Richard Lints - Identity and Idolatry: The Image of God and Its Inversion

Identity is a term with a thousand different connotations but few know its precise denotation. What after all is identity? What makes me, me? What makes you, you? This book grew out of the conviction that the more we try to answer that question straightforwardly, the less likely we are to answer it at all. The irony of identity is that by looking away from ourselves we are more likely to discover our identity. Part of that is the complexity of self-identity itself. Part of it is the difficulty of genuine self-awareness. And part of it is the mystery of being created as people who find their identity in their capacity to reflect the Creator and the created order. This book is centrally about that mystery.

No simple description captures all of who we are, nor of the many influences that have been woven into our character. So it is with this book. Its origins lie almost too far back in the past to recover and record them faithfully. A seminar here. A hallway conversation there. A dinner table discussion with my family. Reading Genesis with a new set of eyes. Realizing how important the golden calf story is, but for reasons quite different from what I had originally thought. Finding the most incisive analysis of idolatry in the writings of the most acerbic critic of religion in the nineteenth century. Researching the rise of the modern marketing industry and recognizing how clearly it illustrates the design of the created order. Watching contemporary films and the fascination with the management of impressions that is at the heart of the film world. All of these, and more, pulled me in a thousand different directions when it was time to think about personal identity, but strangely also focused my attention on the Scriptures more sharply than I could have imagined. This book is an attempt to pull together many threads by following one of them from the beginning and seeing it through to its conclusion. That thread is nothing other than the way in which the Bible speaks about our identity as an image and reflection. From that simple origin I hope this work takes you on a journey of surprising discoveries.

This book is also a reflection of many influences in my own life and work. The conceptual origins of the book go back to the work (and friendship) of Meredith G. Kline. He taught me to see the text as a whole and never to miss the forest for the trees. I will never forget the significance of that persistent voice of Meredith. One of Merediths students and now one of my colleagues, Cathy McDowell, has written a remarkable dissertation on the early chapters of Genesis that further opened my eyes to these words of Scripture that speak powerfully to the the forest and the trees of personal identity. Many others also reinforced that redemptive-historical, biblicaltheological, big picture way of reading Scripture. Henri Blocher, Gordon Hugenberger, T. David Gordon, Greg Beale, D. A. Carson and Royce Greunler come very quickly and fondly to mind. Dear friends Michael Horton, Kelly Kapic and Paul Lim insisted that the best biblical theology would also be that which interacted with the wider world of critical scholarship. I hope they see their fingerprints all over this book. Long-time colleague David Wells as well as conversation partners Dick Keyes and Os Guinness taught me the inextricable connection between personal identities and cultural identities which is also the heart of Scriptures conception of identity. Many of my students across the years have contributed to this work in explicit and mostly implicit ways. Brannin Pitre, Blake Arnoult and Derek Baker come immediately to mind across the last decade, as does Daniel Paik this past year, who laboured to put the indexes together.

Closer to home there is little doubt that my own reflections on personal identity are bound up with my identity in the context of my family. Kate and Lucas and Sarah and now Nathan have been surprising mirrors for me, helping me to see myself more clearly than I could ever otherwise have hoped for. They have learned not only to laugh with me but at me, and have thereby helped me not to take myself too seriously. They are adept at raising their eyebrows when my attempt at parental persuasion overreaches the argument itself. I trust that I am more comfortable in my own skin because they have unconditionally accepted me even if that unconditional acceptance sometimes comes with disagreements.