On the Importance of Presuppositions

I recently had a conversation — a fairly innocuous one at the outset — which reminded me of how presuppositions can change the entire meaning of things. As I reflected on the conversation, I mentally worked on the primary thought experiment I had used in the conversation, and thought it would make a worthwhile blog post. We'll see how correct that was...

The occasion for the conversation was an interview on a Christian radio station that we were listening to in a car trip. The show's guest was a prominent apologist who was promoting his new book and taking questions from callers. I happened to disagree with much of what the guest was saying, and at times couldn't help but express my disagreement aloud — much to the chagrin of the rest of the car, I'm sure.

At the end of the broadcast, the guest made a sort of 'closing argument', in which he summarized the main point of his book. After the host signed off, I said aloud, 'By the way, don't buy his book. He's wrong.'

Someone responded, 'So you disagree with what he just said?'

'Well... not really,' I replied. 'I think he and I agree on the literal meaning of what he just said. But I know where he's coming from, and so I know that when he says what he just said, it implies different things than if I were to say the same thing.' What I meant was that our presuppositions were different, and that therefore gave different meaning to the same words and phrases.

In philosophy and apologetics, a presupposition is a belief which is foundational to a particular worldview. Usually presuppositions are axiomatic, meaning that one forms one's presuppositions without firm proof of their truth. For example, one of the most universal presuppositions is the belief that one's memory is reasonably reliable — that is, the past actually did happen and is not merely a complete fabrication of one's own mind.

The affirmation or denial of certain presuppositions can have radical worldview-altering effects. Imagine for a second if you were to presuppose that your memory was completely unreliable and that nothing actually occurred before this moment: that everything you 'remember' happening never did happen. Or imagine that the external world does not actually exist: that your life is all one big dream, and everything around you is a figment of your imagination. It would change the entire way you behave and interact with the world, wouldn't it?

One of the theological applications of the idea of presuppositions is the existence of God. Since the early 20th century, apologists and philosophers in the Reformed tradition have argued that one cannot absolutely prove or disprove the existence of God; one can only presuppose his existence or non-existence. I won't here delve into the debate over this so-called 'presuppositional apologetics', but only wish to mention its importance to modern Reformed theology.

At the time, I didn't go into a lengthy definition of 'presupposition'. Instead, I gave the following example, using simple arithmetic, which I've refined for this blog.

Below are two different presuppositions, which I've hidden in a black background. You, the reader, get to participate in this demonstration. Select one and only one of those presuppositions, and move your mouse over its corresponding black box to reveal it.

Presupposition A:   The ¤ sign signifies addition. I.e., '1 ¤ 2' is the equivalent of '1 + 2'.  

Presupposition B:   The ¤ sign signifies multiplication. I.e., '1 ¤ 2' is the equivalent of '1 × 2'.  

Now look at Equation 1 below. Given your presupposition, is the equation true?

Equation 1: 2 ¤ 2 = 4

If you have presupposed Presupposition A, you would say that Equation 1 is true, correct? If you have presupposed Presupposition B, you would also say that Equation 1 is true, correct? Now look at Equation 2 below. Is it true?

Equation 2: 2 ¤ 3 = 8

Again, regardless of whether you have presupposed A or B, you would say that Equation 2 is false. If this were all the more data we had, we might conclude that the presuppositions you hold are insignificant. After all, those who presuppose A and those who presuppose B are in 100% agreement about the truth or falsity of Equations 1 and 2! But now look at Equation 3.

Equation 3: 2 ¤ 4 = 6

If you presupposed A, you would say that Equation 3 is true. But if you presupposed B, you would say that Equation 3 is false. Despite the prior agreements, it turns out that the differences between Presuppositions A and B may actually be significant! Go ahead now and look back at the presupposition which you did not select, and you can see how the initial agreements over Equations 1 and 2 occurred.

Those who presuppose A and those who presuppose B may agree on certain statements being true or false, but they may not realize that they agree for different reasons. And while the reasons for that agreement may not have initially seemed significant, eventually the differences came to the surface. In this case, it wasn't until Equation 3 that the contrast between the two presuppositions became apparent. And now that you know what that difference is — the difference between addition and multiplication — you know how much A and B actually disagree!

Finally, suppose that someone instead holds Presupposition C, as defined below.

Presupposition C: The ¤ sign signifies an exponential. I.e., '1 ¤ 2' is the equivalent of '1²'.

Someone who presupposed C would also agree that Equation 1 is true; but he would believe Equation 2 to be true, in contrast to both A and B; and disagree with A that Equation 3 is true, but agree with B that it is false. But it should be obvious at this point that their agreements and disagreements are largely insignificant in the larger picture.¹ Even though C agrees with both A and B about the truth of Equation 1, no one would ever say that their agreement demonstrates that A, B, and C share common ground about what ¤ signifies. In reality, they all believe that ¤ signifies mutually exclusive ideas!

Jumping back to the radio show, the different presuppositions which the show's guest and I brought to the table meant that we could utter the same words — i.e., the same linguistic signs and symbols — but each intend different meanings and implications. It didn't really matter that I 'agreed' with the guest's closing statement. Because we first disagreed on some basic theological beliefs, we were also really disagreeing, even when it appeared that we agreed.

One practical example of this is the contrast between orthodox Christianity and Mormonism on the nature of God. Both religions use the word 'God' throughout their theologies; both believe that God exists in three persons; and both use the word 'Godhead' to refer to the three-parts of God.

But the orthodox Christian and Mormon conceptions of God are quite different. Orthodox Christianity is trinitarian, meaning that it believes that God is three distinct persons who coexist as one being — a paradox of unity and relationship seen as key to understanding who God is. Mormonism, on the other hand, is non-trinitarian and instead believes that God is three persons, who exist as three separate beings.

Without going too deeply into the implications of trinitarianism, suffice it to say that this nuance of difference between orthodox Christianity and Mormonism helps to partially explain many of the more apparent differences between the two religions, such as the Mormon beliefs in other gods, in the existence of the Heavenly Mother, and in the exaltation of believers to become gods themselves.

This can happen across any range of discussions, not just inter-faith ones: Does God exist? What is necessary to 'prove' something? What sources can one use for an ethical system? Can science explain that which is not observable? &c. After all, presuppositions account for some of the most fundamental beliefs by which we understand the world, much like tinted glasses.

In conclusion, I hope you take away the following: even when there is surface agreement, it is often important to be aware of where disagreements may lie underneath the surface. It is important both to understand why we both agree and disagree. While it is important that we celebrate agreement, we must also be careful that we are not also naïvely believing that agreement exists where it really does not.

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¹That is not to say that the agreements between contrasting presuppositions are entirely unimportant. In fact, sometimes the small areas of agreement can be very interesting. For example, a mathematician may be very much intrigued by the fact that 2 + 2, 2 × 2, and 2² all equal the same result.

Or put another way: brandywine, pear brandy, and apple brandy are all made from different fruit and each result in different end products. But there's a significance to the fact that all three use roughly the same process to manufacture — at least enough similarity to call all three products brandy.

Further Thoughts on The Meaning of Marriage

In one of my previous posts, I began to expound upon some of the ideas in Timothy Keller's new book, The Meaning of Marriage. I specifically looked at some of the 'bad reasons' — often, a form of idolization — that people have for overvaluing certain characteristics in potential spouses. (See also my supplementary article where I explained why I treat reasons and motives with such primacy — often even above actions.) This is an idea that I've written about before, and regarding which I've shared a number of other authors' and theologians' thoughts.

I now want to look at a second set of ideas that Keller writes about in the book: the dynamics of marriage. I mean 'dynamics' in its most raw definition — the pattern or history of changes. I want to look at how and why change occurs within marriage and, having recognized those dynamics, what that should mean to how we view and approach marriage.

I first start with one of the fundamentals of marriage which Keller gives. I haven't been able to find this phrasing in the book, but it's one which he used in a recent talk that he gave at Google:

The Christian understanding of the mission of marriage is deep character change through deep friendship.

Keller not only wants us to recognize that people change over the course of the marriage, but that change is one of the purposes of marriage! Because of the special covenant relationship between husband and wife, one of the ways that the marriage glorifies God is to spur each other along in God's work of sanctification.¹ It seems to be Keller's answer to the question that Gary Thomas asked, 'What if God designed marriage to make us holy more than to make us happy?'

There are a couple of facets to this lifelong change. In the first place, a person who gets married will change simply by the fact that he or she is now married. If marriage is the monumental event that we rightly perceive it to be, one cannot help but be monumentally changed by it. By entering into a committed covenant of promise, one's entire life will be different.

In addition to this quantum leap that happens at the moment of marriage, spouses change over the course of the marriage. Much of this is just the natural evolution of a person over a lifetime. Other changes are the result of purposeful effort by both spouses or by other environmental forces.

These dynamics in marriage can, of course, be both positive and negative. The positive changes are going to be those that directly play into the sanctification that each spouse is undergoing. Certain sins which were present at the beginning of the marriage may become negligible several years (decades?) in. Certain quirks which may have annoyed one person may be tolerated as each partner grows in grace towards one another.

But there are also going to be negative changes. Just as certain quirks fade away, minor annoyances known about before marriage may become exasperating when experienced intimately within marriage. Likewise, there may also be certain qualities which one valued in one's spouse which are no longer present. The most obvious example there is physical appearance, but valued aspects of personality may also change.

To demonstrate the point, Keller uses one of his favorite quotes from Lewis Smedes: 'When I married my wife, I had hardly a smidgen of sense for what I was getting into with her. How could I know how much she would change over 25 years? How could I know how much I would change? My wife has lived with at least five different men since we were wed—and each of the five has been me.'

What is remarkable, when you really start to think about the reality of that statement, is that each 'different man' probably had his own positive characteristics and his own negative characteristics. With God's grace, there was hopefully a perceptible progress of sanctification. But it's just that each 'different man' was qualitatively different, but that each came with its own new challenges.

One way to mentally visualize the sort of change which your spouse — and you yourself! — may undergo in the full course of a marriage, is to remember what you were like just before you went off to college. Compare that pre-college you to present-day you. The number of differences between those two people is likely staggering. Many of your high school classmates probably wouldn't even recognize present-day you: physically, personally, spiritually, emotionally. And that was probably only a decade ago or less! Some of those changes were the direct result of going off to college; and some were the natural evolution of you as a human. Now extrapolate that dynamism to 50-plus years of marriage.

Yes, in some ways you have probably stabilized a bit since late adolescence. But the catalyst of many of those changes — moving out of your parents' house, changes to daily life, shift in life goals, new relationships — is comparable to the catalyst which marriage can be. The culture shock of moving out from under your parents' roof is, in many ways, a mirror image of the culture shock of moving in with your spouse and being in a covenant of service to him/her. The change in priorities when you went off to college will also be analogous to the changes in priorities in that same covenant of marriage; your daily routine will change; &c. I don't want to overplay the parallels, but the point should be clear.

You may think you have figured out who you are since you graduated from high school, but the moment you enter into marriage and take that new relationship seriously, your life will change so radically that you will be figuring it out all over again. (And maybe again when you hit that mid-life crisis...) Fortunately, this time around, you'll have someone committed to helping you figure it out and to always remind you that, above all, you are God's child.

Hold on Loosely
For those in marriage, understanding this dynamic nature is a paradigm shift. It means you cannot cling too tightly to the dynamics of life. Love your spouse's physique; love that way he smiles at you; love the way she laughs. But understand that those may pass in time. Even personality traits — which we often see as fairly permanent — will pass and morph over time. Again compare your present personality to the one you had in high school. Marriage simply cannot realistically be based upon such ephemera.

Smedes goes on to say, after the bit above, telling us instead what marriage invites us to grasp onto: 'The connecting link with my old self has always been the memory of the name I took on back there: "I am he who will be there with you." When we slough off that name, lose that identity, we can hardly find ourselves again.' I'll return to what this tangibly means, but I first want to add another observation to the pot.

With this understanding, change becomes something that you not only anticipate and expect, but also pursue. As Keller puts it, the very mission of marriage, as an instrument for sanctification, is to change people. God uses spouses to direct people to him, and as people become more and more directed to him, they change. Thus, for Christians there is a definite telos (purpose or end) to the change that happens in marriage; it is not merely chaotic change or change for change's sake.

Therefore, one of the essential elements of Christian marriage is that you are not only in love with your spouse and you are not only in love with God, but you are also in love with what your spouse is in the process of becoming as you grow closer to God together. You are not satisfied with your spouse as s/he is. Instead of merely saying, 'I love you just the way you are,' you say, 'I love what I see you becoming, and I want to be there as God makes you into that person.'

Of course, this perspective on change within marriage is of a completely different nature from that cliché of the wife who hopes to mould her husband into her own image. Rather, Christ is our model: each spouse should be helping the other to become more like him.

Turn and Face the Strain
But if the mission of marriage is to change your character to better become like God's, that means that marriage will bring you into direct conflict with your own self-centered nature. You will not like this, guaranteed. Thus there will be conflict. Sometimes it will be your self-centered nature battling against your spouse's godliness; sometimes it will be both of your self-centered natures jousting with each other.

Keller likens this process to a rock tumbler. A rock in a tumble polisher will be battered about by other rocks in the tumbler. In the process rough corners are knocked off, but the result is a smooth, shiny gem. There will be parts of yourself that you hold dear, but which marriage will painfully knock off from you. But you will be the better for it. And if you understand the telos towards which God is bringing you two and how he is using marriage to accomplish those ends, you will embrace that conflict.

Pledging My Time
This brings us back to the second half of the Smedes quote. For while both spouses will change over the course of the marriage, there is one constant: the promise you both made before God. How does a marriage endure the pain that some change can bring? The promise. Even though you may fall in love with who you think your spouse is (and Smedes questions whether even your spouse ever knows who s/he is!), you also make a promise to who s/he will become. You promise to love even when you do like. And your spouse has made the same promise to you and your future self. And lest we overlook the obvious, the strength to fulfill those promises in the darkest days of marriage can come only from God.

Just as an understanding of the dynamics of marriage should inform how one faces changes within a marriage, it should also inform how one prepares for marriage. It should inform what you look for in a potential spouse, from the very inception of a romantic relationship.

In light of this, Keller suggests that you should be looking for someone who is our could be your most trusted counselor and best friend. And since, as Keller says, marriage is built upon not just friendship, but deep friendship, your spouse should be someone who deeply understands you.

It Makes a Tiny Spark
Finding someone who will be your most trusted counselor and best friend isn't something you can accurately judge based on that spark of instant attraction or love at first sight. That's something that only comes after you've started to get to know a person, whether through casual friendship over time or intentional dating. And so we should regret, along with Keller, our typical approach.

As Keller puts it, 'What really happens is: you're a single person and you walk into a room with other singles — let's say there's ten other people there. You immediately, by looking at them, eliminate seven. You know you do; it's all on the basis of looks and polish. But probably your best candidate for somebody who could be a lifelong friend partner, you just eliminated. They didn't make your first cut.'

While Keller is careful to say that he is not totally discounting 'attraction' or 'chemistry', he does turn the conventional paradigm on his head. 'Friendship does not flow out of great sexual chemistry; sexual chemistry grows out of terrific friendship.' If we truly comprehend how dynamic marriage is and how much people change even within marriage, this maxim shouldn't surprise us in the least. For if what we know about marriage's dynamism is true, and if your starting baseline is that initial spark of attraction, then your starting baseline is the very thing which has the least permanence.

As a parenthesis, I'm reminded of a sort of challenge which my college friends and I used to discuss. The premise of the challenge was this: when you get married, in the first year of your marriage, put a penny in a jar every time you have sex. Every time you have sex after that first year of marriage, remove a penny from the jar. Chances are, so they say, you won't empty the jar. In other words, you'll have sex more times in that first year of marriage than you will for the entire rest of the marriage.

I have no idea what basis, if any, there is for the myth, but it's at least believable, even if not at all true. And it's believable because we instinctively know how ephemeral those initial sparks of attraction are. Yet we nevertheless look past that and plan for our marriage based more on the short-term rather than on long-term. We naïvely look for someone who gives us that ineffable thrill, when we should instead look for someone with whom we can build a core of friendship that will overshadow even the highest heights of the thrill.

When we understand the telos of marriage, we can also know that those initial sparks will be replaced by something even greater: an even deeper passion. When we judge potential spouses primarily by the things which give us a spark, we are really settling for far too little. We are C.S. Lewis' ignorant child, too easily pleased by mud pies in our backyard when God promises us a holiday at the sea, if only we would endure the train ride to the shore. If we are trusting God to provide someone who gives us that spark, we are trusting him for the absolute wrong thing. We should instead trust God to provide a trusted counselor and best friend. Out of that, says Keller, will grow the sexual chemistry.

Keller illustrates this by comparing 'the almost electrical thrill' he got when his current wife first held his hand when they were dating. Though a small part of it was genuine love, it was a thrill fueled by ego: a puffed-up pride that someone had chosen him. Now when he and his wife hold hands, there is no electrical thrill. Instead the physical act is informed by their history of burdens, turmoil, repentance, forgiveness, reconciliation and is even greater than that initial thrill. And though that initial electricity is gone, neither he nor his wife would ever want to go back to it.

As Dietrich Bonhoeffer wrote to a newly-wed couple, 'It is not your love that sustains the marriage, but from now on, the marriage that sustains your love.' You and your spouse will undergo all varieties of changes throughout your marriage together — some for good, some for ill. But the passion you thought you had for each other at the moment you made your vows will be overwhelmed by a passion made richer and deeper because you stuck to those vows despite the changes. In fact, you embraced the changes.

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¹Tim Challies, in his book The Next Story, suggests that this is indeed the purpose for all of the relationships into which God places us:

God never calls us to a life of ease, a life in which we maintain control and do things on our terms. He puts us in marriage relationships, in friendships, in church communities, for his own reasons; he puts us in such relationships to teach us how to love one another and more and more resemble him in his great love.

A Note on Methodology

A conversation I had this weekend brought to light an important element to my recent posts that may not be altogether clear. It's something I've clarified over and over in other online discussions, but one that I only just realized I've not clarified here.

In recent years, I've come to realize that — in public discourse, at least — I am often less interested in what people do or think than in the reasons and motives why they do or think those things. The preeminent question in my mind is, 'Why?' When someone makes a claim, I find I am more interested in whether they have good reason to assert that claim than whether it's a per se good claim. When someone takes an action, I find I am more interested in whether they have good motive to act in that way than whether it's a per se good act.

For example, if someone were to make a claim about the nature of free will, rather than criticizing the position, I would immediately inquire as to the reasons behind that position and constructively criticize those. My point in debating the person making the assertion is not to show that their conclusion is false, but to show that their reasoning is bad. It's then up to then to adjust their conclusion in light of the criticism of their conclusions. And so you'll rarely find me debating whether Obama is a socialist; rather you'll find me debating whether those who believe so have good reason to believe so.

This is also the way I have approached marriage and singleness in my recent posts. I'm not so much interested in telling people that what they're doing is wrong or telling people what they should be doing instead. Rather, I'm interested in getting people to think about the motives behind certain things.

This method was probably most prominent in my most recent post, though it still wasn't explicitly stated. In that post, I explored three different reasons for why people value certain traits in their spouses, criticizing each motive. In so doing, I meant only to criticize the reasons, not the valuing of the trait. I wanted people to evaluate the reasons they have for valuing those traits and determine whether they or not they were idolatrous. The point was never that valuing those traits is bad.

For example, one might value a certain level of physical fitness. Look closely at the three reasons I criticized. Do any of them match your own reasons for valuing fitness? If so, perhaps you should reassess how much you value fitness. But it may well be that you have a completely different reason for valuing fitness, such as wanting a spouse who will not die of an obesity-related disease in six months. If that's the case, then you probably don't need to change your approach at all.

Likewise, in an earlier post, I criticized a number of reasons people have for delaying marriage until well into adulthood. That doesn't mean that I think one should never delay marriage. Rather, what I wanted to say with that post was: 'Examine the reasons why you're delaying marriage. Are they good reasons? Here are a few reasons that I think are bad reasons. If these are your only significant reasons for delaying marriage, maybe you should rethink that decision.'

I'll admit that this form of argumentation is somewhat alien to what our culture is used to. Our society is primarily a pragmatic, ends-based one. One wants certain outcomes, and so one acts in ways that will best achieve those outcomes. Likewise, when one makes an argument, one has in mind a specific conclusion and call to action in mind and argues in order to effect that conclusion: 'You are doing X. Here is why X is wrong. Therefore, stop doing X and do Y instead.' People expect that of an argument.

Instead of this approach, however, I approach the matter from the other end of the logic. Rather than telling people what their conclusion normatively should be, I want to give people a better set of norms which they can then apply to themselves. I am saying: 'Many people do X for reason R. R is a bad reason for doing X. If R is a major part of your reason for doing X, reconsider whether you should still do X in light of R being a bad reason.' I don't come out and say, 'Stop doing X and do Y instead', partly because I recognize that people are widely different from each other and may have reasons for doing X which I never considered or which may be good reasons.

I incline towards this method largely because I think it allows for better operation of Biblical wisdom. There are a lot of everyday decisions for which the Bible gives little direct commands. Therefore it is often left to us, being led by the Holy Spirit, to discern what is right. For example, how does one decide which college to attend? The Bible isn't going to tell you. What the Bible does do, instead, is give us principles of godliness. One works from those Biblical norms, taking account of the objective situation and one's own subjective existence, to determine the correct action or belief. Quite often, Scripture simply doesn't paint 'the line' in stark black and white.

A perfect case is the theology of idolatry. In our modern world, our idols are often everyday things: wealth, family, friends, morality, intelligence, &c. None of these things are themselves sinful. The Bible isn't dualistic like that. In fact, they are all good things — blessings from God, even. But when we esteem them from wrong motives — such as when we look to them for ultimate satisfaction — they have become idols. For example, the Bible doesn't instruct us to refrain from esteeming marriage; rather, we learn to refrain from esteeming marriage from wrong motives. When we esteem marriage from wrong motives, we over-esteem marriage and it takes the place of God in our lives.

Likewise, a great deal of nuance can come from exchanging good reasons for bad reasons, even when the resulting action remains the same on its face. Opposing an atheist because you do not share his position is worlds apart from opposing the same atheist because you think he is an idiot. In the context of marriage, the difference between marrying for the right reasons and marrying for the wrong reasons is dramatic. It's the same action, but with vastly different nuances of effects. It changes your entire perspective on the action: both how you approach the action, as well as how you deal with the consequences of the action, both good and bad.

In sum, I think the New Testament model for ethics — once you get beyond the clear black-and-white cases — is more often centered around the question of, 'Are your motivations godly, or are they ungodly?' Of course, certain black-and-white acts never have godly motivations. But more often it's the case that one can perform the same act with godly motivations or with ungodly motivations, resulting in completely different moral acts. This is part of what Paul is getting at when he says in 1 Cor. 10:31, 'So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.' Or as Archbishop of Canterbury Thomas Beckett says in T.S. Eliot's play Murder in the Cathedral, 'The last temptation is the greatest treason: To do the right deed for the wrong reason.'

I'm reminded also of a passage in The Catcher in the Rye where the main character, Holden Caulfield, talks about the 'phoniness' of lawyers:

Lawyers are all right, I guess — but it doesn't appeal to me. I mean they're all right if they go around saving innocent guys' lives all the time, and like that, but you don't do that kind of stuff if you're a lawyer. All you do is make a lot of dough and play golf and play bridge and buy cars and drink Martinis and look like a hot-shot. And besides. Even if you did go around saving guys' lives and all, how would you know if you did it because you really wanted to save guys' lives, or because you did it because what you really wanted to do was be a terrific lawyer, with everybody slapping you on the back and congratulating you in court when the goddam trial was over, the reporters and everybody, the way it is in the dirty movies? How would you know you weren't being a phony?

For a Christian, the question is, of course, sinfulness, not phoniness. But the principle is similar. The difference between defending the innocent in order to promote yourself as a 'good guy' and defending the innocent in order to promote justice is significant!

That's the sort of difference I seek to tease out in many of the posts on this blog. Even acts most innocent in appearance can have ungodly reasons and motives underlying them. These ungodly 'roots' of our actions can so easily spoil the tree's fruit. Hopefully this note and these examples better clarifies my purposes in writing in the way that I do. And as always, I welcome any and all feedback!

Initial Thoughts on The Meaning of Marriage

Editorial note: Since first posting this article, I've received some thoughtful criticism, in response to which I've made a few edits. I've also attached a longer note below. I am grateful for the criticism and always look forward to discussion on the topics about which I post!

As I read through Timothy Keller's new book The Meaning of Marriage, I'll try to blog some of my thoughts over the next few days. Here's the first quasi-epiphany...

Most of us have a mental list of our future spouse's 'must have' traits and qualities. Some of these have good Biblical basis (e.g., shared religious faith, a willingness to sacrifice/submit oneself to the other). But most — intelligence, social status, sexual appeal, physical fitness, interests, diet, political persuasion, industry, to name a few — simply do not. The lack of a Biblical basis does not discredit these latter traits. There are, in fact, a good deal of practical reasons to desire certain traits in a spouse. That we value these sort of traits is not inherently bad, but we must be cautious about how much we value them and the reasons we do.

Chances are, whenever we as Christians imagine our future spouse's 'must have' traits and overvalue them, we overvalue them because of one of three broad reasons:

1. We are seeking something in the other which will satisfy our sinful, self-centered desires, rather than finding satisfaction in Christ. This rationale is easy enough to spot. Men typically want a sexually attractive female because her sexuality seems to promise pleasure. Women typically want a socially successful male because it seems to promise a more comfortable life. There's very little that's not self-centered about this rationale (though I've certainly heard people try to rationalize it, as I have done myself). This rationale is perhaps the easiest to discover and quash. And they are usually also the most superficial traits.


2. We boast in that trait in ourselves, despising those who do not possess it to our satisfaction, rather than boasting in Christ. This one's a bit more tricky to recognize. It usually comes in the form of 'I couldn't respect a wo/man who isn't XYZ...' This is usually something like intelligence, work ethic, &c. Often there is some good rationale lying behind the trait, but its elevation to a 'must have' is the problematic area. For the reason for such elevation is often because it is a trait which we pride in ourselves. 'I'm a hard-working person,' we say, 'and I could not tolerate someone less industrious than I.' Being industrious is a good trait to have, but if we consider it a 'must have' trait at a level which eliminates 90% of spousal candidates, we will probably find we are boasting in that trait ourselves. When we boast in something other than Christ, we begin to despise or disrespect those who do not themselves possess that same object of boasting. If we pride ourselves on our intelligence, rather than teaching others what we know, we will shun them for their stupidity. If we pride ourselves on our exercise regimen, rather than encouraging others, we will revile those who don't have the same ethic. All of this is more evidence of being curved in on oneself.


3. We attribute to that trait messianic qualities, thinking it will heal all that is wrong with ourselves, rather than finding healing in Christ. This one is the trickiest to well balance. After all, marriage is about serving one's spouse, and God gives us husbands and wives as a help. And so there is a great deal of merit in looking for a spouse who is strong where we are weak and who can encourage us when we are discouraged. But as with the other rationales, when it becomes a 'must have', chances are that we have not only tilted the scale by looking for someone who can serve us, rather than looking for someone we are willing to serve, but it also indicates that we are looking for a sort of salvation in that trait. 'If only I can find someone who will take the lead in conversations and push me to be more sociable, things would be great.' Not only does this mean we are replacing Christ's work of salvation with the traits of a sinful human, but we also fail to recognize how much that spouse will fail us, even when s/he does possess that messianic trait.

But if 'marriage is a major vehicle for the gospel's remaking of our heart from the inside out and our life from the ground up', then all three of those broad reasons distort marriage into something which it is not. In fact, each of those three reasons is anti-gospel.

Another aspect of the problem is the issue of 'now' vs. 'future'. We are looking for someone who is perfect now, rather than looking forward to what God is making our potential spouse into. Too often we want a finished product, rather than a work in progress. But this also distorts the purpose of marriage, which is a 'vehicle for remaking...' not a luxury cruise for those who've been remade already.

Again, this is not to say that it is inappropriate to look for a spouse who is intelligent, is financially secure, has shared interests, and whom you find sexually appealing.¹ This post isn't so much about what is or isn't a good trait to seek in a spouse; it's about the sinful reasons which I think underlie some of our methods.

The problem is not the presence of these traits in our 'ideal', but the degree to which we sometimes value them and some of the reasons we value them. It's the classic idol problem all over again: it is fine to value work, intelligence, and money, but it becomes problematic when those become an ultimate. Likewise, it's good to expect great things from your spouse. But when we demand 'must have' status of certain traits, we risk setting up idols in the form of an idealized spouse. By setting up these idols, not only do we deny ourselves perfectly good potential spouses for ungodly reasons, but we also set ourselves up for a marriage built on faulty foundations and assumptions.

The Kellers dedicate the book to five couples whom they knew when they were dating and who have all since married — all of whom, on paper, were awful matches: 'Not a chance for any of us.' Speaking for myself, when I read these testimonies I realize how selfish, narrow, and near-sighted my own qualifications are for my future wife.

Cindy and Jim: She was an elegant woman raised Greek Orthodox, quiet, contemplative, and GREEK. Jim was boisterous, rowdy, funny, and Baptist. Then Gayle and Gary: Besides the seven-year age disparity and serious theological differences, Gary led two-week wilderness tours for college students, while Gayle's idea of camping out was staying at the Holiday Inn. Louise and David: Louise majored in art history and English literature and was serious about her Reformed faith. David was an Assembly of God lay pastor who woke up everyone in the dorm singing praise choruses. Wayne and Jane: According to Jane, Wayne was pure, unrefined gold, hidden under a Pittsburgh exterior, while she was a self-confessed Southern snob. Then there was Doug and Adele: Adele was a world traveler and seasoned missionary, Doug a younger Inter-Varsity Fellowship staff member. She had just had a bad breakup with another man (also named Doug). On the eve of their wedding, Adele sat on the bottom of Kathy's and my bed and wept, wondering if she was doing the right thing. She now say, "Our marriage began at the gates of doubt and hell but is now at the gates of Heaven."

And, of course, us. Kathy was Presbyterian, opinionated, and sure that she wanted to be involved in urban ministry (based on one reading of The Cross and the Switchblade by David Wilkerson). I had just promised the bishop of my tiny rural, non-Presbyterian denomination that I would not become Presbyterian, though I was attending a seminary tilted in that direction.

Not a chance for any of us. But here we all are, happy, thriving, seeing our children marry and give birth, helping one another through surgeries and deaths of parents and crises of every sort.

I have received some criticism that I don't give here enough attention to the role that attraction — for lack of a better term — plays in romantic relationships. It's a fair criticism and one that I appreciate, and I've already made a number of changes to the post above in light of that criticism.

One of the reasons for this vacuum is that the writing style I feature on this particular blog is analytical, and it's admittedly far less easy to analyze something as subjective as attraction. Though I value attraction and think it should certainly be present when scoping out a potential spouse, I don't feel I have the tools to know how to write about attraction in this particular style. (I almost think it would be a disservice for me to try!)

Instead, when I think about attraction, I think in terms of poetry. I either write poetry or admire others' verse. One need look no further than the romance tags on one of my other blogs to get a sampling (including one of my all-time favorite songs). In a way, the two blogs together act as different perspectives on many of the same topics, including romance.

Another reason is that these posts have been intended as a corrective to popular thought. By and large, we don't need all that much correction to give enough credit to the role that attraction plays in romantic relationships. By instinct attraction is unavoidably present and rightly so. Even I, the seemingly aloof academic, understand how vital attraction is to creating that initial spark: with almost every girl I've pursued, a primary motivation has been attraction. So my emphasis on 'the other stuff' shouldn't be read as me downplaying the role that attraction plays.

So hopefully that helps to explain some of my purposes in how I've approached this topic and why I've concentrated on what I have. As I said, I do think the criticisms I've received are valid, and it's something I'm keeping in mind for the future. As I've said in earlier posts, I'm more than willing to be corrected and shown to be wrong. I'll hopefully have more to say on attraction and such in my next post, as that will look at the dynamic nature of marriage, of which attraction is an enormous part. Look forward to that!

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¹But see Michael Lawrence's article, which suggests that, while attraction is key, there is sometimes the need for a change in what attracts us. But we are not called to change what we find attractive simply as an end in itself. Rather, just like Christ changes us in every other area, so too will what we find attractive naturally change as a result of becoming more attracted to Christ himself. It's a combination of biology and spirituality.

There's nothing wrong with having physical and personality traits on your list of what makes a woman attractive. In fact, you need to be physically and personally attracted to the woman you marry. If you're not, marriage won't provide the kind of protection against sexual sin that Paul speaks of (1 Cor. 7:1-9).

But if the physical or personal is entirely (or mainly) what attracts you and these are your highest priorities, then your problem is not with the women around you. Your problem is with God. The more you are in love with the beauty of Jesus Christ, the more you will be attracted to what you see of Him in the woman you're dating and the more important it will be to you. The less you love Him, the more important other things about her will become, things like her figure or style.

How Nevermind Changed the World

Because this article is so inherently tied to music and musical changes and trends, I've laced it with links to tracks on Spotify. To get the full sense of some of the ideas I'm writing about, please do take full advantage of the links!

Twenty years ago this month the music world was turned upside-down. On 10 September 1991 a band from Seattle released the first single off their second album. 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' would become one of the most important songs in the history of pop music. And two weeks later on 24 September, the full bombshell was dropped in the form of a bright blue photograph of a baby and a dollar bill. Nevermind was definitely one of those defining moments which clearly divides the world into 'before' and 'after'.

What more can be said about Nevermind which hasn't already been said? Quite a bit, in fact, I believe. Well, perhaps it's been said before, but it probably hasn't been said outside of niche music circles. And so I've tried to compile some of the major threads that have gone in and out of discussions about Nevermind as well as provide some new insights. There's two main threads to this article: 1) the hype surrounding Nevermind is completely warranted; 2) nevertheless, everything you know about it is wrong.

Come As You Are

It should first be said that I am in no way a Nirvana fanboy, nor do I view them through the rose-colored glasses of childhood reminiscence. I was only just beginning 2nd Grade when Nevermind was released, but I was all but completely closed off to all popular music in those years. I vaguely remember knowing about a band named Nirvana (and I seem to remember thinking how 'un-wholesome' of a name it was), and I remember fellow students later wearing Kurt Cobain commemorative t-shirts in middle school after he had died. So though I lived during the time when Nirvana made its huge splash, the ripples took a very long time to reach me.

Even now, Nirvana doesn't receive any more play in my music library than any other band. In fact, it receives far less play than most bands. (Except, of course, in the past month, as I've been researching and writing this article!)

I say this in order to assert that my perspective on Nirvana is entirely objective — or at least as much so as can be hoped for. So you can know that when I say that Nevermind is one of the most important albums ever released, I may be exaggerating a tad, but it's not because of any personal attachment or meaning.

In Bloom

With those disclaimers out of the way, I now feel I can safely say it: Nevermind is one of the most important albums ever released. It may even be the most important album, though it would be foolish to nominate any one album in the 60-year history of the album format for that position.

In order to understand why Nevermind had the impact it did, one needs to first understand where popular music was in the late 80s and up through 1991. In the late 80s, the Billboard Hot 100, which tracks top singles in both radioplay and store sales, was dominated by... well... 80s music: Michael Jackson, Bon Jovi, Rick Astley, Fine Young Cannibals, Madonna, Paula Abdul, Steve Winwood, &c. By the time 1990 and 1991 rolled around, some of the 90s trends started to emerge, including early hip hop from MC Hammer, the next wave of boy bands as ushered in by New Kids on the Block, and the Eurodance of C + C Music Factory.

Even on the rock music charts, the flavor was distinctively of the late classic rock variety: Robert Plant, Tom Petty, U2, Van Halen, Eric Clapton, &c. That is, it was still a polished product with soaring guitar solos and such.

But all the while alternative music was rustling in the undergrowth. The first real sign of its impending emergence was Billboard's creation in late 1988 of the Modern Rock chart, which tracked the genre. Among its early chart-toppers were R.E.M., The Cure, The B-52's, and XTC. While these were all certainly alternative bands, these were also all veteran bands, each dating back to the early 80s. The successful bands were tried and true, much as with the popular charts.

All in all, the music scene was relatively stable. (One might say it was stale, rather than stable, but I'm not so sure I want to make that qualitative judgment.) To be sure, there were trends that would come and go with small scenes here and there. As mentioned above, boy bands were about to make a return, and hip hop was finally emerging into the pop charts after over a decade on the streets. And alternative music was also on a slow steady rise, with a number of college radio staples signing to major labels: R.E.M., Sonic Youth, Pixies, and The Replacements. But the changes and evolution in music had been slow and steady for several years.

Nirvana and Nevermind would change all of that. The album and its lead single 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' exploded onto the scene and radically changed the course of music. This past year the 1992 music documentary 1991: The Year Punk Broke was restored and released on DVD. The title perfectly captures why Nevermind was important.

Nirvana was the modern form of punk; or rather, one of the modern forms of punk. When Nevermind crashed onto the scene in late 1991, punk had not been a force in music since the mid-70s, and even then, it had been but a minor force. Here and there a band would crossover in a big way, such as when The Clash's Combat Rock reached #7 on the Billboard 200, but that was the exception rather than the rule.

As the 70s wore on, punk died and morphed into post-punk; post-punk eventually morphed into alternative music, which included myriad sub-genres: hardcore punk (Black Flag), jangle pop (R.E.M.), gothic rock (The Cure), dream pop (Cocteau Twins), twee pop (The Field Mice), early noise pop (Dinosaur Jr.), cowpunk (Meat Puppets), grunge (Mudhoney), and loads of other sub-genres. All of these shared a number of things in common: they were amalgamations of the punk DIY ethic, the experimentalism of post-punk, and a fusing of diverse influences.

In 1991, alternative music and the culture at large finally rendezvoused. In 1991 punk broke. It didn't quite sound and look like the punk music that the Sex Pistols had played back in 1977, but it was punk in its evolved form. Nirvana knew this: the title of their second album Nevermind was a tribute to the Sex Pistol's 1977 album Never Mind the Bollocks, Here's the Sex Pistols. What Nirvana didn't know was how much of an impact their album would have.

The record studios weren't prepared for the impact either. To date Nirvana had released one album in 1989 — Bleach — a supporting single, and a non-album single in 1990. In recording their first album, Nirvana followed in the DIY ethic of the alternative scene: it cost the band only $606.17 to record and was release #34 on Sub Pop, an small independent label dedicated to the Seattle music scene. The success of these early releases was not insigificant — for an alternative group. It was at least enough for the group to sign an extension with Sub Pop and re-enter the studios for a follow-up.

In 1990, after early demos of the group's follow-up to Bleach circulated, major label DGC Records bought Nirvana's contract from Sub Pop at the behest of Kim Gordon of Sonic Youth, a band recently signed to the label. DGC hoped that Nirvana would be able to ride the coattails of their new label-mates. With a bit of luck, DGC hoped, Nirvana would be able to match the success of Sonic Youth's latest record, Goo, which had reached #96 on the Billboard 200.

The rest, as they say, is history. Its success did not come quickly, however. The album was released on 24 September 1991 to little fanfare. It languished for a few weeks until the music video for lead single 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' aired on MTV. The video first premiered, as would be expected, on MTV's late-night alternative show 120 Minutes, but it proved so popular that it quickly began to enter daytime rotation. Shortly thereafter, on 12 October 1991, Nevermind premiered on the Billboard 200 at #40. By 27 November 1991, it had shipped a million units and been certified platinum — something Goo certainly hadn't achieved. And by 11 January 1992, the album had topped the charts, rather symbolically displacing Michael Jackson's Dangerous. The album had achieved success beyond Nirvana's or DGC's wildest dreams.

Breed

As unexpected as the album's success was, that isn't the whole story. After all, fellow alternative band R.E.M. had reached #1 with Out of Time earlier in 1991. But R.E.M. was R.E.M. Though their jangle pop was certainly alternative music, their album's success was propelled by the mandolin-supported 'Losing My Religion' and the orchestral 'Shiny Happy People'. It was another thing entirely for Nirvana's album to be as successful on the backs of singles such as 'Smells Like Teen Spirit', 'Come As You Are', and 'Lithium'. Other alternative acts' success had also been the product of many years of building a back catalog, gradually building up to success. R.E.M.'s first #1 album was their 7th; by 1991 they were journeymen musicians. Nirvana's success was sudden.

Nirvana's breakout was different from other alternative successes, because it had immediate and extensive cultural impact. No one was shaving his head in imitation of Michael Stipe's look in the wake of R.E.M.'s success. But boys everywhere did start to imitate Kurt Cobain's flannel shirts. R.E.M. were the geeks in school that people nonetheless accepted. Nirvana were the guys people wanted to be.

But the real impact was the music. While other alternative bands had surely paved the way for the breakthrough in 1991, Nirvana was the straw that broke the camel's back. It was a rather heavy straw by itself, though. After all, if music as hard and abrasive as Nevermind could top the charts, then everything which the underground scene could offer was theoretically open game. And that's exactly what happened. The harder alternative groups began to see instant success after 1992.

Soundgarden, whose 1989 major label debut Louder Than Love had charted at #108, saw their 1994 album Superunknown hit #1. The Smashing Pumpkins' 1991 debut Gish had barely cracked the charts at #198, but their 1993 follow-up Siamese Dream hit #10. Even Sonic Youth, who represented the far left wing of the alternative wave, witnessed their 1994 album Experimental Jet Set, Trash and No Star hit #34; five years earlier Daydream Nation, largely considered their breakthrough, hadn't even charted.

Nevermind meant that the entire alternative scene was here to stay. The breakout success meant that alternative music wasn't doomed to only leak through with 'radio-friendly' hits here and there, while remaining largely underground. It's been said that Nevermind was the album that finally convinced mall record stores to add an alternative section to their floorplan. What that means is that many of the iconic alternative bands of the 1990s, even though they had very little in common with Nirvana musically, owe their success to the re-adjustment of the music industry to a broader, more alternative-minded catalog. This would include bands such as Gin Blossoms, Dave Matthews Band, Green Day, Blind Melon, Alanis Morissette, Radiohead, &c. — all bands which probably would not have been given a second look years earlier.

Even more particular to the 'grunge' music of Nirvana and its Seattle compatriots (Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, Alice in Chains) was the reaction to and against it, as it succeeded on its own terms. As the years progressed, the aesthetic became more polished, evolving into post-grunge. On the other side of the pond, the British music scene, not at all comprehending the angst and mood of the genre, reacted by developing Britpop, giving rise to Blur, Oasis, Pulp, &c. As Noel Gallagher said in a recent interview, 'I didn't realize it at the time, but Definitely Maybe and Nevermind are kind of of the same thing: pop songs with distorted guitars. Which brings us to the second part of this article.

Something in the Way

For all the accolades it receives, Nevermind often receives them for the wrong reasons. Yes, it was an important album. Yes, it was a breakthrough for alternative music. Yes, it changed the direction of music in the last decade of the 20th century. But there are a number of misconceptions about the album in the public mind.

The most prominent misconception about Nevermind that needs to be cleared up is that it is the preeminent grunge album. It isn't. It can't be, because it isn't grunge. In 1992 Kurt was photographed wearing a shirt that read grunge is dead. The shirt was right. At the time it was seen as an ironic statement for the media darling of grunge to make — and there admittedly still is some irony to the statement — but it was a true statement. Not only was Nirvana making a departure from grunge, but it did so by embracing pop music.

In the late 80s, grunge had become a sort of catch-all term for 'music from Seattle'. Part of the problem is that in some senses, grunge was indeed isolated to Seattle. Part of the misunderstanding comes from the geographical orientation of 80s alternative music. Each city had its own underground scene, which was relatively isolated from other scenes. New York had noise; Minneapolis had melodic punk; Los Angeles had the Paisley Underground; Athens, GA had jangle pop; Manchester, UK had Madchester; and Seattle had grunge.

Because of Seattle's geographical remoteness from other scenes, it was a more isolated scene than most of the others. Few alternative bands bothered to tour the far northwest, and few Seattle bands toured extensively outside the region. The result was a genre of music which extensively reflected Seattle. Known for averaging 152 rainy days each year and averaging 3.7 hours of sunlight for much of the year, 'the Seattle sound' was a sludgy, distorted noise: a mix of hardcore punk and heavy metal, equal parts Black Flag and Black Sabbath. As we'll discover, Nevermind was a slight departure from that sound.

The first grunge releases were Green River's EPs Come On Down and Dry As a Bone. Emblematic of the early sound of grunge is 'P.C.C.' and 'Baby Takes'. There's a couple things to notice on these tracks. The first is the relative tempo of each song. The drums keep a fairly regular rhythm, carrying along what is almost like a dirge. This is a direct result of the sludgy influence that the Melvins had, as heard on 'At a Crawl'.

But the tempo of Green River is less important than the monotony of the tracks. It's hard to trace out verses and choruses, much less determine where the repeated phrases begin and end. The only break to the pacing is Stone Gossard's solo section in each song. But listen to each song, paying close attention to the rhythms: the drums, the solid, thumping bass line (the bass tone is also quite representative of grunge music), the strum patterns. It doesn't take long to realize that the composition is pretty minimalist. That isn't to say that there isn't any depth; on the contrary, some of the instrumental interplay is quite developed. But most of the complexity is flourish, rather than the song's basics.

The next band to listen to is Mudhoney, a band which formed by some of the members of Green River after that band dissolved. 'Touch Me I'm Sick' is the lead track from their first release and is representative of their output. There are two things to recognize here. The first is the heavy use of distortion. It's something we almost overlook these days, but that's only because of the influence of Seattle bands. But the distortion is unmistakable here. It's especially marked during the solo at 1:25. Even Green River used a relatively clean effect for their solos.

The second element is again the monotony. With the exception of a short bridge, the same riff is repeated throughout the song. And this is accompanied by repetition in all of the rhythm instruments. Many of these same elements can be found in the early tracks by Soundgarden, another formative grunge band: e.g., Hunted Down, their first single.

This brings us to where grunge was at by the time Nirvana released their first album Bleach. So how does that album compare? Quite nicely, in fact. Listen to the supporting single, 'Blew'. Notice all of the key elements: relatively slow tempo; monotonous sound; the steady, thundering bass and its tone; heavy guitar distortion.

The one big difference to notice is the very distinct difference between verse and chorus. When the band reaches the chorus at 0:45, you immediately recognize it as such. You recognize it not just as a section change, but as the chorus. This was Nirvana's main contribution to grunge: conventional pop sensibilities.

For all its grunginess, Bleach already started to show that Nirvana was moving away from the grunge scene. The third song on the album, 'About a Girl', immediately shows that Nirvana was after something more. The song starts out with a simple, clean guitar. Clean! No distortion! And the featured drum-kit piece is the hi-hat! And is that a tambourine entering at 1:20??

This all was virtually unheard of in Seattle in those days. Now compare the version on Bleach to the unplugged version that Nirvana would play 5 years later. They're virtually indistinguishable. Granted, the monotony is still there, betraying the grunge roots, but so much else has changed in this one song. It's no surprise that 'About a Girl' was the song which would best survive in concert setlists, as Nirvana underwent its stylistic revolution.

So where was Nirvana picking up this 'pop sound', if it wasn't present in Seattle. According to Cobain, it first came from Liverpool, specifically the album Meet the Beatles!, The Beatles' second US album. Featured on that album were 'I Want to Hold Your Hand', 'All My Loving', 'I Saw Her Standing There', and others. While Cobain's melodies and harmonies were not anywhere near as intricate or innovative as The Beatles' were in 1963, the influence is there. In addition to the elements we've already discussed in the previous paragraph, the key change as 'About a Girl' enters the chorus is quite peculiar and Beatles-esque. In fact, the chorus progression destabilizes the entire song — for the better. But perhaps most importantly, 'About a Girl' has the structure of a pop song. It's a clear verse-chorus-verse-solo/bridge-chorus, with distinct melodies and harmonies for each part.

By the time Nirvana starting laying down tracks for Nevermind, Cobain had a new influence — this time from the alternative scene. But rather than coming from his native Seattle, this influence came from all the way across the country in Boston: the Pixies. The Pixies' influence is, in my opinion, the prime reason why Nirvana made the splash it did with Nevermind. The Pixies had perfected — almost to cliché — the loud-quiet-loud dynamics of the verse-chorus-verse structure.

Listen again to the Nirvana and Beatles tracks above. Though you can easily recognize the verses and choruses, it's for harmonic reasons. The chord progressions change, and the one is more notably chorus-like and the other more verse-like.

Now listen to 'Gigantic' by the Pixies. Can you distinguish the verse and chorus and known which is which? Of course you can. But it's not for harmonic reasons. The chord progression doesn't change throughout the entire song. The bass plays the same four measure riff over and over; and when the guitar comes in, it's merely playing power chords based on the bass notes. So how can you tell the difference between verse and chorus? Because of the dynamics: the verse is quiet and the chorus is loud. The same goes for 'Tame' and any number of other Pixies songs.

Having heard that, now compare to 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'. It's probably not going to surprise you a bit when I now say that Cobain has employed exactly the same technique. The chord progression is exactly the same throughout the song. The change that signals you, 'It's chorus time!' is the dynamics. You'll find the same strategy employed on 'Come As You Are', 'Lithium', and 'In Bloom' — the four singles off of Nevermind.

There's one last word to be said about 'Smells Like Teen Spirit'. The song is in F minor with a bass line that anticipates a conventional i–iv–III–VI chord progression. But that anticipation is disrupted by the fact that Cobain doesn't quite play pure power chords, instead strumming strings that shouldn't normally be played. The result is that the song varies between the actual progression and a progression that sounds like I–IV–♭III–♭VI. If you aren't familiar with chord notation, suffice it to say that this accounts for the song sounding off-kilter, like it's about to lose its wheels at any moment. This is precisely the sort of harmonic complexity you'd expect from The Beatles. The difference is here it's subtle, rather than center-stage — not immediately noticeable, but still having an effect. The result is that Nevermind ends up being not so much a grunge album as a combination Beatles/Pixies album with heavy distortion.

The reason I go to lengths to explain all of this music theory is because it's vital to understanding exactly how far afield Nirvana had gone from their grunge roots. By the time Nevermind was released, the only thing grunge about Nirvana was that they were from Seattle and used distortion on their guitars. In truth Nirvana was no longer grunge. Perhaps they had been a few years earlier, but not in 1991. Instead they had diversified their influences beyond the heavy sounds of grunge. Their follow-up album, In Utero, would witness even further progression, as they experimented further with song structure, effects, and studio trickery.

Nevertheless, Nirvana's success in the mainstream ushered in grunge along with the rest of the alternative scene. Including Pearl Jam. Who isn't grunge either. But that's for another article...

Est-ce le langage?

After a number of practical posts, this blog is now going to take a brief metaphysical turn (let's get metaphysical! metaphysical!). It follows from a conversation I had with my coworker about the artwork of René Magritte—perhaps my favorite artist—and from my reflections in the shower the next morning. (Like so many others, I do my best thinking in the shower.)

René Magritte's paintings have been featured as my computer's wallpaper at work this summer, and my coworker made a comment about La condition humaine (trans. 'The human condition') which was displayed at the time. It got us talking about other paintings of his, including his most famous, La trahison des images (trans. 'The treason of images'), which is displayed above.

René Magritte (1898-1967) was a Belgian surrealist artist known for breaking expectation and forcing the viewer to contemplate the language of art and the role of language generally. Often this involves playing with perspective or an unusual juxtaposition of images and/or words. La trahison des images is not surprisingly the most well-known and iconic of his paintings.

There are two levels to the painting, both of which force a viewer to make interesting observations. The first is the surface absurdity of the piece. The painting's self-caption — an imitation of a wildlife identification guide — translates into English as 'This is not a pipe.' To this the viewer inevitably retorts, 'Of course it is! It's quite clearly a pipe! It's shaped like a pipe; it has the colors of a pipe. What else could it be, if not a pipe?!' The viewer is nonetheless certain that it cannot simply be that Magritte is stupid. But the apparent falsity of the statement creates an immediate tension which cannot be simply resolved. Hence absurdity.

In an attempt to resolve the absurdity, the viewer must contemplate the role which the caption plays in the viewing of the picture specifically and the role of language in perception generally. Does saying that it is not a pipe change reality at all? Does it at least change our perception of reality? Does Magritte, by inscribing those words force the viewer to reconsider one's initial perception that one was looking at a pipe? Does one first doubt the truth of the sentence, or does one first doubt one's perception of what one was looking at?

The second level is Magritte's more obvious intention and one which resolves the tension, but one which can only proceed from having recognized the surface absurdity. Magritte's point is that the image is not reality. What you are seeing is not a pipe, but merely an image of a pipe. The pipe is not real. You cannot stuff tobacco in it; you cannot smoke it. Therefore, how can it be a pipe? What characteristics does it share with a pipe besides appearance? In fact, what I have posted above is removed even further from reality: it is but a digital image of a painting which contains an image of a pipe.

But even Magritte's perspective has its own level of absurdity. For we recognize that Magritte's message is inescapably true, but we also recognize that it violates fundamental linguistic conventions. Imagine if I were to approach you on the street, show you a painting of the White House, and then say, 'This is the White House.' It would require a very unusual mindset for you to correct me by responding, 'No, silly, that is not the White House. That is only an image of the White House.' You might recognize that it is merely an image, rather than the real thing, but it is hardly something you would think worth mentioning. Unless, that is, I were to ask you to open the front door and step inside.

Getting Abstract for a Moment

Art never actually becomes what it depicts. A painting of a pipe can only incite the viewer to imagine a real pipe; it cannot be a real pipe. Yet the more realistic the painting is, the less a viewer needs to imagine in his own mind in order to 'complete the picture'. Magritte's pipe is, indeed, quite realistic. I can immediately tell that it is an image of a pipe; that close resemblance is, after all, what makes the painting's caption seem all the more absurd.

But as realistic as Magritte's painting is, no matter how hard I try, I cannot know what is on 'the other side' of the pipe. I cannot turn it over to see if there is an inscription there or not. I cannot even know if there is tobacco in it.

On the other hand, the less realistic the painting, the more the viewer is allowed to—or forced to—imagine. It is an short step from Magritte's thesis in this painting to arrive at abstract art. If even the most realistic painting of a pipe remains but an image of a pipe and accrues no reality of being a pipe, then what purpose is served by realism in painting (especially with the advent of photography)?

And so instead of trying to inch ever closer towards absolute realism, artists in the 20th century began to charge in the other direction. The question instead became: how non-representational can an image of a pipe be, while yet remaining an image of a pipe? What are the sine quibus non of pipes? Rather than painting an image of a pipe, artists began painting 'pipe-ness'.

Now, if you're really sharp-minded, you may have taken exception with my statement above that art never actually becomes what it depicts. 'What if I were to make a sculpture of a pipe?' you ask. 'And what if I were to make it fully functioning? Would it not then be a pipe? What is required to bridge the gap between art and reality?' This is an excellent question and is one that modern artists have sought to explore — Duchamp asked the same question in reverse: what is required to turn an ordinary object into art — but it is one I don't want to delve into here. So for now I'll just leave that unanswered.

Taking It a Step Further

While there are certainly unresolved tensions in Magritte's painting, I'd like to take his observation one step further and propose a hypothetical. Imagine if I were to paint a work which was a blank canvas except for the following painted across it: These are not words. Would this statement be just as correct as Magritte's? These are the ideas which I began to contemplate in the shower that morning.



That morning I began by trying to think up statements in the same form which seemed superficially false, but which were possibly true when really considered. Being a linguist, my mind immediately turned to language. One of the early statements I considered was These are not letters. But I quickly realized that that would be a false statement. Letters are already images; they are graphical depictions which refer to something else. What you see are letters, and not images of letters. (It might even be asked if one can ever see an image of a letter without seeing an actual letter — in the same way that you see an image in Magritte's painting and not an actual pipe. I suspect not.)

What about words then? We might say that a collection of letters is a word, but what truth is there to that? In one manner of speaking, a collection of letters is indeed a word; we might call it a written word. But in another manner of speaking, one might credibly assert that the arrangement of letters on a page amount to a word no more than the arrangement of pigments amount to a pipe.

Let us accept for a moment the premise that the written statement These are not words is true. This means that assembled letters are not words themselves, but only point to words. But it doesn't really tell us what words, in fact, are. Perhaps words are the phonetic output to which letters point a reader. Under this theory, words exist only as sounds, and written letters evoke these sounds in a reader's mind. (This is at least a plausible theory, since the history of language is clear that spoken language antedates written language.) If this is the case, then it would seem that the statement These are not words would no longer be true if I were to speak it instead.

But if we were to presume that the true essence of words are sounds, then a deaf person cannot be said to ever directly experience words. A deaf person's experience with words would be only indirect through writing or sign. Surely this cannot be the case, since a deaf person's linguistic capacity is not otherwise hindered by his inability to hear. Nor is a blind person's capacity hindered, even though he cannot read. Rather, it would seem that the deaf and blind have developed new ways to communicate language: e.g., sign language and braille.

This would seem, then, to indicate that, if words are the fundamental building blocks of language, rather than a mere construct by which we conveniently divide language which is inherently indivisible, both the written and spoken language are themselves only references to actual words, in the same way that an image of a pipe is only a reference to an real pipe, refering the hearer/reader/viewer to the real thing.

If this is true, then we can take our hypothetical statement to an even more extreme level of absurdity/truth: This is not language. The point of such a statement would be to say that what is read is not language; rather what is read refers the reader to some actuality which is language. The practice of reading is taking strokes of the pen and translating them into language. Compare to the way that you translate pigments on Magritte's canvas into a pipe. In this case, both the letters on the page and Magritte's painting are signs for something else.

While the analogy between a pipe and language can be theoretically simple enough, a large complication is introduced by the fact that the one referent—a pipe—exists in a concrete form, while the other—language—does not. I can give you an actual, material pipe. You can hold it in your hands and even smoke it if you like. But language does not exist in concrete form.

Why Abstraction Matters

Regardless of the concreteness of pipes and language, both can be conceived of abstractly. I am not familiar with pipes and their multiple variations, but it is plausible that there exists not a single pipe in the world which Magritte's painting resembles. In fact, I feel fairly certain that I have not ever seen a pipe that looks exactly like his. Yet I recognize it as an image of a pipe. Even if I have not seen an object whose details mirror Magritte's image, I do not look at it and wonder what this new object is.

The ability of the human mind to think abstractly is essential for human communication. We can see it develop in its immature stages in infants. If an infant is raised around cats and if those are the only furry animals to which she has regular exposure, chances are, the first time she sees a dog, she'll murmur, 'Kitty!' In this case, the infant has over-abstracted in determining that hairy-animal-ness is the defining characteristic of cat-ness, such that every hairy animal is a cat. With correction and further exposure, she will learn the difference between cats and dogs.

But the key is that her ability to conceive of cats abstractly is what allows her to not have to re-learn everything about cats whenever she sees a new cat which she had not seen before.

Language works in the same way, in the form of dialects. If you were to ask an Irishman, an Ohioan, and a Carolinian to pronounce the word 'night', you would get three very different vowel sounds (in IPA, something along the lines of [nɔɪt], [naɪt], and [naːt]). Yet without too much trouble, any speaker of English would be able to understand that all three sequences refer to the same bit of language. And while a bilingual speaker of English and Chinese would understand that 'night' and 晚 refer to different linguistic items, each of those linguistic elements in turn refer to the same concept: the period of darkness between two days.

This latter observation is vital to understanding that even if language is something that exists beyond writing and speaking, it still remains itself a middle-man reference between those modes of language and 'the real thing'. That is, whatever actual form language actually takes, it must still be but a reference.

It is the ability of speakers of language to abstract in this way that allows us to communicate, rather than being require to re-learn every time we encounter a different dialect. With some dialects which are more extremely different from our own, it may require a learning period, in order to determine what each difference is a variation on. The same goes for written language, if one were to read something from the Early Modern English period where spelling is more varied.

Actual Evidence

Up until this point my speculations have been rather... speculative. But as a linguist, I can assure you that my the philosophy of language that I have been advocating does have empirical support in linguistic theory.

The greatest amount of support comes in the research of grammar, with phonology being the sub-topic with which I am most familiar. Contemporary phonological theory says that the sounds we utter when we speak are but reflections of a deeper language within our mind. A language's phonology determines how this deeper language actually comes out of an individual's mouth when he speaks. That is, the 'sounds' stored in our minds are not always the sounds that our mouths actually produce when we speak. The language in our mind is not exactly what we speak.

A good example of this is the plural in English, which alternates between [s] (cats), [z] (dogs), and [ɨz] (ostriches). Though we normally think of the English plural suffix as being the /s/ sound, in actually, it is mentally /z/. This will undoubtedly surprise most speakers of English, but speaks to exactly the non-transparency that I mean. It's actually phonological rules that translate the stored /z/ into a spoken [s] in certain circumstances — namely after voiceless consonants: p, t, k, th. It is the same set of phonological rules that translate the /z/ into [ɨz] after s, sh, ch, which we write as '-es'.

Similar rules determine how the past tense morpheme which we write as '—ed'. And there are tons of other phonological rules which are constantly at play whenever English-speakers talk. Some are reflected in the way we write, but most aren't. In addition to phonology, which governs sound patterns, syntax governs how we arrange words in a sentence to communicate meaning: it's what tells us that subjects come before verbs, that direct objects follow verbs, &c.

What is clear from linguistic studies is that what comes out — whether from our mouths or from our pens — is the product of myriad linguistic rules which alter the underlying language as it exists in our brain, which in turn refers to the ultimate concepts about which we write/speak. What form this base form of language takes is obviously difficult to determine and is a constant source of linguistic theory and research. But the important take-away is that both speech and writing are derived forms of language, at best.

Conclusion

Is language something that is only referred to by spoken sounds and written letters? Or does it actually exist in some form in those sounds and letters? It is fairly easy for us to acknowledge that written letters are merely references to language. After all, we experience and understand language well before we can read.

Both current linguistic theory and my shower-thinking lead me to believe that spoken sounds work in the same way, however. The sounds act only as audible references to language, and language exists only in non-concrete form, which cannot be directly sensed. When we read a book aloud, we translate written letters into language and then translate that language back again into spoken sounds. Writing, reading, speaking, and hearing are all merely ways in which we refer to language.

What application does this have for your everyday life? I have absolutely no clue. If you figure out something, let me know! In the meantime, it's still interesting to think about.

On Christian Singleness, des notes (Attraction)

Last updated: 30 November 2011

Note: Rather than typing up new post after new post, I'll be editing this post over time, adding different sources. So this post will be gradually growing, as I find more people speaking on the topic. If you check back once in a while, you may find something new here.
Also, note that this post has been split into two posts, roughly corresponding to the topics of attraction and commitment.

Think of this post as one giant footnote (or perhaps an epilogue).

As many readers will know, about two-and-a-half months ago I wrote a pair of posts on the overabundance of unmarried Christian adults in today's world. In those posts I worked through some of the causes I perceived for this persistent problem. If you're unfamiliar with these posts, you can here read part one and part two.

The response to these essays was entirely unexpected. I received more hits to this blog in that week than all of my blogs did in the prior year. And while I suppose I'm glad to know that people were willing to read what I had to say, I hope more that it got readers thinking and discussing the ideas and acting upon the conclusions at which they arrived.

Those two essays were the product of a long period of reflection and prayer about the subject. But as I noted in each post, it wasn't until I found authoritative echoing of my thoughts in the writings of Christian authorities whose judgment, theology, and wisdom I trusted, that I finally sat down to write and publish my thoughts.

This summer I have been reading a lot of theology, as but one exercise as I consider enrolling in seminary after I graduate from law school next spring. One of the areas of 'practical theology' that I have been reading is sex, marriage, gender roles, and the like. And so from time to time I have encountered at least a few articles which address these issues.

Thus the purpose of this post is to share with you others' thoughts on the topics about which I wrote in the previous two posts. I myself won't be saying anything new, but will let the other authors speak primarily. And while this isn't new ground, per se, neither is it simply retreading old ground. Imagine it as the same ground turned over by the plow anew.

I don't quote these authors as proof for my thesis, but as evidence that the accord with which they say it warrants the topic consideration, prayer, and discussion. That is all I ask of those who read. After all, I am no guiding beacon of righteousness on these matters, but am someone who can point the finger at himself with every passage posted above.

Do Looks Matter?
Pastor and assistant professor Jeremy Pierre writes about romantic attraction and the role that God plays in transforming our standards of attraction. Attraction is vitally important, he says, but our standards of attraction are also something which God is in the process of redeeming in us.

Marital love involves valuing your spouse's body. But this isn't exactly the same thing as finding it attractive, at least not in the way we typically think of finding something attractive. We may inadvertently assume that being attracted to something is primarily about its level of attractiveness. Attraction seems like it just happens without our conscious participation, and we therefore conclude it is beyond our control. You're attracted to someone, or you're not, and that's that. But attraction seems so automatic because we are culturally influenced even at the level of desire. Our preferences unwittingly imitate the narrow criteria for beauty reflected in fitness magazines or clothing advertisements, in the fashion of the day or the remarks of family members.

Without dismissing entirely the mysterious nature of attraction, I wish to point out that we are more capable than we often recognize of directing our preferences. We should not presume that our initial aesthetic sensibilities are an unchallengeable law within us. We have some level of direction over them.

This principle can inform the way we seek a spouse. Perhaps this means that singles should be willing to direct their affections toward potential spouses they may not initially find attractive. My reasoning is not that looks are unimportant—remember, our bodies are a vital aspect of who we are. Rather, my reasoning is that our opinion of what constitutes good looks must not be an idol carved in stone. We need to be willing to challenge our own preferences regarding physical attraction in light of the greater principle that attraction stems from valuing a person.

Man Enough to Love a Real Woman
This recent article addresses the problem of idealizing our spouse to the point that every except Lizzy Bennet or Mr. Darcy is excluded as a possibility. Though written from the point of view of a man, it can certainly apply just as well to women.

I was like a lot of single, Christian guys. I just wanted to follow God's will in finding a wife — that's all — oh yeah, and I also wanted a modest version of the Cosmo girl. And, well, I didn't want her to be too needy. Oh, and she also needed to be smart — really smart — but not, like, so smart that she made me feel stupid. And, of course, she needed to be spiritually mature (you know, like me). And one more thing: I wanted her to have a cool and fun personality (whatever that meant).

In other words, I wanted to date the perfect Christian girl — not a real woman.

Of course, I knew what a real woman was like. I grew up in a Christian home with lots of real women around, each of them imperfect in one way or another, yet fully feminine. These women had opinions, unshakable faith, curves, feelings, hormonal surges, weight fluctuations, talents, wrinkles and a regular need for affirmation. It didn't bother me: It was part of who they were, and I loved them for it.

But when it came to prospective mates, I wasn't so gracious. I figured I deserved to have the best qualities of every woman wrapped into a nice package, waiting at the end of a rainbow. And yet, despite meeting dozens of women in my quest, I could never find that perfect, Christian girl. But that didn't stop me from looking for her — until I discovered that, in fact, I wasn't the perfect Christian guy.

Did You Marry the Wrong Person?
Tim Challies, pastor at Grace Fellowship Church, writes about the worries of marrying 'the wrong person' and, in doing so, speaks to the problem that we have with trying to find an 'optimal' spouse, the wrong perspective that such a worry evinces, and the futility in that quest.

I guarantee that you have married the wrong person. We all marry the wrong person. Perhaps I should say it like this: we all marry the “wrong” person. We all marry a person who sins against us, who sometimes exasperates us by helping us worship our idols and at other times irritates us by smashing them to pieces. . . . The wrongness of our spouse is one of the great formative influences on us. The wrongness and the apparent incompatibilities are the very things God uses to mold and shape us. A few years down the road you will look back on all of that wrongness, all you declared to be wrong about your husband or wife, and find that God was not wrong at all. He knew exactly what you needed.

What I have found is that often times, when someone fears that he has married the wrong person, or when he fears that he is about to marry the wrong person, he is looking at the differences between himself and this other person and lamenting that this other person is not more like him. He may describe her personality or preferences or passions, but what he is really doing is showing that he wants this woman, this potential wife, to be more like him. If only she was…me! Too many men, too many women, truly want to marry an image of themselves. And why not? You tend to like your preferences, to like your idols, to like your likes.

But ask any married person what his life would be like if he had married someone who was just like himself and you’ll see the folly of it. Her talkativeness was just the antidote to your quiet nature, drawing you out, filling your home with godly words. Your sexual freedom was just what she needed to release her fears and teach her how to express love in a whole new way. Her constant lateness taught you to be patient and showed you that she wasn’t late because she was selfish, but because she cared, just like Jesus when he showed up “too late” to save his friend Lazarus. In all these ways and so many more, God uses incompatibilities to produce godliness. These differences are truly glorious, the means by which God helps us put our own sin to death.

Men and Women at Prayer
The next piece is by Dr. Philip G. Ryken, former pastor of Tenth Presbyterian Church and current President of Wheaton College, from his commentary on 1 Timothy. Ryken's commentaries are essentially edited versions of his expository sermons, and in this sermon, Ryken speaks to what should make a Christian woman attractive to a Christian man and how women should make themselves attractive to Christian men.

Men are usually part of the problem. By evaluating women primarily by their looks, men make women slaves to their appearance. Of course, there must be a sexual attraction between a husband and wife. But a single man who looks primarily for outward beauty is not looking at women the way God looks at them. He has an ungodly aesthetic. . . .

The way to become more attractive is through godliness, not gaudiness. A woman is made beautiful by what she does, not what she wears. This means that the older a woman gets, the more beautiful she can become! Outwardly, the aging process cannot be reversed (see Prov. 31:30); inwardly, a godly woman is becoming more and more beautiful all the time (see 2 Cor. 4:16).

True beauty comes from nurturing the inward woman. Ask questions like these: How much money do I spend on my appearance—on clothes, jewelry, cosmetics, beauty treatments, and the like? How does that compare with my giving to the Lord's work? How much time do I spend in front of the mirror, and how much time do I spend on my knees? . . .

Good works are what a man should look for in a woman. When a man notices a woman who is devoted to the Lord, who gives good counsel, who handles her professional work with integrity, who loves children, who cares for the sick, and who feeds the poor, he should not say, "She's not all that good-looking, but she really loves the Lord!" Instead, he should say, "Now there is a beautiful woman!" A woman who is beautiful in the eyes of God ought to be beautiful in the eyes of godly men.

'The Bar'
Chris Castaldo is Director of the Ministry of Gospel Renewal for the Billy Graham Center at Wheaton College. Having been raised Catholic, he has written extensively about Protestant-Catholic relations. In his article Dating Across the Catholic/Protestant Divide he addresses cross-denominational dating. While much of the article is addressed to this particular issue, in the context of counseling a particular young woman who came to him, he does make a broader point about what women should seek in men:

The bar must be higher than simply finding a "Christian man" (this is when I imagine that I am talking to my daughter and become animated). I told Ann, "You want a guy who is a man of the Word, who is captivated by the triune God. Someone whose life is defined by redemptive grace from top to bottom, who embodies it, proclaims it, and understands his marital calling in terms shepherding you by this grace. And, if the Lord should one day bless you with children, realize that this man will be one of two people who most influence your family's spiritual life. You're not looking for perfection; but he must demonstrate a credible trajectory toward gospel priorities."

Friendship, Courtship & Dating
This one is a bit hard to link to, since it's multiple word documents from a seminar series. So I'll just link to the zip file containing them all. It is a 13-part series on the full spectrum of romantic relationships, starting from friendship all the way up until marriage, and it addresses each stage in light of God's design for marriage.

The piece I want to pull from here deals with the second essay I wrote. In that post, my assertion was that too many Christian singles have faulty standards of attraction or rely too much of notions of 'compatibility'. Thus, part of the reason why so many Christian men and women remain unmarried late into their twenties is because they have idealized romance and marriage or approach it as a modern consumer. Rather, we should approach dating and marriage with more biblical, realistic standards.

In my post I stated that 'godliness' should be the primary factor men and women should look, but I declined to attempt to define that, aside from bits scattered about. So, the passage I'll pull from the seminar series attempts to define that more precisely through a string of questions to ask about a potential spouse.

In many cases, not having godly priorities and choosing someone who does not exhibit godliness is tantamount to choosing a lifetime of difficulty and struggle. You don't need someone who is perfect, but you do need someone who desires to grow in godliness. This is one of the most important decisions you will ever make, so be careful of the pull and attraction of more worldly priorities. Scripture makes very clear the importance of godliness, so make it the highest on your list.

Ten General Questions to Ask
Here are some general things to consider as you evaluate someone of interest:

1. Is he/she clearly a believer? (2 Cor 6:14-15) If you have any uncertainty about this, get counsel from others before you move towards a relationship.


2. Does he/she show an evident love for God (in how he/she spends time, money etc.)?


3. Does he/she show an evident love for God's Word?


4. Is there clear evidence of Christian character? Does he/she exhibit the fruits of the Spirit (Gal. 5:22-23) – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control?


5. Is he/she fruitful in ministry? Or does he/she seem somewhat passive?


6. Does he/she show clear regard and care for others?


7. Is he/she faithful and consistent in the Christian life in prayer, scriptural study, etc?


8. Does he/she have the same view and valuation of marriage as you?


9. Do you trust him/her and trust his/her character?


10. Do those who you know and trust think highly of this person?

Questions for Women to Ask

1. Is this a man you respect? Could you envision yourself submitting to and following him over the course of your lives together? (Eph. 5:22-24) Would this man's leadership make submission a burden, or a delight?


2. Do you believe he will care well for you and your children? Will he serve you and encourage your spiritual growth? (1 Tim. 5:8) (If you are not sure of this, you can get clues by watching how he interacts with his parents and family, how he interacts with seniors in the church, how he interacts with children in at church?)


3. Is he growing in godliness and in the characteristics of biblical manhood? (1 Timothy 3, Titus 1 and 1 Peter 3)

Questions for Men to Ask

1. Do you believe she will care for you well and be a good mother and discipler to your children (as biblically defined)? (Titus 2:4-5)


2. Is she growing in godliness and in the characteristics of biblical womanhood (see Proverbs 31 and 1 Peter 3)?


3. Do you envision her being supportive of you and the God-given task of marriage? (Gen 2; 1 Peter 3)


4. Can you envision her following you and being responsive to your leadership? Would she encourage you in the task of leadership?