"Highly Educated Forms of Stupidity"

Last week I found a great article by J. Budziszewski, a philosophy professor at University of Texas, Austin.  It describes his conversion experience, and is titled "Escape from Nihilism".

I was going to post a longer section, but the article is so great that I thought I'd just post this small snippet, and point to the whole article here for the rest.

[A] strong mind that refuses the call to serve the God who made it has its own way of going wrong. When some people run away from God, they rob and kill. When other people go away from God, they do a lot of drugs and have a lot of sex. When still other people run away from God, they just sleep their lives away.

Well, when I fled from God, I didn’t do any of those things. My way of running away from God was to get stupid. I am very serious. Though it always comes as a surprise to intellectuals, there are some forms of stupidity that you have to be highly educated and intelligent to commit, and I discovered them all.

God keeps them in his arsenal to pull down mulish pride.

- J. Budziszewski, in Escape from Nihilism [source]

Paul: A False Prophet?

I'm currently reading N.T. Wright's What Saint Paul Really Said with a couple of friends. One of those friends, Mark, doesn't accept the writings of the Apostle Paul as inspired (for various reasons), and instead views Paul as a false prophet who, if alive today, should be put to death.

As we began to read the book, he brought up these beliefs again, and I thought I would share my response to Mark that I sent during our email discussion: (This begins after a short discussion of Gamaliel's defense of the Apostles in Acts 5)

Incidentally, as I was reading those sections of Acts again, I read Gamaliel's words with a new perspective (no pun intended)... When he defends the apostles in Acts 5, he says:

"Therefore, in the present case I advise you: Leave these men alone! Let them go! For if their purpose or activity is of human origin, it will fail. But if it is from God, you will not be able to stop these men; you will only find yourselves fighting against God."

Gamaliel seems to have the same idea of God that I do: If he does exist and he is a personal, non-deist type of God, than he has a stake in the course of history (especially in the development of the Bible). A god that doesn't protect his communication with his people is not a god I can believe in. In case it's not obvious what I'm getting at: I don't think I can believe in a God that allowed the writings of a "false apostle" to be accepted as inspired by the vast majority of his followers. For me, to believe in God is to believe in the God of the Bible as we have it. Not because I trust Paul for any particular reason, but because any god worth believing in should be trustworthy when it comes to "scripture". Gamaliel's statement in Acts 5 takes as it's presupposition the only god I'm prepared to believe in: a god that fights for ideas that are true and suppresses ideas that are not. (Please don't ask me to explain why Islam is so widespread; I can't.)

I know that doesn't address all your specific comments (attacks :) ) on Paul, but I think my comments above make it clear: I don't think a faith in a god that does not include Paul as a true apostle is a faith worth having. I think it is much more likely that God just does not exist. I'm reading this book to make sense of some parts of the Bible that puzzle me, but it is not an option (for the reasons above) to throw out parts in order to salvage consistency. In my mind, the Bible works (somehow) or God does not exist.

In addition to what I said in my email, it's also important to note the words of Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount:

"Watch out for false prophets. They come to you in sheep's clothing, but inwardly they are ferocious wolves. By their fruit you will recognize them. Do people pick grapes from thornbushes, or figs from thistles? Likewise every good tree bears good fruit, but a bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, and a bad tree cannot bear good fruit. Every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire. Thus, by their fruit you will recognize them." Matthew 17:15-20

I think that if we look at the "fruit" of the Apostle Paul as seen in the size and character of the Church today, it is almost silly to suggest that Paul is a false prophet.

To me, it seems like the god that Mark believes in is so unconcerned with his people, or so uninvolved in world events, or simply so weak, that it's not worth pursuing any kind of relationship with his God. If God isn't interested in protecting the Bible from false prophets, then would he really be interested in me at all?

The god of liberal Christianity

In my last post, I wrote about what is probably the most difficult issue I have with my faith: The multiple voices in the Bible, and how we (conservative Christians in general) elevate certain passages to supreme status, and reinterpret all conflicting passages, effectively neutering them of their meaning. In particular, the voices of Jesus and Paul stand out in stark contrast, especially when asking the question "What must I do to be saved?".

In that post, I discussed this post by James McGrath over at the blog Exploring our Matrix. In it, he discusses this problem, stating that his transition to liberal Christianity is a result of just these types of problems. McGrath states:

My own Liberal Christian position is a result of struggling with these sorts of issues. It doesn't seem to me that there is a single voice in the Bible, and we can simply listen to it and do "what the Bible says"... And so whatever it means to be a Christian, it cannot mean "believing the Bible". Because part of the challenge of the Bible itself is that it presents us with conflicting voices, and in doing so forces us away from the easy path of simply picking texts and following them, making us instead recognize that we are part of a 2,000-year-old dialogue that requires us to figure out for ourselves what it means to be a Christian in our own particular time and context.

I tend to agree with McGrath, that the proof-text approach taken by fundamentalist Christianity doesn't do justice to the character of the Bible. Furthermore, I think that anyone that says "I just believe the Bible" doesn't read it very often. Or they don't read it and actually think about what it says. To those who say just that, I would ask (taking McGrath's example): When you read Matthew 28 and Luke 24, do you "believe" that the disciples first saw the resurrected Jesus in Jerusalem, or almost 70 miles away in Galilee?

For McGrath, the solution to the problem was liberal Christianity, the willingness to approach the Bible as one would any other historical document without any preconceived notion of inerrancy or divine inspiration. For liberal Christians, the Bible is seen as a record of man's experiences in interacting with God. It may seem that a similar destination is in store for me, but there is a problem with that: To me, it seems that it is much more likely that God simply does not exist, than for the god of liberal Christianity to be real.

If God does exist, and He is interested in communicating with us (As the Bible, read as a historical and divinely inspired document would suggest) than would He not act to communicate with humankind in some sort of transferable way? Would He not leave more of a mark than just the "experiences" of some people in history? To me it seems more likely that He isn't out there at all.

To be fair, it isn't quite true that the Bible is the only way God has provided for us to know Him. But the god of of liberal Christianity (to me) seems totally fuzzy and unknowable. I think that if these problems end up pushing me to something other than conservative Christianity, it will be to atheism (or more likely agnosticism) than to liberal Christianity.

Understandings I'm Seeking

This is a post I’ve been meaning to write for a long time now, simply because it’s subject is really the reason this blog exists.  As I said in my newly-updated About This Blog post, this is where I put some of those thoughts about my faith (speaking very generally) that bounce around in my head, and just won’t go away.  It helps to have a place to organize my thoughts, and I can come back to a particular post if I forget where my thinking was on a particular topic.  Also, for those doubts or questions that don’t really have good answers, clicking that “Publish Post” button is like flushing the toilet. 

Several months ago, Cliff Martin over at Outside The Box (a blog that I used to read regularly) posted his list of Understandings I’m Seeking – A list of difficult issues he was interested in understanding better.  Ever since, I’ve kept a mental list of my own, to which I add as new issues become important to me, and subtract as I gain understanding on some issues.  

Lately, my “Understandings I’m Seeking” list has become stagnant.  The same issues have been at the top of the list for quite a while, which means that they have remained important to me, while simultaneously proving difficult to understand, at least for me.  It is for this reason I think it is time for my own “Understandings I’m Seeking” post.  

Understandings I’m Seeking 

1. The relationship between the teachings of Jesus and the Apostle Paul 

I'm seeking to understand how the teachings of Jesus are related to those of the Apostle Paul.  In particular, I want to understand why Jesus' teachings are so different from those of Paul, especially when it comes to the requirements for salvation.  

In my own Baptist tradition, the words of Jesus are constantly twisted to fit into a Paul-shaped mold, and to me, that just seems wrong.  I hope one might be able to assume that God-incarnate would be able to get it right!  But instead I constantly hear (in reference to Jesus' words) "Well.... You have to read that in light of ..."  - And then some passage from Romans or Hebrews.

I understand the desire to harmonize the Scriptures, and the belief that inspired Scripture must fit together.  But if God really did become man, and that man is Jesus Christ, than something is wrong.  I am seeking to understand what that is.

2. The second coming of Jesus and the New Testament expectation that it was immanent 

I’m seeking to better understand why the first Christians (and especially Jesus Himself) expected Jesus’ second coming to happen soon, as recorded in passages like Matt. 10:23, Matt. 16:27-28, Luke 21:5-36  1 Thess 4:14-15, Rev. 1:1, and many, many others.  This expectation is typically explained away by claiming that Jesus, when He said "this generation will not pass away" before He returns, did not mean "generation" but instead meant the nation of Israel or even the generation that is alive when Jesus returns. (How convenient!)  

I’m continually flabbergasted that the same people who insist on using the “plain reading” of Genesis 1-2 will put forth such flimsy explanations for the very plain statements of the expectation of the imminent return of Jesus.  Once again, if God did become man, and that man is Jesus Christ, can't we expect Him to know what He was talking about?

I've done a significant amount of reading about the eschatological belief called preterism, which claims that all of Jesus' end-times prophecies were fulfilled within the timeframe he predicted, specifically in 70AD during the siege and destruction of Jerusalem by the Roman army.  This is not the place for a discussion on eschatology, but I should say that neither futurism nor preterism have provided satisfactory explanations for Biblical end-times prophesy.

I am seeking to understand what Jesus really meant by his end-times prophecies, and how this fits in with the rest of Biblical teaching.  I especially am seeking to understand the implications of a successful eschatology on they way I view the world:  Is the world coming to an end, or is it getting better and better?  Is Jesus coming back, and will that be soon?

3. The dogma of Biblical inspiration and (secondarily) inerrancy 

I’m seeking to understand why some Christians believe in the doctrine of verbal, plenary inspiration. (The equal inspiration of every word of scripture)  Christians always give passages like 2 Peter 1:20-21 and 2 Timothy 3:16-17 as proof that the Bible (every single word of it) is equally inspired by God.  Why don't these Christians notice the blatant circularity of this claim?  A text within the New Testament that refers to "scripture" cannot be referring to the New Testament.  At best, these proof texts can only refer to the Hebrew Scriptures (The Old Testament), and any texts considered “scripture” at the time the proof-text was written, if any. 

I am seeking to understand the reality of Biblical inspiration as opposed to the dogma of Biblical inspiration.  I believe that the Bible is inspired, and useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness, but I am unconvinced by any argument for verbal, plenary inspiration that takes the form: "The Bible is inspired because it says it is inspired."  I realize that any "proof" of inspiration that refuses to grant authority to any source other than the Bible will always be circular.  I just wish that this fact were not constantly ignored.  

Of secondary importance is my desire to understand why some Christians believe in the inerrancy of the Bible.  This is only of secondary importance because I have come to a settled belief that this position is entirely indefensible.  Still, I am seeking to understand the implications of this apparent fact; On how it affects the way I should read the Bible, and how it affects the task of biblical interpretation. 

4. The relationship between the Old and New Testaments

This issue has troubled me from the time I was a little kid:  I am seeking to understand why God is portrayed so differently in the Old and New Testaments.  The God of the Old Testament commands his people to kill rebellious teenagers, beat their slaves to within an inch of their death, to destroy entire cities, killing all men, women, children and babies, (including nursing babies and "ripping open" pregnant women) and actively participates in these slayings by chucking hailstones from heaven.  In contrast, the God of the New Testament commands us to be peaceful, merciful,  to love our enemies, turn the other cheek, return blessing for evil, and to live at peace with everyone.  Are we talking about the same God here?

I understand that all people are sinners and deserve death.  God can choose to do whatever he wants.  This is not the issue.  I am seeking to understand why God's message to His people, His communication to them about what is important, and His overal approach to justice is so startlingly different between the Old and New Testaments.

5. The soverignty of God and the problem of Theodicy (the problem of the existence of evil)

This issue is a little different:  It involves two seemingly seperate issues on which I have come to a general understanding (or acceptance), but my thinking on these two issues is incompatible.

It is evident to me that God (in many occasions, if not all) chooses those with whom he is going to form a relationship: God chose Adam, not vice-versa.  God chose Noah, not vice-versa. God chose Abraham, not vice-versa.  God chose Moses, not vice-versa.  God chose the 12 disciples, not vice-versa.  You get the point.  And it's hard to deny the reality of election with Bible passages like Mark 13:20, Romans 8:29-30, Romans 9:14-24, and on and on... The entire Bible shows God constantly choosing us, not the other way around.  

Now, this doesn't mean we don't have a choice in whether to love God.  A man can choose to romantically pursue a particular woman, but she will still have a choice of whether to reciprocate.  Excuse the imperfect analogy, but this may be the situation between God and us.  And God's power to woo surely surpasses even that of Giacoma Cassanova.  Still, it is obvious to me that in some way, my relationship with God is more dependent on He than on me.

The second issue involves theodicy; the problem of existence of evil in the world, and the general lack of evidence for God's existence.  I've written about this before: To me it seems the best explanation for this is that God created us to love, and love cannot be forced.  Ironically, pastor-turned-atheist Dan Barker says it best:

It is a counterfeit love that is contingent upon authority, punishment, or reward. True love is respect and admiration, compassion and kindness, freely given by a healthy, unafraid human being.  [source]

I agree with Dan, and this is why God doesn't loudly proclaim His existence, doesn't do much to fix our broken world, and doesn't prove to us that He exists; He wants to give us a chance to love Him, and to do that He must give us the freedom to choose.

The problem lies in the integration of the two issues above.  If God chooses those with whom He has a relationship, then why is there evil in the world?  Why is there a need?  (And please, don't say "The Fall" - The fall came as a result of God giving Man a choice)  Conversely, if God values our free will enough to accept all the things that go along with it (i.e. evil, suffering) then does he really choose his "elect"?  In order to answer theses two questions, I must talk out of both sides of my mouth, and that really bothers me.  The answer may be as simple as my Cassanova example (above) but that has so far been unsatisfying.

So there's my list.  If you can help on any of the above, by all means, email me.  Or better yet, leave a comment on this post and let everyone benefit.  I have fantasies of someday writing a single post on each of the above, but I know better than to commit.  I'll just take it one post at a time.

Choosing to Believe

In my previous post, I talked about belief, and how our actions reveal what we truly believe.  One question that was left unanswered, however, is one posed by Richard Dawkins, among others:

Believing is not something you can decide to do as a matter of policy.  At least, it is not something I can decide to do as an act of will.  I can decide to go to church and I can decide to recite the Nicene Creed, and I can decide to swear on a stack of bibles that I believe every word inside them.  But none of that can make me actually believe it if I don't.  Pascal's Wager could only ever be an argument for feigning belief in God.  And the God that you claim to believe in had better not be of the omniscient kind or he'd see through the deception. [The God Delusion, p.104]

Dawkins makes a good point, one that  I struggled with it for a long time.  I didn't believe, and I knew it.  I really wanted to believe, but couldn't.  What advice would you give someone in this situation?  

For some, the issue really is that they don't want to believe.  For Dawkins, I suspect that he poses the question not out of a genuine desire to believe, but to simply point out that it is truly ridiculous to ask someone to "just believe".  He's right.  We can't just decide to change our beliefs. 

Like my last post, Dallas Willard's book, Renovation of the Heart can shed some light on this (at least it did for me).  Willard agrees with Dawkins:

We do not choose to believe (or not).  Our beliefs and feelings cannot be changed by choice.  We cannot just choose to have different beliefs and feelings...

But Willard continues:

 ...but we do have some liberty to take in different ideas and think about things in different ways. We can choose to take in the Word of God and when we do that beliefs and feelings will be steadily pulled in a Godly direction.

So if Dallas Willard is correct, (and I think he is) then we are not able, in the current moment, to change our beliefs by simply choosing to do so.  But this does not mean that belief is completely out of our control.  Our choices today can (and do) influence the things we believe tomorrow.  So if we choose to read and absorb the Bible and think in ways that will, over time, cause our beliefs to change.

Dawkins was correct when he wrote that:

I can decide to go to church and I can decide to recite the Nicene Creed...

True, he could decide to do that.  But he doesn't.  And of course, he doesn't believe.  I'm not saying that going to church or reciting a creed will help someone believe in God.  I am only saying (mostly from experience) that if one decides that he is going to live like God exists, his life will include things like going to church and reading the Bible.  And these activities, sincerely pursued, will slowly change his beliefs.

So we are responsible for our beliefs, but not in a direct way.  This has great implications for how we present the Gospel.  In Willards words:

One of the worst mistakes that can be made in practical ministry is to think that people can choose to believe and can feel differently.  Following that, we will mistakenly try to generate faith by going through the will, possibly trying to move the will by playing on emotion.  Rather, the will must be moved by insight into truth and reality.  Such insight will evoke emotion, appropriate to a new set of the will.  That is the order of real inward change.

My pastor frequently says things like: 

You're too busy to read your Bible? Well, you see, we make time for the things that are important to us.  So make time to read your Bible.

Is it just me, or does that not make sense at all?  How does that change whether I find it important to read my Bible?  And if what he says is true, I will not begin to read my Bible until I find it relevant to my life.  My will can do nothing (over the long run) to change my habits.  My Bible reading will come through a change in my inner character, which will in turn change my priorities.

 In the same way, no amount of willpower will enable me to believe something that I do not see adequate evidence for.  True belief will come through experience of the truth of God's existence.

Believe? Sounds pretty simple...

When I was dealing with the whole atheism thing, one of the things that always bugged me was the concept of belief.  We're always told (and we tell others) that we just need to "believe in Jesus" and we will inherit eternal life.  In the words of D.L. Moody:

Have faith in God! Take Him at His word! Believe what He says!

Is it really that simple?  What if someone really doesn't believe?  Richard Dawkins makes this point by asking the question: 

What if I don't believe? How can I just start believing something that I don't believe? Does God want a bunch of fakers?”  [a paraphrase from The God Delusion]

 Stephen Weinberg, in Dreams of a Final Theory says the same thing, but much more eloquently:

The decision to believe or not is not entirely in our hands. I might be happier if I thought I were descended from the emperors of China, but no effort of will on my part can make me believe it, any more than I can will my heart to stop beating.

So is belief something we have control over, or are we at it's mercy?  Does our will have any control over our beliefs, or are our beliefs completely inaccessible to us, as Dawkins would have us believe?

And what is faith?  Is that the same as belief? Can you have faith and not belief?  Belief and not faith? 

A second aspect to this problem is less semantic and more theological.  Ever since I started reading my Bible seriously, I have been struck by the differences between Jesus and Paul - Especially when they start talking about salvation.  Paul, of course, says over and over again that faith (or belief) alone is what saves us whereas Jesus repeatedly emphasizes that we will be judged based on how we lived our lives. Now, neither Jesus or Paul are completely on one end of the spectrum, and this disparity is not new; it is one of the main causes of the Protestant-Catholic divide.  But I am continually shocked by the efforts my fellow Christians will make to neuter Jesus' words in an effort to reconcile them with Paul's statements on salvation.  

I read something recently that helps make sense of all this.  In his book, Renovation of the Heart, Dallas Willard discusses what it means for a Christian to "believe":

Gandhi, who had looked closely at Christianity as practiced around him in Great Britain, remarked that if only Christians would live according to their belief in the teachings of Jesus, "we all would become Christians."  We know what he meant, and he was right in that.  But the dismaying truth is that the Christians were living according to their "belief" in the teachings of Jesus.  They didn't believe them!

Moreover, knowing the "right answers" - knowing which ones they are, being able to identify them - does not mean we believe them. To believe them, like believing anything else, means that we are set to act as if they (the right answers) are true and that we will do so in appropriate circumstances.  And acting as if the right answers are true means, in turn, that we intend to obey the example and teachings of Jesus the Anointed.  What else would we intend if we believed he is who his people through the ages have declared him to be?

Perhaps the hardest thing for sincere Christians to come to grips with is the level of real unbelief in their own life:  The unformulated skepticism about Jesus that permeates all dimensions of their being and undermines what efforts they do make toward Christlikeness.

The idea that you can trust Christ and not intend to obey him is an illusion generated by the prevalence of an unbelieving "Christian culture."  In fact, you can no more trust Jesus and not intend to obey him than you could trust you doctor and your auto mechanic and not intend to follow their advice.  If you don't intend to follow their advice, you simply don't trust them.  Period.  (Of course in this case you might well have good reason.)

  

I find that this helps greatly with the questions I pose above.  What is belief?  Belief is that which we are set to act upon.  In other words, we believe something is true if we act as if its true.

This helps answer the second question:  Who was right? Jesus or Paul?  Well, of course, both are right:

In Acts 16, when Paul and Silas were asked by their jailer "What must I do to be saved?" they replied:  "Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved."  

This "belief" does not mean that the jailer should state that certain things are true about Jesus; that Jesus died for his sins, or say a special prayer, or even say that he is following Jesus with his life.  For the jailer (and likewise, us) to believe means that the jailer really believes; and real belief will necessarily lead to doing the things that Jesus told us to do.  If he doesn't go obey Jesus, he did not believe.

Likewise, In Matthew 25, Jesus tells the parable of the sheep and the goats, and describes how, in the end times, people will be separated based on their actions: "[The wicked] will go away to eternal punishment, but the righteous to eternal life." (Matt. 10:46)  These actions are simply the kinds of things someone would naturally do if they believe.  We will be judged by our actions because our actions are a direct and necessary result of belief, (understood correctly).  

Unfortunately, this doesn't help answer the question:  What must I do to believe?  Richard Dawkins' question is still valid:  "What if I don't believe?"  

I think the answer to that question must have something to do with "faith".  But that is another post.

8. Dealing with Atheism, continued...

Dealing with Atheism, continued...

This is the eighth in a series of posts describing my transition from young earth creationist to theistic evolutionist. In the first post, I described how Alan Roxburgh's 5-phase description of paradigm change describes this transition well, and I have been using his framework to shape this discussion. See the introduction for a list of all the posts in this series.

This is a continuation of the previous post. In the last few posts, I described how the religion of my youth had taught me that science was the enemy of faith. I was taught to believe that evolution was an evil idea invented by Satan to lead people into atheism. It was beginning to look like they were right. I had discovered the overwhelming evidence for the truth of evolution, and was terrified of the implications. If evolution was true, then my faith in God must be a silly case of wishful thinking.

The fourth phase in Roxburgh's description of paradigm change is that of transition. The first part of my transition phase involved dealing with atheist arguments that had caused my faith to diminish to a tiny ember. In my last post, I discussed two of the main ideas that helped me deal with atheism. In this post I'll discuss what I see to be the main flaw in atheist Richard Dawkins' view of God, and then deal with a problem I mentioned in a previous post about the lack of evidence for God's action in the world.

3. Dawkins' picture of “god” is naturalistic, not supernatural

One thing that strikes me as I read Dawkins' anti-religious writings is that Dawkins seems to be completely stuck with a picture of a god that is totally within nature. I didn't notice it in my first reading of The God Delusion, but it becomes more obvious to me every time I read or hear him speak. This was an important element of my transition; I deliberately approached subjects that I had a one-sided knowledge of and balanced out my familiarity with both sides of each argument.

As I said; Dawkins's view of god seems to be that of a god who is within nature. This is important, because almost every one of his scientific arguments against the existence of God assumes a god that is within nature. It is easy to see why: a God outside of nature is not within the purview of science.

Take this quote from Dawkins in this debate with Alister McGrath; notice how he constantly invokes the “probability” of God's existence:

"When you say god didn't come into existence but was always there, I find that not really very helpful because suppose I go back to my problem of explaining the eye; it would be no kind of answer to say "oh, well the eye was always there", it would still be something that requires explanation in the sense that anything statistically improbable does. So I don't think you can't get away with it with an eye, and I don't really see why you can get away with it with God." [21:14]

And just a few minutes later:

“Everybody agrees intuitively that the eye is far too improbable to have suddenly jumped into existence, and I want to say the same about God, and you don't and I don't understand why not...”

An eternal, supernatural God doesn't make sense to Dawkins, because for him, everything must be explained naturally. This can be seen by his insistence on comparing God with an eye: He requires the same kind of (scientific) explanation for God that he requires for an eye. He sums up this belief quite succinctly when he states:

“Any entity, any being, capable of designing a universe, or an eye, or a knee, would have to be the kind of entity which would be statistically improbable in the same kind of way as the eye is.” (emphasis mine)

This is a classic case of begging the question:

1) It's very improbable for natural causes to give rise to a being capable of creating the universe.
2) Therefore, God does not exist.

Dawkins' implicit assumption is that any god must exist within nature. He then bases the rest of his argument on this assumption. This is circular reasoning and complete nonsense. The Christian God exists outside of nature, and therefore it is nonsense to speak of the probability of His existence. The god that Dawkins argues against has nothing in common with the Christian God.

4. Divine Action: God as “The Great Delegator?”

In a previous post I mentioned one of the most significant challenges to my faith is the difficulty I experience in perceiving God's action in my life. This is a problem I still struggle with today, but McGrath provided me with some insights that help the situation considerably.

For instance, in the same interview I mention above, McGrath discusses this matter with Richard Dawkins. When discussing God's part in the September 11 terrorist attacks, McGrath states:

"Why didn't God just take the steering wheel [of the terrorist's plane] and change things? Well, that has been a constant issue down the ages as you well know. Christians understand God to have made the world in a certain way that is like a framework, but does not actually intervene. Of course the classic example of this the crucifixion. People were screaming at Jesus: 'If there is a God, why doesn't he just take you away from here?' That reminds us that we are dealing with a God that does not intervene directly in the world as we might hope." [47:40]

So God apparently prefers to delegate his action to creation itself; His activity in the world happens almost exclusively through natural causes. I didn't quite grasp this concept while I was initially dealing with the atheist proposition, but later it resonated with me because it fit perfectly with my experience. The concept of God as “The Great Delegator” sowed the seeds that eventually grew into an understanding of a God who is constantly creating through natural processes (evolution). This concept was simultaneously a defense against atheism and an introduction to the God who created evolution.

Unfortunately, this problem is not completely solved. A God who delegates His action to his creation can explain the lack of His obvious action in our world. But most Christians, including McGrath, claim that God does intervene in the world. In their discussion, McGrath states that if one child were spared in a devastating earthquake (while thousands of others perished) God could be seen as intervening to save the child. Dawkins points out the inconsistency of this position:

“What worries me is the inconsistency of what you just said when when I asked you whether God saved that one child... Sometimes you say that God doesn't intervene, (and you make a very eloquent case for why it would be a rather undignified thing to do as a God.) On the other hand you say He does intervene when He rescues one child from a earthquake.”

In a sense Dawkins is saying “Which one is it! Does he intervene or doesn't he?” I think Dawkins has a point here. Sure, God is free and able to intervene in one case and delegate in another, but for us to conveniently invoke God's intervention in this way is a pathetic case of theological cherry-picking. We really don't have a leg to stand on.

I think one possibility for obtaining a consistent picture of God's action centers around the extent of His involvement in the creation of natural laws. The word “design” has undesirable connotations in this context, but bear with me: What if God has so intricately designed the natural laws so as to bring about his purposes in both types of situations? What if God set up natural laws so as to save the child from the earthquake in what only seems like a miraculous way? This suggests a God in control of his creation in a completely different way; the laws of nature truly become the hand of God acting in our lives. It's hard for my finite mind to imagine, but I think this only amplifies the wonder of God and His creation.


So in conclusion: Atheistic ideas had dealt a serious blow to my faith, resulting in a seemingly perpetual state of doubt. With the help of the writings of people like Allister McGrath, I dealt with this problem by first realizing that both atheism and belief in God were faith positions. I decided to choose faith in God, regardless of my feelings about whether or not that faith was real. I saw that atheists like Richard Dawkins presupposed God's non-existence, and this could be seen in their main arguments for their position. Furthermore, my view of God was altered significantly with the observation that He seems to act almost exclusively through natural causes, and these causes could be so intricately designed so as to bring about events that are both mundane and incredible. This matched up well with my every-day experience. Finally, I was left with the resolution that my faith, whatever would become of it, would cease to be real unless it deliberately incorporated all the evidence from all credible sources.

In the next post, I'll continue discussing my transition phase by describing how I dealt with the remains of Young Earth Creationism that still lingered in the corners of my mind.

7. Dealing with Atheism

This is the seventh in a series of posts describing my transition from young earth creationist to theistic evolutionist. In the first post, I described how Alan Roxburgh's 5-phase description of paradigm change describes this transition well, and I have been using his framework to shape this discussion. See the introduction for a list of all the posts in this series.

Dealing with Atheism

As I described in the last few posts, disembedding from my YEC roots was pretty thorough. I had learned a lot about evolution, and was completely convinced of its veracity, despite being taught as a youth that it was an idea invented by the Devil. I believed in an old earth, and and old universe. I was frustrated and confused because I had been taught (and still believed) that Genesis clearly stated that the universe was created in six days.

I had adopted old earth creationism as a sort of stop-gap, but this also crumbled under the weight of new scientific knowledge and devastating atheistic ideas. Suggestions by atheist writers had been devastating to my faith, and I couldn't shake the thought that all my religious beliefs were just a sad case of wishful thinking. Was I just hanging on to God because I would loose my friends, marriage and parent's love?

In Roxbaugh's description of paradigm change, the fourth stage is "Transition". My transition stage involved dealing with four different things: atheism, young earth creationism, the people in my life, and the science-faith conflict. I'll describe how I dealt with each of these in separate posts. Each of these happened simultaneously, but I will discuss them sequentially to avoid total confusion.

Dealing with Atheism

As I mentioned in my previous post, atheist suggestions (particularly those coming from a scientific perspective) had a significant affect on my languishing faith. One of the most outspoken atheists is of course, Richard Dawkins. Young Earth Creationists do a terribly poor job at defending against Dawkins' attacks, resorting to their typical tactics: quote-mining, red herrings, and ignoring Dawkins' actual points. As a result, I was surprised when I encountered the writings of Allister McGrath.

Two of McGrath's books, Doubting and The Dawkins Delusion, were extremely helpful in dealing with atheism. McGrath approaches Dawkins intelligently from a scientific perspective, acknowledging the value that scientific inquiry and reason can have to the conversation.

An even greater help was a debate between McGrath and Dawkins, which can be seen here. Watching this for the first time was rather poignant for me; I was overcome with relief and hope as I watched McGrath engage in an actual conversation instead of the usual circus I had constantly seen from YECs.

I'm going to discuss several main ideas that were extremely helpful in dealing with atheism. Some of these come from McGrath's body of work as a whole, some are more general. I'll give references where I can.

1. The faith of atheism

The main, over-arching problem with atheism, at least for me, is that it is just as much a matter of faith as is any religious faith. Evidence and reason are vital, of course, but at some point the usefulness of evidence and reason come to an end, and we are left with a choice. McGrath describes this in Doubting:

“[W]hen anyone starts making statements about the meaning of life, the existence of God or whether there is life after death, they are making statements of faith. You can't prove, either by rational argument or by scientific investigation, what life is all about. Whether you are Christian or atheist, you share the same problem.” Doubting, p.34

McGrath goes on to explain that doubt is not something that only Christians are vulnerable to: Atheists themselves are in the same situation. They doubt too.

It really came down to a choice: Would I have faith that God exists and wants a relationship with me, or would I choose to have faith that He does not exist? A third option, to continue to dwell in indecision, was also possible. But I had wallowed in indecision for so long. My soul was rotting away, and there wasn't much left.

At one point I read Phillip Yancey's book, Disappointment with God. While I wouldn't recommended it to anyone in a similar situation, it did make this point very clear to me. I had to choose. In his book, Yancey quotes Thomas Merton on the importance of this choice:

"How shall we begin to know who You are if we do not begin ourselves to be something of what You are?" asks Thomas Merton. "We receive enlightenment only in proportion as we give ourselves more and more completely to God by humble submission and love. We do not first see, then act: we act, then see. . . And that is why the man who waits to see clearly, before he will believe, never starts on the journey."

I definitely did not see clearly, and this is why I was finding it hard to act. God was not real to me, and previous efforts to change this had proven futile. But it was clear to me that I needed to make a choice, and act on that choice. At that time, this was all the farther I took this idea.

As of the moment I write this, I am still discovering what that all means, but I do know that Merton was right. He suggests that the more completely we give ourselves to God, the more real he will become to us. In a way, this is blatantly obvious. But it's also a strange way for God to convert new believers, isn't it? I think it shows just what kind of people with whom God wants a relationship. And it reveals a little bit of His character; he seems to want us to come to him on our own accord; He will not impress us or bully us into a relationship. In a way, He's kind of shy.

Note: I've discussed the subject of God's silence in a previous post.

2. Making sense of things

McGrath makes another suggestion that became quite important to me. He suggests that one of the basic goals of faith is to try to make the most sense of things; to try to explain our experiences and convictions in the most complete and internally consistent way possible.

This concept may sound strange, depending on ones religious background. It sure sounded foreign to me at first. I had been raised to be content with mysteries and unknowns, so burdening religious experience with the task of explaining “everything” sounded almost sacrilegious. But I think this is right at a very basic level. Deciding that God definitely doesn't exist would solve some of the problems I had been struggling with, but leaves others open and unsolved. (I do exist, after all...) Faith, (especially Christianity) attempts to answer more of these questions more consistently.

McGrath, (in his debate with Dawkins) when discussing whether faith is rational, says:

"Evidence takes us thus far, but then when it comes to deciding between a number of competing explanations, it is extremely difficult to have an evidence driven argument for those final stages. I believe faith is rational in the sense that it tries to make the best possible sense of things. But in the end it has to move beyond that, saying: Even though we believe this is the best way of making sense of things, we can't actually prove this is the case.” (at 4:58)

So an element of faith is the process of dealing with the evidence, and trying to make sense of it all. This appealed to me, since the religion I grew up with had completely ignored (intentionally or not) a lot of the evidence. I was at a point where any faith I chose to act upon must include (and integrate) all the evidence. ALL the evidence.

These are just a couple of the main ideas that helped me deal with atheism. In the next post I'll discuss two final ideas that helped increase my doubts about the faith of atheism, and enabled me to make a choice to pursue a faith that incorporates all the evidence.

6. Four Tough Problems

This is the sixth in a series of posts describing my transition from young earth creationist to theistic evolutionist. In the first post, I described how Alan Roxburgh's 5-phase description of paradigm change describes this transition well, and I have been using his framework to shape this discussion. See the introduction for a list of all the posts in this series.


Four Tough Problems

In the previous post I described how my faith lost the battle with science and atheism. The dichotomy had been set up and reinforced since I was a child: Either my faith is real, or evolution is real. I was taught evolution was evil, and when I discovered that it was probably true, my faith went up in smoke.

I'd like to mention a few of the most significant problems that I struggled with in this period of my transition.

The Anthropic Principle

In my first post on this disembedding phase, I described how a large part of my confidence in old earth creationism came from the incredible amount of fine tuning evident in the universe. As I described, this ended up being a significant chink in my armor.

The anthropic principle (when adopted by creationists) states that the properties of the universe appear to be fine-tuned by God to be perfectly suited to support life. This argument is actually quite stunning. There are hundreds of physical constants and properties that, if changed only slightly, would not allow life to exist. God custom made our universe for us! Case closed, right?

Not really. The ironic fact is that the anthropic principle is actually the most easily dismissed argument for God. It's really quite simple: With all the millions of galaxies, stars, and planets in the universe, if life is going to arise, it will happen on the planet with the right conditions, orbiting at the correct distance from its star, in the galaxy with the right conditions for life to arise. In short, we are here because the conditions are right for us to be here. As Stephen Hawking said in A Brief History of Time:

"Why is the universe the way we see it? The answer is simple: If it had been different, we would not be here."

The Demystification of the Universe

Scientific explanations can take the wonder out of God's creation. A sunset can loose some of its splendor when one learns that it is due to particles in the air. It's easy to see why science has become the enemy of many Christians: God seemingly has less to do when he is not painting sunsets. [Pardon my sarcasm]

In the 1600s, while Kepler was developing his laws of motion, the motion of the planets around the sun was explained by angels beating their wings in toward the sun. Today, we don't need to invoke spiritual beings to explain many of the phenomena we experience.

In the words of Stephen Weinberg, in Dreams of a Final Theory:

"Once nature seemed inexplicable without a nymph in every brook and a dryad in every tree. Even as late as the nineteenth century the design of plants and animals was regarded as visible evidence of a creator... Today, for real mystery, one has to look to cosmology and elementary particle physics. For those who see no conflict between science and religion, the retreat of religion from the ground occupied by science is nearly complete."

Or, in the words of Stephen J. Gould:

“The most important scientific revolutions all include, as their only common feature, the dethronement of human arrogance from one pedestal after another of previous convictions about our centrality in the cosmos.”

Every time I learned something new about the universe, my faith became smaller. This is predictable, for when science is painted as the enemy of faith, new and exciting information about our world is credited to Satan, and against God.

Belief & Wishful Thinking

This third issue is a little more personal. As I said in my last post, I had always struggled with my faith, it hadn't felt real to me since high school, and that seemed like ancient history. At one point, I remember sitting in a Sunday School class at my church where our pastor asked the question: “Why do you believe in God?” One by one, each and every person who answered said something equivalent to “I believe in God because I have a relationship with Him.” I had never had a relationship with God.

I was raised in a Bible church with a strong Calvinistic theology, so I was familiar with the teaching that God chooses those whom He wants to be his “elect”, i.e. whom He wants to save. This teaching says that no one is able to believe in Him unless God himself gives them the ability to believe. The thought had come to my mind many times: Is is possible that I am simply not elected by God? Does He simply not want me? Could belief be something that I am just not capable of? I surely wanted to believe, but was finding it harder and harder to do so. I repeatedly begged God to give me faith. When it didn't come, Weinberg's words in Dreams of a Final Theory rang loud and clear:

“The decision to believe or not is not entirely in our hands. I might be happier if I thought I were descended from the emperors of China, but no effort of will on my part can make me believe it, any more than I can will my heart to stop beating.”

Richard Dawkins echoed this thought in The God Delusion when discussing the claim by Christians that we just need to “Believe in Jesus” to be saved. He responded to this by saying “What if I don't believe? Does God want a bunch of fakers?” [a paraphrase]

It seemed like my faith came down to a simple case of wishful thinking. I had a lot to lose: Most of my good friends were from our church, and while I'm sure they would still love me as an atheist, it surely would ruin many relationships. My family would be devastated, and who knew if my marriage would survive. Not to mention the promise of life after death! I certainly had an abundance of reasons to continue “believing” even if I was a faker.

Weinberg captured this thought in the single most devastating passage of any I have read:

“Unlike science, religious experience can suggest a meaning for our lives, a part for us to play in a great cosmic drama of sin and redemption, and it holds out to us a promise of some continuation after death. For just these reasons, the lessons of religious experience seem to me indelibly marked with the stamp of wishful thinking.”

Divine Action

The final issue I'll discuss is the problem of divine action. Christianity teaches that God is intimately involved in our lives, from moment to moment. This is one of the reasons prayer is important, since it can affect the course of our lives.

My problem was that I did not see this action in the world. Do not get me wrong! I had (and have) been blessed in so many awesome ways; My wife is incredible and custom made for me, my closest friends are truly gifts from God, and my family was just starting to grow with the birth of my daughter. The problem was that I could usually see the cause and effect relationships that lead up to God's supposed action. The world looked as if God wasn't doing anything. Anything anyone claimed to be “of God” or an answer to prayer was easily explainable by its natural causes. This is okay, if God is said to act only through nature, but it seemed incompatible with a God who does specific things; a God who is intimately involved with our lives.



So, these are just a few of the issues and ideas I struggled with toward the end of my disembedding phase. By this point, young earth creationism was gone. My faith was all but gone. Disembedding was complete.

The next phase in Roxburgh's description of paradigm change is transition. In the next post, I'll discuss how I tried to make sense of everything I've discussed so far. First, I'll talk about what happened when I shared my struggle with those close to me, and then I'll share my experience as I tried to reconcile my faith and scientific knowledge.

5. A Bit of Light Reading

This is the fifth in a series of posts describing my transition from young earth creationist to theistic evolutionist. In the first post, I described how Alan Roxburgh's 5-phase description of paradigm change describes this transition well, and I have been using his framework to shape this discussion. See the introduction for a list of all the posts in this series.


A Bit of Light Reading

In the process of paradigm change, the third phase (according to Roxburgh) is disembedding. He describes this phase as:

"...when we begin to feel that the current system is insupportable and we begin to disconnect from it - like Dorothy [in The Wizard of Oz] being carried away from Kansas by a tornado."

As I described in the last post, my disembedding process began by shedding my long-held beliefs in a young universe/earth in favor of old earth creationism. This included extensive reading of Hugh Ross' books which left me with a significant interest in cosmology and theoretical physics. I began to read books on these subjects and was fascinated by this new window in to the world.

Bill Bryson's book A Short History of Nearly Everything really kicked things off for me. It was an incredible description of the unfolding of the universe, from the very beginning to this very moment. It gave me an appreciation for the process of science, and helped me understand not only what science says about the history and operation of the universe, but how we figured this stuff out. It helped to whet my appetite for more.

Stephen Hawking's The Universe in a Nutshell was next. I was awed by his description of the beginnings of the universe and the nature of time. Brain-bending concepts like supergravity, supersymmetry, p-branes and imaginary time were fun to tackle and I was surprised at Hawking's ability to explain these complex ideas so accessibly.

Richard Feynman and Ralph Leighton's Surely You're Joking, Mr. Feynman! made me want to become a theoretical physicist. Its informal character stood in stark contrast to Hawking's books, but Feynman made the process of pursuing authentic knowledge seem so interesting and important. This, along with another book, Feynman's Rainbow, helped me understand that one can make profound advances in science without leaving ones desk.

I also read a bit more on evolution: Richard Dawkins' spectacularly written story, The Ancestor's Tale traces our ancestry from the present to the past, in an incredibly compelling survey of the theory of common descent. Also, Stephen J. Gould's essays in Evolution and Extinction were vital in understanding some of the nuances of natural selection, speciation and punctuated equilibrium.

Steven Weinberg's Dreams of a Final Theory blew my mind. Half-way through I was ready to pack my bags and head back to grad-school to become a particle physicist. I loved the idea that it might be possible to finally join the worlds of quantum physics (which I had studied in grad school) with cosmology (in which I was beginning to dip my toes) into one complete theory of everything.

Okay, I'm leaving something out. All this exploration of ideas that were previously deemed outright wrong across the board had brought me to the conclusion that I had been duped. The wool had been pulled over my eyes. I now saw that the universe was utterly ancient, and it was fascinating. This previously forbidden territory had opened up countless avenues of exploration, and each one I ventured down turned out to be more exciting and compelling than the next. But there was a profound and dire problem that I had yet to face: I had been taught that all of this was a lie; each exciting detail was in some way a deception perpetrated by Satan. Either the entire picture of the universe that had been painted for me was false in every detail, or my faith in God was a total sham. These two armies had become firmly entrenched in my mind, and it was only a matter of time before the battle would begin.

It didn't turn out to be much of a battle. My faith didn't put up much of a fight.

The first significant blow to my faith came from the final chapter of Weinberg's Dreams of a Final Theory entitled What About God?. In it, he discusses the implications of the search for a theory to describe everything on the existence of God; generally answering the question of whether the final theory will say anything about God, or even prove or disprove His existence. I'll discuss specific ideas in my next post, but I remember spending my lunch hour in the parking lot at my work, devastated by the feeling that my faith was gone. I remember talking myself through the steps that would be required to break the news to my friends and family. It wasn't pretty.

Well, feelings come and go, and apparently so does faith. I regained my composure, walked back into work, and proceeded to live my life. I continued to go to church with my wife, and existed in a state of denial for a while.

I should note that faith had never worked very well for me. I had never developed much of a relationship with God. My personal Bible reading and prayer time had always been boring and seemed pointless. It's easy to see why the battle was almost over before it began.

Curiosity made me pick up The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. [You should be hitting your forehead with your palm right about now...] Although Dawkins' tone was quite off-putting and condescending, I still got his message: I was raised by Christian parents, so I was a Christian. I want God to exist to make myself feel better about death. My faith is wishful thinking, nothing more.

At about the same time I read Bertrand Russell's Religion & Science and Michael Shermer's Why People Believe Weird Things. Both reinforced the conclusion I was quickly reaching: My faith was a sham. I was a fake. Faith had never worked for me because it wasn't true! I knew science was right, and Christianity was wrong. Evolution made sense; I saw it everywhere I looked. I was forced to choose between science and God. Science seemed so real. God seemed so fake.

In my next post, I'll finish describing the disembedding phase of my transition from YEC to evolutionist. I'll discuss a few of the specific problems that really bothered me in the reading I described above, especially those which became significant in the later phases of this transition.

A Response to "Why I Am Not a Christian" (4/4) - Christianity Predicts a Different Universe

This is the last post in a series of four with the intention of discussing an essay by Richard Carrier entitled Why I Am Not a Christian. In his essay, he presents four reasons why he does not believe in the Christian God. I'll dedicate one post to each of these arguments. Each post discusses one of his four main points:
#1: God Is Silent
#2: God Is Inert
#3: The Evidence Is Inadequate
#4: Christianity Predicts a Different Universe

The fourth reason Carrier says he is not a Christian is that Christianity predicts a very different universe from what we actually observe. He suggests that the universe that we inhabit looks exactly like a universe should look if there were no god.

Right out of the gate, Carrier reveals one of his presuppositions that I think leads to this conclusion:

For a loving God who wanted to create a universe solely to provide a home for human beings, and to bring his plan of salvation to fruition, would never have invented this universe, but something quite different.

Carrier's starting assumption is that of God's purpose for creating the universe - that God created it solely to provide a place for us to live, and to bring about His "plan of salvation". As I've described in the first three posts on this topic, this is short-sighted. Of course, this universe was created to provide us a place to live, and He is in fact carrying out his plan of redemption. But these are not His only (or even primary) objectives. Carrier leaves out the key ingredient: free will.

If you haven't yet read my first post dealing with Carrier's essay, you should do so before continuing. It deals with the apparent fact that God values our free choice enough to allow us to choose to reject Him; to choose to spend eternity separated from Him.

I have chosen to use the words of Kenneth Miller to complete the rest of this post. He says it better than I could, anyway. I apologize for the long quote; if this bothers you, pretend they are my words. I believe every one of them.

Here are the last few paragraphs of his book, Finding Darwin's God, (with a few of my edits):

Science in general, and evolutionary science in particular... reveals a universe that is dynamic, flexible, and logically complete. It presents a vision of life that spreads across the planet with endless variety and intricate beauty. It suggests a world in which our material existence is not an impossible illusion propped up by magic, but the genuine article, a world in which things are exactly what they seem. A world in which we were formed, as the Creator once told us, from the dust of the earth itself.

It is often said that a Darwinian universe is one whose randomness cannot be reconciled with meaning. I disagree. A world truly without meaning would be one in which a deity pulled the string of every human puppet, indeed of every material particle. In such a world, physical and biological events would be carefully controlled, evil and suffering could be minimized, and the outcome of historical processes strictly regulated. All things would move toward the Creator's clear, distinct, established goals. Such control and predictability, however, comes at the price of independence. [This is the world Carrier says Christianity predicts, but...] Always in control, such a Creator would deny his creatures any real opportunity to know and worship him - authentic love requires freedom, not manipulation. Such freedom is best supplied by the open contingency of evolution.

If he so chose, the God whose presence is taught by most Western religions could have fashioned anything, ourselves included, ex nihilo, from his wish alone. In our childhood as a species, that might have been the only way in which we could imagine the fulfillment of a divine will. [This is why, as Carrier describes, early Christians (and todays Creationists) believed in ex nihilo creation.] But we've grown up, and something remarkable has happened: we have begun to understand the physical basis of life itself. If a string of constant miracles were needed for each turn of the cell cycle or each flicker of a cilium, the hand of God would be written directly into every living thing - his presence at the edge of the human sandbox would be unmistakable. Such findings might confirm our faith, but they would also undermine our independence. How could we fairly choose between God and man when the presence and the power of the divine so obviously and so literally controlled our every breath? Our freedom as his creatures requires a little space and integrity. In the material world, it requires self-sufficiency and consistency with the laws of nature.

Evolution is neither more nor less than the result of respecting the reality and consistency of the physical world over time. To fashion material beings with an independent physical existence, any Creator would have had to produce an independent material universe in which our evolution over time was a contingent possibility. A believer in the divine accepts that God's love and gift of freedom are genuine - so genuine that they include the power to choose evil and, if we wish, to freely send ourselves to Hell. Not all believers will accept the stark conditions of that bargain, but our freedom to act has to have a physical and biological basis. Evolution and its sister sciences of genetics and molecular biology provide that basis. In biological terms, evolution is the only way a Creator could have made us the creatures we are - free beings in a world of authentic and meaningful moral and spiritual choices.

Those who ask from science a final argument, an ultimate proof, an unassailable position from which the issue of God may be decided will always be disappointed. [Stephen Carrier included.] As a scientist I claim no new proofs, no revolutionary data, no stunning insight into nature that can tip the balance in one direction or another. But I do claim that to a believer, even in the most traditional sense, evolutionary biology is not at all the obstacle we often believe it to be. In many respects, evolution is the key to understanding our relationship with God.

-Kenneth Miller in Finding Darwin's God [pp. 285-291] (bold emphasis and bracketed text mine)

So it looks like the universe in which we find ourselves (the one described by the current scientific consensus) could be a necessary ingredient for God's plan to create beings free to choose to love him. What does that imply for the Creationist who rejects the scientific consensus of cosmology, biology, and geology? Must they also reject free will? Maybe not, but I have to agree with Miller, the Creationist's god is a weaker, marginalized version of the true Christian God.

A Response to "Why I Am Not a Christian" (3/4) - The Evidence is Inadequate

This is the third post in a series of four with the intention of discussing an essay by Richard Carrier entitled Why I Am Not a Christian. In his essay, he presents four reasons why he does not believe in the Christian God. I'll dedicate one post to each of these arguments. Each post discusses one of his four main points:
#1: God Is Silent
#2: God Is Inert
#3: The Evidence Is Inadequate
#4: Christianity Predicts a Different Universe

The third reason Carrier says he is not a Christian is that the evidence for Christianity is inadequate. A scientist through and through, Carrier uses the scientific method (or a form of it) to investigate the claims of Christianity. The basic argument takes the following form:

Christianity claims A.
If A is true, we would expect to observe B.
We do not observe B, we observe C.
Over and over again, Christianity's claims fail this test.
Therefore, Christianity is false.

He doesn't stop there; he also presents a parallel argument:

Naturalism claims X.

If X is true, we would expect to observe Y.

We do observe Y.
Over and over again, Naturalism's clams pass this test.

Therefore, Naturalism is true.

It's important to note that this approach is exactly how science studies something that is not directly observable: If the theory is true, each piece of evidence checks and supports the theory. The data is cumulative; no single piece proves the theory, but as each piece is added, predictions can be made about what further evidence should show… Every time the theory makes a correct prediction, (and does not make incorrect predictions) the more confident we are that the theory is correct.

In my previous posts on this essay, I have quoted snippets of his essay to present his argument in his own words. I'm not going to do that this time, for one simple reason: I think he is right.

Let me make myself clear; I think there is very little evidence for the existence of God from a scientific perspective. Anyone who seeks to determine the existence of God by looking for "evidence" will probably come up empty, over and over and over again.

The problem is, a large portion of Christians insist on subjecting their religions beliefs to this type of scientific scrutiny. This is most striking in the Intelligent Design (ID) movement. I'll save discussion of ID for a future post, but the topic at hand brings an important issue to the surface:

Science and religion are separate ways of knowing; they address issues in separate domains. Therefore they can only provide answers to questions from within their prospective domains. In other words, science and religion provide answers to different types of questions.

The insistence that we must use science to address the claims of religion (and vice versa) is an overstepping of the boundaries of both ways of knowing. The late biologist Stephen J. Gould was a strong proponent of this separation, saying in his paper Nonoverlapping Magisteria:

"The lack of conflict between science and religion arises from a lack of overlap between their respective domains of professional expertise—science in the empirical constitution of the universe, and religion in the search for proper ethical values and the spiritual meaning of our lives. The attainment of wisdom in a full life requires extensive attention to both domains—for a great book tells us that the truth can make us free and that we will live in optimal harmony with our fellows when we learn to do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly."

Although Gould was an agnostic, he understood the limits of his science. Unfortunately, it seems that people outside Christianity understand the proper roles of these two ways of acquiring knowledge better than Christians themselves. Don't get me wrong; science and religion will always provide clarity and inspiration across the border in both directions. In reality, the border is not easily defined, and there is a portion of inquiry which requires input from both science and religion. The majority of questions, however, lie squarely within one of these two domains.

Do Christians really need science to legitimize their faith? Do you really want to hand over your cherished beliefs to the authority and scrutiny of science?

The reality is that the nature of science is intrinsically atheistic. It operates under the assumption that the physical is all that exists, regardless of whether or not the scientists involved believe in the supernatural. This is by necessity because science can only study reproducible phenomena. God's will and action are inherently unpredictable, and therefore inaccessible by scientific inquiry.

Robert T. Pennock in a great paper on the subject, says it another way:

[A] characteristic of the supernatural... is that it is inherently mysterious to us. As natural beings our knowledge all comes via natural laws and processes. If we could apply natural knowledge to understand supernatural powers, then, by definition, they would not be supernatural. The lawful regularities of our experience do not apply to the supernatural world... The same point holds about divine beings--we cannot know what it is that they would or would not do in any given case. God works, they say, in mysterious ways.

If science shouldn't be used to defend the existence of God, what are we to do? How do we convince the world that they are in need of a savior? How do we convince them that Jesus is truly the Son of God?

I think Jesus gave us the answer in John while he was praying with his disciples:

"My prayer is not for them [the disciples] alone. I pray also for those who will believe in me through their message, that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so that the world may believe that you have sent me." John 17:20-21

Here Jesus prays for unity in his church, a church consisting of true believers; true followers of Him. Francis Schaeffer, in his book The Mark of the Christian, calls this "the final apologetic", explaining that according to John 13, to be one with God (and therefore show the world that Jesus is God) means to show love to other believers and also to non-believers:

In John 13 the point was that, if an individual Christian does not show love toward other true Christians, the world has a right to judge that he is not a Christian. [But in John 17] Jesus is stating something else which is much more cutting, much more profound: We cannot expect the world to believe that the Father sent the Son, that Jesus' claims are true, and that Christianity is true, unless the world sees some reality of the oneness of true Christians.

I have already written this post three different times, each ultimately ending up in my virtual trashcan. I just couldn't make sense of why, if there really is very little evidence of God's existence, do I still believe He exists? This morning in Sunday School, our teacher read the quote above from Schaeffer's book. It cut deep into my heart, and I remembered something I wrote in my journal several years ago, when I first wrestled with atheism. I was just coming out of the lowest point of my life, and I wrote these words:

"The love of these people [my Christian friends] is the only reason I still have any faith left at all."

The love I felt from the people close to me was the only thing I had left; it was the rope that kept me from falling headlong down that cliff. It really is the final apologetic.

Should we have answers for the issues Carrier brings up in his essay? Of course. But this should not be our primary defense. Instead, our love for our brothers and sisters in Christ will show the world that there really is something different, something real about our faith. It will show that Jesus really is the Son of God.

Schaeffer, in another one of his books, summarizes this entire post:

“[W]ithout true Christians loving one another, Christ says the world cannot be expected to listen, even when we give proper answers. Let us be careful, indeed, to spend a lifetime studying to give honest answers. For years the orthodox, evangelical church has done this very poorly. So it is well to spend time learning to answer the questions of men who are about us. But after we have done our best to communicate to a lost world, still we must never forget that the final apologetic which Jesus gives is the observable love of true Christians for true Christians.” Francis Schaffer, The Great Evangelical Disaster, pp. 164-165