The question in this post is a bit tougher than the one in my previous post. It also comes from a college student; a friend of my eldest daughter. I have posted the question below. I'm a bit conflicted because the questioner doesn't even know I've read her question, but I'm assuming/hoping her question is general enough that it's OK for me to post it. I've re-worded it slightly.

For context: this College student grew up (as far as i know) in an evangelical church, was involved and even a leader in her youth group, etc. She read Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead in her senior year of High School and this began what, to my understanding, was her journey away from the core of her faith. She is, by the way, extremely intelligent and is attending a prestigious ivy league school in the northeast.

Here's here question:

So, right now I'm trying to reconcile the goodness of God in relation to the problem of evil, so I had written down some things I thought about this and some other questions. Tell me what you think.

Things i don't understand:
Original sin, morality, and salvation (in relation to each other)

1) Original sin: I think Rand summed this one up nicely. how can I be corrupted before I exist? If that is the case - that I'm born guilty or have "tendencies," then I am not free. If that is determined by outside forces, I am not free. If I am not free, but merely acting under compulsion, how can I just be held responsible for anything I do, good or bad?

This leads into the next question, which will lead to the last one:

2) Morality: certain moral issues arise when considering the idea of creation. If God is all-knowing, he would know what we would do, whether he determines it or not, through that knowledge he could (should?) select certain people to exist or not exist. In this sense, God would have to be not omniscient (can he be god w/o omniscience?) or evil, not merely by "omission" but by actively creating people he knows will do evil. For instance, inventors of weapons. If the latter, there is no reason to worship him except maybe fear. If the former, why is he God? though, the lack of omniscience could be a product of pure freedom, in which case, I suppose that could work or it could work depending on whether or not the future exists.

Mildly unrelated: Why would an all-powerful, all-knowing God want relationships with people? this seems to be some sort of desperately lonely god or people who decided to raise themselves up to be friends of God. The first seems illogical, the second, petty. however, this only deals with God's morality, what of that of the people? In many cases, it would seem to be irrelevant: God picked them to do certain things [leibniz: best possible world] and therefore they deserve no credit or blame.

3) Salvation: how can a moral, just, omniscient God create people who will reject his truth? Isn't that the best definition of evil - rejection of truth? Furthermore, how can he punish them if he created them to do just that? it doesn't make sense. How would he pick those who would go with him, those he would call?

Possible resolutions:
1) Determinism is true and God is evil
2) We are free and God is not omniscient
3) We are free/physically determined and there is no God

So, that's what i was thinking about earlier. if there are other resolutions, do tell, but i haven't been able to think of them.

I realize the questions above have been wrestled over for centuries, and that there are no easy answers. But I'm definitely interested in any thoughts you might have. Leave them in the comments thread. Thanks!

I was asked the following question by a college student recently: Why should we pray?

Here's where he was coming from: God already knows everything. God gives us what we need. What purpose does prayer have?

The quick answer I gave was that God commands us to pray, and that it's an important way for us to know Him more and commune with Him. And last weekend our pastor made the point that God uses our prayers, somehow, as a means to His pre-ordained ends.

I'd be interested in your thoughts on this, though. What would you say to a young, intelligent and conflicted College student who asks "Why should I pray?"

I'm currently at work on my third book. I'd like to share bits and pieces as I go, if that's okay. The book is about the gospel (of course), and here is a passage from the chapter I finished today, which is on brokenness.

When our heavenly Father looks upon the broken mess of our lives, he doesn’t snicker or sigh. He ministers to us a sweeter comfort than any temporary and worldly comfort we’d sought before. We are told by the prophet, “The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.” God doesn’t despise us in our brokenness; he comforts us in it. The greater the brokenness, the greater the impulse to trust him. The greater the trust in him, the greater the joy of his salvation. So, then, the further to the end of ourselves we go, the more of Christ we will enjoy.

Hey, biblical Greek "experts," lend me a hand. Which translation of Acts 16:34 is more accurate, do you think, and why?

NIV
The jailer brought them into his house and set a meal before them; he was filled with joy because he had come to believe in God—he and his whole family.

ESV
Then he brought them up into his house and set food before them. And he rejoiced along with his entire household that he had believed in God.

Did the jailer and his whole family believe? Or did he and his whole household rejoice because he believed? (Or both?)

Which translation gets at the best sense of the Greek text?

Luther really did say "Sin boldly," but it doesn't mean what we think it does. It's a rhetorical statement that in context takes on more clarity.

Here is the passage from his message to Philip Melancthon:

If the mercy is true, you must therefore bear the true, not an imaginary sin. God does not save those who are only imaginary sinners. Be a sinner, and let your sins be strong, but let your trust in Christ be stronger, and rejoice in Christ who is the victor over sin, death, and the world. We will commit sins while we are here, for this life is not a place where justice resides. We, however, says Peter (2. Peter 3:13) are looking forward to a new heaven and a new earth where justice will reign. It suffices that through God's glory we have recognized the Lamb who takes away the sin of the world. No sin can separate us from Him, even if we were to kill or commit adultery thousands of times each day. Do you think such an exalted Lamb paid merely a small price with a meager sacrifice for our sins? Pray hard for you are quite a sinner.

Elsewhere, Luther talks about committing a token sin (of sorts) to spite the devil, by which he means if the devil is foisting legalism upon you on matters that are not real sins (drinking, mowing your lawn on Sunday, etc.), you could spite him by doing just that. But in this instance he is not literally advocating sin. He is only saying that Christ died for what sin truly is: bold, willful rebellion against God. Let your sin be named as that. Cop to it. You don't have to pretend your sins are tame. Be a bold sinner. But be a bolder believer in the redemption of your depravity.

As unpromised, then re-promised, here is the lone surviving video from Moot, which is Blo trying to wrap his tiny Sasquatch brain around original sin and coming this close to the heresy of Pelagianism. ;-)

Blo on Total Depravity from Jared Wilson on Vimeo.

For you did not receive a spirit that makes you a slave again to fear, but you received the Spirit of sonship. And by him we cry, "Abba, Father."
-- Romans 8:15

I hadn't realized this, really, until a couple of years ago, but the church traditions I grew up in dealt heavily in dispensing spirits of fear. I felt an aversion to a lot of what I experienced -- although not to the core doctrine I was taught, which was all solid -- all through my adolescence, but it took me into my thirties to put a label on it: the spirit of fear.

The revivalistic invitationalism reduced the gospel to a bet-hedging spin on Pascal's Wager, hinging on the weekly intonation of "If you were to die on your way home tonight, would you go to heaven?"

It's a great question. It's a valid question. But in the context of the spirit of fear, it didn't just create a tremble at the thought of hell, but a tenuousness in our thinking of salvation. (Was I ever really sure? Maybe I should say the prayer again or rededicate.)

The list of things to be afraid of began when I was young and did not relent.

- The inherent witchcraft in the practice of trick-or-treating or any other recognition of Halloween.

- The New Age infiltration of everything from He-Man action figures to rainbow stickers.

- Nuclear war, which Gog (or Magog -- I can't remember which) was going to wage on us, according to prophecy.

- Catholics.

- Calvinists.

- Basically any non-Baptists.

- People who drink beer.

- Demon stories told by youth leaders at camp.

- Skits about car crashes.

- Youth camp games like Underground Church, which involved "pretend torture," and Sheep and Goats, which involved simulating a mass disaster and sending certain church youth groups to "hell."

- Satanism.

- Backmasking in rock and roll music.

- People and places and works to boycott and/or protest.

- The rapture.

That last one really did me in. The original "left behind" movies (A Thief in the Night and those other classics of 70's Christian cinema) had me so in fear of being left behind, I had ongoing nightmares. I was twelve years old and had to sleep on the floor of my parents' bedroom. I ended up getting saved and baptized again.

I'm a neurotic guy anyway and was plagued with a natural lack of self-confidence. This stuff really messed me up.

Yet I'm not mad about it. I get angry sometimes about the stuff itself, and the spirit that gives rise to it. But I know when pastors and churches deal in this kind of stuff, they basically mean well. There are subtle issues of control and power going on in there, but I know a lot of this stuff was meant to move people to Jesus. And yet the damage it does along the way can leave scars that remain long past salvation. This is not the sort of confidence gospel wakefulness is meant to create in the born again.

I know all my pastors and Sunday School teachers and church leaders loved me. They cared about my soul. But they made me a very frightened, timid, powerless believer. And I was ill equipped for real life, because I had been given the spirit of fear.

Thankfully evangelicalism seems pretty much "over" a lot of this stuff. But we peddle in new fears, and it grieves me. What are we afraid of now?

- That liberals will take God out of America. (As if that was possible.)

- That Democrats will pass bad laws.

- That stores will say "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas."

There's a lot more, and most of them are of the culture war variety. Politics and social concerns. You may think these are all valid issues, and some of them are, but the way they grip the evangelical's attention and the way they drive him and her into anxiety, preoccupation, anger, obsession are all evidences of the spirit of fear.

The difference maker is this: Is God sovereign or not? Is Jesus risen and now sitting on the throne or not? If so: Relax.

I know all the fear-spirit peddlers usually mean well. But an imperfect love, even though love, is not the perfect love of Christ which drives out fear. If God is for me in Christ, who can be against me? What shall I fear?

Nobody. Nothing.

(And by the way, it really confuses (and sometimes concerns) people if you don't give a crud if the Ten Commandments get taken out of the courthouse or if "In God We Trust" gets taken off the money. They can't take Christ out of my heart or God out of his heaven, can they? No? Well, I'm all set then.)

The love of Christ is perfect, securing salvation eternally, fostering assurance and confidence in him.

Let the world toil and tumble. My Redeemer lives.

In this way, love is made complete among us so that we will have confidence on the day of judgment, because in this world we are like him. There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love.
-- 1 John 4:17-18

It depends on how much sin you think Christ's sacrifice can cover (Heb. 10:12) and how much faith you think receiving grace requires (Matt. 17:20).

And he's a lifesaver (for me, anyway). No classic writer outside the Bible has helped me more with gospel/law, grace/sin. And Luther is so helpful because this wasn't theoretical for him. He felt the weight of his own sin and clung desperately to the cross of Christ, his sole hope in the despair of his depravity. He felt this stuff in his bones. Take comfort in Luther's preaching, if you are brokenhearted and tempted to doubt your assurance.

“Faith, if it is to be sure and steadfast, must lay hold upon nothing else but Christ alone, and in the conflict and terrors of conscience it has nothing else to lean on but this precious pearl Christ Jesus. So, he who apprehends Christ by faith, although he be terrified with the law and oppressed with the weight of his sins, yet he may be bold to glory that he is righteous. How? Even by that precious jewel Christ Jesus, whom he possesses by faith.”

-- from Luther's Commentary on Galatians

Grace (6): "What does 'perish' mean? If having Jesus means you 'not perish,' it must be bad, right?"

Macy (8): "It means 'die'."

Grace: "We're all gonna die, Macy."

As if it couldn't mean that. :-)

Yesterday driving home I passed by a yard where a girl who looked to be about 6 was wrestling in the yard with a playful dog who looked to weigh about 80 pounds. It was one of the best things that graced my eyes on an overcast day.

Philip Melancthon once said to his friend Martin Luther, "Today, Martin, you and I will discuss God's governance of the universe," to which Luther replied, "No, Philip. Today you and I are going fishing, and we'll leave the governance of the universe to God."

I am glad God leaves to us the business of such things as playing with dogs, fishing, skipping rocks, flying kites, watching sunrises, watching sports, swimming in the ocean, drinking beer, making love to our spouses, and making people laugh.

God is good and so is life.

From one of my favorite novelists - Sigmund Brouwer.

Recently, nearly 5,000 evangelicals gathered in Washington, D.C. at a conference called Christians United For Israel. The essential message to politicians: don’t pressure Israel into peace deals or giving up any land. The essential reason: it’s against God’s will.

Unfortunately, this view is backed by a large percentage of 70 million evangelicals, willing to exert significant political pressure against a two-state solution in the Middle East and the peace it might bring.
It’s a long and unfortunate tradition.

“The Christian fundamentalists were vehemently opposed to the peace process,” says Itamar Rabinovich, Israeli ambassador to the U.S. from 1993-1996. “They believed that the land belonged to Israel as a matter of divine right. So they immediately became part of a campaign by the Israeli right to undermine the peace process.”

In 1998, evangelical leader Jerry Falwell threatened to mobilize thousands of pastors if U.S. President Bill Clinton pressured Israel into peace efforts; Clinton quickly backed down. High-profile evangelical John Hagee is continuing this pressure through CUFI.

Much of the Arab world’s shared outrage against the United States began and continues over the Palestinian land claims conflict. Without questioning in any way Israel’s right to exist, crucial geo-political decisions ought not to be affected by a theology that needs critical examination, especially since orthodox Christians disagree markedly among themselves on Israel’s divine right to the land. During his time on earth, Christ stated his mission was to establish a heavenly kingdom, not an earthly one. Furthermore, the apostle Paul tells us that the true Israel includes all of those with faith in the divine Christ – Jews or non-Jews. In short, God is not a land broker.

What’s truly frightening is a broad evangelical belief behind the support for Israel, that God wants a rebuilt temple on the site of the Muslim Dome of the Rock. If there ever was the potential to trigger Armageddon, this is it.

For millions in comfortable evangelical church pews across the United States, the conflict is merely an abstract consequence of a holy battle. To them, violent and indiscriminate deaths in Palestine or Israel are mere headlines, and the process for peace takes second place to a supposed Biblical mandate.

Forgotten in this are the hundreds of thousands of Palestinian children in the shadow of Israel’s wealth, living far below poverty. One report showed that up to 75% suffer from malnutrition. If this were any other place in the world, American Christians would flood it with relief efforts instead of relying on the few groups already there.

Let’s allow Washington to help Israel work towards peace without interference from racist theology that discriminates against Arabs. In the meantime, given the immense suffering of an entire lost generation of Palestinian children, evangelicals could serve the process much better by uniting in Palestine under the directive Christ left his followers: feed the hungry and cloth the poor.

If this shift were made and the Arab world saw a different crusade by American evangelicals, the world truly would be a better place.

I found this blog post here - I think he wrote it in conjunction with the release of his novel "Fuse." (It's an old post by now.)

I was surprised by his use of the term "racist" but now I think I understand why he's using it. It's the first time that I've heard an evangelical Christian call Zionism racist. Or because he calls it theology, he could even be referring to dispensationalism!

“The Lord held to this orderly plan in administering the covenant of his mercy: as the day of full revelation approached with the passing of time, the more he increased each day the brightness of its manifestation. Accordingly, at the beginning when the first promise of salvation was given to Adam [Gen. 3:15] it glowed like a feeble spark. Then, as it was added to, the light grew in fullness breaking forth increasingly and shedding its radiance more widely. At last — when all the clouds were dispersed — Christ the Sun of Righteousness fully illumined the whole earth.”

- John Calvin

The Son is the radiance of God's glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word.
-- Hebrews 1:3

The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp.
-- Revelation 21:23

A head-scratcher of a gem from John Piper (and C.S. Lewis): Hell Never Produced a Single Pleasure

One of the roots of Christian Hedonism as I have pondered it for the last forty years is C. S. Lewis. Reading Alan Jacobs’ biography, The Narnian has underlined the influence Lewis has had on my thinking.

Here is a striking sentence about Lewis’s lifelong pursuit: “Lewis’s perpetual task both as a defender of Christianity and as an advocate of medieval literature is to call people to delight” (p. 190).

One of his paths to this “perpetual task” was his analysis of the devil’s use of pleasure. Screwtape (speaking for the devil—“Our Father”—in The Screwtape Letters) says to one of his under-devils:

Never forget that when we are dealing with any pleasure in its healthy and satisfying form, we are, in a sense, on the Enemy's ground. I know we have won many a soul through pleasure. All the same, it is His invention, not ours. He made the pleasures: all our research so far has not enabled us to produce one. All we can do is encourage the humans to take the pleasures which our Enemy has produced, at times, or in ways, or in degrees, which he has forbidden.... An ever increasing craving for an ever diminishing pleasure is the formula.... To get a man's soul and give him nothing in return—that's what really gladdens Our Father's heart. (quoted in The Narnian, 189)

This is an astonishing view of pleasure. Hell has never been able to produce one! It can only misuse the ones that God created—in “times,” “ways,” and “degrees” that God forbids.

This means that all the debased enjoyments of the world are echoes of the joys of heaven. The analysis of this is worth a lifetime. And one effect of such an analysis would be to take the notion of “seeker-sensitive” ten miles deeper into Truth. How to penetrate the soul whose every desire is for Heaven while hating Heaven—that is the task.

A young couple I know are dating seriously and are beginning to debate the topic of Baptism. The young man is a long time credo-baptist (believer's baptism) while the young lady is beginning to lean paedo-baptist (infant baptism).

I sent the young man (I'll call him "Frank" and the young lady I'll call "Lilly") a few quick thoughts on the subject, responding to an email he sent me. Here's what I wrote:

Frank,

My caution on the [2 Timothy 3:16-17 passage] is that that same argument could be used against a lot of things. Some churches have, for instance, argued that instruments are not to be used in a worship service because the New Testament never records the usage of instruments. That kind of thing - it's kind of an argument from silence.

In other words, the 2 Timothy verse doesn't so much say anything bad about extra-biblical practices as it says something GOOD about the Bible. Regarding Matthew 15:9 - that is a good warning and infant baptisms *may* fall into that, but again you get into the argument about whether it's a command of men or not.

For reference, the source of the command for Baptism (one source at least) is Matthew 28:19-20 "Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age.” Note that in this passage, Baptism seems very tied to discipleship and belief.

A better argument than the 2 Timothy passage might be that the baptisms portrayed in the New Testament are all believer's baptism (i.e., the people being baptised are believers/able to understand the Gospel). I did a quick search - here are some passages that describe this: Acts 2:41, Acts 8:12-13, Acts 8:36-38, Acts 18:8 (note: all of these are in Acts, since it describes the early church, and - hence - lots of baptisms). In addition, baptism is described as a process of immersion, rather than sprinkling.

There are some passages that can be confusing, though - for instance, Acts 16:31-33 describes the Philippian jailer being baptized, "and all his household". We don't know if his household included little children. In those days (and this sounds strange to our ears) if the head of a house adopted Christianity, the whole house would.

I will look for some better resources for you. One thing to keep in mind (and this is only something I've realized in the last few years): there are plenty of devout, Jesus-loving, God-honoring Christians who believe in infant-baptism. And they have some good reasons for believing in that (I happen to disagree, but still they are good reasons). A number of people who, for instance, comment on Thinklings are what are called "paedo-baptist", meaning they believe in infant baptism, rather than "credo-baptist", meaning that they believe in believer's baptism. I can't say that I understand their position, but I do respect those beliefs. It is, though, an important thing to get straight between a couple. Let me put it this way: if you were to marry Lilly, have you talked about what church you would attend? This topic will have implications for that. All Baptist churches and many non-denom or evangelical churches will practice believer's baptism by immersion - so if you go to one of those, there you go. Many other denoms (mainstream denoms, Presbyterian, etc) practice infant baptism. Do you guys attend a church together now? How does it do it?

From my point of view, this is not so much something that should be argued or debated about as it is something that should be prayerfully considered together as a couple.

I'll try to get back to you with more info soon.

I realize we have a friendly mix of Paedo and Credo in this space. But I am interested in improving on my, admittedly quickly-scribed and somewhat weak argument above. Any help would be appreciated.

[Bill digs in and puts on his Kevlar undershorts, prepping for an imminent Paedo barrage]

With a nod from John Calvin, the Geneva city council in 1553 burned Michael Servetus at the stake. Servetus was a heretic who denied the Trinity of persons within the Godhead and denied paedobaptism. While Calvin preferred to give Servetus a quick death via decapitation, he had to compromise with the council who preferred to let Servetus burn to death.

On a related note, a few years earlier, Swiss reformer Ulrich Zwingli, and his council, persecuted Anabaptists by giving them their "third baptism": a death by drowning. Zwingli would later die by the sword, fighting Catholics in neighboring counties.

Sadly, the history of Christianity is rich with bloodshed. Thankfully, these days we don't kill guys like Joel Osteen and whoever the guy is who wrote The Shack, but I think the history of dealing with heresy should teach us that orthodoxy -- right thinking -- really matters. To be sure, I don't condone certain ways the church has dealt with heresies in the past; in fact, I find many of those ways appalling. While I'm not a pacifist, I tend to think that the Anabaptists had a lot of right ideas when it came to their aversion to violence.

Heresy is serious, and an appropriate response to heresy is something the evangelical church needs to grapple with in this age of pluralism, "tolerance," and sweltering anti-Christianity. As far as an appropriate response goes, violence is not the answer.

I didn't have a choice but to lift you up. And sing whatever song you wanted me to.

-- U2, "Magnificient"

Theologically I'm not prepared to defend to death every minor point of Calvinist theology, but I've found recently the more of God's word I read, the more plainly I understand that our salvation is not our own doing. Sure, real Arminians also believe in prevenient grace, but I can't buy the idea that we have anything whatsoever to do with our eternal destination. (And for the record, I don't think Arminianism is a weak position; I simply think Calvinism carries more Biblical weight.)

For me, embracing Calvinism is embracing a paradigm-shifting thought: I'm not in control of jack squat. I can't will to do good. I can't give God a wink and a nod, saying, "Go ahead, do your stuff in me." And I certainly can't work out my own salvation with fear and trembling; it's got to be God working in me, and it is. I'm comforted knowing that what He starts He completes, and He'll perfect His work (both in me and my family) until the day of Christ JESUS (Philippians 1:6). I know that's true. I have no fear of losing salvation because it's not up to me to keep it. He will come through.

In the past I've dipped my toe into the waters of Calvinism, but I've never (I don't think) flat out said I was a Calvinist. I guess that's what I am. The theologically snooty part of me would rather be called a monergist or even an Augustinian, but Calvinist works just fine.

Grace (5): Sissy is speaking to me in her mean voice.

Me: I'm sorry. That's not very nice, is it?

Grace: No. So I don't want to be her sister any more.

Me: Well, that's not nice either. That's pretty mean.

Grace: Well, why should I be nice to her if she's not gonna be nice to me?

Me: Because that's called grace. That's why we named you that, remember? Remember that grace means being nice to someone and loving them even if they don't deserve it.

Grace: She doesn't deserve it.

Me: I know. But it would be easy to be sweet to her if she was being sweet to you, wouldn't it? If she was being nice to you, wouldn't you want to be nice to her?

Grace: Uh huh.

Me: But that's not grace. Grace means being sweet to your sister even if she's not being sweet to you.

Grace: Why would I want to do that?

Me: Because that's what God did for us. He loved us even though we're really bad. Didn't he?

Grace: Ohhh. Yeah. I'm gonna go watch TV now.

The Nicene Creed was born this day in 325. One of the oldest and most widely used confessions of the universal Christian faith, the Nicene Creed was formulated at a time when the heresy of Arianism threatened orthodox Christianity with the denial of Jesus' deity. Thus the strong Christology in the creed.

I believe in one God,
the Father Almighty,
maker of heaven and earth,
and of all things visible and invisible;

And in one Lord Jesus Christ,
the only begotten Son of God,
begotten of his Father before all worlds,
God of God, Light of Light,
very God of very God,
begotten, not made,
being of one substance with the Father;
by whom all things were made;
who for us men and for our salvation
came down from heaven,
and was incarnate by the Holy Ghost
of the Virgin Mary,
and was made man;
and was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate;
he suffered and was buried;
and the third day he rose again
according to the Scriptures,
and ascended into heaven,
and sitteth on the right hand of the Father;
and he shall come again, with glory,
to judge both the quick and the dead;
whose kingdom shall have no end.

And I believe in the Holy Ghost the Lord, and Giver of Life,
who proceedeth from the Father [and the Son];
who with the Father and the Son together
is worshipped and glorified;
who spake by the Prophets.
And I believe one holy Catholic and Apostolic Church;
I acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins;
and I look for the resurrection of the dead,
and the life of the world to come. AMEN.

Element's statement of faith credits the affirmations of the Nicene Creed.

Many, if not most, writings in this category [Apostolic Fathers] were treated as Scripture alongside the Gospels and apostles' epistles by some Christian churches in the second century. In fact, one way of understanding this category is as the books that came to be judged orthodox but barely missed being judged canonical, inspired Scripture when the Christian canon was being determined. In other words, these writings were hardly distinguished from the writings of the apostles by some Christians in the Roman Empire but were ultimately excluded because they received no universal agreement as Scripture . . .
-- Roger E. Olsen, The Story of Christian Theology

I've been reading a translation of the Apostolic Fathers lately, and, despite their inclination toward moralism, they're very refreshing to read. In fact, if Christians used the Apostolic Fathers as a theological resource on certain issues, they could help shed light on the way many first-generation believers viewed certain cultural and doctrinal issues. For example ...

Abortion

You shall not murder ... you shall not abort a child or commit infanticide.

-- Didache 2:2

Baptism

Now concerning baptism, baptize as follows: after you have reviewed all these things, baptize in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit in running water. But if you have no running water, then baptize in some other water; and if you are not able to baptize in cold water, then do so in warm. But if you have neither, then pour water on the head three times in the name of the Father and Son and Holy Spirit.
-- Didache 7:1-3

The Godhead

The Lord submitted to suffer for our souls, even though he is Lord of the whole world, to whom God said at the foundation of the world, "Let us make humankind according to our image and likeness," . . .

-- Barnabas 5:5

Those are only a few examples of certain theological and moral issues that the Apostolic Fathers have something to say about. To be sure, the Apostolic Fathers are not Scripture, but, as Olsen said, they are by-and-large considered orthodox. Sure, in many ways they truly didn't understand the Gospel of Grace, but they didn't have the luxury of the full revelation of Scripture that we now possess.

Furthermore, it's important to note that the Apostolic Fathers were the guys who, in many instances, knew the apostles. For example, Polycarp was a disciple of John. While they didn't have the full canon of Scripture to rely on, they did have a close association with the apostles. They were Christianity's first theologians.