Welcome back to The God Question, where we examine religious claims through the lens of clarity, logic, and real-world evidence. This blog series is dedicated to exploring the most influential apologetics works in modern Christianity—one argument at a time. Our goal is not to mock or belittle, but to illuminate. Using The God Question’s Core Philosophy, we challenge faith-based claims with curiosity, courage, and a commitment to truth—wherever it leads.
“Are There Contradictions Between the Old and New Testaments?”
(The Problem of God, Chapter 3, pages 71–74)
In this section, Mark Clark attempts to dismiss a common objection raised by skeptics and ex-Christians alike: that the Bible contains obvious contradictions between the Old and New Testaments. He presents this objection in the form of a caricature:
“Read the Old Testament,” people say. “It says that you can’t eat shellfish or pork, but you do! You get tattoos, and you work on the Sabbath!” (p. 71)
Clark concedes that Christians do, in fact, ignore many of the Old Testament laws—but insists that this is not evidence of contradiction. Rather, he argues, it reflects the progressive nature of divine revelation. God’s commands evolve, he claims, because they were never meant to be timeless. They were issued for specific people in a specific season of salvation history, and those rules have now been fulfilled and superseded by Jesus.
Let’s examine this claim using The God Question’s Core Philosophy—with particular attention to clarity, logic, evidence, and coherence.
1. The Shifting Goalposts of Divine Command
Clark’s argument hinges on the idea that God’s laws were always meant to be temporary. He quotes Jeremiah 31:31–33 to suggest that the coming of the Messiah would replace the old covenant. He also cites Paul’s metaphor in Galatians 3:23–29, which compares the Old Testament law to a “childminder” whose role was to guide God’s people until something better came along.
But here’s the problem: if God’s moral commands change based on the season, then morality itself is no longer objective. It becomes relative—not to culture or human consensus—but to divine mood or era. And if divine commands can shift this dramatically, how can anyone today be confident that current Christian teachings won’t be revoked tomorrow?
Clark tries to sidestep this issue by saying the New Testament is the fulfillment of the Old. But this does not solve the problem—it merely repackages it. The Bible still contains mutually exclusive laws and expectations:
- In Leviticus, eating pork is an abomination. In Acts 10, it’s divinely permitted.
- In Exodus, Sabbath-breaking was punishable by death. In Mark 2, Jesus says the Sabbath was made for man.
- In Deuteronomy, uncircumcised men are cut off from God’s people. In Romans, Paul says circumcision no longer matters.
By any standard definition, these are contradictions in doctrine, practice, and theology. “Fulfillment” doesn’t erase contradiction—it just rebrands it.
2. God’s Moral Character Is on the Line
If the Old Testament laws reflected God’s will, then repealing them later raises serious theological questions. Did God change his mind? Were the original laws flawed? Were they a test—or a temporary system of control? Clark attempts to reframe the tension by calling the Old Covenant a “shadow” of what was to come (Colossians 2:17), but this merely reinforces the critique.
Imagine a human parent who forbids their child from eating pork under threat of death—but later tells a sibling, “Actually, pork’s fine now. Eat as much bacon as you want.” Would we call that consistent moral leadership? Or would we call it arbitrary, contradictory, and deeply confusing?
Clark wants us to view this as “progress,” but if divine morality is capable of being superseded, it’s not eternal. And if it’s not eternal, then God is not immutable.
3. Cherry-Picking and the Illusion of Consistency
Clark acknowledges the embarrassing commands in Leviticus 21:20, such as forbidding men with “crushed testicles” from entering the assembly of the Lord—but he brushes these aside as “outdated” temple codes no longer relevant to Christian life. This is classic cherry-picking.
What standard is being used to decide which commands were for “a specific people in a specific time” and which are binding for all time? The answer, of course, is the authority of the New Testament. But this is circular reasoning:
“How do we know the New Testament supersedes the Old? Because the New Testament says so.”
You cannot defend the coherence of the Bible by appealing to the Bible’s own internal claims—especially when those claims conflict across books and centuries.
4. Jesus Did Not Clearly Revoke the Law
Clark references Acts 10 and Peter’s vision of the sheet filled with unclean animals. But Peter initially refuses to eat: “Surely not, Lord! I have never eaten anything impure or unclean” (Acts 10:14). This suggests that Peter—who walked with Jesus—did not believe the Old Testament food laws had been revoked during Jesus’s earthly ministry.
If Jesus truly intended to nullify the Mosaic Law, wouldn’t he have made that crystal clear to his disciples?
Instead, we find Jesus saying the opposite in Matthew 5:17–19:
“Do not think that I have come to abolish the Law or the Prophets… Not the smallest letter, not the least stroke of a pen, will by any means disappear from the Law.”
The attempt to dissolve Old Testament commands via post-resurrection visions and Pauline reinterpretation only underscores the fragmented, patchwork nature of Christian theology.
5. Conclusion: Contradiction Repackaged as Progress
Clark’s closing line says it all:
“This is of course far different than contradiction. It is the by-product of maturation.” (p. 74)
But maturation implies growth from ignorance to knowledge, or from crudeness to refinement. That might be fine for a human species evolving morally over millennia—but it’s devastating for the idea of a timeless, perfect, all-knowing God. Why would such a being need to mature his moral code?
The truth is that contradictions between the Old and New Testaments exist because the Bible is not a single, unified revelation—it’s a sprawling anthology of evolving human thought about the divine. Different authors, different eras, different agendas.
That’s not a flaw to cover up with theological gymnastics. It’s a clue.
It points not to divine authorship—but to human invention.