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Saturday, June 20, 2026

Sin by Any Other Name

 


 

“By your words you will be acquitted, and by your words you will be condemned.”  

Matthew 12:37 (CSB)

Introduction: When Interpretive Disagreement Becomes a Moral Category

In some corners of evangelical discourse—particularly among proponents of Young Earth Creationism (YEC)—certain labels serve purposes far beyond their surface definitions. Terms like “compromiser” or “scoffer” are often employed not just to mark theological divergence but to imply moral or spiritual deficiency. Though frequently framed as doctrinal critiques, these labels function rhetorically as coded condemnations—effectively blurring the line between interpretative differences and spiritual rebellion.

The Power of Terminology: When “Compromise” Implies Moral Corruption

The word “compromise” often appears in creationist materials to describe Christians who adopt interpretations of Genesis that allow for an ancient Earth or evolutionary processes. On its face, this may appear as a caution against doctrinal drift. Yet in context, “compromise” is frequently framed as a betrayal of the faith itself.

Ken Ham, for instance, argues that accepting millions of years “creates doubt in God’s Word—and doubt often leads to unbelief.” (1) While he affirms that Old Earth Christians can be saved, he warns that their views may lead others into apostasy and has even gone so far as to call people to repent of compromising God's Word with [...] millions of years and evolution. (2) This rhetorical move shifts transforms what is ultimately an interpretative disagreement between believers into a moral failure on the part of those who do not ascribe to YECismone with potentially dire spiritual consequences.

“Scoffers in the Church”: Biblical Terms and Contemporary Polemics

Another term frequently invoked is “scoffer”, drawn from 2 Peter 3:3, which warns that “scoffers will come in the last days… following their own evil desires.” In Scripture, the scoffer is not merely mistaken but morally corrupt. When applied to Christians who interpret Genesis differently, the term carries a heavy theological charge.

In a 2017 blog post, Ken Ham applies this passage not only to secularists but also Christians who reject Young Earth Creationism. (3) This framing implicitly aligns fellow believers with figures of spiritual rebellion depending on their view of creation and Noah’s Flood—a move that risks delegitimizing rather than dialoguing.

Spiritual Insight or Doctrinal Boundary?

Some creationist authors go further, suggesting that belief in a Young Earth is not merely a theological conclusion but a spiritual revelation. In an article titled “How Do I Stay Humble When I Know I’m Right?”, Todd Friel writes:

“The real reason [creation scientists] know the earth is young is that the Holy Spirit taught them the truth… The real difference between the young-earth creationist and someone like Stephen Hawking or Neil deGrasse Tyson is the Holy Spirit.” (4)

While intended to affirm spiritual confidence, this framing implies that those who reject a Young Earth may lack spiritual discernment—or even the Spirit Himself. When read alongside Romans 8:9, which states that “if anyone does not have the Spirit of Christ, he does not belong to him,” the implication becomes theologically weighty.

A Theological Concern: Doctrine, Discernment, and Discipleship

These rhetorical patterns raise broader concerns—not simply about tone, but about the theological ecosystem they help create. When doctrinal boundaries are enforced through language that borders on moral judgment, three risks emerge:

  • Ecclesiological fragmentation: Labeling fellow Christians as “compromisers” or “scoffers” undermines unity and stifles dialogue across theological lines.


  • Moral inference by proxy: Terms with strong ethical overtones communicate more than intra-Church disagreement—they suggest spiritual error without owning the weight of formal condemnation.


  • Fear-driven allegiance: When theological views on secondary matters are framed as spiritually perilous, the result may be a discipleship model shaped more by anxiety than conviction.

In this context, terms like “compromiser” and “scoffer” can operate as rhetorical substitutes for more serious charges—heresy, blasphemy, or sin—without explicitly making them. Their strategic ambiguity allows for the implication of grave spiritual failure while sidestepping the ecclesial responsibility that a formal accusation would entail. These labels preserve plausible deniability while conveying theological judgment, functioning as a kind of doctrinal warning cloaked in pastoral language.

A Striking Asymmetry: Responses from Old Earth Perspectives

In contrast, many Old Earth Creationists and Evolutionary Creationists tend to avoid similar rhetorical framing. Figures like Hugh Ross (Reasons to Believe), Deborah Haarsma (BioLogos), and John Walton (Wheaton College) emphasize interpretive humility and theological generosity.

In Origins: Christian Perspectives on Creation, Evolution, and Intelligent Design, Deborah and Loren Haarsma write:

“We are all seeking to understand God’s Word and God’s world. Disagreements should not lead to division, but to deeper conversation, humility, and faith.” (5)

This posture highlights the possibility of charitable disagreement—one where convictions are shared clearly, but without spiritual insinuations or moral judgment.

Conclusion: The Weight of Our Words

The stakes of creationist rhetoric are not confined to hermeneutical differences—they touch the heart of Christian identity and community. As this article has shown, language within some YEC frameworks functions not simply to assert theological convictions, but to delineate who belongs and who is suspect. In such a climate, words like “compromiser” and “scoffer” do more than describe disagreement—they imply defect in character, defect in faith, or even estrangement from Christ Himself.

This is not a call to theological relativism. Biblical interpretation matters. Conviction matters. But the New Testament also reminds us that “knowledge puffs up, but love builds up” (1 Corinthians 8:1). When doctrinal purity is pursued at the expense of love, it can harden into a kind of rhetorical tribalism—one that defends orthodoxy by undermining the very people it seeks to persuade.

Moreover, the asymmetry highlighted between YEC and old-Earth perspectives is instructive. It reminds us that charity and clarity are not mutually exclusive. One can speak with theological precision and pastoral restraint. One can uphold Scripture’s authority without implying that alternative interpretations are evidence of spiritual or moral failure. And one can critique a position robustly without casting suspicion on those who hold it.

To continue in this rhetorical mode—where disagreements are framed in terms saturated with salvific overtones—is to risk narrowing the Gospel to a particular interpretive enclave. The Church becomes not a community of seekers united in Christ, but a gated institution policed by litmus tests that Scripture itself does not demand.

If the church is to model a better way forward—especially in an era marked by deconstruction, division, and disillusionment—it must begin with language. Our discourse should reflect not only the truths we defend but the grace we proclaim. That means resisting the urge to label fellow believers as spiritual deviants for reading Genesis differently. It means asking whether our rhetoric invites conversation or curtails it. And it means remembering that the credibility of our witness depends not only on the doctrines we espouse but on the love with which we hold them.

We can do better—not by watering down conviction, but by speaking it with courage, clarity, and compassion. That, too, is an act of faithfulness.


Friday, June 19, 2026

Scripture, Nature, and Time: Closing Statements




Closing Statements

What would cause me to revise my position?

Despite the initial framing of this debate, the real question has never been whether Scripture or science has greater authority. The real question has been: Which hermeneutic is most faithful to the text of Scripture itself?

JD and I share the same theological commitments. We affirm the same doctrines, the same gospel, and the same authority of Scripture. We simply arrive at those shared conclusions by different interpretive roads.

For most of my life, I was actually a committed Young Earth Creationist—deeply shaped by the Answers in Genesis tradition. In my younger years, I would have interpreted many of the points JD has raised as evidence of compromise, spiritual failure, or capitulation to “the word of fallible men.” By every conceivable standard, I would have judged JD as a “Young Earth Evolutionist,” someone whose compromise placed him only a step above atheism in my mind. (1) I was, in many ways, a Ken Ham clone. That is how deeply invested I was.

What changed my mind was not science. It was Scripture.  

Through studying apologetics and the New Testament, I began to see inconsistencies in my own method. When I applied a consistent hermeneutic across the whole of Scripture, I realized that my YEC conclusions rested on assumptions and inferences—assumptions about chronology, assumptions about pre‑fall perfection, assumptions about the nature of animal death, and assumptions about the necessity of a global flood to explain away the scientific evidence for deep-time. These were not things the text itself taught. They were things I was bringing to the text. Moreover, I also soon came to see just how heavily my YEC interpretation relied on science to make its case.

I eventually realized that what I had been calling “apologetics” was not apologetics at all—it was a reactionary, anti‑science polemic built on reading scientific categories into passages that were never addressing scientific questions in the first place. 

Because it was Scripture that convinced me to abandon my YEC assumptions, only Scripture could convince me to return to them.  

For that to happen, it would need to be demonstrated from the text—not from systematic theology, not from canonical inference, not from scientific necessity—that the YEC reading is not merely one interpretation among many historically held by Christians, but an essential pillar of the faith. It would need to be shown that Scripture explicitly teaches the claims YEC treats as non‑negotiable as a theological necessity. As of now, I see no such evidence.

That said, JD’s strongest contributions in this debate have been his theological clarity. He is firmly grounded in systematic theology, and that is a genuine strength. But in this debate, I believe it also reveals the central weakness of his position. We agree on the theology. We also agree that Genesis 1–11 contains historical touchpoints, but its literary style and ancient context mean it cannot be used to reconstruct a scientific or chronological timeline of natural history.  Where we differ, therefore, is hermeneutics. JD has framed the debate as a question of which view relies more on science and whether science or Scripture is the ultimate authority when it comes to reconstructing the unobserved past. But I have not appealed to science in any of my arguments. Every interpretive point I have made has come directly from the text of Scripture—its grammar, its structure, its genre, its ancient context.

JD, by contrast, has relied on theological conclusions without demonstrating from the text why his hermeneutical framework is necessary for those conclusions to hold or why his hermeneutical approach is preferable over mine. Showing that work, I believe, would significantly strengthen his approach.

Of all the points he raised, I think his strongest is the observation that Genesis 2 seems to present Adam and Eve as adults. As I said in Round 4, I think we should nevertheless be cautious before treating that as a proven, scientific or historical fact, given the atypical vocabulary of the passage. But it is, in my view, his most compelling textual point.

With that said, I want to thank JD again for arranging this debate, and for his honesty, charity, and respectful engagement throughout. I hope the audience has found this exchange edifying and thought‑provoking. And I hope it serves as an example of how two brothers in Christ can disagree on secondary interpretive matters while remaining fully united in the faith and in our commitment to Christ.

Grace and peace to you all as you continue to seek truth in service to our Lord.

JD’s Closing Statement can be read here.

Full Debate:




Thursday, June 18, 2026

Scripture, Nature, and Time: Round 5

 



To answer JD’s Questions from Round 5:

Q: In your model, what exactly changes in the created order because of the Fall? If animal death, predation, disease, extinction, parasitism, natural disasters, and suffering already existed before Adam’s sin, what did the curse introduce into the non-human created order?

A: I’m not convinced Scripture ever teaches that the non‑human creation was altered at the Fall. What Scripture does teach is that human sin affects creation because humans were appointed to rule it. When the rulers are corrupt, what they govern suffers. Creation is not “cursed with death” in Genesis 3 — it is subjected to futility because the ones tasked with stewarding it are in rebellion. As I explain below, Paul’s point in Romans 8 is precisely this: creation groans under the misrule of fallen humanity and waits for the revealing of the redeemed sons of God. When humanity is restored to its proper vocation in the resurrection, creation will finally be set free from the corrupting influence of human sin. 

Q: How do you distinguish death as a created good from death as an enemy? If biological death was part of God’s very good creation for ages before Adam, in what sense is death the enemy Christ defeats?

A: Scripture distinguishes between human death as a covenantal enemy and biological death in the non‑human world. Revelation 22:3 says that in the New Creation “there will no longer be any curse,” using the Greek term katánathema (κατάναθεμα), meaning “a cursed thing devoted to destruction.” That curse is tied to sin and spiritual death, not to the ordinary life‑and‑death cycles of animals.

Human death is the enemy because humanity was exiled from God’s presence in Eden (Genesis 3:22–24). Spiritual death and the lost access to eternal life in God are what Christ defeats—which is why Scripture consistently treats eternal life is something we have now, not some future reward. Scripture never treats animal death the same way. So yes, death is absolutely an enemy — but it is the human, covenantal and judicial death Christ came to destroy, not the biological death of non‑rational creatures.

Q: What does the new creation restore or consummate? If the original creation already included predation, disease, extinction, and suffering, should we expect those realities in the new creation as well? If not, why should the final state differ so sharply from the original state?

A: This is ultimately an eschatological question. But the short answer is that Scripture consistently points to a New Creation, not a reset to Eden. Peter says that “the present heavens and earth are being kept for fire” (2 Peter 3:7), and John declares that in the New Creation “the former things have passed away… behold, I [Jesus] am making all things new” (Revelation 21:4–5).

In my view, God’s command to Adam and Eve to “subdue the earth and rule” (Genesis 1:28) was the beginning of His plan, not the final state of creation. The original world was functioning as it needed to for that plan to unfold, but it was not complete. It was the starting point of the redemptive story that culminates in the New Creation, where God dwells with His people forever (Revelation 21:3).

If biological processes such as animal death were part of what this creation required in order to bring about God’s ultimate purpose, then so be it. The New Creation is the finished product. We are still living in the “work‑in‑progress” phase as history moves toward the consummation of God’s Kingdom where the former things
— our present reality have passed away.

JD’s Round 5 post can be read here. 

Round 5: Death, Fall, Flood, and Theological Coherence:

Which model better preserves the theological structure of creation, fall, curse, death, and redemption?

As JD stated in his opening comments, the question of animal death before the fall is the lynchpin that holds the Young Earth Creationist worldview together. If animals were dying for millions of years before Adam, then there is no need for Flood Geology to explain the fossil record. And without Flood Geology as an alternative to mainstream science, the scientific claims of YEC evaporate almost as quickly as the flood waters themselves.

Where JD and I agree is that Scripture explicitly teaches that death and suffering “entered into the human order” as a consequence of sin—as JD stated in his opening statement. Where we disagree is on the premise that Adam’s sin was a nature-upending catastrophe that introduced death and chaos into the created order as a whole.

So, the crucial question we need to ask at this point is: does the Bible explicitly teach that animal death is a “rupture” into creation caused by sin? Moreover, does Scripture portray animal death and natural disasters as a moral evil standing in opposition to God’s character? I would argue that Scripture does not for the following reasons.

1) The text of Genesis assumes that death is a known category for Adam and Eve. A warning that cannot be understood is no warning at all; therefore “you will surely die” (Genesis 2:17) presupposes that death is already a known reality in creation. Otherwise, the consequences of sin lose their weight.

2) The warning never extends beyond the one who sins. In both Genesis 2:16–17 and Eve’s refrain in Genesis 3:2–3, the consequence is the same: the person who eats will die. A death‑curse on creation is never mentioned or implied in either case.

3) Crucially, Adam is never treated as the federal head of all creation in Scripture—neither is Christ. Both Adam and Jesus—the second Adam (1 Corinthians 15:45)—represent humanity, not animals, ecosystems, natural laws, or biological processes. The gospel is not “God so loved the birds, the bees and the trees.” The gospel is “God so loved the world—that is, humanity

4) When the fall does occur in Genesis 3, there is no curse pronounced on animals or nature. In fact, there is no “death curse” mentioned at all.

There are four judgments in Genesis 3: The woman is judged with increased toil (ʿiṣṣāḇōn, עִצָּבוֹן) in conception, child‑rearing, and her relationship with her husband (Genesis 3:16). The man is judged and given increased toil (ʿiṣṣāḇōn, עִצָּבוֹן) in his labor (Genesis 3:17). The serpent is cursed and presented as a defeated foe groveling in the dust, culminating in the proto‑evangelium (Genesis 3:14–15). And both the man and the woman are cast out of Eden specifically so they will not eat from the Tree of Life and live forever (Genesis 3:22–24)—that is how death becomes a reality for humanity according to the narrative.

The word “curse” (ārūr, אָרוּר) appears only twice. The serpent is cursed (Genesis 3:14), using common ANE/biblical language for defeat, and the ground is cursed in regard to human labor—the effects of which are spelled out in detail: Adam will toil to produce food, and the ground will bring forth thorns. Eden had been a place of plenty where he could eat freely (Genesis 2:16). But outside Eden, the ground would be uncooperative—thorns and weeds would grow freely while cultivated crops would be produced “by the sweat of [his] brow.” (Anyone who farms or gardens knows this struggle well—even with the convenience of modern technology.)

In order to find a “curse” on nature, the YEC interpretation must therefore take the only two curses in the chapter out of context and read their presupposition—that the pre‑fall world was death‑free—back into the text. Thus, “you [the serpent] are cursed more than any livestock and more than any wild animal” is taken to mean that the livestock and other animals were cursed to a lesser degree than the serpent. And the ground [’ereṣ, אֶרֶץ] is cursed because of you” is interpreted as meaning that the entire created order is cursed with death, disease, natural disasters, and entropy because of Adam’s sin—even though ’ereṣ specifically refers to the land or visible surface of the ground in Genesis 3, and is the same word YEC interpreters also take to mean the entire planet Earth in the Flood narrative, not the cosmos. The result is a composite fifth judgment on nature and the animal kingdom—one the text does not explicitly state or support—effectively reading a cosmic death‑curse between the lines rather than letting the text speak on its own terms.  

5) Scripture never portrays animal death or natural disasters as a “rupture” into the created order, or a moral evil caused by sin. Even the Bible’s own exposé on the problem of suffering—the Book of Job—never connects natural disasters or animal death to Adam. Instead, Scripture repeatedly praises God for feeding predators and scavengers—the lions roaring for their prey (Psalm 104:21), the ravens crying out for food (Psalm 147:9; Job 38:39–41), and even the eagle’s young feeding on the slain (Job 39:27–30). Scripture also affirms that God Himself governs the life‑and‑death cycles of creation: “When you take away their breath, they die and return to the dust… When you send your breath, they are created, and you renew the surface of the ground” (Psalm 104:27–31).

Additionally, far from portraying animal death as a necessary evil, Israel’s sacrificial system presents it as holy and acceptable. None of the sacrifices in Genesis (Genesis 4:3–5; 8:20–21; 12:7–8; 13:18; 15, 17; 22:1–14; 31:54; 35:1-7) are described as atonement for sin. And within the Mosaic system, animals were killed not only for atonement (Leviticus 4), but also for fellowship offerings (Leviticus 3), thanksgiving offerings (Leviticus 7:11–15), free‑will offerings (Leviticus 22:18–23), vow‑completion (Numbers 6:14), and ritual purification (Leviticus 14; Numbers 19). If animal death is inherently evil, then God required evil as worship and called it “pleasing.” That conclusion is incompatible with God’s character, so the premise fails.

Jesus Himself also taught that not even a sparrow falls to the ground apart from the Father (Matthew 10:29). And the Old Testament explicitly declares that God is the One who “kills and makes alive” (Deuteronomy 32:39; 1 Samuel 2:6), while the New Testament ascribes all authority over life and death to Christ, who holds “the keys of Death and Hades” (Revelation 1:18). 

Furthermore, Scripture consistently distinguishes between human death (which is moral, judicial, and covenantal) and animal death (which is biological and non‑moral). Conflating the two categories is not a biblical move—it is a modern one. Scripture also clearly teaches that even human death is not always inherently evil. The gospel itself depends on the death of Jesus as the ultimate act and self‑revelation of God’s love (John 15:13; Romans 5:8). Furthermore, the Bible even goes so far as to tell us plainly that Jesus was destined for the cross before the foundations of the world were laid (1 Peter 1:20, Revelation 13:8, 2 Timothy 1:9, Ephesians 1:4). The Cross was not a desperate Plan B to restore creation—it was the plan.

Scripture also consistently portrays God as sovereign over the untamable forces of nature—storms, seas, lightning, earthquakes, and the deep—none of which are treated as moral evils but as instruments of His power and providence (Job 26:7–14; Psalm 29; Psalm 93; Psalm 104:1–9; Nahum 1:3–6).

If you define animal death and the forces of nature as morally evil, then the biblical portrayal of God’s sovereignty over animal death and nature becomes morally problematic. It is one thing to affirm that God’s character sets the standard for what is and is not moral and that He, as Creator, reserves the right to define goodness. It is another thing entirely to submit to that standard when it challenges our own assumptions and moral intuition about what goodness must entail. 

6) All four of the prooftexts used to support the presupposition that death could not exist before the fall—or that death in nature before the fall impugns the character of God—are about human beings, not nature. Romans 5:12 begins and ends with statements about humanity, and the word “world” is kosmos (κόσμος)—the same term used in places like John 3:16, meaning the inhabitants of the earth (cf. John 1:10; 1 John 2:2; 1 John 5:19). Romans 6:23 teaches that the wages of sin is death, but animals are not moral agents; they cannot sin and therefore cannot earn death as a wage. Nor can they receive eternal life as a gift from God through faith in Jesus. These are entirely human categories. In 1 Corinthians 15:21–22, Paul contrasts Adam with Christ—the first man brought death to humanity, but the last Adam brings resurrection life. Again, the emphasis is on the resurrection hope of the believer, not nature.

Romans 8:19–22 is the strongest prooftext, but it is strong precisely because it is ambiguous. Notably, the word “death”thanatos (θάνατος)—is absent from the passage, and so is the word “curse.” Paul never uses katara (κατάρα)—the standard Greek term for “curse”—anywhere in Romans 8. If Paul intended to teach that creation was placed under a divine curse of death, he had clear and familiar vocabulary available to him. Yet he chose not to use it.

Instead, the two Greek terms Paul does use are mataiotēti (ματαιότητι), meaning “futility,” “vanity,” or “frustration,” and phthoras (φθορᾶς), meaning “decay,” “corruption,” or “ruin.” Neither word means “death.”

It is also important to note that Romans 8 begins with a “therefore” (8:1), which means Paul is continuing the argument of Romans 7. And Romans 7 is about moral corruption, spiritual bondage to sin, and the broken human condition—not animal biology or natural processes. (This is the same “death” Paul contrasts with the eternal life we have in the Spirit in passages like Ephesians 2:1-9, 4:17-24, and 5:14, etc.) Reading Romans 8:19–22 within this broader context makes it clear that Paul is describing creation’s participation in humanity’s moral and vocational disorder, not a cosmic death‑curse imposed on nature.

Paul also describes creation as groaning like a woman in labor (Romans 8:22–23). Labor pains point forward to something new and better coming, and the pain is forgotten when the new life arrives—which is exactly the point Jesus makes in John 16:21, where He says that a woman forgets her anguish once the child is born because of the joy that follows. And in Romans 8:23 Paul explicitly connects the coming joy to the Resurrection. In context, creation is longing for the revealing of the sons of God—redeemed humanity restored to its proper vocation as co‑heirs with Christ (Romans 8:16-17)—not a reset to Edenic perfection. Once again, this prooftext is entirely centered on human sin, human death, and human resurrection hope in Christ. Animals are nowhere to be found. More than that, the age of the earth itself is nowhere to be found. Even within a YEC framework, Paul’s statements on death and sin contain no information with which to reconstruct a chronology for natural history. The YEC chronology is an inference and must be assumed prior to the interpretation of these passages in order for them to become relevant. To put it simply, Paul—writing under the inspiration of the Holy Spirit—had precise Greek vocabulary available to express a cosmic death‑curse if that is what he intended. Yet he deliberately chose terms that describe moral frustration and corruption, not the biological death of non‑rational creatures. 

7) Since the Bible never portrays animal death as a moral evil introduced by Adam, never links it to Adam’s sin, and consistently praises God as the master of life and death, the claim that animal death before sin challenges the goodness of God or undermines the gospel fails to stand up to the witness of the Word itself.

So then, what of the “very good” world in Genesis?

First and foremost, we need to understand that tov meod (טוֹב מְאֹד) does not mean “perfect.” That word is tamim (תָּמִים), rendered “perfect,” “blameless,” “complete,” or “without blemish or spot” in English Bibles. If God had meant to say creation was complete, death‑free and perfect in the sense YEC readings assume, that is the word He would have used. Instead, He called creation tov meod—a term that specifically refers to functionality and intended purpose. God was essentially giving creation His divine stamp of approval—the stage was set for His ultimate plan: sending His Son to die for His enemies to demonstrate His love and goodness to them for all eternity (Romans 5:10; John 3:16).

Ironically, the assumption that animal death is a moral evil actually comes from humanism, not Genesis. As Dr. John Walton notes:

“Our modern Western system of ideas, which historians and philosophers call humanism, is based on the belief that human happiness constitutes the highest value and therefore the highest good. Happiness in turn is generally defined in terms of an absence of pain, such that our word evil is synonymous with human suffering. … The cognitive environment of the ancient Near East, however, did not hold human happiness as the highest ideal. Their highest ideal is probably best described by our English word order. For ancient Near Easterners, a thing was good not based on the extent to which it produced human pleasure or alleviated human suffering, but to the extent to which it was functioning as it was intended to. … This was part of the cognitive environment of the ancient world and was what ancient writers meant when they used the word that translators render in English as good.” — John H. Walton, The Lost World of the Israelite Conquest, pp. 21–22

In short, the idea that animal death before the fall contradicts Scripture or the character of God is not rooted in the biblical text at all. It is the product of modern people anthropomorphizing a modern worldview and then applying their own cultural sensitivities to animals—sensitivities the original audience of Scripture did not share, and that many people today still do not share. Even within the modern West, farmers, ranchers, hunters, and outdoorsmen have no difficulty butchering animals or taking animal life for food; they do not regard it as a moral evil to eat a fish, a deer, or a cow. And in much of the developing world, people live far closer to the ancient agrarian realities assumed by Scripture, where animal death is simply part of God’s provision.

What Scripture explicitly teaches is that human death—both spiritual and physical—is a consequence of the Fall. But the text is silent on whether animals died before then, and it is reasonable to infer that they did based on the textual evidence presented above. This silence becomes even more significant when we consider that there are only four prooftexts in the entire Bible—approximately seven sentences in total—used to support the YEC claim that no animal death existed before Adam’s sin. And all of them come from a handful of passages in two epistles written by the same author in the mid‑first century.

If this doctrine were truly as essential as YEC theology assumes, we must ask why the only supposed biblical support appears in a few isolated Pauline statements rather than throughout the canon. If the idea that “no animal died before Adam” were a foundational biblical teaching, we should expect to find it woven into the Law, the Prophets, the Writings, the Gospels, and the rest of the New Testament. But we don’t. In fact, as we have seen, the overwhelming testimony of Scripture actually points in the opposite direction.

My questions for JD:

1) I really only have one question for JD — and it’s as much a question for the audience as for him. Given the premises that (a) God’s character is the standard of moral goodness, and (b) as Creator, God alone has the right to define goodness however He wills, then consider this:

If God had created a universe in which millions of years of animal death, predation, disease, and extinction were necessary for His ultimate plan — and if God Himself called such a creation “very good” — would He still be worthy of all honor, glory, praise, and worship? Or would He be evil for doing so?

Full Debate: