Listen closely and you can still hear the old serpent’s hiss behind the popular slogans of our day: “Believe in yourselvesss. Follow your heartsss. The answersss are within.” The slogans, like the serpent’s original rhetoric, sound innocuous and even morally good—but their “feel good” vibes just mask their insidious aims to convince you of the oldest lie in the book: that you have the sovereign power to determine meaning and define reality however you like.
Thanks to Carl Trueman’s bestsellers The Rise and Triumph of the Modern Self and Strange New World, Christians are in a far better place to understand this bizarre cultural moment. How did we get to a place where humans with XY chromosomes—otherwise known as males—have risen to dominance in female sports, won acclaim as one of USA Today’s Women of the Year, and been hosted by the Smithsonian to perform interactive drag shows for young children?
Trueman does a stellar job retracing the steps from Rousseau, Nietzsche, Marx, and other thought leaders, through the sexual revolution, and up to our day. His analysis is spot on, so far as it goes. But what if there’s a far more ancient origin to the expressive individualism trending in our day? (Full disclosure: I had an on-air discussion with Trueman suggesting this very thesis, and he heartily agreed.)
Maker’s Knowledge
In Genesis 3 we behold the “Tree of Knowledge.” The serpent tempts humanity’s first couple with a pitch to be “like God, knowing good and evil” (Gen. 3:5). We typically use the English word “know” in ways that blur the meaning of Genesis. Allow me to offer a real-life scenario in which our English word “know” comes closer to the ancient Hebrew of Genesis 3.
After college, I lived in a bachelor pad with friends. One of those friends, Dave, was a founding member of a band called Linkin Park. Their debut album, Hybrid Theory, had recently gone multiplatinum. Dave was hard at work with his bandmates crafting their sophomore release, Meteora, which went on to be certified platinum seven times over. He returned from the studio daily and we would listen through the rough concept tracks of what became over 50 songs, only 12 of which survived the final cut.
I had questions. What effect are you using there? What inspired that track? How did you make that part sound so face-meltingly huge? I never once stumped him. Dave knew the songs. He didn’t know them because he’d blasted them on the radio over and over or studied the sheet music bar by bar. He knew them because he made them. Dave knew why the song was that way because he personally chose to make it that way. He had a maker’s knowledge. He had what ancient Jews would have called bachar, the very thing offered by the serpent in Genesis 3.
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