Biblical Inerrancy and the Extraordinary Art of Never Being Wrong
Imagine writing a history book in which every historical claim is guaranteed correct, every apparent contradiction has a perfectly reasonable explanation, and every scientific disagreement must ultimately be the scientist’s fault.
Congratulations! You’ve discovered biblical inerrancy.
Biblical inerrancy is the theological position that the Bible, properly understood, contains no errors in what it affirms. Not merely that its spiritual message is trustworthy, but that its historical assertions are true as well.
In 1978, evangelical scholars produced the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy, a document affirming Scripture’s complete freedom from error. Article XII explicitly includes historical and scientific assertions.
There was just one problem.
The Bible wasn’t consulted about whether it wanted to participate in this arrangement.
For example, Genesis contains two creation narratives with different literary structures and sequences. The Gospels differ over details of Jesus’ birth, genealogy, ministry, and resurrection appearances. Archaeology frequently presents a picture of ancient Israel different from the one described in biblical narratives.
And the original biblical manuscripts? None survive.
This creates an interesting situation. Inerrancy applies, according to the Chicago Statement, strictly to the original writings, which nobody possesses. The surviving manuscripts are copies of copies, containing numerous textual variations.
Defenders respond that such differences need not constitute errors: ancient writers employed literary conventions, selective reporting, approximations, and theological storytelling. Fair enough. Historians make allowances for ancient literary practices too.
But the problem arises when every possible result confirms the original assumption.
If the Bible agrees with archaeology, it is accurate.
If archaeology disagrees, perhaps archaeology is incomplete.
If passages contradict, perhaps they can be harmonized.
If harmonization fails, perhaps the original manuscripts said something different.
This produces a remarkable intellectual achievement: a theory that cannot lose.
Of course, a proposition protected from every conceivable counterexample is not necessarily a proposition established by evidence.
The central question is not whether religious literature can communicate moral wisdom, philosophical insight, or profound spiritual experiences.
It certainly can.
The question is whether an ancient collection of human writings should be exempt from the ordinary standards of historical investigation.
A truly reliable book shouldn’t need an elaborate theological warranty to protect it from being checked.
Historical references: Genesis 1–2; the four canonical Gospels; the Chicago Statement on Biblical Inerrancy (1978); Bart D. Ehrman, Misquoting Jesus (2005).