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Apologetics, Christianity, Doubt

Is Christianity doubt-able?: Certainty vs. Confidence

August 22, 2017

As a last step in becoming a member of his local church, a friend of mine was interviewed by the pastor and asked whether he was certain that Christianity was true. Because my friend was a philosopher, he said no and a long discussion ensued.

Certainty

Do we enjoy certainty when it comes to our Christian beliefs? Well this all depends on what we mean by ‘certainty.’ Philosophers, like my friend, typically have a very specific notion in mind when it comes to certainty. It means something like that the belief is held without the logical possibility of it being false. One literally can’t even conceive of the possibility of being mistaken.

In the seventeenth century, Descartes was after certainty. In his Meditations, he attempts to doubt all of his beliefs in order to find a belief that could be held with indubitability. For Descartes, if he could even imagine or conceive of some scenario, no matter how bizarre, where a belief is false, then the belief is not indubitable. He considered beliefs about the world of objects around him, including his own body, and realized that all that can be doubted.

You might ask, isn’t it indubitable that one has hands? Well, what if one is a brain in a vat stimulated to have hand-like experiences? Or suppose one is a disembodied soul who is made to think that one has hands but does not. Though bizarre, these scenarios are clearly possible and, thus, even a belief like this is not indubitable.

Descartes finally lands on a belief that is indubitable, and it’s the one line in philosophy that almost everyone has heard at some point: “I think, therefore, I am” (or, in the Meditations, “I am, I exist”). The idea is that he couldn’t doubt his own existence since there would always be some thinking thing doing the doubting. That is, there’s always an “I” doing the doubting. Thus, by doubting his existence, he proves it.

Philosophers tend to have this Cartesian notion of certainty in mind when they talk about certainty. And there’s very little that is genuinely indubitable. On my own view, once we grasp basic mathematical facts (such as 2+3=5), this becomes indubitable for us. Given what we mean by such facts, we can’t conceive of these beliefs being false. Logical facts are like this as well.

Are Christian beliefs indubitable?

When it comes something like that Jesus was raised from the dead at a certain time in history, this is not like a mathematical fact. This is an empirical fact. That I have hands is also an empirical fact. Just like I can doubt that I have hands, I can doubt that Jesus was raised from the dead.

I take it this is precisely what the Apostle Paul is implying in 1 Corinthians 15:13-14:

If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith.

Paul implies that it is conceivable that Christ has not been raised since he also points at what is logical entailed by this possibility if it were so. He doesn’t believe it, but he can definitely conceive of it. Notice we can’t conceive of 2+3=5’s being false. But Paul (and we) can conceive of the possibility of Christ not being raised and it has logical consequence. This makes it such that it is possible to doubt in this technical Cartesian sense.

Confidence

Now this isn’t saying anything all that controversial. I promise. I’m just saying when it comes to the central Christian claim (i.e., Jesus’s resurrection), we don’t enjoy Cartesian or mathematical certainty. We don’t enjoy Cartesian certainty about my belief that I have hands, but I don’t lose much sleep about that. It was Cartesian certainty that my friend had in mind when he was interviewed by the pastor. However, what the pastor likely meant was not Cartesian certainty, but something more to do with confidence (or perhaps conviction is a good word here).

I am fully confident Christianity is true. In fact, I’ve given my life to it. I’ve walked away from a lot of things given that I believe with confidence that Christ has plans and intentions for my life. Paul, also, gave up his life because he became convinced that Christianity is true. Being completely confident in the truth of Christianity is consistent with the mere possibility that Christianity is false. It is even consistent with having (not just Cartesian) doubts from time to time.

Why is this important?

This is important because if Christianity is indubitable, then there’s something wrong with us if we ever have doubts. Moreover, evidence and reason is completely pointless. Once we grasp the concepts of a mathematical fact, we don’t need empirical evidence for their truth. But if it is itself an empirical fact of history such as the resurrection, then evidence matters.

We want to work towards confidence, but this, it seems, requires us to consider the case for Christianity.

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Apologetics, Christian Faith

Faith is NOT an Epistemology

August 17, 2017

 

We are sometimes told faith is a bad or unreliable epistemology. The idea seems to be that believing something on faith (you know, belief without evidence) is a terrible or unreliable way to arrive at the truth. Now I think this is a hot mess of confusion. First, I agree believing something without evidence is a bad approach to finding truth. But I don’t even think that faith is belief, much less belief without evidence. I think this is a terrible way of thinking of faith and one nobody should accept. Secondly, I don’t think faith is, in any interesting sense, an epistemology. It’s certainly related to epistemological issues (just as many philosophical issues have epistemological issues in the neighborhood), but it is not itself an epistemology and, thus, it can’t be a bad epistemology.

What is epistemology?

Let’s unpack. What does it mean to call something an epistemology? Strictly speaking “epistemology” is the study of the nature of knowledge and justification (or some cognate of justification, such as warrant). But I don’t think this is what a person has in mind here. It seems the term ‘epistemology’ is being used as a way of knowing. So, for example, forming beliefs on the basis of sense perception (such as seeing) is, for most, a reliable way of knowing. It’s reliable even though it is possible we are hallucinating or otherwise mistaken. We don’t typically get straightforward sense based beliefs wrong and, even when we do, the beliefs are still very rational to hold (more on this below). In short, seeing is a reliable epistemology.

So the claim seems to be that faith is a way of knowing and, as such, it is a bad way of knowing. Why think faith is an unreliable way of knowing? This is thought obvious because faith is understood in a way popular among internet atheists and uninformed Christians, namely, faith is belief without evidence. But as I’ve argued before (here and here) this is not the Christian notion of faith (even if some uninformed Christians are willing to embrace it). The Christian (and biblical) notion of faith is, as I’ve argued, ventured trust. It is where we place our lived out trust or faith in God.

Is faith a way of knowing?

When one talks about a way of knowing, one is talking about a basis upon which one believes. A belief can come in a variety of different ways. What makes it one way of (possibly) knowing versus another is upon what the belief is based.  If the basis makes one’s belief likely true, then this is a proper epistemic basis and the belief is justified. If it doesn’t make the belief likely, then it is unjustified.[1] For example, if I believe that p on the basis of wishful thinking, then I have no good reason for thinking that p will be true. It’s too easy (and common) for what I wish to be the case to turn out false. Just ask a diehard sports fan whose team typically doesn’t do well! Despite their wishing it to be the case, year after year, it just isn’t.

Contrast this to visual experience. When I believe that p on the basis of clearly seeing p, it is not easy for my belief to be false. If I look out my window and see a tree and believe, on the basis of this experience, that there is a tree out my window, then it will very likely be true. It’s possible that someone has placed a realistic cardboard cutout of a tree outside my window (in which case, my belief is false) but this is an extraordinary situation.

When we think about faith as a basis for belief, it’s difficult to know what that even means if we think of faith as ventured trust. Think about this. What is it to believe on the basis of faith? It seems this should be reversed. We typically venture on something or someone once we have good reason to believe in its or their trustworthiness. I came to believe that my wife is extremely trustworthy early in our relationship. But this intellectual belief preceded my genuinely placing my trust in her.

Likewise, there are many who have come to the place of Christian belief, but they have never ventured on Christ. They may even believe Jesus was born of a virgin and rose from the dead (showing up to church on Christmas and Easter), but have never made that step of genuine faith.

It all turns on the definition of faith

But this all turns on how we understand the term ‘faith.’ As I understand it, there’s a medieval notion that understands faith as a direct confrontation of God. If that’s how one understands it, then, sure, faith can be the basis of belief. But this has always struck me as a strained use of the notion. If faith is just wishful thinking without evidence, then, again, I’d agree that is an inappropriate basis for our Christian beliefs.

If one thinks of faith as a species of trust, then it seems to follow faith is NOT a way of knowing. That is, faith is not an epistemology.

[1] For my epistemologist readers, I’m glossing over a lot of issues in epistemology for simplicity’s sake.

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Apologetics, Christian Faith

The Bible reports extraordinary claims in ordinary ways

August 10, 2017

Is the Bible a book of fables and mythology? For some, this seems all too obvious. After all, there are many fantastic (in the technical sense) stories from start to finish. Given these stories, some think the Bible, and all that it claims, can be dismissed as mere fiction.

But for me, it just doesn’t read that way. When one really sits down and spends time reading the Bible, one notices sensational claims, but one should also notice a general lack of sensationalism in the telling of the stories.

The Ordinary Extraordinary

Overall, the Bible does not lack in imagery. There are sections of Scripture that paint in bright colors and imaginative word pictures. When one reads the Psalms, Isaiah, or Revelation, there is no shortage of literary beauty. However, when a biblical author is describing actual fact, it is typically straightforward and even mundane. This is not to say the narratives lack literary beauty, but just that there seems to be a lack of obvious embellishment in the storyline despite the fact that it may be describing extraordinary events.

A good example of this is the account of Jesus walking on the water. This story shows up in 3 of the Gospels. Matthew provides the longest account:

Immediately He made the disciples get into the boat and go ahead of Him to the other side, while He sent the crowds away. After He had sent the crowds away, He went up on the mountain by Himself to pray; and when it was evening, He was there alone. But the boat was already a long distance from the land, battered by the waves; for the wind was contrary. And in the fourth watch of the night He came to them, walking on the sea. When the disciples saw Him walking on the sea, they were terrified, and said, “It is a ghost!” And they cried out in fear. But immediately Jesus spoke to them, saying, “Take courage, it is I; do not be afraid” (Matt. 14:22-27).

As can be seen, this is incredible and can honestly be difficult to believe given the supernatural element. A guy is claimed to have walked on the water. It’s extraordinary, but the details here are rather mundane and matter of fact. It doesn’t fill out the account with drama and imagery. It just says “And in the fourth watch of the night He came to them, walking on the sea.”

[share-quote author=”Travis Dickinson” via=”travdickinson”] The unreal stories of Jesus are told in realistic ways. [/share-quote]

This seems unusual if these accounts are fabricated. If a person is going to go to the trouble of making up a story about Jesus walking on the water, one would think it would be spiced up a bit with more special effects. Instead this unreal story reads realistically. It is written, well, you know, as if it actually happened. It reads as if the author doesn’t know what to do with the fact that a dude walked on water, but here you go, here’s what happened.

A Mark of Authenticity

Now this is decidedly not a knockdown drag out argument. But I want to suggest it is a mark of authenticity. That is, it does lend some credence to the idea that the authors of the Bible were witness to extraordinary facts and their agenda was to share straightforwardly what happened. It fits as a piece of a broader cumulative case for the veracity of Scripture.

The fact that these stories include miracles is still going to be a stumbling block for many. I do get that. But we should ask ourselves, if one was genuinely witness to miracles, how would we expect these to be reported? I’ve come to the conclusion for a variety of reasons that the Bible contains descriptions of genuinely miraculous events and reports them as witnessed.

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Apologetics, Dialogue

Please stop saying “Atheism is not a belief”

July 20, 2017

A lack of belief

It’s become excruciatingly predictable for atheists who operate on a pop level to clarify that atheism, for them, is not a belief. It is, as they say, a lack of belief. They will point out that there is a difference between saying “I believe there is no God” (which is a belief) and saying “I do not believe there is a God” (which is a mere lack of belief). Many atheists will say they only lack a belief and this defines their atheism.

Now I’m not sure where this came from, but the talking point memo has spread far and wide.

Why does the atheist claim atheism is the mere lack of belief? The reason for this is that atheists don’t think they need to justify their atheism. Beliefs are the sorts of things that need to be justified by reason and evidence. If atheism isn’t a belief, then they need not shoulder any burden of proof for their atheism. So the theist is stuck having to meet some (usually extraordinarily high) burden of proof while the atheist gets to sit back and poke holes in whatever the theist says. It’s really quite brilliant as a rhetorical dodge.

They will often say that most of us are a-Santa-Clausists or a-tooth-fairyists, but it is not like we’ve justified these beliefs. There simply is no evidence for Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy and so we lack these beliefs.

A plea

If I may, may I talk with you, the atheist, for a minute. Please stop saying this! Let me give you a couple of reasons why.

For one, it shuts down rather than fosters dialogue. It is way easier to shoot holes in a view than it is to defend a view. If you are engaged in a formal debate (especially if there’s prize money involved!), then it makes sense to put yourself in the best possible position to win the debate. However, if you and I are dialogue partners, both attempting to know truth about these matters, then it seems infinitely better for both of us to lay out a case for our respective views and then we can, you know, talk about the case for both positions.

Second, I suspect you do have beliefs about God’s existence.

To see this, let’s first say what a belief is. A belief is simply the affirmation of a proposition or claim. Belief states always have a propositional content picked out by a “that clause.” A belief is always in the form of “I believe that p.” I believe that grass, when living, is green. Or I believe that Coke is better than Pepsi. Or I believe that the Tooth Fairy does not exist. Or I believe that Jesus rose from the dead. The contents of these beliefs are the following propositions:

  • grass, when living, is green
  • Coke is better than Pepsi
  • the Tooth Fairy does not exist
  • Jesus rose from the dead

Notice that one can wonder about or consider the truth of these propositions/claims without affirming that they are true. But once one comes to assent or affirm a proposition’s truth, then it is a belief.

Beliefs do not have to be held with 100% certainty. I believe that my car is in the parking lot outside of my office building. I affirm this proposition, but I am quite aware I could be wrong about this. The car could have been stolen or towed or my wife could have picked it up, and my belief would be false. I don’t have anything close to 100% certainty, but it would be absurd to say that I don’t thereby believe it.

Beliefs held with less than 100% certainty also do not require faith. I get it, you do not want to have anything that smacks of faith. Rest assured, one can intellectually assent to something (i.e., believe it) without placing one’s faith in that thing. Indeed I can believe that airplanes are a safe mode of travel without ever getting aboard.

So a belief is simply the assent to a claim/proposition.

Don’t you, the atheist, think that it is true that there is no God (even if you are not 100% certain about this)? You’ve reflected on this claim, you’ve considered the evidence for and against. Haven’t you concluded that there is no God?

Not identical states

Now it’s true that believing something is not the case and lacking a belief about something are not identical states. It is logically possible for one to say it is true “I do not believe p” but it is false that “I believe that not p.” But when is this the case? This only seems to be the case when we haven’t sufficiently reflected on some issue. There are a lot of historical controversies about which I don’t have beliefs simply because I don’t know enough about them (e.g., who was involved with the JFK assassination).

But this doesn’t seem to be where most atheists are at. They seem to have made up their mind that there is no God. I mean I could be wrong, but their tone (especially in internet groups) suggests that they have some very strong beliefs about the existence of God and it is not just a lack of belief that they spend so much time going on about.

I do not believe in the Tooth Fairy, but I also believe that there is no Tooth Fairy. Do I have justification for this belief? Of course I do! My kids have lost about 40 teeth thus far and I’ve got good reason to think there is no one (but me!) that’s providing candy in exchange for a tooth.

The irony of this dodge is twofold. For one, the atheist begs off of having to provide justification for his or her atheism while simultaneously acting as if theirs is the position of reason and evidence. If the atheist is all about reason and evidence, then he or she shouldn’t be reticent to provide reason and evidence for his or her atheism.

Second, there is indeed reason and evidence for atheism. I’m happy to admit that! Now I obviously don’t think the case for atheism is, all things considered, persuasive. However, there are some objections to theism that I think have some punch and there are plenty of very intelligent atheists who think these justify their atheism. So why not just lay out the case for atheism and let’s have a dialogue?

A way forward

Even if you, the atheist, are not convinced, I think I have a way forward. Maybe you merely lack a belief in God. I don’t think so, but okay. What about the likelihood of there being a God? Do you think that it’s likely the case that God does not exists? Or do you just lack this belief too? It seems odd indeed for to say that one lacks a belief about the likelihood of there being a God.

I suspect that you do believe that God likely does not exist. If so, it seems we could then have a productive conversation. Let me lay out why I think there is good evidence to believe that God exists and you can lay out reasons and justification for why you believe this is likely false. Before you know it, we may just have a dialogue!

[for more info on this issue see Beliefmap’s post on this issue]

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Apologetics, Christian Faith, Doubt

Richard Swinburne and the inevitability of doubt

July 17, 2017

Not long ago, Richard Swinburne was asked whether he ever doubts the truthfulness of Christianity. Who is Richard Swinburne? Swinburne, by most accounts, is THE top philosopher of religion in the world and much of his work centers on defending Christian theism. Virtually all of his writing is scholarly, but his contribution to the discussion is inestimable and will be read for centuries to come. So when the top academic defender of Christianity is asked about his doubts, it is worth tuning in.

Probability of truth

The first point he makes is the case for Christianity is one of probability and not certainty. This is important. The case, if successful, makes Christianity likely true, but doesn’t guarantee or entail that it’s true. By being merely probable, he doesn’t mean that he only sort of believes it. I take it that he fully and confidently believes Christianity is true, but he thinks the evidence gives one good reason (i.e., makes one rational) to believe but falls short of an absolute guarantee. A claim can have a 99% percent chance of being right, but even this still falls short of certainty.

Falling short of absolute certainty is not unusual given that ALL our empirical beliefs are merely probable without an absolute guarantee. Swinburne uses the example of a rocket ship. As the statistics will bear out, the science behind launching projectiles and people into space always has a chance at being wrong. But so do our more mundane beliefs. We believe that our car is right now parked in the parking lot in the usual spot. This is typically a very rational belief in that we don’t often get it wrong. However, this is clearly a probability as the car could have been stolen, towed, picked up by your family member, spontaneously blown up or you just forgot you parked it at the street.

Looking for doubts

If the case for Christianity is a probability, then “inevitably one has doubts.” And, Swinburne says, “in fact, I look for them.”

[share-quote author=”Richard Swinburne” via=”travdickinson”] Certainly I have doubts, and I look for them. [/share-quote]

This is a good word. Swinburne seems to think this is a thing for professionals but I think we should all search out and explore our doubts. I’m lucky enough to do this for a living. But if one thinks Christianity is true, then this seems to be the exact right posture. We should look for our doubts and see how well our view holds up in light of the doubts. If it doesn’t hold up, then we should change our minds. Sound scary? If it is true, we’ve got nothing to worry about.

Just to clarify, I’m not saying that if we have some unanswered questions, we should reject the faith. I’m not saying if we have 99 good reasons to believe and 1 reason falls short, we should reject the faith. I’m simply saying that we honestly consider the evidence. This is normal for any belief we have. I myself found the evidence to be compelling. And so has the world’s preeminent philosopher of religion. That, it seems, should count for something.

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Apologetics, Christian Faith

The Gospel is the Biggest Idea I Know: True Myth

July 11, 2017

Many unbelievers have claimed that the gospel, as an idea, is ridiculous. And I kind of agree.

It’s a REALLY big idea. In fact, it’s the biggest idea I know.

The Christian version of mere theism alone is a big idea. The idea is there is a transcendent God who is the greatest conceivable being who has all perfections. This God stands outside of the universe, having created the universe, but also literally holds all contingent reality into being at all moments of their existence.

That’s a big idea! We all have to stare at that for a little as it’s both a mouthful and it is at the edge of what we can comprehend. And we don’t really comprehend it, at least not in any full way. We can sort of kind of get our minds around grasping the words, but we don’t fully know what they mean in a worked out doctrine.

This is the only notion of God in which I’m interested. I’m not interested in a notion of God that is not consonant with the greatest conceivable being. If there is a god or gods who suffers any imperfection, then I’m not interested. It is only the greatest conceivable being who is worthy of worship and devotion.

This is a God to be feared with a biblical notion of fear. This is a God who is holy and just and can be justified in commanding death, or even causing death in a worldwide flood.  In fact, he has the right to take my life. I realize how incredibly controversial all that is, but this is, on my view, the Christian God. This is part of the bigness and I accept the full package.

This is also a God who is personal. This is a God of love, faithfulness and steadfastness.

A True Myth

This is big, but the idea of the gospel is more outlandish than all that. This God who is the greatest conceivable being was born in a manger. This God, who stands outside of the universe and is the creator and sustainer of all, experienced hunger and thirst and acne (I’m guessing) and excitement and disappointment (he wept, after all). He lived a perfect life filled with love for others, but was never soft on sin.

This God held into being the very cross upon which he was crucified, the very humans who would do him harm, to die for those sins and every sin.

It’s ridiculous. It’s preposterous. As a professor of philosophy, I have familiarity with the great ideas in human history. I know of no bigger idea than this.

But I also happen to think it is true.

It’s what C.S. Lewis would call a true myth. By “myth”, Lewis did not mean it was fictional. Rather he saw the bigness of the gospel claims and the cosmic meaning and purpose the gospel provides.  But it is not a pure or typical myth, for Lewis, since the Gospels involve historical claims of real people at real times. Pure myth is simply not the genre of the Gospels. He says:

I was by now too experienced in literary criticism to regard the Gospels as myths. They had not the mythical taste. And yet the very matter which they set down in their artless, historical fashion — those narrow, unattractive Jews, too blind to the mystical wealth of the Pagan world around them — was precisely the matter of great myths. If ever a myth had become a fact, had been incarnated, it would be just like this. And nothing else in all literature was just like this. Myths were like it in one way. Histories were like it in another, but nothing was simply alike. And no person was like the Person it depicted; as real, as recognizable, through all that depth of time… yet also so luminous, lit by a light from beyond the world, a god. But if a god — we are no longer polytheists — then not a god, but God. Here and here only in all time the myth must have become fact; the Word, flesh; God, Man. This is not “a religion,” nor “a philosophy.” It is the summing up and actuality of them all (Surprised by Joy).

It’s history and we thereby have evidence for these crazy claims. I find the evidence compelling, but I’ll be the first to say that it isn’t coercive. The evidence can be and is rejected.

However, there is a way in which the evidence coupled with the bigness and the beauty of the offer of the gospel becomes so very attractive, I’ve given my life to its truth.

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Apologetics, Christianity, Philosophy

Pursuing God Intellectually: Make friends with Christians of old

June 29, 2017

(This is part 3 of a multipart series: Part 1, Part 2)

I’ve suggested that we understand our call to love God with our minds (Matt. 22:37) as a call to pursue God intellectually. This pursuit, I say, is analogous to (though importantly different from) the way in which we pursue any person we love. In other words, we should be interested in deep and difficult questions precisely because we love God and want to know him better.

But what does this look like?

For anyone who is intellectually pursuing God, it seems one cannot neglect being acquainted with the Christians of old.

Now I know this is not all easy and fun times. I also say this as someone who does not naturally gravitate to reading old books. Now don’t tell my Dean (since I teach in a Great Books program at SWBTS), but if I’m reading for personal enrichment, I’m naturally reluctant to reach for Plato, Aristotle, Augustine or Aquinas. I’m even reluctant to reach for C.S. Lewis!! Now also don’t tell that to Christian philosophers/apologists everywhere or I’ll lose friends and reputation!

Let me be clear, I don’t naturally gravitate to reading the books of old, but I know that I neglect these at my own peril. I’ve had to force myself to become friends with these ancient saints and allow them to speak wisdom, and the wisdom they speak is incredible. So though this can be a battle, you need to know the extraordinary value there is in reading old books (I hope my Dean is still reading to this point). I’m even going to quote C.S. Lewis (I hope my colleagues are still reading at this point). But, seriously, this is important. Lewis says:

Every age has its own outlook. It is specially good at seeing certain truths and specially liable to make certain mistakes. We all, therefore, need the books that will correct the characteristic mistakes of our own period. And that means the old books. All contemporary writers share to some extent the contemporary outlook — even those, like myself, who seem most opposed to it. Nothing strikes me more when I read the controversies of past ages than the fact that both sides were usually assuming without question a good deal which we should now absolutely deny. They thought that they were as completely opposed as two sides could be, but in fact they were all the time secretly united— united with each other and against earlier and later ages—by a great mass of common assumptions. We may be sure that the characteristic blindness of the twentieth century—the blindness about which posterity will ask, “But how could they have thought that?”—lies where we have never suspected it, and concerns something about which there is untroubled agreement between Hitler and President Roosevelt or between Mr. H. G. Wells and Karl Barth. None of us can fully escape this blindness, but we shall certainly increase it, and weaken our guard against it, if we read only modern books. Where they are true they will give us truths which we half knew already. Where they are false they will aggravate the error with which we are already dangerously ill. The only palliative is to keep the clean sea breeze of the centuries blowing through our minds, and this can be done only by reading old books (C.S. Lewis “On Reading Old Books”)

The point here is old books come at issues with a different set of assumptions and force us to question ours. Whereas contemporary books, even books arguing for an opposing worldview, probably share many of the same and perhaps faulty assumptions. Perhaps this is why we are sometimes reluctant to read the old books. We may get confronted with our own wicked assumptions!

But here’s the thing. Many Christians read only popular level books, if they read at all. As a Christian, you stand in a long and rich intellectual tradition and to neglect the old books is to neglect a rich repository of truth and wisdom. In fact, it is often the case that the most difficult objections to Christianity were raised by Christians who were deeply grappling with their faith. You should check out the gold in Augustine, Anselm, Aquinas, Dante, Duns Scotus, John Locke, the reformers, Jonathan Edwards, Chesterton, Lewis, and many, many more.

One last thing. You should also read those thinkers who will likely be read for centuries to come. There’s no doubt that Alvin Plantinga will be read as long as western civilization exists. William Lane Craig is another thinker that has made massive contributions to apologetics and philosophy. I don’t share a number of views with these thinkers (among other things, I’m not a reformed epistemologist, contra Plantinga, and I lean Platonist, contra Craig) but there is definitely more agreement than disagreement. I also really appreciate their views even where I disagree. These thinkers are more difficult than the popular guys, but they can be faithful guides as you love God with your minds.

When doubts come, they can sometimes make us feel isolated. We feel like we have stumbled on something that no one has ever thought before. The tragedy is that is almost certainly not true. Truly, nothing is new under the sun and, often times, these ancient thinkers have provided a robust answer to the objection. Whenever you have a question, one of the first things to do is to find out who in the history of Christianity has confronted this (or similar) questions. They will be your guide.

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Apologetics, Christianity

Pursuing God intellectually: Being honest about our questions

June 27, 2017

In my last post, I gave an invitation to pursue God intellectually.

Jesus identified the greatest commandment as loving God with our all of who we are, and Jesus specifically included loving God with our minds. But what does this mean? I suggested that we understand this as pursuing God intellectually in a way that is consonant with other relational pursuits. When we love someone, we want to know things. We are intellectually curious about what makes them tick.

Now this was only intended as an analogy and all analogies break down somewhere. When it comes to God, we are not simply in the sort of love relationship as we are in, say, a marriage. Pursuing God intellectually has its own shape, its own approach.

What does this approach look like?

The first thing I want to suggest is that we be honest about where we are at intellectually on matters of faith. What I mean by this is that, we tend to act as if we have perfect confidence in all matters. Suppose you were asked, “when it comes to faith, what questions do you have?’ If there are not a ready handful of things that you are thinking about, then I want to suggest you are not intellectually pursuing God.

There are a lot of things about God, the gospel, Scripture and Jesus that are really straightforward. However, beyond these things, there seems to be no end to interesting and knotty issues that are worth thinking about. Again, they are not necessary for a basic understanding of Christian, but the pursuit of them makes for a mature faith.

Now this doesn’t have to mean that everyone is always deeply struggling with some aspect of faith. You may be a person who has found Christianity to be completely reasonable and deeply satisfying as a worldview. There may not be deep seated doubt that is causing existential angst. But you too should be exploring deep and difficult questions that you have about your faith, if for no other reason, because you love God and are pursuing him with intellectual curiosity. It may just be wondering about some aspect of theology or an interpretation of some text. Or it may be wondering about the historical evidence for events in the Bible.

I very definitely have found Christianity to be reasonable and deeply satisfying as a worldview. Though I have had times of deep struggle, I don’t typically *deeply struggle* with doubts anymore. But there are some doubts I think about quite a lot.  These are things about which I don’t know the answer and it bothers me a bit from time to time.

For example, I do not know why God is not more obvious than he is. It seems to me that there are people who would be open to God’s showing up. Don’t get me wrong. Many people who say they are open to God making himself obvious are not genuinely open to it. And many people who say they are not hostile to the idea of Christianity or angry at God, seem to have a whole lot of emotion that fills their responses. But there seem to be some people for whom this would make a great difference in their life.

Now I can work this all out philosophically to my satisfaction such that the challenge doesn’t in anyway defeat my Christian beliefs. Like I said, I don’t deeply struggle with whether I should believe in the existence of God given his so-called hiddenness. I’m satisfied by the idea that it is God’s prerogative to be as obvious as he deems appropriate to his plans and his purposes (see here for a discussion). I believe that and find that this blocks the objection from hiddenness. I don’t think he has to be more obvious than he is. I just wonder why he’s not.

In addition to this, I wonder about the right reading of Genesis 1 and 2. To what degree is it metaphor and to what degree is it literal history (everyone in my context admits some anthropomorphisms, such as God’s walking in the garden in the cool of the day, and literal history, such as a literal Adam and Eve)? I wonder why God worked through a single nation for a couple of millennia setting the stage for the coming Messiah. Why, for example, didn’t Jesus come in the days of King David? I’m unsure why the Synoptics don’t include the story of Lazarus’s being raised from the dead. Why is it only John that includes that account? I wonder how to understand the dual natures of Jesus. Does Jesus, for example, lack knowledge in his humanity? Is there some sort of separation in his cognition where his human cognition is non-identical from his divine cognition in being fully God and fully man? I have the same sort thing when it comes to the doctrine of the Trinity. I also have A LOT about eschatology about which I’m unsure, including why eschatology is so divisive despite specific views being so underdetermined by the biblical evidence (i.e., why don’t we hold these a bit more tentatively given how much interpretation has to happen?).

These are just a few off the top of my head. There’s certainly more. I should add, I’m not without answers for many of these. I’m also convinced of orthodoxy and traditional understandings of these things. But I guess I’m just not completely settled on some of the finer nuances in these discussions.The point is that it is in this wrestling that I come to a better knowledge of God in my pursuit of him.

What questions do you wrestle with?

 

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Apologetics, Christian Faith

An invitation to the intellectual pursuit of God

June 24, 2017

“Love the Lord your God with…all your mind” ~Jesus

The Command to Love

Jesus commands us to love God with all of who we are—our hearts, souls and minds (Matt. 22:37). One might find this as a command problematic since love isn’t the sort of thing we can turn on or off. When something is lovely, we experience loving feelings and affections toward that thing. And when it is not, we don’t.

But this of course assumes that all Jesus had in mind was the mere feeling of love. What seems more plausible in light of the context is that Jesus was not dictating certain feelings we ought to have, but dictating a certain approach. He was telling us that we ought to turn our pursuits, with the deepest part of us, including our minds, toward relationally knowing God.

I think we have at least a grasp of what it means to pursue God with our hearts and affections. Most Christians regularly pursue God in an impassioned way each week in a worship service. It’s perhaps less clear, but I think we have an idea of what’s involved with pursuing God with our souls. But I don’t think we have the first clue what it means to love God with our minds.

Pursuing God Intellectually

I want to suggest that loving God with our minds is to pursue God intellectually.

Okay, but what does it mean to pursue God intellectually? The picture here is one where we bring our deep and difficult questions, our doubts, and our intellectual struggles into our pursuit of God. We need to think of this as a normal part of discipleship.

Unfortunately, we are not often encouraged to pursue God in this way. It is as if once we come to Christ, we thereby have it all figured out. But none of us have it all figured out. No one! We have questions, or we just don’t grasp something and sometimes don’t even know what questions to ask. But then we struggle and we are not afforded the space to genuinely struggle with deep and difficult questions.

Skepticism?

I’m not recommending that we become hopeless skeptics of the sort that always ask “why?” no matter what is said. The sort of skeptic I have in mind is one that isn’t, at the end of the day, genuinely pursuing truth.

Extreme skepticism then isn’t the proper posture. The proper posture is more like two people in love. When we fall in love with someone we tend to be intensely curious about that person. We want to know EVERYTHING! In fact, from the outside, this intense puppy-love curiosity is downright sickening. The two lovers will stare into each other’s eyes and want to know everything. This intensity has a tendency to wear off (just a bit, sweetie!) but a marriage is in big trouble, in my view, if the spouses have lost all interest and no longer wonder about the other. This is where two married people can live in the same house, do life together, and yet find themselves suddenly not knowing the other.

Perhaps an even better analogy is children. In fact as Christians, we are called to be like children (Matt. 18:3). People often picture a so-called “child-like faith” as an unquestioning and blind faith. But I think people who think this must not spend much time with children. Children are constantly questioning, constantly wondering! But again, children are not typically skeptical. They naturally wonder at the world and are filled with curiosities about how things work. Adults often get stuck in the grind and allow life to go mundane. We have wondrously amazing things all around us and we yawn as if they are familiar.

Not so with kids. Kids are curious. They ask questions. But when my kids ask me these crazy awesome questions about life, I never get the sense that they are trying to trip me up or usurp my authority. In fact, they are coming to me precisely because I am an authority in their lives and because of their love for me. They (for some reason) think I might be able to shed light on their curiosity.

This, it seems to me, is a beautiful picture of the way in which we should approach God intellectually. We pursue God with the deep and difficult questions precisely because we want to know God better. It is precisely because of our intense love for God that we wonder at various aspects of life.

It Ain’t Easy

Now, as adults, sometimes our questions are of a very serious nature and they may be very much a painful struggle. We want to know whether some terrible tragedy provides compelling reason to think an all good and all powerful God does not exist. We want to know why God feels absent when we want or even need him to be present. We may struggle with certain moral constraints that impinge on what we perceive as our happiness. None of this is easy, but none of this is outside pursuing God or the discipleship to which we are called.

In one sense, when we consider the fact that we are attempting to know God very God, the transcendent ground of all reality, it seems that it absolutely should be difficult. We should find ourselves running up to the limits of human cognition all the time. Anyone who hand-waves the problem of evil as easy (either for or against God) simply has not wrestled with this issue. Anyone who thinks that Scripture is straightforward on all matters (either for or against Christianity) has simply not wrestled deeply with the text.

Personally, I find myself time and time again far more satisfied by the answers Christianity provides with the deep and difficult questions of life. But I’m on that journey as we speak. Won’t you join me?

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