(Note: this is part 2 in a 3 part series. Part 1, Part 3)

In my previous post, I argued that one reason that many of our youth walk away from the faith is that they haven’t been properly exposed to alternative ideas. My concern is that we tend to send our kids to a college campus with a superficial confidence and this creates a crisis. In this series, I am offering 3 strategies that I think would help prepare our kids for this inevitable moment of exposure. The first strategy was to teach our kids how to think well. The second strategy is to teach alternative worldviews.

Teaching alternative worldviews

We of course need to teach our kids the Christian worldview (this will come in strategy #3). But when this is all that we teach them, they can be blindsided by the many alternative views in the world. Sometimes we teach them alternative worldviews, but we teach a thin shadow of the real thing. Or we merely disparage the views as if there is something wrong with people who hold those views. If Christianity is true and rational, we don’t need to be afraid of alternative views. We don’t need to game the system and make Christianity look like the only rational option in the world. We can show our children that there are real people who hold these real views. We can do it fairly and we can show them the most plausible versions of these views.

This of course needs to be done in an age appropriate way. The risk here is confusing a kid with too much too soon. It is hard enough to begin to think about a worldview and even harder to begin to think about other worldviews. But the basics, it seems to me, can be understood at a rather young age. It’s common for kids to think that everyone’s home is just like theirs. But it is an important thing to help your kids to see that not everyone follows Jesus and this can be understood early on. As the child matures, there will be opportunities to fill in the details. They should be able to understand that some think that there is no God at all and that Jesus didn’t do the things that are claimed in the Bible. They should be able to understand that many people in the world follow different teachings that are completely different from the teachings of Jesus. Others still follow Jesus’s teachings but add other writings (e.g., Mormonism). As they hit the preteen years and beyond, you can fill out more specific details of these views.

It’s really important that we spend time presenting these first without evaluation. We have, as a culture, lost the art of charitably understanding an opposing view. We tend to decide whether or not we agree with a view before we have even thoughtfully considered it. We seem to be afraid of this because we know it may cause us hard intellectual work, saying you’re not sure about something, doubts, or even to change one’s mind. We tend to do this exactly backwards. We tend to only want enough of an alternative view so that we can disparage it.

But here’s the payoff. When one has fairly presented a plausible version of a view, then I think one has earned the right to fairly criticize the view as well. This is, to me, what it is to teach. A teacher is not a mere presenter of views. As parents, we are called to guide. We are called to impart knowledge. This means, among other things, we show reasons for and against.

Is this indoctrination?

Now this is not mere indoctrination or brain washing. To see why, see strategy #1. We are teaching our children, as a first priority, how to think. Then, in strategy 2, we model what it is to think well in helping them consider contrary views. That way, when we charitably present ideas, both for and against, the kid doesn’t simply adopt what we say even if she does go on to adopt the view. They own the view. They’ve made it their own.

With this sort of approach will kids tend to adopt the views of their parents? Yes, they often will. But this is not evidence of bias or indoctrination as long as they thoughtfully believe these things for good reasons. This is also no different from most teaching situations. We tend to adopt the views of the teachers we’ve come to trust. This is how it was in my household growing up, in the seminary that I attended, and my Ph.D. program at the University of Iowa regarding certain philosophical views. This is also how it goes for kids who grow up in secular settings, go to public school, and attend a secular university. They tend to adopt the views of those they have come to trust. The point is that when someone is passionate about a view and presents the view and points out what they take to be mistakes of alternative views, this can be quite persuasive. And that’s precisely how it should be.

But if we’ve taught our kids to think well, then there will be disagreement. And we’re going to have to be okay with that. If you’ve taught your kids well, they will not be mere clones of you. They may go on to not embrace your version of Christianity and they may even not embrace Christianity. This can be very difficult for parents to accept. But what’s the other option? Keep our kids sheltered from other ideas and hope for the best when they encounter them? As I said in the first post, this is largely how we’ve gotten here.

A far better strategy is to teach them to think well and present the case for and against Christianity in a fair and thoughtful way. They’ll make their decisions, but the discussion, no matter what the decision is, should be lifelong.

In the final post in this series, I’ll say what sort of case needs to be made for the truth of Christianity.

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God can sometimes seem far away. In fact, there are times when we feel like we really, really need Him and yet he is not there, or so it seems. This has caused many to struggle deeply with whether God exists at all, since, after all, he could be more obvious, or so it seems.

This is a deep area of struggle, for some, and not one that I will minimize at all. I’ve been there too. And I suspect I will be there again.

But it is also an area of scholarly interest. The scholarly discussion can often feel like it is heartless. And, well, it is heartless. In the scholarly discussion, we are asking questions of a theoretical and technical nature, asking whether there is an intellectual problem here for the intellectual belief that God exists. The scholarly discussion doesn’t turn at all on your (or my) feelings about how obvious we want God to be. It only turns on whether God’s degree of obviousness is a logical problem, broadly construed, for the belief in God.

This is not to say that the scholarly discussion is not incredibly useful and even downright pastoral for our emotional struggles. Philosophy has helped me tremendously to be more grounded as a person and especially in my faith. It can seem heartless, but it is (or, at least, can be) good for our hearts and our minds!

The problem of Divine Silence (sometimes called the problem of divine hiddenness) is that there appears to be a logical tension with the following three claims:

1. God is not completely obvious
2. If God is all powerful, he could be completely obvious
3. If God is all good, he should be completely obvious

It seems that, at most, two of these could be true, but you cannot have all three. For example, one may say that (1) is false and think that (2) and (3) are true. That is, God is as obvious as he possibly can be. There is nothing he could possibly do to be more obvious than he is. This would be consistent, but one wonders if this is plausible.

A Christian may think that this is plausible on the basis of Romans 1:20. Paul says here that God has revealed himself such that he can be “clearly seen” in what has been created. But it is one thing to say that God can be clearly seen and it is another to say he is as obvious as he can be. Even if one thinks that God is abundantly clear, the logical problem is there so long as God could be more obvious.

And it seems that he could. Couldn’t he reveal himself to you and me the way he did to Moses in a burning bush? Couldn’t it be the case that every time one walks by a bush, it bursts into flames and one hears the deep voice of God? Or couldn’t we have an experience like the apostle Paul’s on the road to Damascus? Paul was literally blinded and verbally talked to. God could arrange the stars to say: “Believe in me. Sincerely, God”. It will seem to most of us that God could do these things. But if so, then (1) is true. So we have to deny one of the other claims.

What if one denied (2)? One could say that God is not completely obvious ((1) is true), and God is good and should be completely obvious ((3) is true). It’s just that he lacks the ability to be more obvious. I won’t spend much time on this option since anyone who thinks that God is all-powerful will think that God can do anything that is logically possible. So if God cannot be more obvious, then the sort of God we are interested in (i.e., an all-powerful one) does not exist.

So let’s consider denying (3). Here we ask if God is obligated to be completely obvious. The idea that God is obligated in this way is often, it seems, assumed to be true in many discussions of hiddenness.

But why think this is true? Why, we might ask, would God be obligated to make himself more obvious than he is? What would establish an obligation? Many people seem to think God has commanded us to believe in him and then he punishes us for eternity if we don’t. If God is going to justly punish us for disbelief, then God would be obligated to be more obvious to. But this is not the gospel! We are not condemned and punished for our disbelief. We are condemned and punished because we have broken the moral law and the moral law is sufficiently obvious to all.

Perhaps one could say that God is obligated to make himself more obvious out of his love for us and his desire for all to be saved (1 Tim. 2:4). But this again bears on the nature of the gospel. In desiring salvation for all is God merely desiring intellectual assent? Think about this for a minute. Consider James 2:

You believe that there is one God. Good! Even the demons believe that–and shudder (v. 19).

I want to suggest that mere intellectual assent is not what God is after. There are passages that call us to believe (e.g., John 3:16), to be sure. But in the context of these passages these are best read as being called to give our whole lives in faith. There were many erstwhile followers of Jesus that seemed to believe in him when they got to see him multiply fishes and loaves or heal people, but the moment he began describing the call of discipleship (taking up one’s cross, etc.), they departed. In fact, at times it seemed that the miracles and the healings almost worked against Jesus’s goal of true discipleship.

So if God is after whole life faith and discipleship and he is not after mere intellectual assent, then it seems God could be more obvious ((1) is true), but it wouldn’t achieve his plans and purposes for us.

Thus, God is not obligated to make himself more obvious. God need only be as obvious as it achieves genuine faith.

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There is one argument for the existence of God that is revered and loved by atheists and theists alike: the Ontological Argument for God’s existence. This is not to say that it is loved and revered by all. This argument has certainly had its enemies along the way. However, many, even those who don’t believe the conclusion, think it’s an exceedingly interesting argument. Ironically, it is also, by far, the least used argument in Christian apologetics. In this post, I try to show why it’s so terrific while attempting to make it (somewhat) more accessible.

The Greatest Conceivable Being

The ontological argument is an old argument. It was first developed by Anselm of Canterbury in the 11^th Century.

One thing I love about Anselm is that he couches the discussion in a devotional exercise. In reflecting on and praying to God, Anselm comes to see that his concept of God is a being “that than which nothing greater can be conceived.” What he means by this is that God is perfect in every way, in every aspect. As a matter of concept, God, in all of his properties, is the greatest in every conceivable way.

Now I think that this already is an extraordinary accomplishment. What Anselm has done is clarified a proper understanding of the term God. In other words, one could call Zeus a god. But Zeus is clearly not the greatest conceivable being. Though he was very powerful, he had limits of all sorts, both in power and in moral shortcomings. Or an ancient Egyptian can think of the Pharaoh as a god. But clearly he is not God in this rich sense. I mean he’s really just some dude with a fancy headdress. When we reflect on this, we see that these limited gods are really more like super-humans than they are gods.

Anselm clarifies that something limited is quite simply not what he and many others mean by the term “God.” Anselm (and I) is not really all that interested in something finite or a God with limits. The God of interest (and our devotion) is the God who could not possibly be greater.

I actually think this is the very conception a typical (informed) Christian has in mind when the Christian affirms God’s existence. It also therefore informs Bible study, as well as theology and apologetics. For example, when an unbeliever argues that for God to wipe out whole people groups at a few points in the Old Testament as a problem, the Christian doesn’t simply concede. By contrast, if one claimed that Zeus does evil things, from time to time, a follower of Zeus would presumably simply agree and say that’s why one should make sacrifice to Zues. However, the Christian will argue that God is good even in light of these passages of extreme judgment and bloodshed (see Paul Copans excellent book for a defense of this).

Or, for an example from theology, many Christians reject open theism (the idea that, given human freedom, God does not know the future) precisely because it seems to make God limited. God doesn’t know (i.e., has a limited view of) what free creatures will do in the future. But how can God have this sort of limit, this sort of lack?[1]

The Argument

Okay, with this conception of God in hand, Anselm considers what he takes to be some logical implications. One sort of rough and ready way to interpret what Anselm claims in this argument is that God as the greatest conceivable being (the GCB for short) must have all great-making properties. That is, the GCB must be greatest in every respect. If there is a property that makes a being great, then the GCB must have it. So, for example, if it is greater to be all powerful than being limited in power, then the GGCB must be all powerful. If it is greater to be all knowing rather than limited in knowledge, then the GCB must be all knowing.

Now ask yourself this question: is it greater to exist or not exist? Is it greater to be a figment of one’s imagination or actually existing in reality? Anselm seemed to think that existence itself is a great-making property. If that’s right, then God as the GCB must have the property of existence because if he didn’t there would be something greater than the greatest conceivable being and this is a contradiction. Thus, we’ve got ourselves an argument for the existence of God on the basis of understanding him as the GCB. Here is Anselm:

Even a fool, when he hears of … a being than which nothing greater can be conceived … understands what he hears, and what he understands is in his understanding.… And assuredly that, than which nothing greater can be conceived, cannot exist in the understanding alone. For suppose it exists in the understanding alone: then it can be conceived to exist in reality; which is greater.… Therefore, if that, than which nothing greater can be conceived, exists in the understanding alone, the very being, than which nothing greater can be conceived, is one, than which a greater can be conceived. But obviously this is impossible. Hence, there is no doubt that there exists a being, than which nothing greater can be conceived, and it exists both in the understanding and in reality (Proslogium as quoted here) .

Let’s try to formalize this:

1. Everyone can understand God as the greatest conceivable being
2. If God exists as only a figment of the imagination, then I can conceive of something greater than the greatest conceivable being, namely, things that exist in reality.
3. But it is a contradiction to think I can conceive of something greater than the greatest conceivable being.
4. Therefore, God cannot be simply a figment of the imagination.
5. Therefore, God exists in reality.

Here’s another formulation that’s a bit simpler:

6. God is the greatest conceivable being (by definition)
7. The greatest conceivable being must have all great-making properties (by definition)
8. Existence is a great-making property. (premise)
9. Therefore, God has existence.

Gaunilo’s Objection

The immediate push back for Anselm was a Benedictine monk named Gaunilo. He was a contemporary of Anselm. Gaunilo argued that if this works for God, it can work for anything so long as we understand it as the greatest conceivable x. But it is absurd to think that we can argue the existence of anything so long as we prefix it with the greatest conceivable x. And therefore, by parody, the argument for God must be flawed as well. He gives an argument for the greatest conceivable Island. If we map it onto the argument above it might go something like:

10. Atlantis (a hypothetical island conceived in our minds) is the greatest conceivable island.
11. The greatest conceivable island must have all great-making properties.
12. Existence is a great-making property.
13. Therefore, Atlantis exists.

Now the problem with this argument is that premise 5 looks to be logically incoherent. More specifically, the notion of a greatest conceivable island seems to be incoherent. Plantinga has said:

…it’s impossible that there be such an island. The idea of an island than which it’s not possible that there be a greater is like the idea of a natural number than which it’s not possible that there be a greater, or the idea of a line than which none more crooked is possible. And the same goes for islands. No matter how great an island is, no matter how many Nubian maidens and dancing girls adorn it, there could always be a greater—one with twice as many, for example. The qualities that make for greatness in islands—number of palm trees, amount and quality of coconuts, for example—most of these qualities have no intrinsic maximum…So the idea of a greatest possible island is an inconsistent or incoherent idea; it’s not possible that there be such a thing.[2]

But what about the notion of a greatest conceivable being? Here it looks as if, unlike an island, a being can be genuinely the greatest—especially in the sense of being maximal. So a being can be maximal in knowledge. That is, the being can know all truths. A being can be maximally powerful. That is, the being can have the power to realize all logical possibilities. A being can be maximally good where all of the being’s actions are morally righteous.

So when it comes to things like islands, there is no maximal properties that constitute great making properties. But not so, when it comes to beings whose properties can be had maximally.

Kant’s Objection

The second historical and much more persuasive (at least for many) objection that is often brought up in connection with Anselm’s argument comes from Immanuel Kant. Kant says:

“Being” is obviously not a real predicate; that is, it is not a concept of something which could be added to the concept of a thing…Logically, it is merely the copula of a judgment. The proposition “God is omnipotent” contains two concepts, each of which has its object—God and omnipotence. The small word “is” adds no new predicate, but only serves to posit the predicate in its relation to the subject. If, now, we take the subject (God) with all its predicates (among which is omnipotence), and say “God is,” or “There is a God,” we attach no new predicate to the concept of God, but only posit it as an object that stand in relation to my concept (Critique of Pure Reason).

Kant’s push back then is that existence is not a predicate or a property. Why? Kant thinks that saying that something exists doesn’t further fill out a concept of something (i.e., doesn’t provide a genuine property of that thing). Imagine conceptually what it is to be a unicorn. If I know my unicorns, it is for a thing to be a horse with a single horn (and perhaps rainbow colored and whatever else). Though I believe that unicorns do not exist, it doesn’t seem the concept includes nonexistence as a property. If you were to be in the woods and a unicorn ran by you, you wouldn’t think that you now have to change the concept you previously had in mind. There’s the concept of a unicorn, on one hand, and then the question of existence, on the other. Or let’s say squirrels suddenly went extinct (i.e., squirrels no longer exist). You wouldn’t think that the concept of a squirrel has now changed. Rather we would simply believe that there are no instances of the squirrel concept (or something less nerdy).

If existence is not a property, then it can’t be a great-making property. That is, premise 7 of Anselm’s argument is false.

The Modal Version

Now this does seem to be a problem for the way the argument is stated above.[3] But contemporary defenders of the argument have given a fuller expression to thinking of God as maximal. That is, so far all we have talked about is God’s being maximal in properties. But there is, in a way, a richer sense of God as the greatest conceivable being. This is where we turn to a modal version of the argument (i.e., one that talks in terms of possibility and necessity). The crucial piece, it seems, of the modal version is to say that maximal greatness would be to exist as maximally great in all possible worlds. That is truly the greatest conceivable being. If this notion of a maximally great being that exists in all possible worlds is possible, then it follows that the maximally great being exists in the actual world (if that just blew your circuits, take the formal version slowly).

Here is one formalized version of the modal argument:

1. A being is maximally great in any possible world only if it is maximally great in every possible world.
2. It is possible that a maximally great being exists.
3. If it is possible that a maximally great being exists, then a maximally great being exists in some possible world.
4. If a maximally great being exists in some possible world, then it exists in every possible world. (Given 1, 2 and 3)
5. If it is possible that a maximally great being exists in every possible world, then it exists in the actual world.
6. Therefore, a maximally great being exists in the actual world.

Notice that this is formulated without making existence a property. So Kant’s objection is, in a way, sidestepped.

The most controversial premise here (at least in my mind) is premise 1. But when I ask myself what it would mean for a being to be perfectly maximal, then I find it very plausible that this being must be maximal in all possible worlds, not just some possible world or the actual world.

There’s of course a lot more that needs to be said but, at minimum, this makes an interesting case for the existence of the maximally great being.

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[1] Open theists have of course answered this sort of objection and the discussion is far more sophisticated than what I’m presenting here. However, I’m suggesting that OT has, for many, this intuitive drawback.

[2] Alvin Plantinga (God, Freedom and Evil), 90-91.

[3] Plantinga doesn’t think it is a problem for the way he formulates Anselm’s argument. This is because Plantinga does not construe it in terms of great-making properties.