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Apologetics, Philosophy

God Makes Sense of the Logic Used to Reject Him

Logic, it seems to me, can only be explained by the existence of God.

By far, most people in the history of the world have believed in the existence of God. But some of course come to believe that God does not exist. Now I think it is painfully clear that people who reject God never do so only on the basis of arguments and evidence. I can say this confidently because we humans never come to our core worldview beliefs without emotions, desires and past experiences figuring in in significant ways. It is certainly true of people who come to Christian belief and it is equally true of those who come to deny those beliefs.

Though we may be, in some ways, driven by emotions or desires, there is still always a logic to our beliefs. That is, there are always reasons why we believe what we do. These reasons may be good or bad and they may or may not be formed in a very reflective way. But there is logic there whenever we form a belief.

What is logic?

But what is logic? If you think about it logic is a bit odd. We believe things on the basis of reasons. The reasons we have provide logical support for our beliefs (again, good or bad). We will even base our very lives on the logic of our core beliefs.

Suppose you have a big decision to make. You need to decide whether you will go to college. You take out a piece of paper and list out all of the reasons for and against going to college right now in your life. Let’s say there are clearly more and much stronger reasons for going to college than reasons against it. So you now believe, quite rationally, college is a good idea for you right now in your life.

What happened in that process?

Well it seems you (knowingly or unknowingly) used the principles of logic to come to a decision. In other words, you went with the reasons that accorded with the principles of logic.

An example of a principle of logic is the principle of non-contradiction (PNC). According to Aristotle:

…opposite assertions cannot be true at the same time (Metaphics IV 6 1011b13–20)

Put somewhat differently, this principle says…

for any statement A, it can’t be the case that A and not A at the same time.

This is necessarily true for any statement you want to plug in for A.

It can’t be the case that the Boston Red Sox won the World Series and did not win the World Series at the same time.

The Red Sox could win and not win the World Series in different years (and this true for this year and last year). But they could not, at the same time, both win and not win. To assert something like this is to assert something necessarily false and not even sensible.

Logic is necessary and universal

The truth of the principle of non-contradiction isn’t a matter of mere opinion (try denying the principle of noncontradiction without using it!).[1]

It is widely held that the PNC and all logical principles are objectively and universally true. Many philosophers will say they are true in all possible worlds! This means that logic is not tied to the way our world is. Whatever it is, it exists as a feature of reality that couldn’t not be the case and it is used every time we make and support a claim.

If logic is this real thing that exists outside time and space, then this entails that the natural world is not all there is. In other words, the supernatural (as in supra-natural) must exist.

Explaining logic

Now how do we explain this? It seems to me one has to say either that logical facts exist as brute facts or they are explained by God. If one says they are brute facts, then this just means they are unexplained. So this means that for logic to be explained, one is lead back to God as its explanation.

I’ll leave the technical issues aside here, but my own view is that the eternal truths of logic are grounded in the mind of God. Being aware of the principles of logic is us literally being aware of features of God’s mind. Help me out Chris Pratt?

Okay, so here then is the irony. People use logic to argue against the one thing that grounds their ability to make that very argument. And this is God.

I’m convinced that without God we are left without an adequate explanation of life’s most important aspects.

Check out my book Logic and the Way of Jesus: Thinking Critically and Christianly

[1] To deny the truth of the PNC, you’d have to say the principle is not true and we are only able to say this by the PNC. This makes the denial self-refuting.

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Dialogue, Philosophy

The Lost Art of Thoughtfulness: Dismissing Ideas Because We Fear Them

I love philosophy for a lot of different reasons. One of those is that philosophers often have a particular skill that is lost in many discussions of politics, religion and anything else in which people are deeply invested.

Here’s the skill: inviting and welcoming others to press one’s idea without being personally threatened by being pressed.

Call this: thoughtfulness.

An Intellectual Virtue

Thoughtfulness is a genuine intellectual virtue. It is hearing, and I mean really listening to, an objection for the purpose of finding truth. The reason why this is intellectually virtuous is when we get good objections, we are either going to be able to address those objections or we won’t. If a view can address a really difficult objection, one’s view is ipso facto now better supported. If it can’t, then we are going to have to reject or change our view. But our rejection or change will be due to something epistemic (rather than something nonepistemic, like social pressure). Either way, we’ll be on stronger rational grounds.

Now I’ll be quick to say that I’m generalizing about philosophers quite broadly. Let’s just say not ALL philosophers have this intellectual virtue and certainly no philosophers exhibit this virtue all of the time. We all (and I am chief) have our weak moments. Also, some are able to engage thoughtfully in certain areas (say, systematic theology or metaphysics) but then become unhinged as it relates to something else (such as politics, religion, or when they are on a church committee).

It’s hard work, but we should all strive to be thoughtful. We sometimes fail to be thoughtful, I suspect, because we are scared we are wrong. We don’t want to honestly look at an objection because there might just be something to it. So we distract ourselves from being thoughtful.

3 ways we distract from thoughtfulness

How do we do distract? Here are 3 ways we distract ourselves from being thoughtful and engaging the ideas of others:

    1. We get emotional!

Emotions are really not your friends when it comes to defending and engaging ideas. Sure, we are and should be passionate about what we believe. But there’s a big difference between defending an idea passionately and feeling so threatened we have to yell (online or otherwise!). Look, if an objection is so obviously bad, then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about. Just critique the idea. Getting emotional about ideas will almost always work against rationality.

What’s amazing about this is we tend to get super emotional about issues in which we are deeply invested. But presumably we are deeply invested in ideas which we see as clearly true. If that’s right, then we should be able to defend the ideas and rest assured on the evidence without getting all worked up. Maybe we are not able to defend the ideas and this is a problem.

If you can’t help get upset when your ideas are challenged, this is an excellent reason to genuinely evaluate said ideas.

    1. We simply dismiss ideas or challenges.

I’m convinced that most ideas are serious ideas that are put forward in a serious way. But how do we know if an idea is serious? One way to know is if it has a long tradition and especially if, within the tradition, there are genuine scholars, past and present, who hold the view. If a view is truly ad hoc, then it can be dismissed. But otherwise, it should be treated as serious.

A good example of this, for me, is Mormonism. It’s difficult for me to understand how anyone believes Mormonism in an kind of informed way. To think that God was once a man who worked his way to an exalted state and has populated our planet with his spirit children is is, in my view, fraught with difficulties of all sorts. Or to believe the ever changing Book of Mormon is inspired Scripture is hard for me to buy.

However, Mormonism is a serious belief and it should be engaged seriously. This is a view that has existed for the better part of two centuries and there are very fine scholars who defend it. I shouldn’t, therefore, merely dismiss it. I should attempt to listen to the reasons Mormons give in defense of the view and critique the view accordingly.

I’m not saying one needs to take all views as a serious contenders. Just don’t simply dismiss the view especially when it is seriously held. If it is ludicrous, then you should be able to say why it is ludicrous.

If we simply dismiss a view, then it may be because we are afraid to try and actually confront it.

    1. We call names, mock, or impugn someone’s character.

Even when it seems clear a person deserves to be called a name, it’s almost always not worth it. There’s almost no discussion on these fronts that goes by today without someone being called a liar. Someone might be being dishonest in a discussion, but 99% of the time you will not know if this is the case. How could you? You would have to know someone is intentionally trying to mislead or misrepresent. Disagreeing with you is not lying. Even being factually inaccurate on something is not, by itself, lying. Maybe one is just wrong. And if they are so obviously wrong, then say why they are wrong.

So don’t call names. It’s too easy and it completely ruins a discussion.

If you are quick to call someone a name, mock or impugn their character, this suggests you don’t want your views challenged. You are being a bully and nobody likes a bully.

Being thoughtful

So what should we do to be more thoughtful?

First, we should do our level best to listen to the views of others. The next time you are in a discussion, here’s a novel idea: clarify what someone means before critiquing!! Try to repeat back how you are understanding what they have said and then, after that and only after that, critique the view. You can critique beforehand, but you’re likely to be critiquing a view they don’t actually hold, and this is pointless.

Second, we should invite having our views critiqued. Dogmatism is wide spread in our cultural moment. This is true of many Christians, to be sure. Christians tend to be rather dogmatic and can often be dismissive of opposing views or objections. But I’ve got to say, I often see extreme dogmatism from atheist circles and discussion groups. There are many things that are not genuinely open for discussion for many atheists. When one tries to challenge or take a different viewpoint, one gets ridiculed, called names, and summarily dismissed. It’s not everybody and it’s not everywhere, but Christian/atheist discussions are very often not fruitful.

But I think who takes the cake on this is our politicians and pundits. When was the last time you saw a politician honestly hold his or her position out for critique and possible correction? The problem of course is many of the views are not held because they are true but because they are politically expedient. This makes for a toxic intellectual culture, for sure.

Now this isn’t always fun. It can be a bit painful to see a weakness in our deeply held view. But the point is we are always better for it. The moment we fail to be thoughtful is the moment we fail to genuinely seek after truth.

Bonus Tips

(Here are a couple of bonus tips:

Bonus tip #1: Be original. I’m a big fan of sarcasm and wit. I don’t mind someone objecting to me, but I really love it when it is interesting and somewhat witty. This is good times. What I don’t care for is when people trot out the same ol’ tired quips and memes and then pronounce victory. It’s not genuine discussion. Memes are not arguments and 99% of the time the meme is not something you’ve created. Be original. It’s much more fun.

Bonus tip #2: Don’t say someone is committing a logical fallacy unless and until you are clear what that logical fallacy is and how and when it applies. It’s really easy to signal the strawman or non sequitur or false equivalence alarms, but these are very often false alarms because the signaler isn’t straight on how these fallacies are supposed to go.)

 

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Apologetics, Christian Faith, Philosophy

Rejecting God as the Bearded Guy in the Sky

The bearded guy in the sky

Sometimes people change their minds and come, for a variety of reasons, to reject belief in God. What has always been very surprising to me is how often the God they are rejecting is not the God I believe in either.

For example, suppose someone says:

“I just got to the point where I could no longer believe in the bearded guy in the sky.”

Okay, but the only problem is neither do I. And neither does any thoughtful Christian I know.

Now I realize that the “bearded guy in the sky” moniker may just be shorthand or a kind of tongue-in-cheek way to refer to a more robust conception of God. However, the point is this conception, or anything that it may refer to, is radically different from the biblical conception of God. The biblical conception of God is one where God is wholly other, eternal, maximal in all perfections, knows and intends the end from the beginning, the creator of all, the self-existent being and upon whom all other being depends. So if we imagine a spectrum of concepts where the bearded guy in the sky is at one end and the very rich biblical conception of God at the other, I want to suggest many times people are objecting to something closer to the bearded guy in the sky rather than the biblical understanding of God. Said somewhat differently, the biblical God can withstand many of the objections the bearded guy in the sky cannot.

The bearded guy and the problem of evil

We can see this with discussions about the problem of evil. The key premise in an argument from evil is to say there is evil for which God would have no justifying reasons. On this version of the argument, it is conceded that the concept of God is not logically contradictory with just any evil. Rather it is evil that has no justifying reason that is inconsistent with the existence of God. It unlikely that every ounce of evil in the history of the world has a justifying reason, the atheist claims, thus, this implies a good and all powerful God does not exist.

I can’t help but think there is something like a bearded guy in the sky in view in the key premise of the argument (namely, that there is evil for which God would have no justifying reasons). It’s true there’s a lot of evil, pain and suffering in the world. But is it really plausible that God could have no justifying reason for allowing it? Well this seems plausible only if we are talking about God as the bearded guy in the sky. But it doesn’t seem at all plausible (at least to me) if we are talking about the biblical God. Why couldn’t the eternal, self-existent God who sees the end from the beginning have justifying reasons for allowing the evil we see in the world? We need not know what those reasons are specifically to reasonably believe that the infinite God of the Bible could have them.

It’s important to see that this isn’t a dodge or an appeal to mystery. It is more of an appeal to the bigness and holiness (in the technical sense) of God and to say that many times perhaps we struggle because we have a much smaller and less interesting view of who God is.

Rejecting God

I recently heard a former Christian say the turning point for him came one night while camping out under the stars. He asked God, if he was there, to give him a sign. He hoped to hear an audible voice or see a shining light. But nothing happened. He moved to looking for something out of the ordinary like a shooting star or a big wave to crash. Nothing happened. He got desperate and asked for anything, a fuzzy feeling or the wind to pick up. But nothing happened. He subsequently walked away from the faith.

I can certainly relate to having the desire to see God show up in obvious ways to help assure me he is truly there and he loves me. But doesn’t it seem a little unreasonable to demand that God relates to us in the way we want him to? Maybe the way we want him to doesn’t serve God’s purposes and maybe, just maybe, God’s purposes are far higher and far better than mine.

Approaching God on his terms

I close with a passage from a very insightful essay confronting the issue of the silence of God by Mike Rea. In the essay, he stresses the need for us to approach God on his terms and not the terms we set for him. He says:

You might be tempted to object that, on this view, God is like a father who neglects his children, leaving them bereft and unloved while he sits in stony silence thinking “I just gotta be me.” But to object like this is to fail to take seriously the idea that God might have a genuine, robust personality and that it might be deeply good for God to live out his own personality. One odd feature of much contemporary philosophy of religion is that it seems to portray God as having a “personality” that is almost entirely empty, allowing his behavior to be almost exhaustively determined by facts about how it would be best for others for an omnipotent being to behave. But why should we think of God like this? God is supposed to be a person not only of unsurpassable love and goodness but of unsurpassable beauty. Could God really be that sort of person if he’s nothing more than a cosmic, others-oriented, utility-maximizing machine? On that way of thinking, God—the being who is supposed to be a person par excellence—ends up having no real self. So, as I see it, silence of the sort we experience from God might just flow out of who God is, and it might be deeply good for God to live out his personality. If that’s right, and if our suffering in the face of divine silence is indeed unreasonable, the result of immaturity or other dysfunctions that we can and should overcome anyway, then I see no reason why even perfect love would require God to desist from his preferred mode of interaction in order to alleviate our suffering.[1]

So I think we should be very careful when we say a good, all powerful God would (or wouldn’t) do _____________________. Maybe God is bigger and richer and far more confounding than that.

[1] Rae (2011) “Divine Hiddenness, Divine Silence” in Philosophy of Religion: An Anthology, 6th edition, edited by Louis Pojman and Michael Rea (Boston: Wadsworth/Cengage). See here for a copy of the full article.

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Apologetics, Philosophy

Does Evidence Take Away from the Bible’s Authority?

Authority Issues

Christians have always been extremely wary of holding anything, such as philosophy or “reason” or evidence, as an authority over Scripture. It is sometimes argued that if one appeals to something as a reason to believe Scripture, then that thing becomes one’s authority. But, for the Christian, nothing can stand in authority over Scripture. Thus, we cannot use reason and evidence as our basis for believing the claims of Scripture.

The very prominent theologian, Wayne Grudem, has said:

Since the words of Scripture are “self-attesting,” they cannot be “proved” to be God’s words by appeal to any higher authority. If we make our ultimate appeal, for example, to human logic or to scientific truth to prove that the Bible is God’s Word, then we assume the thing to which we appeal to be a higher authority than God’s words and one that is more true or more reliable. Therefore, the ultimate authority by which Scripture is shown to be God’s words must be Scripture itself.[1]

Is Scripture Self-Attesting?

Though it is a common phrase in the history of theology, it seems difficult to know exactly what is meant by saying Scripture is “self-attesting.” Grudem himself goes on to explain this as the persuasiveness of Scripture in the actual experience of the world. But if this is right, then Scripture doesn’t seem truly self-attesting. It is seems to be the experiences of the world that attest to its truth in persuading us. Grudem goes on to even more explicitly contradict his initial claim (so it seems to me) by saying we can have evidence for the authority of scripture without that evidence becoming a higher authority. He says:

This is not to say that our knowledge of the world around us serves as a higher authority than Scripture, but rather that such knowledge, if it is correct knowledge, continues to give greater and greater assurance and deeper conviction that the Bible is the only truly ultimate authority.[2]

I would agree. It looks like he is suggesting here we can make appeal to what we know about the world and see that it (the evidence) points to Scripture’s authority. This seems to concede (despite what Grudem said above) that something can play an epistemological role in believing and recognizing a thing’s authority without itself becoming the ultimate authority.

Question: “Is the Bible God’s Word?”

The real epistemological issue we face in believing that the Bible is the authoritative Word of God is what we do when the question is “is the Bible the Word of God?” This question, it seems, can’t be answered merely by looking to the claims of Scripture attesting to this fact, at least not without vicious circularity. To avoid circularity, we’ll need to use reasons and evidence to come to the belief that Scripture is authoritative. But our coming to know that Scripture is God’s revealed word doesn’t take away from its authority in our lives. Once we come to know that it is God’s word, then we recognize and submit to its authority (the authority, by the way, it possessed all along). How do we recognize it is God’s Word? I am extremely broadminded as to what counts as evidence for this claim.

Evidence Broadly Construed

Consider the following example. Suppose Al is standing before a complete library of the world’s great religious texts. The Bible is there alongside the Quran, the Bhagavad Gita, Book of Mormon, the Upanishads, etc. Let’s assume, for the sake of argument, that each of these claim, in effect, to be divine revelation. Standing there before all of these options, how could Al decide which one is correct? It can’t be the mere fact that the Bible claims to be God’s word. This is because, again, they all make this claim. How is Al going to decide?

Let’s suppose someone, whom Al has reason to think is trustworthy, tells him that the Bible is God’s divine word. Al now has one (i.e., a preacher) testifying to the Word of God (Rom. 10:14). Let’s also suppose the Holy Spirit stirs in Al’s spirit confirming that the Bible is God’s divine word. In this, Al hears and recognizes the voice of God (See Jn. 10:27). Al now, it seems, has epistemological reason to think the Bible is God’s authoritative word. Though Al now has reasons to believe, he can and should improve the epistemic status of his belief. He can engage in an intentional study of the text itself and begin to see how Scripture accords with the world. He will also no doubt notice the consistency and harmony of the message throughout the biblical text. Let’s also suppose he begins to read Scripture as a guide and, as he internalizes its claims, it begins to change his heart and life. Al now possess an even stronger epistemological basis for his belief in Scripture’s authority.

Many don’t think of the preacher or the Holy Spirit as providing evidence. But it is not clear why we shouldn’t. Much of what we believe is on the basis of testimonial evidence. This is where a person, whom we have reason to trust (this is important!), reports something as a fact. It seems we thereby have some reason to believe the account. It is defeasible evidence, but it is evidential in nature. This may include testimony of our parents, our teachers, books we read, etc.  But again, a trusted person telling you something has some evidential value. Again, I am employing a notion of reason in an extremely broad sense.

No one will be surprised that I think Al should also turn to topics in apologetics related to the authenticity and authority of Scripture. One should come away with the distinct impression from this study that this is no ordinary book. None of this, as I’ve argued, should take away from the authority of Scripture. Indeed one has reason upon reason (I would argue) to yield one’s life to its authority.

(This is comes from a journal length article that will be published in the Southwestern Journal of Theology).

[1] Wayne Grudem, Bible Doctrine: Essential Teachings of the Christian Faith (Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1999), 37.

[2] Ibid., 39.

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Apologetics, Christianity, Philosophy

Are Christian Beliefs Properly Basic?

Properly basic beliefs

If you have hung around philosophical discussions about God and Christianity, then at some point you’ve likely heard someone bring up the notion of a belief’s being “properly basic.” It can often sound like the Christian who employs this concept is simply helping him or herself to some wild claim without offering any reasons to believe it. That is, it can sound like a cop out. And, frankly, it may be a cop out. I’m guessing well-meaning Christians do use this as way to not have to give actual evidence. But if they do, they have misused the concept.

Let me explain.

Let’s first say what it is for a belief to be properly basic. In short, a basic belief is one that is based directly on a fact and not another belief. A properly basic belief is one that is based directly on a fact where the fact justifies the belief.

[If this is satisfactory, then you can skip to the next section. I explain things more fully below, but please note there are many technicalities of this discussion that will be completely left out.]

The basis of a belief

Some beliefs are based on other beliefs. Let’s say I watch the evening news and the weather man reports that tomorrow it will be 70 degrees and sunny. Call this belief B1. I believe B1 and I infer B2: that “tomorrow will be pleasant.” Since I inferred this belief, we say B2 is based on B1. B1 is my rational basis for believing B2. What we should notice is if I were to report B2 to my wife, she may appropriately ask why I think B2 is true. I would answer with B1. But here’s where it gets interesting. If she was in an uncharacteristically meddling mood, she could ask why I think B1 is true. In order for B1 to be rational, it seems I would need reasons for believing it.

Beliefs, by their very nature, are such that they are always either true or false. When we believe, we represent the world as being some such way and this is either how the world is or it is not how the world is. Again, this is simply a matter of the nature of a belief. Thus, one ALWAYS needs a reason for thinking the belief is true if one is going to assent to it. That is, if one lacked all reasons whatsoever for some belief, then it isn’t rational to hold that belief.

But not all beliefs are based on other beliefs. Some beliefs are, for example, based directly on an experience of some sort. Let’s say you stub your toe and experience a sharp pain and form the belief “I am in pain.” Remember, beliefs need reasons. So what’s your reason for this belief? Here it seems it is the very fact that you are in pain! We should notice we’ve based our belief directly on a fact and facts don’t need further reasons because they are, well, facts. Facts just exist. In other words, there are not true or false facts. There are just facts. This is a basic belief since its reason doesn’t involve any beliefs that would require further reasons. It’s based directly on a fact.

If a (nonbasic) belief is inferred from a prior belief, the prior belief must have justification for it to be rational. This is either some fact or another prior belief. The foundationalist believes that all inferential beliefs must ultimately lead, at some point, to a properly basic belief from which these beliefs were inferred. The thought is that an inferential chain cannot go on infinitely. It must ultimately terminate in a belief that is based directly on some fact or facts that generate justification without itself needing to be justified.

Consider the following:

Belief: “I should go to the doctor.”

Why think this is true?

Belief: “I am in pain.”

Why think this is true?

Experience: the pain itself

We should notice that the belief that “I should go to the doctor” is justified by the belief “I am in pain.” This is inferential. There is undoubtedly more going on with this inference than just this, but it seems we could sufficiently fill this picture out and, if we did, we’ll clearly see that it is a rational inference. But since the belief “I am in pain” is a belief, it makes sense to ask whether it is justified. If it is not justified, then the belief “I should go to the doctor” is not justified. Here the belief is basic. It is based directly on the experience of pain itself. The experience justifies the belief “I am in pain” which in turn justifies (by inference) the belief “I should go to the doctor.”

Are Christian beliefs properly basic?

There’s a legitimate discussion in Christian philosophy about which beliefs should be considered basic. To say that a belief is properly basic is not a cop out (or at least it need not be). It’s merely to assert that a belief is based not an inference from other beliefs, but on some fact or facts. So if a belief is to be properly basic (and not used as a cop out), one must come up with some justifying fact upon which it is directly based.

I’m an unabashed evidentialist in the sense that the rationality of a belief has only to do with what evidence one has.[1] It’s a big debate in epistmeology, but my own view is that a belief cannot be made rational by things of which one is unaware. But I think of evidence in a very broad sense. Though arguments can be evidence, it is not only arguments that can be evidence. Evidence includes both empirical and philosophical considerations. But we can have evidence of the direct sort. We can, for example, base a belief directly on an experience. When one is in pain, the evidence one has for believing one is in pain is the experience of pain itself. We also seem to know such things as mathematical and logical facts on the basis of intuition. I rationally believe that 2+3=5 not on the basis of an argument. I grasp this fact directly via my intuitive awareness of the relevant mathematical fact.

On what facts can we base our Christian beliefs?

What about our Christian beliefs? It seems clear we can have a direct encounter with God and thereby rationally believe that God exists on the basis of this encounter. It also seems we can know certain things about God on the basis of our intuitions similar to the way in which we know mathematical facts. Most Christian philosophers will agree that, when it comes to our Christian beliefs, we can minimally have these as properly basic beliefs.

But I think philosophers would agree that not ALL Christian beliefs are properly basic. There are very fine grained theological claims that seem to be the result of careful reflection and inferences from other claims. One cannot have direct experience of the facts of, say, eschatology, or so it seems to me. These will be inferred from prior beliefs.

So if there are some beliefs we know in the basic way and some that are clearly inferred, where is the divide? Again, there is considerable disagreement on this issue. I tend to be less permissive than others in what we can know in the basic way. For example, it is not clear to me one can know Jesus rose from the dead in a properly basic way. One can perhaps know that Jesus is real, given a direct encounter. But to know that in AD 30 (or thereabouts), Jesus of Nazareth was crucified and 3 days later rose from the dead seems clearly inferential given its historical nature. One will need to infer this from other beliefs about the Bible, history, God, etc. I’m also doubtful one can believe that Scripture is God’s revealed word in a properly basic way.[2] Again, it is difficult to know what facts on which one could base this belief for it to be basic.

We should keep in mind that just because something is not properly basic doesn’t mean it is any less rational to believe. Perhaps the structure the relevant beliefs will be a bit more complex and complexity may bring more opportunity for error. But as long as the belief is inferred in the appropriate way from a justified belief, then the belief can be rational for someone.

One last point is a person can have a properly basic belief that is also, at the same time, justified inferentially. One can have a direct encounter with God and believe that God exists on that basis. But one can also consider the dozen or more plausible arguments for God’s existence and have this belief also supported by them. This would be, for one, a well justified belief indeed.

[1] A non-evidentialist, like Alvin Plantinga, would say that a belief can be made rational by things of which one is unaware. Plantinga’s epistemological view is a version of externalism whereas evidentialism is typically construed as an internalism.

[2] Much of this turns on whether testimony is a source of properly basic beliefs.

Christian Faith, Philosophy

God Stands Behind It All

Having recently completed a discussion of Plato’s Republic with a terrific group of college students, I am once again reminded of its beauty and depth. When teaching the Republic, I am always struck by the seemingly innocent back and forth of the dialogue that inevitably entices us straight into discussing life’s deepest issues. I am convinced that the genius of Plato is that we, in a way, cannot help but become a participant in his dialogue.

The influence and importance of the Republic as a single work is hard to match. It finds its way onto every self-respecting list of the most influential books, often ranking in the top five. Alfred North Whitehead famously said,

“The safest general characterization of the European philosophical tradition is that it consists of a series of footnotes to Plato.”[1]

Many philosophical topics that are live discussions today are traceable to Plato’s Republic. In short, the Republic is really, really good and worth our time.

One of my favorite discussions to have with students in reading the Republic is Plato’s allegory of the cave. In the dialogue, the main character, Socrates, tells a story according to which people are held captive within a cave and are bound such that they are only able to see the shadows on the wall of the cave. They have been there their whole lives, and so they think the shadows are all there is. It is possible to escape, but it is exceedingly difficult and no one really wants to because they are not sure there is anything beyond the shadows. The way of escape is an arduous journey, and, if one is successful, one encounters blinding light. It is so bright it’s painful. It takes some time for one’s eyes to adjust, but once they do, one sees the true world—the world as it really is.

The allegory is intended to illustrate how philosophy can free us from a fixation on the world of sensation. We are, in a way, bound by the shifting and ever-changing material world—the shadowlands, to use C.S. Lewis’ turn of phrase. For Plato, the material world is not necessarily evil, but it is a world in a constant state of flux and change. Thus, one cannot have genuine knowledge or even say true things, because before one finishes one’s inquiry, the world has already changed. The true world—what Plato calls the world of the forms—is the world of eternal and fixed ideas. This is a world discoverable not by empirical inquiry, but by philosophy.

In the shifting material world, one experiences things that have beauty to some degree. Or one may experience things that are somewhat good. But these are, at best, the mere shadows of beauty and goodness as they really are in themselves. In the world of the forms, one experiences beauty and goodness themselves along with the rest of the forms. And by knowing beauty and goodness themselves (as well as the rest of the forms), we are able to live well—at least, better—in the material world since there will be less confusion about what is beautiful, good, etc.

At this point in our discussion of the Republic, I always try to show how profound this is. What motivation to do philosophy! You can gaze on beauty and goodness themselves in doing philosophy! But here’s the thing. As good as that is, there’s something better still. For the Christian philosopher, there’s something (or someone!) that stands behind the forms [Read more]

[1] Process and Reality, p. 39 [Free Press, 1979]

(this post originally appeared on www.theologicalmatters.com)

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Apologetics, Christianity, Philosophy

Pursuing God Intellectually: Make friends with Christians of old

(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, Philosophy, Scholarship

Why scholars aren’t getting the gigs

In a recent Inside Higher Ed article, the authors outlined reasons why scholars are often unable to reach wide audiences. They insightfully say:

There’s a yawning gap between academic writing and popular, hot-take journalism. Scholars fancy that they cover important, current topics, but they do so in styles and venues that reach only narrow audiences. And yet there has never been a better time for academics to reach the public directly, and in ways that are compatible with their professional contexts and goals.

They go on:

Scholars have insights, experience and research that can help the public navigate the contemporary world, but scholarly work all too often goes unseen. Sometimes it gets sequestered behind exorbitant paywalls or prohibitively steep book prices. Other times it gets lost in the pages of esoteric journals. Other times yet, it’s easy to access but hard to understand due to jargon and doublespeak. And often it doesn’t reach a substantial audience, dooming its aspirations to impact public life.

The article is talking about disciplines of all sorts. But I think this is extremely relevant to Christian apologetics and philosophy (and theology, Bible studies, etc.).

Scholars have left the planet

Most scholars have spent a better part of a decade in school immersed in some discipline absorbing the subtle minutia and nuances crucial to understanding the cutting edge of that field. They have become specialists and they speak and write to extend the discipline.

But something happens during that process. There’s a tendency for these scholars to travel to the planet of specialization and are unable to ever return to the real world. They speak a new language and can’t seem to remember how to get back to the real world.

Now scholars write A LOT. But it tends to be the case that only other scholars in that specific field are reading these works. It’s not uncommon for a scholar to spend a few hard months on an article (or even years on a book), and it is only read (especially in its entirety) by less than 100 people. Now this is not as tragic as it sounds. The primary goal of academic writing, it seems to me, is not necessarily a large readership. Rather the goal is to extend research and reflection on interesting areas in a discipline, and the impact is not always reflected in the amount of people who read it.

But still, there’s a concern. The concern, as I see it, is this stratification of scholarly material causes a fracture between those who know what they are talking about and those who are speaking to wide audiences.

This can be quite dangerous if this gap gets too wide.

How to get expertise to the people

One way to close this gap is to have, what I call, translators. Translators are not scholars, but they take the scholarship and make it more accessible and relatable. An example of translator in the world of science would be Bill Nye (formerly known as The Science Guy). Nye has no advanced degrees in science, but he has had a tremendous impact in science education and he is routinely called upon to speak as an authority in science . But since he’s not himself a scholar, his science chops are not exactly always on point.

In the world of Christian apologetics, we have translators as well. And we have some terrific ones. These are ones who take complex issues in science, philosophy, history, etc. that bear on the truth of Christianity and make them understandable and relatable for a wider audience. But, let’s be honest, just like Bill Nye, there are some who just simply don’t fully understand the issue they are speaking or writing about.

Now don’t get me wrong. This is not to minimize the importance of a translator in apologetics. There is an important space and a huge need for popular level apologists. My concern in this post is that there seems to be a lack of scholars who are getting (at least some of) their material out there in accessible ways. Right now in the world of Christian Apologetics, we have a growing number of popular level apologists that are doing really well, and God bless them for the work that they do. But it seems there’s a lack of scholars getting called upon to speak to popular audiences. And this is because scholars have very often done a terrible job at speaking and writing on a level that nonspecialists can understand.

Why are scholars typically bad at the popular level?

Here are some of the more salient challenges cited by the article that scholars face in writing to wide audiences and some of my thoughts about these challenges.

  • “Scholars often cannot answer the question ‘So what?’ about their own work”
  • “Scholars don’t know how to pitch.”

It’s often the case that the problems that scholars are writing about are only problems that academics have (the Problem of Evil literature can tend to be this way). So it is not that there isn’t a “so what?”, it’s that the “so what?” is only for someone who speaks the scholarly language. But there are many things that have been said in the scholarly literature about, say, the Problem of Evil that could be really helpful for a wider audience. But those connections are often not made. Until they make these connections, the scholar can’t pitch the relevance of their content.

  • “Scholars don’t write well enough to reach people outside the culture of scholarly writing.”
  • “Passion and generosity are missing from scholarship.”

The thought here is that scholars don’t typically write with their readers in mind when they write scholarly material. It’s really just the research and the argument that matters. Consequently, the writing isn’t compelling (writing with passion) and it is not helpful for the uninitiated reader to understand the material (writing with generosity). So something can be written academically well, but it may not be written well for an actual real-life reader.

  • “Academics can be jerks.”

Yes. Yes, they (we) can. I’ve actually found that many academics (though certainly not all) are overall humble people. What happens is that they use an authoritative voice, when talking as a scholar, and this can easily come across as jerkish. In academic writing, there is a need for this authoritative voice. However, when it comes to popular writing, there’s a need for intellectual humility to come across as well.

  • “This isn’t for everyone.”

I know some academics that I’m not sure are able to get back to earth. And that’s okay. We need these scholars to do what they do. But I tend to think these are the exceptions and not the rule. I think many scholars just aren’t good at this because they haven’t worked at speaking and writing this way. But they could do it if they try. And we need this.

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Apologetics, Philosophy

2 problems with Craig’s distinction of knowing and showing

In one of the best books on Christian apologetics in the last 50 years, Reasonable Faith, William Lane Craig says something rather provocative. He thinks that the proper basis for knowing that Christianity is true is not the evidence for Christianity. This might strike one as more than a bit odd given that Craig is the one of the world’s foremost Christian apologists. Craig certainly has a high view of the evidence for Christianity’s truth given the fact that he routinely takes on Christianity’s most difficult critics in formal debates on the evidence for Christianity.

So what’s going on?

Knowing and Showing

In the book, Craig makes a distinction between knowing and showing. He says:

…the way we know Christianity to be true is by the self-authenticating witness of God’s Holy Spirit. Now what do I mean by that? I mean that the experience of the Holy Spirit is veridical and unmistakable (though not necessarily irresistible or indubitable) for him who has it; that such a person does not need supplementary arguments or evidence in order to know and to know with confidence that he is in fact experiencing the Spirit of God; that such experience does not function in this case as a premise in any argument from religious experience to God, but rather is the immediate experiencing of God himself; that in certain contexts the experience of the Holy Spirit will imply the apprehension of certain truths of the Christian religion, such as “God exists,” “I am condemned by God,” “I am reconciled to God,” “Christ lives in me,” and so forth.[1]

Craig’s idea is the inner experience of the Spirit of God Himself—where He testifies to His existence and the truths of the gospel—is the primary way in which people come to the knowledge of Christianity. His idea seems to be that the best way to know something is to have direct experience of that thing. Though we can know in this way, we cannot share things known by inner experience. This is simply a fact about our inner experiences. We might say to another, “I feel your pain,” but we don’t mean it literally. What we mean by this empathetic claim is that we understand that one is feeling pain, and we have had what we take to be a similar feeling of pain. But mere testimony of an inner experience is not a good way to convey (i.e., provide evidence of) what the pain is like.

We can, likewise, tell people about inner religious experiences, but unless one has a similar experience, then this testimony seems too weak, in terms of evidence, to constitute knowledge.

So, for Craig, the best way (perhaps the only way) for us to convince another person of the truth of Christianity is to show that Christianity is true with arguments and evidence, which is what Craig offers in his debates, his books, and his interactions with students across the globe. Craig seems to think that this evidence, though it can move one along in their journey towards Christ, it never results in genuine knowledge unless and until God makes himself known to that individual. And it is not necessary for knowledge. The person completely uneducated in the arguments of Christian apologetics can be perfectly rational on the basis of his or her direct experience of God. Thus arguments and evidence play, at most, a ministerial or subsidiary role on the way to knowledge.

I think Craig’s distinction is problematic for two reasons.

Inner experience as evidence

First, though I certainly agree that religious inner experience is important for coming to a genuine and full knowledge of Christianity’s truth, it seems to me that it should be understood as part of one’s overall evidence set. That is, I deny that there is a substantive distinction between evidence, on one hand, and the inner testimony of the Holy Spirit, on the other. The direct experience of God just is evidence—indeed, great evidence—for the truth of Christianity. This is described as testimony and experiences, after all, and we typically think of testimony and experience as evidence.[2]

This is best seen within the broader discussion of evidentialism in epistemology. In this discussion, it seems to me that inner experiences such as this would just count as evidence. Again, direct experience of some fact is typically thought to be the best sort of evidence (such as one’s acquaintance with what’s immediately before them). The debate in epistemology is whether we can be rationally justified by facts without our being aware of these facts (e.g., Plantinga thinks that we can have, what he calls, warrant for our beliefs in virtue of their being produced by properly functioning faculties even if we are not aware that our faculties’ proper function[3]). The evidentialist thinks there must there be something of which we are aware that points to the truth of our belief (call this evidence) in order for one to be rational. The point is that what Craig identifies as the proper basis of religious knowledge seems to fall within this category of evidence since these are facts of which we are aware that point to the truth of our beliefs.

 Experience needs interpretation

But this is mostly a terminological issue. The more pressing issue with this distinction is that inner experience, all by itself, doesn’t seem to provide a good basis for knowing Christianity is true. The inner experiences that we have seem crucially to need interpretation. The typical religious experience does not seem to have enough content to serve as the primary basis of our knowledge.

For example, let’s say one is in an evangelistic service and experiences an overwhelming sense of awe. Is this sufficient all by itself to rationally believe that the claims being made in the service are true? It seems not. Many Christians would agree that this is inadequate if it was, say, a Mormon evangelistic service. But why should this experience justify the belief in the Christian gospel?

Craig is quite aware of this objection and says that the counterfeit experience of, say, the Mormon does nothing to take away from his veridical experience.[4] But one seems to need reason for thinking that the experience is in fact veridical. If merely being veridical was sufficient, then all skeptical concerns could similarly be dismissed. When the skeptic asks how one knows that one is not in the Matrix given it would be qualitatively indistinguishable experience, it simply doesn’t address her concern to assert that one’s experience is veridical. She’s likely to ask again, “but how do you know it’s veridical?”

Now Craig might not think that the Christian and Mormon experiences are qualitatively indistinguishable, but this seems impossible to verify. If they are qualitatively indistinguishable, then the rest of one’s evidences will need to play more than a subsidiary role. It will have to be this inner experience of God along with the Christian evidences that rationally justifies one’s belief.

Do Christians have evidence?

One motivation for Craig’s view is the fact that many Christians have never considered the apologetic evidence for Christianity, and yet they certainly seem to believe Christianity in a rational way. Craig thinks that one need not have familiarity with apologetics to know that Christianity is true. And I agree! But, I’ll end with a provocative statement: I think that the typical Christian has evidence for the truth of Christianity (including the inner and outer experiences of God, but also the natural signs seen in the world,[5] etc.) even if he or she does not know any formal apologetic arguments. There’s no doubt most Christians can greatly improve their evidence and rational basis by considering the rich tradition of Christian apologetics. But to think that most Christians do not have any evidence is just to have an unnecessarily narrowed concept of ‘evidence.’

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Notes:

[1] William Lane Craig, Reasonable Faith:  Christian Truth and Apologetics, 3d ed. (Wheaton, Il: Crossway, 2008), 43.

[2] There are some approaches to Christian apologetics that understand “evidence” as only formal arguments and “evidentialism” as the view that formal apologetic arguments are necessary for faith. This is a much derided view. The only problem is that I know of no one who actually holds this view. The discussion of evidentialism in epistemology is far more precise (than the one in Christian apologetics).

[3] See Alvin Plantinga, Knowledge and Christian Belief (Eerdmans, 2015).

[4] Craig, Reasonable Faith, 49.

[5] See C. Stephen Evans, Natural Signs and Knowledge of God: A New Look at Theistic Arguments (New York: OUP, 2010).

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Apologetics, Philosophy

What is intellectual doubt?

More than one way to doubt

There are a variety of ways to doubt. The two most talk about forms of doubt are emotional doubt and intellectual doubt.

We can sometimes have every intellectual reason in the world to believe something is true, and yet we doubt. This form of doubt, and we’ve all faced it to greater or lesser degree, is emotional doubt (or sometimes called psychological doubt). An extreme example of this form of doubting is one who has a phobia of flying. The person may know everything there is to know about flight safety, and know (intellectually) that flying on an airplane is, by almost every metric, safer than, say, driving in a car, and yet the person will dramatically doubt the reasonableness of getting on the plane.

When it comes to Christian faith, we can sometimes be in a very good position intellectually in believing the truths of Christianity, and yet there is a kind of emotional inability to take the plunge.

This is a real battle. It’s a battle that, as a philosopher, I’m frankly not well equipped to engage (I wouldn’t suggest me for marriage counseling either!). I would however recommend that you read Gary Habermas on this issue. He has two books on emotional doubt and he’s graciously published these on his website here and here.

Making this distinction is not to say that there are no intellectual considerations when it comes to emotional doubt. It is also not to say that there are no emotions involved when we doubt intellectually. Like most things, it gets messy. But I’m primarily focused on (and much better equipped to think about) intellectual doubt.

It is also very common to wrestle with some objection to one of our beliefs. When the objection has to do with whether a new season of Dancing with the Stars begins tonight, this is not too big of a deal (Okay, for some it might be a pretty big deal!). However, when we wrestle intellectually with objections at the worldview level (informing issues religious commitment, politics, morality, etc.), this can be quite difficult. At times, it forces us to call into question our most cherished beliefs.

But what is intellectual doubt?

I characterize intellectual doubt as when we experience the intellectual pull or the force of some objection to a belief we have.

What’s interesting about doubt is that when we doubt, we have not yet conceded the objection. We just feel the force of it. We find it, to some degree, plausible. The objection has a kind of pull on us and yet, if we are still in a place of doubt, we still believe.

Suppose that I believe that a new season of Dancing with the Stars begins tonight and someone tells me it does not begin until next week. I now have an objection to my belief. But I’m not sure who is right. So I may still believe that it begins tonight and yet I’m now doubting it.

The nature of intellectual doubt

With this, we can give something of an analysis of doubt.

A person, S, doubts that p if and only if…

  1. S believes that p is true.
  2. For some objection to p, S does not yet concede the objection, but finds it plausible to some degree.

Let’s illustrate. Suppose Smith believes that God exists. But let’s say someone challenges Smith with the problem of evil. Smith is asked how a good and all powerful God could create a world with so much and so much horrendous pain and suffering. Smith doesn’t have a good answer for this and it is claimed that the belief in God is incompatible with the evil we see in the world. Smith feels the force or the pull of this objection. Smith maintains his belief in God (we can assume he has reasons for this that make him rational) but is feeling the force of this objection. Smith doubts his belief since…

  1. Smith believes that God exists.
  2. Smith does not yet concede that the problem of evil defeats the belief in God, but she is finding the objection plausible.

What to do about doubt

Now I think a more detailed analysis can be given here and I have given that elsewhere.[1] However, this account suffices to make the following point. Our doubts should drive us to look deeper. They should drive us to investigate the evidence both for and against. We should investigate whether the objection indeed defeats our belief. If we are believe that Dancing with the Stars begins tonight and yet we have an objection to this fact, then it seems the only thing we can do to alleviate this tension is to investigate further. Somebody grab the TV Guide!

If we believe that God exists, but we just ran into a thoughtful expression of the problem of evil, then I don’t know what to do other than look further into it. It’s not like the problem of evil recently fell from the sky. This has been debated for millennia. Millennia! In fact, a great statement of the problem of evil can be found in Epicurus from about 24 centuries ago! Christians and other theists have responded. In fact, one could easily spend a decade reading the problem of evil literature and probably not exhaust it. I don’t actually think that the theistic response is a complete slam dunk. The problem of evil is a difficult problem, but there are certainly important and really helpful theistic responses to the problem. Though none of them are slam dunks, I am very satisfied by the Christian answer to the problem of evil. But this is because I’ve looked into it.

Christians very often tend to either shun objections. They just seem to be able to ignore them insulated against potential problem. Or some allow objections to simply have their way with them.

There’s nothing I know to do with an objection other than to push in and investigate the rationality of the objection

One last point. You may need to change your mind. You may find that something you believe is not well supported. On a personal note, I’ve yet to find the smoking gun objection when it comes to my Christian faith. That is, there is no salient objection to Christianity that I don’t find an extensive literature of thoughtful Christians offering thoughtful answers some of which I find very satisfying intellectually.

Given this, we shouldn’t, as Christians, be afraid to encourage folks to explore the answers to deep and difficult questions. Again, what’s the alternative?

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[1] “Doubt as Virtue: How to Doubt and Have Faith without Exploding” in The Christian Research Journal (Issue 39 Volume #4, 2016).

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