer that simply erases the importance of the outcome. That wouldn’t be honest either. God does care about the specific thing you’re asking for. He invites you to bring your actual anxieties—your GPA, your interview, your dorm assignment—to Him. That’s not childish. That’s exactly what He wants. But His answer doesn’t come in only one form: “Yes, I’ll give you exactly what you asked for.” Sometimes the answer is yes. Sometimes it’s no. Sometimes it’s not yet. And sometimes, through not giving you what you asked for, God is doing something else that you cannot yet see.

Jenny: (hesitantly) Can I tell you about something that happened to me? Last semester I prayed seriously before an exam, and I still didn’t do well. My first reaction really was, “Maybe my faith wasn’t strong enough, and that’s why God ignored me.” I even asked an older girl in my Bible study group. She told me, “If you really believe, God will definitely answer you.” That made me even more anxious. It felt as though failing the exam directly proved that my faith wasn’t good enough.

John: That’s a very common reaction. But honestly, there may be a wrong assumption hidden inside it: that prayer is a kind of magical formula. If your “faith level” is high enough, you get the result you want. If you don’t get it, then your formula must have been wrong. That logic sounds spiritual, but at its core it is actually very similar to idolatry. It treats “faith” as a kind of leverage we can use to control God, rather than simply trusting a sovereign God who truly loves us. Your Bible study leader may have meant well, but stated that way, it can easily become a harmful teaching—a kind of “faith formula.”

Grace: (joining in, with some personal struggle in her voice) I’ve served in church for several years, and I’ve seen far too much of this kind of “faith formula” teaching: “Your prayer wasn’t answered because your faith wasn’t strong enough,” or “You haven’t confessed your sin thoroughly enough.” I once discipled a woman whose family member was seriously ill. She prayed for a long time without seeing any improvement, and someone simply told her, “There must be something wrong with your faith.” She stopped praying for almost six months afterward. She said she was afraid that her “prayer technique” wasn’t good enough and that she was somehow making things worse for her family.

Tom: That’s terrible. That’s like pouring salt into an open wound.

Grace: Exactly. I was angry about it at the time. But I also have to admit that sometimes I unconsciously think the same way. When a prayer isn’t answered, my first reaction can be, “What did I do wrong?” rather than honestly admitting that God’s wisdom is greater than mine and that He sees things I cannot see.

John: Grace is exactly right. That’s what I want to say. The question “Is my faith strong enough?” may be pointing in the wrong direction. The deeper question is: Am I trusting a God who is truly good, truly wise, and truly worthy of my trust? If so, then His not giving me what I want doesn’t mean He doesn’t care, and it doesn’t mean that I have failed some spiritual test. It means He sees a larger picture that I cannot yet see.

Paul: (silent for a moment) …Then how should I change the way I pray about interviews and my GPA?

John: Don’t stop asking for specific things. But when you ask, hold onto a deeper posture of surrender: “God, I really want this. Please let it happen. But if You have another plan, I am willing to trust that You know better than I do what is good.” That’s not just something you say with your lips. It’s something you have to learn through practice. We’ll come back to that.

Discussion

This conversation explored whether God’s sovereignty and human prayer contradict each other, Jack’s roommate’s objection that prayer can always explain any outcome, and the self-blame that often appears when our prayers aren’t answered: “Maybe my faith wasn’t strong enough.” Grace also shared the story of a woman who stopped praying for six months because she had been taught a “faith formula.” Discuss: Think of something you once prayed for sincerely but did not receive. Looking back on it now, after today’s discussion, is there anything different about how you feel about that experience compared with how you felt at the time?

2. Do I Really Believe That He Cares?

Sophia: (looking down, her voice heavy) I want to talk about something that’s harder to say. A very close friend of mine is sick. Not just a cold—it’s a serious illness. I’ve been praying for her for almost half a year, every day, asking God to help her. But her condition hasn’t improved at all. Recently, it’s actually gotten worse. I don’t doubt that God has the power to heal her. What I’m beginning to doubt is whether He actually cares about this situation. Is it a sin to have that kind of doubt?

(The room becomes quiet.)

Amy: (serious this time, without joking) I haven’t decided whether I believe yet, but listening to all of you has raised a question for me. Jesus prayed in Gethsemane, “Not my will, but yours be done.” But that was the night before He died. The situation was extreme. In everyday life, when we pray about exams or jobs, if we’re honest, what we’re actually thinking is, “Please let it go my way.” Nobody really starts praying already prepared to say, “It’s okay if it doesn’t go my way.” How do you deal with that gap?

Jack: (laughs) That’s a pretty tough question. Honestly, every time something I pray for doesn’t happen, my reaction isn’t, “Okay, I’ll accept the Lord’s will.” I’m disappointed. Sometimes I’m even angry.

John: (to Sophia, answering her first) Sophia, I want to answer your question first, because we shouldn’t skip over it. Doubt itself is not necessarily sin. In the Psalms, David and Asaph repeatedly bring deeply painful questions before God: “Why, O LORD, do you reject me? Why do you hide your face from my suffering?” These words were preserved in Scripture as prayers we ourselves are allowed to pray. That tells us something important: bringing genuine confusion, even anger, before God isn’t necessarily unbelief. It may actually be a deeper form of faith, because you’re still willing to go to Him with your questions rather than turning away and walking off.

Sophia: (eyes beginning to tear up) But there’s a voice inside me that keeps asking, “If He cares, why doesn’t He do something?”

John: I don’t have an answer that can immediately take away the pain. I don’t want to pretend that I do. I can only say that the God revealed in Scripture isn’t a God who watches human suffering from a distance without caring. Through Jesus, He Himself entered into human suffering. He wept at Lazarus’s tomb. And on the cross, He Himself experienced the deepest agony of abandonment. So your friend’s illness, and all the tears you’ve shed praying for her, are not something God watches from a safe distance. He knows that pain more deeply, and knew it before you did.

Jack: But if He knows and still doesn’t heal her, isn’t that still painful?

John: It is painful. I won’t deny that. But “knowing and personally entering into suffering” is completely different from “watching from a distance and not caring.” And what we’re seeing right now is only one part of a story that hasn’t finished. The promise of Scripture isn’t that everything in this life will eventually turn out exactly the way we want. The promise is that God will weave everything—including suffering—into an ultimate story that leads toward resurrection and renewal, even when we have absolutely no idea right now how He could possibly do that.

Amy: (returning to her own question) I still don’t understand how Jesus’ “not my will” applies to us.

John: Let me first describe the full picture of Jesus’ prayer that night. He wasn’t pretending not to be afraid. He wasn’t casually saying, “Whatever happens is fine.” He genuinely and intensely prayed, “If it is possible, let this cup pass from me.” He really did not want to experience the cross. He first honestly expressed what He wanted, and only then said, “Yet not my will, but yours be done.” That order matters. It isn’t about suppressing what you genuinely want and pretending to say, “Whatever, I’ll do whatever you want.” It means honestly telling God what you truly desire, and then, in the midst of that honesty, choosing to trust that He knows better than you what is good.

Amy: So saying “Your will be done” doesn’t mean pretending I don’t have my own will in the first place?

John: Exactly. If that’s what it meant, it wouldn’t be submission. It would be suppression. Genuine submission is saying, “I really want this job. I really want this grade.” And then adding, “But I trust that You know better than I do. If You don’t arrange things this way, I am willing to trust You.” Both statements matter. If either one is missing, something is incomplete.

Peter: (thinking of something) Can I ask a question that might sound childish? Sometimes I want to pray about small things—passing an exam, finding a parking spot—but just when I’m about to say it, I feel selfish. There are wars in the world. Sophia’s friend is seriously ill. How can I bother God with something as trivial as a parking spot?

Jenny: Same here. Sometimes I feel embarrassed even after praying about something small.

John: (smiles) That’s a very common way of thinking. But let me turn the question around. Do you think God’s attention is a limited resource, so if He spends more of it on big things, He has less left for small things?

Peter: …I know I probably shouldn’t think that way, but honestly, that’s kind of how I feel.

John: Matthew tells us that God knows even when a sparrow falls to the ground, and that the hairs on your head are numbered. That doesn’t mean small things are more important than big things. It means that for a Father who is truly infinite and who truly knows you, the categories of “big” and “small” aren’t the measure of His love. When you pray about finding a parking spot, you’re not wasting God’s energy. You’re practicing a habit of bringing every part of your life before Him, without deciding that some things are too small to matter. That itself is part of living as though He really does care about your whole life.

Tom: (changing direction, somewhat provocatively) Speaking of whether He cares, I took an introductory neuroscience course last semester. The professor said that prayer can make people feel calmer because the act of praying activates areas of the brain associated with stress regulation. It’s similar to the effects of meditation. It’s something neuroscience can explain. He didn’t say whether he believed in God, but the implication was basically, “You think God is responding to you, but it’s actually just your brain producing these effects.” I didn’t really know how to respond.

John: I completely understand why that felt difficult to answer. On the surface, it sounds quite persuasive. Let me ask you something. When you pray, there really are physiological responses in your brain. I don’t deny that. God created our bodies, and that’s how our bodies function. But can the fact that your brain responds physiologically during prayer prove that prayer is nothing more than a brain response, with no real person on the other end listening?

Tom: …I guess it can’t directly prove that. It can only show a correlation.

John: Exactly. That’s the key. If I talk to you right now, there will also be a whole series of neurons firing in your brain. That doesn’t mean, “What John is saying isn’t really reaching your ears; it’s just my brain firing.” God created us to experience real relationships through a brain that has real physiological responses. That’s true of our relationships with other people, and it’s also true of our relationship with God. Neuroscience can describe what happens in your body while you pray. It cannot answer the question, “Is there actually a God on the other end listening?” That question was never something a microscope could see in the first place. And before your professor made that conclusion, he had already assumed that nothing exists beyond matter and brain activity. That assumption itself is the thing he hasn’t actually proven; he has simply taken it as his starting point.

Tom: (thinking about it, without immediately arguing back) …That’s true. He didn’t actually prove that assumption. He just presented it as though it were completely obvious.

John: Exactly. That’s what makes this kind of argument easy to misunderstand. It can sound as though “science has proved it,” when in reality science has observed a phenomenon and then interpreted it through an assumption that itself hasn’t been proved.

Jack: (raising another practical question) Then I have another specific question. Does prayer for healing actually “work”? My cousin had a pretty serious illness last year. Our whole family, along with people at church, prayed for him for several months. He eventually got better. Even the doctors called it a miracle. My cousin himself became a Christian afterward. He said that experience was what led him to believe. But I have another classmate whose situation was similar to Sophia’s friend. A lot of people prayed, but he didn’t make it. When I put those two outcomes side by side, how am I supposed to understand them? Could it just be coincidence? If enough people pray, some people will naturally recover “by chance,” and then the recoveries are called miracles while the deaths are explained as “God had a better plan.” Isn’t that really the same as my roommate’s objection that the system can explain anything?

John: That’s a very honest and difficult question. I don’t want to dismiss it with a quick “Everything is God’s good purpose.” First, I don’t deny that some miracle stories are exaggerated or shaped by selective memory when people retell them. We should be cautious about that. We shouldn’t embellish a testimony just to make it more moving. But that doesn’t mean every healing can simply be reduced to coincidence.

Jack: Then how do you tell the difference?

John: I can’t give you a proof that eliminates the possibility of coincidence with one hundred percent certainty. Any individual case can theoretically be challenged as simply a case of natural recovery. But I want you to notice something. Whether the outcome is like your cousin’s recovery or like Sophia’s friend’s situation, Scripture never says that the “use” of prayer is that every illness will necessarily be healed. The real and consistent work of prayer isn’t always something you can immediately see. It is that through prayer, your relationship with God is renewed and your heart is shaped to become more trusting and humble. It is that God uses the prayers of your family and the whole church to bind people together and teach them to depend on Him in suffering. And sometimes it genuinely does include physical healing. That is something God, in His freedom and wisdom, may choose to do, but it isn’t something we can order in advance or guarantee by accumulating enough prayers.

Jack: Then how is that different from saying “anything counts as the right answer”?

John: The difference is this: “Anything counts” means that no matter what happens, I can invent an explanation that makes the event appear to fit my theory, allowing me to avoid actually facing disappointment. What I’m saying is that God’s answers to prayer have concrete, real, observable content. They’re not vague statements that can be applied to anything. For example, the genuine transformation of your cousin’s faith is something that actually happened. And the fact that Grace’s friend stopped praying for six months because of the “faith formula” teaching is itself something concrete that exposes the error of that teaching and calls for correction. These are specific claims that can be examined and can potentially be shown to be wrong. They aren’t a closed system that automatically wins every argument. The real difference isn’t that the outcome must always be exactly what I requested. The difference is whether the God I trust is actually and personally involved in my life and cares about me, even when His way of intervening is not the way I expected.

Sophia: (returning to her original question, her voice still quiet) Then should I keep praying for my friend? Even after more than half a year without improvement?

John: Yes. Not because prayer is a guarantee, but because prayer itself is evidence that your relationship with God is still alive. You are still willing to speak for her every day because, somewhere in your heart, you still believe that God hears and that God cares, even though you cannot understand His timing at all. And you don’t have to carry this prayer alone. Let all of us here pray for her today. That’s also one of the ways God has arranged for us to bear one another’s burdens.

Sophia: (nods, eyes red) …Okay.

Discussion

This conversation explored whether doubting God’s care for a sick friend is sinful, the order of Jesus’ prayer in Gethsemane—first honestly expressing His desire, then submitting to God’s will—whether praying about small things is too self-centered, whether neuroscience can explain away the reality of God in prayer, and Jack’s question about whether miracle testimonies might simply be coincidence. Discuss: Is there something in your life like Sophia’s situation—something you’ve prayed about for a long time without seeing improvement, something that has even made you wonder whether God really cares? After today’s discussion, are you willing to bring that matter before God today in the kind of honest, even questioning way we see in the Psalms?