Autobiography as Apologetic


Douglas Groothuis

Article ID:



Mar 8, 2023


Jul 30, 2020

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Old philosophers tell tales, sometimes about their own intellectual pilgrimage. Bertrand Russell (1872–1970), one of the leading philosophers of the twentieth century, published My Philosophical Development in 1959 when he was eighty-seven years old. The history of twentieth-century philosophy could not be rightly written without reference to Russell’s work in the philosophy of mathematics, logic, epistemology, and metaphysics.

Russell was a renowned atheist and a patron saint of skepticism. Now I, as a Christian — of far lesser renown philosophically — will give mine. I am getting older (people are asking me when I will retire), and I lament the recent loss of so many Christian leaders who have shaped my thinking. I also am disturbed by so many recent deconversions of well-known Christians. So, I need to write about what I have not written much. Autobiography can be an apologetic for what matters most — the Christian message and way of being. May it be so for the reader.


My narrative will relate my conversion and intellectual development. Unlike an atheist’s conversion to atheism, the Christian believes that he or she was guided by God in gaining saving faith. I take the events of my conversion to reliably indicate God’s communicating with me and that God saved me through His intervention.

I was born in Anchorage, Alaska, in 1957. My first eighteen years in Anchorage had little to do with the church, although my parents were God-fearing and decent people, and had me baptized as an infant. I had no discernibly Christian friends growing up. I did believe in God and sometimes prayed, but that was about it.

I had two encounters with the evangelist and author Bob Larsen, who was known for exposing the evils of rock and roll music. Out of curiosity, my friends and I attended two of his meetings. We snickered and reveled that he got several facts wrong. Nevertheless, at one event, I started to worry that the gospel might be true. Larsen said, “Some of you are sweating.” I was. After another talk, a church lady asked me if I thought I was a sinner. I said no. She then asked if I knew where I would go if I died that night. I said no. A year later, I knew I was a sinner and knew where I would go after I died.

In my middle teens, I identified with the counterculture and became interested in pantheistic spirituality through several musical groups, such as Kansas, Santana, and the Mahavishnu Orchestra. My interest was limited to reflecting on musical lyrics and reading about mystical musicians, but I encountered a guru in Anchorage in 1975.

Sri Chinmoy (1931–2007) was the guru of the guitar players Carlos Santana and John McLaughlin, two of my favorite musicians. Both had renounced drugs, often dressed in white, and hailed his wisdom. When Chinmoy came to speak, my girlfriend and I attended. He had the guru aura down pat. Dressed in a flowing robe, speaking with an accent, and uttering aphorisms, he tried to cast his spell. After his performance, someone in the audience earnestly asked him, “What exactly is your teaching? What do you want us to know?” Chinmoy, unfazed and above it all, said, “I have traveled the world. I have written many books.” He then rolled his eyes back into his head and began chanting the ancient mantra, Ohm. I got spooked and could not look at him. I mentioned this to my girlfriend after the event, who responded, “I couldn’t look away from him.” We broke up shortly after that.

First Year at University

After graduating from West High in 1975 (with an impressive 2.3 GPA), I attended University of Northern Colorado in Greeley, Colorado. My year in Greeley was lonely, but eventful. I learned the discipline of scholarly solitude as I began to hunger for knowledge. I bought more books than I needed for my classes, which initiated an ongoing bibliographic passion.

I took a modern philosophy class from Dr. Frank Morelli, an enthusiastic and inspiring teacher. Philosophy started to click and the professor commended my work. I eagerly read Nietzsche, Freud, Marx, and others. For Nietzsche, God was an outworn crutch: “God is dead.” Freud claimed that God was nothing but a human projection and that religion was “an illusion.” Marx asserted that religion pacified the oppressed from revolting against their oppressors; it was the “opiate of the masses.” I started to believe them. Dr. Morelli also assigned The Sickness unto Death (1849), written by a Christian philosopher, Søren Kierkegaard (1813–1855).

I was reading esoteric philosophy and was fascinated by Eastern religions and a bit by the occult (but not Satanism). I read books by P. D. Ouspensky and G. I. Gurdjieff, whose philosophy was intentionally ponderous, murky, and meant for the few. They taught that ardent effort was need for spiritual advancement. There were groups around the world dedicated to that end. I wondered if I should find one. This was intriguing, but vexing. I could not figure it out. Yet I was interested in their idea of esoteric Christianity — that there was a hidden and mystical essence to Christianity that had been covered up by the church. It was an intriguing story, but false.1 I would later write that there was no “esoteric Christianity,” since it depended on a bogus hermeneutic called “esoteric interpretation.”2 The Christian worldview is found in the Bible and is not written in a secret code.3

Signs of Divine Calling 

I got interested in out-of-the-body experiences. I met a young man who said that he left his body and interacted with spiritual beings. I was intrigued. I read Journeys Out of the Body (Doubleday, 1971) by Robert E. Monroe, which explained how to induce this experience.4 I followed his advice by laying on my back and visualizing myself leaving my body. Soon after, I seemed to look down at myself briefly. After waking up, I had a strong and strange sense that my friend Dave was talking about me. I walked to his dorm room to ask him about this. After I asked him, Dave said, “Man, the hair on the back of my neck is standing up. We were talking about you.” What could this mean? The spiritual world was opening up, and not all of it was savory.

My mind was restless and the search continued. One night, I dreamed of a huge, disembodied head floating outside my dorm room window. When I awoke in the middle of the night, the whole world was dark, silent, and eerie. I sensed that I was on the wrong side of God, the wrong side of the truth. I then picked up Kierkegaard’s book, The Sickness unto Death, and began reading at a random page. The book began reading me. I read of a kind of despair that finds its justification in rejecting God. He called it “defiant despair,” and that was me.5 My reading of the atheists did not really make me an atheist; it rather pitted me against God for the sake of my own autonomy. I struggled to throw off God when I saw the natural beauty of Colorado. Creation still spoke (see Psalm 19:1–6; Romans 1:18–21). The claims of Marx, Nietzsche, and Freud began to dissolve, although I would not grasp their intellectual defects until later.6 I was also beginning to see what real Christianity was.

I sometimes hitchhiked to Boulder, Colorado — a hippie haven and cultural hotspot — where I stayed with a friend in his dorm. I did not escape Greeley to talk to Christians, but one weekend, I met two Christian women involved with the Navigator’s campus ministry. They shared the gospel with us. I argued with them, but their words lodged in me. Jean Hoefling, who became a friend, drew a diagram called “the bridge to God,” which is used by the Navigators to illustrate salvation. I took it with me and have it to this day. Jean later told me that after this meeting, she and her roommate prayed for me with great faith and even thanked God for what I would do as a Christian.7

When I returned to Anchorage after the school year in 1976, a large group of friends greeted me at the airport. Someone brought a bottle of champagne and handed out glasses for a toast to my arrival. The loneliness I felt so keenly in Greeley was overwhelmed with warmth. Some of these friends were now Christians. Would I become one of them? Were Kierkegaard and the students in the Navigators right?

I soon met with Dan and his wife Peggy, good friends from high school. Dan spoke of his supernatural conversion experience, and the three of us talked long about the faith. Dan showed me a typed postcard I had sent him, which challenged his new Christian faith. The last line had “666” typed over a word. Dan asked, “Do you know what this means?” I had no idea. He then showed me a text from the Book of Revelation and explained their significance. “This calls for wisdom. Let the person who has insight calculate the number of the beast, for it is the number of a man. That number is 666” (Revelation 13:18).8

I don’t know how 666 got on my card. I did not intend to put it there and I am sure Dan did not put it there. While typing, I may have tried to underline a word and depressed the wrong key on the manual typewriter — getting 666 instead. I don’t know. But after seeing my 666 and learning its meaning, I had that feeling again: I was on the wrong side of God, the wrong side of the truth. Peggy gave the right perspective: “God is calling you, Doug.”

Another sign came in a dream. Todd Rundgren’s progressive rock music had entranced me. Lyrics about karma, reincarnation, mystical enlightenment, and the dawning of a New Age permeated his music. In a music video called “Born to Synthesize,” Todd sits in the lotus position and sings of his mystical creative powers. I was taken with all this. But one night I dreamed of Rundgren sitting in the lotus position singing, “I was born to hypnotize.” He had worked his magic on me, but it was wearing off. My mind was clearing, and counterfeits were being exposed by the light. Many were praying for me, especially my grandmother.

Another event was too specific and meaningful to be happenstance. A friend and I were talking about spirituality while driving. Steve mentioned someone who was “very spiritual” and practiced yoga (which was not that common then). He thought I should meet him. Steve then saw the man driving in the next lane. Steve hailed him and we pulled over. When we got out to meet him, Steve said, “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.” The man looked directly at me and said, “It was no coincidence.” We exchanged phone numbers and talked about meeting, but we never did.

God had been ganging up on me through reading, dreams, conversations, and events to bring me to a fork in the road. At that fork was a Cross.

Following Christ by Reasonable Faith

I confessed Christ as Savior and Lord in a meeting in June of 1976 and was baptized shortly after. I felt no different after my confession of faith or my baptism. My lack of experience concerned me, since my friends all seemed to have had palpable conversion experiences. I later learned that salvation is received by grace through faith alone in the work of Jesus and is not based on any subjective experience (Ephesians 2:8). It took me months to overcome the fear that I was not really a Christian. I gained assurance as I read the Bible, attended an evangelical church regularly, and began to study apologetics. My confidence as a Christian has never been based primarily on feeling close to God or in supernatural events. I have known God’s peace and been led by His hand. But having reasons to believe has been central to my convictions and my calling.

Shortly before my conversion, I was challenged by an unbelieving friend, Jon: “If you become a Christian, you are going to have only Christian friends, attend Christian events, and read books by Christians. You won’t be a critical thinker anymore.” I became a Christian and have spent the last forty-four years proving him wrong. In a way, I have spent my entire adult life trying to disprove Christianity. I have gloriously failed thus far, but remain open for legitimate challenges. When I give any public defense of Christianity, I always leave plenty of time for questions and comments, all of which I take seriously. In my writing, I attempt to address the strongest criticisms of my views.


The first few months of my Christian life were mostly miserable. I had no assurance of salvation and didn’t understand the Christian way of living very well — except that you did not smoke, drink, take illegal drugs, have sex outside of marriage, or listen to most rock music. Of course, you attended church, prayed, and witnessed to people. My first church was hyper-charismatic and, for all its strengths, did not respect the life of the mind. I had spent the previous year in college studying philosophy and religion but had no idea how to think as a Christian! Yet I knew it was true and that I had nowhere else to go.

Christian Education

My faith deepened and my sense of calling began to crystalize when I went to Eugene, Oregon, in the fall of 1976. Although I had been accepted at the University of Oregon, I attended Northwest Christian College for two quarters before transferring to the university. I did not feel ready to immerse myself in a secular university. My time there helped ground me in the Bible, about which I knew little.

The greatest influence came from the preaching and teaching at First Baptist Church, where I attended for the rest of my college years. The head pastor, Jack MacArthur (1914–2005), was a grand orator, who read his eloquent, hour-long sermons. He taught a Sunday night series on cults, which brought the Bible to bear on Mormonism, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Transcendental Meditation, and other false teachings. Dr. Jack, as we called him, was well-read, articulate, hard-hitting, unsparing, and biblical. He also loved apologetics. In large part, I owe to Dr. Jack my respect for Scripture, for sound preaching, and for the knowledge that heresy must be confronted (Galatians 1:6–11).

Beside the Bible, the most pivotal book I read as a young Christian was The God Who Is There by Francis Schaeffer (1912–1984), originally published in 1968 (InterVarsity Press). Schaeffer argued that the Bible revealed the only true, intellectually satisfying, and existentially gripping worldview. Only Christians can offer the world deliverance from despair and futility. Schaeffer taught me the intellectual courage to address philosophy and culture from a rational Christian viewpoint. I went on to read all of his books, many of them more than once. I often quote him in my writing and speaking, and I dedicated my book about postmodernism, Truth Decay (InterVarsity Press, 2000), to him (and to Carl F. H. Henry). Although we never met, he remains a strong inspiration intellectually and relationally. Schaeffer opened the doors to a rich banquet of apologetics, which included the writings of C. S. Lewis, G. K. Chesterton, Josh McDowell, James Sire, John Warwick Montgomery, and Os Guinness. I also started reading theological and devotional books by A. W. Tozer, Andrew Murray, and others.

Becoming Ready to Give a Defense

After my first year in Eugene, I returned to Anchorage for the summer. A high school friend was a Baha’i and shared her faith with me. She was married to a good friend, who was not a Baha’i. I knew I needed to respond to her in some depth and to try to keep her husband from converting. So I spent that summer writing an essay on the Baha’i faith. It was my first substantial piece of apologetics and weighed in at about forty typed pages. Perhaps five people have read it, and the friend I wrote it for did not become a Christian. Neither did her husband. But by writing it, I sharpened my apologetic skills and focus.

In my junior year, I took a course called Ancient Mediterranean Religions taught by Jack T. Sanders, an ex-pastor and liberal New Testament scholar. Dr. Sanders loved to bate and dress down evangelical students. He claimed that Christianity borrowed from mystery religions9  and was pocked with contradictions.10 Being in his class challenged me as a Christian, but never led me seriously to doubt Christianity.

After I had taken his class, Dr. Sanders attacked me as an ignoramus in a letter to the editor of the campus newspaper. He was responding to a letter I had written about the uniqueness of Christ. I should have known better, since I had taken his course, which showed that Christianity was mythical.11 This was a decisive moment for me. Defending Christianity was serious business. Your own professor can come against you in print. I responded to his charges in another letter.

Countering Cults

During college years, I immersed myself in counter-cult apologetics — defending Christianity against the challenges of non-Christian religious teachings, whether found in traditional religions, cults, or new religious movements. Since God had delivered me from a fascination with Eastern religion and mysticism, I needed to go back and critically analyze these views. I benefitted greatly from the Spiritual Counterfeits Project (SCP), particularly the writing of Mark Albrecht and Brooks Alexander. SCP created a tract for the popular film Close Encounters of the Third Kind (1977), which I ordered and handed out when the film came to campus. I would later write and distribute my own tracts. Two chapters in Os Guinness’s critique of the counterculture, The Dust of Death (Crossway, 1994), guided me as well. As can be seen, books have been pivotal in directing my Christian journey.

Walter Martin (1928–1989) meant much to me. His classic work, The Kingdom of the Cults (originally published in 1965), showed me what it meant to define orthodox Christianity in relation to heresies. His recorded lectures delighted and instructed me as well. Martin was courageous, well-studied, witty, and passionate for the Kingdom. I would later meet him and be on his radio show, the Bible Answer Man. He wrote the foreword to Confronting the New Age.

Teaching for Christ

After receiving my philosophy degree in 1979, I became the second staff member of a ministry inspired by Francis Schaeffer and his ministry at L’Abri.12 The McKenzie Study Center rented a house adjacent to the University of Oregon. We sought to advocate for Christianity in the university setting through classes, lectures, writing, and discipleship. I taught an upper division, for-credit course on the Christian worldview through the sociology department. Our primary text was The Universe Next Door: A Basic Worldview Catalogue by James W. Sire.13 This course was my primary responsibility in ministry. For five years I intensely studied subjects pertaining to the course: apologetics, biblical studies, theology, philosophy, psychology, sociology, history, science, and more. This autodidactic education was foundational for my work. It was idyllic for a young thinker with few responsibilities. I spent a little money on rent and the rest on food and books.

The course was sponsored under the auspices of a program started in the 1960s through which community people could teach accredited courses if they were endorsed by a faculty member. Dr. Benton Johnson, the head of the sociology department, sponsored our course and was our advocate when it was attacked as violating the separation of church and state. Although he was not a Christian, he respected the work of thoughtful Christians and was a liberal in the best sense — he wanted a diversity of ideas to be available to students.

The pressure was high one term when we were accused of proselytizing. They let loose a law professor on me. I was to meet with him and he would attend one of my lectures. The lecture went well, I thought, although the professor frowned a lot. When we met, I said everything I wanted to say and said it to my satisfaction. The professor deemed the class to be legitimate and I taught it until I went to graduate school in the fall of 1984.

Although I hold no seminary degrees, I took several theology classes at New College-Berkley in 1979 and 1981. The most significant for me was a course called Modern Theology taught by Carl F. H. Henry (1913–2003), known rightly as “the dean of evangelical theologians.” I read the first four volumes of his God, Revelation, and Authority (about 2,000 pages)14 to prepare for the summer course. Dr. Henry was a deeply learned, prolific, and kind professor whose mark on evangelicalism — and on my thinking — was deep and wide.


Becky Merrill joined the staff of our campus ministry in 1983 as an intern, writer, and editor. We became friends and she encouraged me to write a book on the New Age movement, since, as she put it, “You know more about this subject than anyone in America.” She offered to edit it before I sent chapters to the publisher. That began a long and fruitful literary relationship.

We were married in 1984 and headed to Madison-Wisconsin for my graduate work in philosophy. Becky’s personality crackled with intelligence, wit, and humor. She was a master editor and a gifted writer. Without her, no me. She went on to write two books and to edit a major academic work. Although she was quite ill, she edited every word of my magnum opus, Christian Apologetics. That was the last work she edited. She was diagnosed in 2014 with primary progressive aphasia, a cruel and rare form of dementia. In 2018, she left her troubled body to be welcomed by her Lord. Her gravestone reads: “Rebecca Merrill Groothuis, 1954–2018. Writer, Editor, Zealous Christian, Faithful Wife.”

Graduate School and Apologetics Ministry

Becky encouraged me to pursue a doctorate in philosophy with the goal of being a professor. I received a Master’s degree in that subject from the University of Wisconsin-Madison in 1986. I studied with the Christian analytic philosopher, Keith Yandell (1938–2020), who had the quickest and sharpest philosophical mind I have encountered. I was a teaching assistant for him for a history of modern philosophy course and watched him teach the entire class without notes. From him, I learned how to sharpen my arguments and to make everything as clear as possible.

Although I received excellent instruction at the University of Wisconsin-Madison and did well, I was pessimistic about my prospects as a philosophy professor. So I took a position at a study center with Probe Ministries in Seattle, Washington. We were located in the neighborhood of the University of Washington. My three years with Probe took me onto campus to lecture and disciple students. I often wrote apologetic letters to the campus newspaper. I also participated in Probe-sponsored lecture events at several secular university campuses where our speakers would present a Christian viewpoint on various topics in regular courses. I spoke on relativism, comparative religion, and a biblical view of humanity. Times were good for a young Christian apologist.

The New Age movement was exploding on the scene at this time, and I was in great demand, since my book, Unmasking the New Age, was well received. I gave lectures and sermons, appeared on radio and television programs, and was quoted in the local newspapers and in Time magazine. I fondly remember a debate-discussion with an American Hindu on the nature of humanity. The Theosophical Society library in Seattle was the venue, and it was packed. The audience was evenly divided between Christians and those who sympathized with the New Age worldview. My interlocutor and I were civil and engaged. I wish I could do this kind of event more often, since, like Paul, I am eager to present the gospel in places where it has not been heard (Romans 15:20).


Instead of regaling the reader with details of my academic and ministry life, I will summarize my passions and vision as it relates to building up the church and reaching the world. Early in my Christian life, I realized that God called me to teach, preach, and write. It took me some time to see how that would play out. I thrived in campus ministry and worked in that for twelve years before finishing my doctorate. I never thought I would be a professor at a seminary, but after getting my Ph.D. in philosophy from the University of Oregon in 1993, I was offered a position at Denver Seminary, where I have served ever since. My predecessor was the estimable philosopher, theologian, and apologist, Dr. Gordon R. Lewis (1926–2016), from whom I drew much inspiration academically and personally. I dedicated my book, Philosophy in Seven Sentences to him.

Born to Teach

At Denver Seminary, I have savored teaching philosophy and apologetics to hundreds of students, many of whom have become friends. My students are building the church and advancing the Kingdom all around the world, from Liberia to France to Albania and beyond. As John said, I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth” (3 John 1:4).

I have tried to balance out academic with more popular ministry. While I emphasized academic publishing earlier in my career and continue to work in that area, I also wanted to be heard by the broader public. Before newspapers lost their popularity, I often wrote editorials and book reviews for local newspapers. I take any opportunity I can to be read by nonChristians.

After teaching apologetics for ten years, I began writing a textbook, Christian Apologetics. Eight years later the book appeared. I am grateful that it has sold well, been translated into Korean, and been used in colleges and seminaries. I was thrilled that it was the textbook for a philosophy class at the University of Colorado at Boulder in 2012. I was invited to speak to the last class session of the term. As I lectured and engaged students, I had that feeling I have had many times, “I was born to do this.”

The Great Value of Apologetics in Times of Tragedy

My training in apologetics also served me well in the saddest of situations. A few years before her death, when Becky and I were driving to a restaurant, she lamented her fate. I said that I knew it was terrible, but it was not forever. One day she would dance and laugh in the New Heavens and New Earth (Revelation 21–22). She then said, “But is it really true?”

Becky had been a Christian her whole life and had never experienced profound doubts. But intense suffering and a degenerative brain disease can upset everything. I replied, “Do you think I’m smart?” She agreed. I went on, “Do you remember that big apologetics book I wrote?” She did. I continued, “You edited every word of that book and you agreed with the arguments. I assure you that Christianity is true.” She looked a bit relieved and said that she agreed. That was not her only time of wrestling with the Lord, but my comment comforted her. We had worked hard at our Christian worldview throughout our marriage.15

God has graciously given me a new wife, Kathleen, who fully supports my ministry. She is a lovely, kind, and gentle Christian. We hope to grow in grace and truth by loving God and serving others through hospitality as well as through my teaching and writing.

Building on the Rock of Biblical Truth

Unlike many philosophers, throughout my career, I have labored to root my writing and speaking deeply in the Bible. I quote it, cite it, memorize it, meditate on it, ponder it, teach it, and preach it. Perhaps this is why I am often called a “theologian,” although I have no degrees in theology. I don’t want any of my teaching, preaching, writing, or mentoring to drift from the gospel, the Bible, and the living Jesus Christ, whom I serve.

Throughout my ministry, especially after my first book came out, I have needed to do spiritual warfare to successfully defend the truth and refute error. I was attacked spiritually and physically, I believe, in the writing of Revealing the New Age Jesus (InterVarsityPress, 1990). My wife and I solicited the prayer support of our church, which signed up people to pray for us throughout the day. With this experience, I adjure my students not only to know how to defend the faith, but to pray for protection and deliverance from the Lord.16

As a Christian philosopher, I know too much to go back, no matter how hard the road. As Peter said, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God” (John 6:68–69). I press on, laboring to make Jesus Christ known through my work as a thinker and writer for however long God determines.

Douglas Groothuis is Professor of Philosophy at Denver Seminary.


  1. Douglas Groothuis, Unmasking the New Age (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1986) and Confronting the New Age (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1988).
  2. Groothuis, Confronting the New Age, 87–91.
  3. See John Stott, Basic Christianity (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 1958) and Douglas Groothuis, “The Christian Worldview,” in Christian Apologetics: A Comprehensive Case for Biblical Faith (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2011).
  4. On out-of-body experiences, see Doug Groothuis, Deceived by the Light (Eugene, OR: Harvest House, 1995), 60–66.
  5. See “Kierkegaard,” in Douglas Groothuis, Philosophy in Seven Sentences (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2016).
  6. See Groothuis, Christian Apologetics, 379–83.
  7.  Jean Hoefling became an author of several books, including Gold in Havilah: A Novel of Cain’s Wife (Westbow Press, 2017).
  8. Scripture quotations taken from NIV.
  9. For refutation, see Groothuis, Christian Apologetics, 527ff.
  10. For refutation, see Groothuis, Christian Apologetics, 46ff., 453ff., passim.
  11. See Douglas Groothuis, “The New Testament Witness to Jesus,” in Jesus in an Age of Controversy (Eugene, Oregon, Harvest House, 1996).
  12. On Schaeffer’s influence on the study center movement, see Charles Cotherman, To Think Christianly: A History of L’Abri, Regent College, and the Study Center Movement (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2020).
  13. Originally published in 1976 by InterVarsity Press, it’s now in its sixth edition (IVP Academic, 2020).
  14. Carl F. H. Henry, God, Revelation, and Authority, 6 vols. (Word, 1976–1983).
  15. See Douglas Groothuis, Walking Through Twilight: A Wife’s Illness — A Philosopher’s Lament (Downers Grove, IL: InterVarsity Press, 2017).
  16. See Douglas Groothuis, “Spiritual Warfare” in Confronting the New Age.
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