William Lane Craig has recently released the title, In Quest of the Historical Adam: A Biblical and Scientific Exploration. Craig probes into both the biblical text and physical anthropology to determine when the first human couple lived. Anyone who values the Bible and is impressed by the results of science will be drawn to this project. What is a Christian with deep convictions about the Bible to make of all these hominid fossils? Any surface reading of the Bible immediately makes one feel the need to take up a side: faithful to the Bible, or faithful to science, not both. Indeed, one feels pushed or pulled to one of these poles:

1. Stiff Biblical Interpretation, Loose treatment of Scientific Evidence This position is occupied by Ken Ham and the Creation Museum crowd. Everything in Genesis is interpreted as literally—and woodenly—as possible. Then one repudiates any scientific hypothesis that challenges this interpretation.
2. Loose Biblical Interpretation, Stiff treatment of Scientific Evidence This is what one finds in Walton’s Lost World series. The idea is that we must somehow break the text of Genesis away from spacetime history to make room for the scientific theses. The issue here is that in many of these interpretations fail as plausible interpretations of the text of Genesis. Frequently, one finds a textbook-style understanding of the nature of scientific evidence and practice.

This might not be a perfect representation of the debate, but most efforts to reconcile science and the Bible fall on some spectrum between these poles. 

When I started reading this book, I was afraid that Craig was going to pursue something closer to (2.) above. I was pleasantly surprised that neither did he have as shallow an understanding of the science nor did he concoct a highly artificial portrait of Genesis. In fact, the scientific section of the book was my favorite by far! That said, I’m reluctant to adopt his interpretation of Genesis, because I don’t find it persuasive on its own terms, and I believe I can accept (the vast majority of) his science without his interpretation.

My colleague, James Rochford, has addressed a number of issues with Craig’s program. His article is based primarily upon Craig’s podcasts, but Craig’s contentious claims are maintained in the published book. I will overlap some with Rochford’s content; however, I will leave alone many of the detailed points he makes there, especially regarding Craig’s definition of myth.

Outline

I. Introduction
II. Summary
II.A. The Importance of the Historical Adam
II.B. Biblical Data Concerning the Historical Adam
II.C. Scientific Evidence and the Historical Adam
II.D. Reflections on the Historical Adam
III. Evaluation
III.A. Strengths
III.B. Criticism
III.B.1. Of Style
III.B.2. Of Substance
III.B.2.a. On Acceptance
III.B.2.b. Myth and Waltke
III.B.2.c. Biblical Theology
IV. Conclusion

Summary

The book is divided into four sections. Each of the first and last comprises only a single chapter. They are primarily the introduction and conclusion. The second section is where Craig develops his interpretation of the Bible’s account of human origins. The third section is where Craig summarizes and engages the scientific data.

The Importance of the Historical Adam

This section lays out the structure of Craig’s approach, and why Christians should care. Craig notes that while certain parts of the Bible are more peripheral to Christian thought, Adam plays an important role in numerous central theological domains: sin, salvation, human nature, etc. The core of these domains can be shaped without direct reference to Adam, but their biblical textual grounding places Adam in a unique position. Likewise, Jesus refers indirectly to Adam in Matthew 19, which would create difficulties given that—as divine—Jesus’s beliefs should be true. Ripping out Adam causes significant tears in the theological fabric, requiring ad hoc, highly artificial solutions to patch the holes. Of course, some look at this situation and think it’s time to jettison that old worn-out Christian frock. But serious followers of Christ don’t have that luxury. 

Biblical Data Concerning the Historical Adam

Much of this section shows Craig grappling with whether Genesis 1-11 is a myth of some kind. He presents 10 markers of myths and then evaluates these early chapters of Genesis accordingly. Strangely enough, he resists saying that the narratives of Gen 1-11 have all these markers, but argues that they share enough to “qualify as myths.” (132) Nevertheless, given the way Genesis is stitched together by genealogies indicates a serious interest in history, hence mytho-history. Craig borrows this phrase from Assyriologist Thorkild Jacobsen, who observed that other Ancient Near Eastern (ANE) literature combined mythological imagery with historiological markers (chronology, geography, etc.). Even though Craig does not believe this stretch of Scripture is strictly historical, he believes that there are historical elements and that theological truths may be recovered. 

This section concludes with a chapter addressing Christian doctrinal commitments, especially as it concerns Adam. Craig introduces four philosophical distinctions that are meant to permit a qualified commitment for the authors and readers of the New Testament. Using Adam (naturally), these distinctions break down as follows:

		Qualified Commitment	Full Commitment
1	The Figure	Literary Adam	Historical Adam
2	Semantics	Truth-in-a-Story	Truth Simpliciter
3	Force of Citation	Illustrative Use	Assertoric Use
4	Propositional Attitude	Acceptance	Belief

1. The literary Adam is simply Adam-as-represented-by-some-text, here Genesis 1-4. The literary Adam need not commit us or the author to a flesh and blood historical figure, i.e., the historical Adam. 
2. Truth-in-a-story is a qualified form of truth. According to the story, it is true that Victor Frankenstein created a living being of human parts, false that Victor Frankenstein is a bartender in Australia. But simpliciter, it is false that Victor Frankenstein created a living being of human parts, because there was never a man like that. 
3. When attempting to merely illustrate using Genesis 1-4, the literary Adam is invoked, just as one might draw on Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein to illustrate the risks of hubristic scientific experimentation. To warn someone against cloning a human or creating designer children with CRISPR, neither Victor Frankenstein nor his monster need exist to evoke the needed sense of dread. After all, Jesus had parables and no one believes the prodigal son existed. But the didactic force remains without a historical anchor.
4. Finally, one might simply accept something as true apart from a robust belief, by simply choosing to participate in a certain practice without full confidence. This is a parachute option for dealing with the variety of propositions that the man Jesus might have adopted based on his first century worldview.

These different distinctions align along a certain axis, but are not logically entailed by one another. One may illustrate using a historical figure as historical. One may merely accept a proposition, but all uses are assertoric; i.e. there’s no illustrative or didactic function.

These distinctions are useful because New Testament authors draw on all manner of texts. Paul refers to Jannes and Jambres in 2 Timothy 3:8. One need not ascribe to Paul a belief that Pharaoh’s magicians’ names were actually Jannes and Jambres, so found in Jewish tradition. One only needs to believe that Paul was illustrating something.

After developing these distinctions to signal that Christians aren’t trapped by any stray New Testament reference, Craig ultimately argues that Adam is historical. Craig draws especially on 1 Corinthians 15 and Romans 5 to suggest that Adam cannot be approached in any of the qualified fashions above. While it is most explicit in Romans 5, both of these passages imply that the actions-in-history of Adam and Jesus ramify significantly through the ages—one the father of death, one the pioneer of life. Put differently, the degree of seriousness attributed to Adam’s rebellion—especially as the parallel to Christ’s obedience—is too great to function only as a literary reference.

One might wonder, why would Craig fuss so much philosophically with all these forms of qualified commitment if he planned to hold on to Adam after all? By developing such an elaborate apparatus, he can deny the charge that Adam’s historicity is a matter of cheap proof-texting. As the case of Jannes and Jambres illustrates—no pun intended—a mere allusion doesn’t guarantee historicity.

Scientific Evidence and the Historical Adam

This part was among the most stimulating. That said, some of this information is prohibitively technical. While I intend to summarize some here, I recommend those with training in this area or deeper interest to read it for themselves.

The opening chapter sets the scientific table: geology and earth sciences, archaeology, as well as paleoanthropology and its modern genetic foundations. Given that array of overlapping but distinct specializations, Craig offers a list of characteristics necessary for identifying ancient humans:

A. abstract thinking: the ability to act with reference to abstract concepts not limited in time or space 
B. planning depth: the ability to formulate strategies on the basis of past experience and to act on them in a group context
C. behavioral, economic, and technological innovativeness 
D. symbolic behavior: the ability to represent objects, people, and abstract concepts with arbitrary symbols, vocal or visual, and to reify such symbols in cultural practice (280-1)

Using this information, Craig offers an entire chapter surveying research on hominid skeletal and cranial morphology. He concludes that this research is indecisive and moves onto the more promising archaeological and genetic evidence, covering two chapters. Craig examines sophisticated tool design and living spaces of later hominids, capturing B and C above. Craig then focuses on D, opening with later hominids’ artistic and burial practices. He finishes by discussing what anatomical and genetic factors must be present to produce speech, noting (i) that key late hominids exhibit the necessary ear-nose-throat structures; and (ii) that these same hominids have the relevant neurological genetic markers required for verbal behavior.

This part of In Quest concludes with an extremely detailed analysis of potential counterarguments from genetics against Craig’s conclusions that there was a first human pair. In each case, he offers satisfactory counterarguments, though for none of these do I have the requisite training to evaluate them meaningfully. Craig frequently cites arguments from personal correspondence with Christian academic, S. Joshua Swamidass, MD, PhD in computer and information science. Swamidass now has his own book on this topic.

Reflections on the Historical Adam

Craig concludes as follows:

While these narratives need not be read as literal history, the ordering presence of genealogies terminating in persons who were indisputably taken to be historical and the teaching of Paul in the NT about Adam’s impact on the world, which bursts the bounds of a purely literary figure, oblige the biblically faithful Christian to affirm the historicity of Adam and Eve… Adam and Eve may be plausibly identified as belonging to the last common ancestor of Homo sapiens and Neanderthals, usually denominated Homo heidelbergensis.

In Quest, p. 363

Evaluation

Craig is a first-rate scholar and his research into this question is hardly shallow; nevertheless, some of his conclusions I cannot accept. Part of this is unsurprising given that he adopts methods that I think are not properly suited to the task at hand. Exactly what I mean by this will come below. For now, I’ll begin with some strengths of this title.

Strengths

One thing that permeates this title is that Craig accepts responsibility for evaluating the persuasiveness of a given argument; that is, there are no appeals to authority, no shortcuts, no cheap arguments. There are at least two notable examples of this. First, in assessing ANE literature and its bearing on the Bible, numerous scholars have committed an exegetical fallacy, sometimes referred to as parallelomania. This is the tendency to connect almost anything and everything that appears in ANE literature to something that’s occurred in the Bible. While it’s naïve to believe that the Bible is sui generis, it is equally ridiculous to think that it’s nothing more than a quilt work of external cultural influences. Craig explicitly resists this approach:

When it comes to establishing these claims with respect to Gen 1-11 and ANE myths, one might justifiably complain about what seems to be an extraordinarily low standard of proof that has prevailed among many OT scholars. The sort of evidence often taken to be sufficient to establish various dependence claims would make a scientist blush.

In Quest, p. 66.

Craig recognizes that the Bible was written in a specific cultural context and so bears some relationship to the literature of that context. But it’s one thing to note similarities based on a common culture and another to assert a causal relationship between two texts. It is this latter extreme that he refuses to grant over and over.

The same goes for his assessment of paleoneurology. After a thorough survey, he concludes:

The brain of extinct hominids is something of a black box, since little can be inferred about brain structure and functioning based on endocasts taken from empty skulls.

In Quest, p. 273.

Likewise, I find myself incredibly wary of drawing significant conclusions about mankind based on such limited data. The total number of archaeological sites for each distinct hominid is statistically miniscule, less than 5 in most cases. Furthermore, many of these are not complete skeletons. The problems this poses can be illustrated by the possibility of a paleontologist from the year 5023 only finding Shaquille O’Neal’s skeleton and attempting to infer something about the other 8 billion people alive today.

Such statistical barriers don’t exist for all scientific specializations, the gold standard for which is the experimental study. Chemistry, genetics, and particle physics all allow for carefully designed studies using state-of-the-art tools (e.g., the Large Hadron Collider at CERN). Such care in design permits reproducibility of results and virtual statistical certainty, given the voluminous datasets one can draw upon in the present. What’s tough is that the public perception of science places paleontology and chemistry on the exact same footing—they’re both just SCIENCE. The public can’t tell the difference in how much evidential support stands behind these hypotheses. Returning to Craig, he is wise to hang more weight on genetic studies and the artifactual remains of archeology, and less on the paleoanthropology proper. 

Ultimately, Craig refuses to settle for simplistic solutions. While I resist his conclusions, I respect his willingness to interact directly with the wide range of relevant data: biblical text, ANE literature, and secondary literature; so too with the scientific literature, ranging from paleontology, genetics, geology, and so forth.

Criticism

While this title has merits, there are aspects I cannot recommend.

Of Style

On the lighter side of things, Craig seems somewhat cranky. This was somewhat startling given the extraordinary politeness to which I’ve become accustomed in his debates. For example, Craig gripes as follows:

It is repeatedly said that the tôlədôt formulae determine the structure of the book of Genesis. This careless statement is at best misleading and at worst grossly mistaken.

In Quest, p. 133, emphasis added

Here he is describing the fact that the phrase “This is the account of…” (tôlədôt formula in English) is repeated ten times throughout the book. He then backs up and describes this formula as more like the spine of the text—ironically a structuring element. One gets the impression that he’s interpreted these scholars’ claims of structure too narrowly or uncharitably. Elsewhere, he casually describes limited atonement—the idea that Jesus’ death only applies to those who confess Christ—as a “strange teaching” (365) Now, I find limited atonement to be neither philosophically appealing nor biblically grounded (1 John 2:2); however, it is held by plenty of serious Christians. That Craig dismisses it as “strange” doesn’t match the direct but courteous style I’ve come to appreciate in him. 

At one point Craig claims that there’s no meaningful difference between Jacobsen’s mytho-history and comparable views adopted by many others on this topic. For example, Gordon Wenham refers to this portion of Genesis as proto­-history; C. John Collins calls it, a worldview story; Longman and Walton call it, theological history. Given the similarities in their actual views, Craig writes that these are “distinctions without a difference” (154). The problem is that words matter. Craig can’t just define his way out of a connotation. The other authors resist using the term ‘myth’ because of the baggage it carries. With characteristic subtlety, Collins rightly observes in Reading Genesis Well that the “term [myth] does not have a well-regulated meaning.” (189) For example, the New Testament features the word, mythos, from which our English ‘myth’ is derived. All uses are unfavorable. The way that New Testament authors used a Greek word two thousand years ago isn’t the same as how modern anglophone speakers use its transliteration; nevertheless, it demonstrates a long legacy of pejorative usage. 

Finally, I confess I was astonished that, for such a probing document, the living Old Testament, ANE scholar, and Genesis commentator, Bruce Waltke didn’t even merit a footnote. Like Craig, Waltke has a double doctorate and is hardly a new figure—he’s been active for the past sixty years, sitting on translation boards for some of the most consequential English Bible translations. His absence is conspicuous enough, given how much Waltke has written on Genesis. But more peculiar still is that Waltke has a technical discussion of the central aspect of Craig’s thesis, viz. the relationship between history and myth. Obviously, no scholar can be conversant in every single piece of literature on a given topic, but Craig cites the very anthology in which Waltke’s essay appears. This is a striking omission, especially given the prominence he offers to long dead scholars Thorkild Jacobsen (1904-1993) and Gerhard von Rad (1901-1971). I will take up Waltke’s cause in the next section.

Of Substance

On Acceptance

Beginning with the distinction between acceptance and belief, Craig worries that Jesus in his humanity may have believed false propositions which poses serious issues for his divinity (cf. Mark 4:31). The typical philosophical development of acceptance does not seem appropriate. Acceptance is not a hedged form of belief (like half-hearted belief) but is an analogous cognitive state that plays a distinctive explanatory role in action and deliberation. Philosopher Michael Bratman gives the example of a soldier who, based on key intelligence, believes he will die in battle today, but he works with his commanding officer and accepts that he will live past the day in order to engage in meaningful strategic planning. The other major way that acceptance is drawn upon in the philosophical literature is in the philosophy of science. Before certain experimental results existed, scientists were reluctant to believe atoms existed, but many of them accepted their existence as they proceeded in their research given their explanatory role and fruitfulness in research. 

Nothing in the New Testament implies that Jesus or its authors voluntarily adopt Gen 1-11 for the purpose of action. All signs point to the fact that they take this section of Scripture as true, and that these portions of Scripture fit the integrative worldview features characteristic of belief. When considering some of the puzzles that the acceptance/belief distinction are meant to solve, I find myself imagining how Jesus would respond. To call upon Jesus to settle these debates echoes the tests put to him by the Pharisees and Sadducees:

Rabbi, Moses said there were six days in creation, with all animals, man and woman created in single day. But Moses also writes that in that same day Eve was not created until Adam finished naming the animals. Supposing Eve were created at twilight, how much time did Adam spend naming each animal?

You are in error, because you do not know the Scriptures or the power of God. Did not Moses also say that “a thousand years is a like a day in your sight” [Psalm 90:4]? But since you are so concerned with days, beware of the day the LORD Almighty has in store for all the proud and lofty. [Isaiah 2:12]

Now, this is meant to be slightly cheeky, but the point here is that Jesus capably resists traps of this sort over and over. I’d rather imagine what he would say than rescue him from ancient “ignorance.” 

Myth and Waltke

As I mentioned above, the omission of Waltke is simply peculiar from a research standpoint. But let’s look closer at Waltke’s claims. Waltke argues that Genesis 1-11 is not mythical. At least one benefit to Waltke’s discussion is that he does not cast his net nearly as widely as Craig. Craig attempts to provide family resemblances of myth, whereas Waltke focuses on ANE cosmogonies. In other words, Craig’s attempt to define myth opens the door far outside the Middle East into Northern Europe, but also includes mythological literature that addresses questions outside of origin myths, i.e. more than mere cosmogonies. This seems ill-considered, given that Genesis is most likely to resemble literature from the ANE, and much less so the Icelandic sagas. Waltke emphasizes that ANE myth emphasizes pantheism and magic, whereas Genesis is histioro-poeic—emphasizing history while allowing for “pictorial” or “imagistic” representations, to use Collins’ terms.

I propose that Waltke’s classification of Genesis 1-11 addresses (i) the core of Craig’s concerns without (ii) committing one to a debased view of Genesis 1-11. On (i), the primary issue that appears to exercise Craig is that Genesis contains elements that strain under a strict literal interpretation. Waltke’s approach addresses that issue by allowing for significant poetic components. Even a Young Earth Creationist (a view I reject) can appreciate the rhythmic and repetitive aspects of Genesis 1. In Reading Genesis Well, C. John Collins describes it as “exalted prose”. It doesn’t quite count as Hebrew poetry, but the language is elevated compared to typical prosaic language. This continues at least insofar as large portions of Gen 1-11 reuse similar imagery (cf. the flood is described as a reversal of what was accomplished on each day of creation). As for (ii), Waltke’s characterization of ANE myths makes it hard to see Gen 1-11 qualifying as an ANE myth. On top of simply failing to have the markers Waltke sees in other ANE myths, there is a striking difference in tone. The creation of Genesis is an orderly, sublime chronicle of a regal Legislator; whereas one of its nearest extant literary cousins, the Enuma Elish, features the gods emerging from primordial elements, followed by a scandalously violent war between key deities.

Biblical Theology

Craig’s book epitomizes something I find vexing when studying the book of Genesis. TD Alexander puts it well here:

Unfortunately, discussions of Genesis 1–3 are too often hijacked by those who are almost exclusively preoccupied by the modern debate on the relationship between contemporary science and the biblical view of creation. Though this issue needs to be addressed, we should constantly remember that the author of these chapters penned them as an introduction to the narrative that unfolds in the books of Genesis to Kings.

From Paradise to Promise Land, p. 9.

I agree that when discussing Genesis, we ought not to ignore its relationship to science. But once the work of harmonizing it with science is complete, we had better start the work of digging deep into the text’s own categories. 

Using Alexander’s expression, Craig’s study has the feel of a hijacking. Much of Craig’s scholarship emerges from some blend of systematic theology, philosophical theology and analytical theology. These theologies approach the biblical text to ask questions using modern concepts. In contrast, Biblical Theology doesn’t just look to the biblical text for answers, but also to discover the right questions. While systematic methods are valuable and even necessary for bringing the Bible to bear on contemporary concerns, it can treat the biblical text as a string of proof-texting pearls, when not balanced by other biblical methods.

Craig might complain that he spent half the book analyzing texts and evaluating them according to his definition of myth—what more could I want? Simply studying a text is not enough to really allow the text to speak. A key feature of biblical theology is treating single texts as unified literary works; indeed, biblical theology treats the entire canon as a single developing history of God’s plan of redemption. This does not characterize Craig’s approach.

Let’s look at a specific example. Evaluating the mythic nature of Genesis, he offers Genesis 2-4 as an example of myth’s fantastic elements: 

Such anthropomorphic descriptions of God, if interpreted literally, are incompatible with the transcendent God described at the beginning of creation. Such incoherence could not possibly have escaped the notice of the pentateuchal author, for it is so patent, and yet he felt no need to expunge the anthropomorphic elements. He doubtless assumed that his readers would have understood such anthropomorphic descriptions of God to be just part of the storyteller’s art, not serious theology.

In Quest, p. 102, emphasis added.

Count me among the not-so-serious theologians for thinking that God could assume a body (cf. Exodus 24:9-10, outside of the guard of myth). In fact, the incarnation of Jesus Christ shows how strange Craig’s comments are. I’m honestly flummoxed to read Craig referring to these as mere anthropomorphisms (i.e. strictly literary) or that they are incoherent in conjunction with Genesis 1. The claim that Genesis 1 and 2-4 are inconsistent has been capably answered many times. Most commentators observe a deliberate shift in emphasis encouraged by this phrase: “when the LORD God made the earth and the heavens” (2:4). This is the first time the covenant name, YHWH, is introduced and the merism, “heavens and earth” is reversed.

Craig continues shortly after the above quoted passage by offering the tired example of Exodus 6:3 (“By my name YHWH I was not known to them”) contradicting the use of YHWH throughout Genesis. Names were more than sounds in the ANE. Just as the third commandment is about much more than the utterance of the mere phoneme YHWH, so Exodus 6:3 is primarily about God more fully revealing his nature, metonymically represented by “my name”. If Craig wants to convince me that Genesis is myth, these so-called contradictions are unpersuasive.

Craig does not condescend to permit an outright contradiction in Scripture, but simply that contradiction and fantasy are permissible in the mytho-history genre. To permit open contradiction raises significant problems for the idea that the Bible comes from God. If the veil of myth is lifted, inspiration is protected from these contradictions. I don’t think this works. But let’s back up.

There are genuine cases where genre plays an important role in protecting from contradiction. For example, in Psalm 18, God is at once described as a rock (v.2, his steadfastness) and as a warrior riding angels like warhorses (v.10, his swiftness to deliver justice). I’m not sure anyone is tempted to read Psalm 18 as literal. This is vivid and unambiguously poetic imagery. To even raise the question of contradiction seems inappropriate. Imagine the absurdity of someone sternly observing, “But rocks don’t fly on angel’s backs…”! This is one of many examples throughout the Bible where competing metaphors occur in tandem to offer a complex point. Or, consider Paul’s “infants tossed back and forth by the waves” (Eph 4:14). I don’t think Paul wanted his audience to imagine the horror of a drowning infant. He’s mixing two metaphors of immaturity for increased impact.

So, given that such clashing images exist in Scripture, why do I resist Craig’s comparable interpretation of Genesis? As I mentioned before, I’m not troubled by God assuming a body, but even so, why is God walking (3:8) or forming (2:7) more anthropomorphic than God speaking (1:3) and seeing (1:9)? For Craig, it appears that intellectual anthropomorphism is less troubling than active anthropomorphism. All of this signals my deeper concern: what counts as fantastic or incoherent is heavily shaped by one’s background, and Craig is no exception. (In his review, Hans Madueme makes a similar point.) In line with biblical theology, to what extent has Craig shaped the text with this theology, rather than let his theology be shaped by the text? My fear is that Craig’s permitting of inconsistency guarded by genre short-circuits the needed hard work of interpretation. 

Since there are cases where genre impacts the acceptability of “contradictory” imagery as in the overtly poetic Psalms, a reader must ask some questions that should guide interpretation:

• Is there something about the author’s or intended audience’s worldview that would impact the interpretation?
• Is there something about my worldview, my culture that might impact the way I’m interpreting this? The more awareness I have of my own background, the easier it becomes to discern a distinct worldview.
• What is being communicated? (Asking this question is the controlling insight from Collins’ Reading Genesis Well.) Are the so-called contradictions meant to be interpreted together, or deciphered separately? For example, the lion and the lamb of Revelation 5:5-6 both denote Jesus Christ, but it’s not a vision of a horrifying Frankenstein-style experiment. These are two images that communicate two harmonious aspects of Jesus’ nature using images that must be separately deciphered.

In sum, I recommend hermeneutical humility so that when readers encounter something they find strange, they should slow down and brain storm creative ways to adequately explain the text. Upon completing such an exercise, they might find themselves transformed by what they’ve read. Frankly I recommend this approach in all communication. As James says, “Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry.”

Conclusion

Craig has offered a stimulating review of the scientific literature. I’m persuaded by Craig that Adam probably was from the era of homo heidelbergensis. That said, I find his interpretation of Genesis 1-11 flawed, and not necessary for understanding early humans.

For further reading, please consider reviewing the Henry Center’s Symposium on this title, which includes Craig’s rejoinder.