In the spawning days of Christianity, surprisingly, Christians were considered “atheists”:
"In such a world, the gospel was an outrage, and it was perfectly reasonable for its cultured despisers to describe its apostles as ‘atheists.’ Christians were--what could be more obvious?--enemies of society, impious, subversive, and irrational; and it was no more than civic prudence to detest them for refusing to honor the gods of their ancestors . . ." (David Bentley Hart, Atheist Delusions: The Christian Revolution and its Fashionable Enemies 2009). Having experienced the freedoms of unconditional love and forgiveness, new beginnings, a unifying and equalizing community, early followers of Christ challenged the existence of the localized gods by stepping toward another, purported to supersede them all, including the political gods--Jesus Christ. And the world has not been the same since.
Of course, Christians are not remotely atheists, yet the above displays the allure of stepping away from what is oppressive and no longer rings true toward that which offers freedom and truth--truth and freedom are comfortable bedfellows.
And while atheism has always enjoyed some representation, I understand that much fuel was added to its flame (and fame) during the French Revolution. The church’s heinous neglect of its call, and instead, its aiding and abetting of the establishment provided much combustible material for an inferno of unbelief, and not only in France either. Citizens sought freedom from an oppressive establishment of which the Church was an enthusiastic participant. Atheism became and still is perceived as a viable solution in response to the misbehaviors, inconsistencies--basically, the sins--of the church. While I am sympathetic with the conclusion of atheism on this basis, it’s not prudent to throw out the babe of theology with the religious bath water.
Subsequent scientific developments appeared to offer their endorsements of atheism, primarily to those subjectively motivated to encourage a fault-line between theism and science (including some misguided theists)--a misperception still lingering today. Nonetheless, theism and science have enjoyed and continue to enjoy a rich relationship: many renowned scientists were and are theists, including Einstein (not a Christian, mind you, nor a believer in a personal God of any sort). And, of course, many renowned scientists are atheists. Science is no respecter nor endorser of worldview assumptions: science can certainly challenge and refine theories, but to suggest that in and of itself it proves God or eradicates God is to stretch, and discredit, the capacities of science.Therefore, “proof,” or lack thereof, of God is determined by perceptions, how evidences are perceived to confirm atheistic or theistic presuppositions.
While what follows is not evidence of a personal or revealed God (in which I do believe), for me, it briefly summarizes the evidence to infer a creator. I do confess to an a priori assumption of God’s existence, which I find a reasonable assumption.
It is self-evident that consciousness precedes organized, developed matter in our entire human experience: every technology, industrial development, agricultural enhancement, architecture, artistic endeavor--in human creation of any sort, a conscious idea precedes the material reality. In considering a natural world of colossally more vast complexity than anything we’ve manufactured, it’s reasonable to conclude a Genius behind it as well. We enjoy and study an intelligible world, a world we can study and investigate with our minds. For me, intelligibility suggests intelligence. Information--including reproducible information--preceded the material that delivered it rather than the other way around.
Dead matter developing into living matter and eventually into conscious, self-aware matter entirely on its own strikes me as an untenable position. Borrowing an illustration from Roy Abraham Varghese: "Think for a minute of a marble table in front of you. Do you think that given a trillion years or infinite time, this table could suddenly or gradually become conscious, aware of its surroundings, aware of its identity the way you are? It is simply inconceivable that this would or could happen. And the same goes for any kind of matter. Once you understand the nature of matter, of mass-energy, you realize that, by its very nature, it could never become ‘aware,’ never ‘think,’ never say ‘I.’ But the atheist position is that, at some point in the history of the universe, the impossible and inconceivable took place" (Varghese and Antony Flew, There Is a God: How the world’s most notorious atheist changed his mind 2007). I do not find it more convincing to simply endlessly add time--or tables--to increase the likelihood of such an occurrence.
As to the notion that increasing scientific advancement clears the air of God, it seems that conclusion confuses agent with mechanism as Dr. John Lennox suggests with a rather simplistic illustration, which I appreciate: Just because I continually learn more and more regarding how my car works, the existence of Henry Ford does not become consequentially questionable. (I'm presently reading Lennox's God's Undertaker: Has Science Buried God? I'm unsure if that analogy appears in this text, however. I know the source is correct, but I'm no longer sure of the article.)
Now, I’m sure atheists would be quick to suggest to me that they find God just as, if not a more, untenable option to the above unlikelihood. That’s fair. I still would suggest that an uncaused God is a more reasonable inference than a uncaused accidentally, incredibly complex, and conscious world.
Yet further, I would suggest that science does not give rise to atheism--something else does. And science does not give rise to theism--something else does. Candor about what motivates our worldview conclusions is healthy for all of us.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Let's be SUBJECTIVE for a minute
Eighth grade was as close to atheism as I ever came. Confirmation was horrible, our class filled with obnoxious, disinterested “potential” Lutherans. Our teacher was an exasperated seminary intern, who I’m sure was questioning his sense of call. I could not see God’s relevance to me or to anyone in my immediate surroundings. My parents made me go. The preceding five siblings did it. Precedence had been set. I went. I hated it.
My parents making me go actually meant my mom made me go. Dad was quite emotionally detached from me, so it was difficult for me to determine his role in my life (Now as an adult, I appreciate my dad's own wounds more). There was an emotional gap, even though dad was physically present.
Into that gap entered Pastor Erickson, my second year confirmation teacher, and a father-like presence who greeted me like he was genuinely glad to see me. He affirmed and encouraged my attempts at answers. He circled our group, checking to see if we had our homework completed. I still remember his pat on my shoulder when I had it done, even if the answers were a bit off. For a girl who could not remember her dad’s touch since her childhood, Pastor’s affirming gesture opened the door of my heart to faith.
Of course, I would not say that the reason I follow Jesus Christ is because of a kind pastor I met almost twenty years ago. Nonetheless, I would say that my worldview had a subjective start. And I do not think it’s an overstatement to suggest that everyone’s worldview has a subjective start.
While we may claim, and like to cling to, objectivity in our worldviews, intellectual knowledge is fired by an emotional spark. Pathos paves the way for logos. Any decent educator understands this. Engagement, establishing of internal motivation, paves the way to understanding.
Therefore, I would encourage you to consider your worldview’s subjective beginnings: Who opened your heart to your present position? What experiences fed (or feed) that belief system? If negative relationships and experiences encouraged you to reject a particular worldview, what view have you developed instead? What relationships and experiences influenced your development of the new view? Perhaps ironically, awareness of these factors can help us to consider our worldviews more objectively.
Indeed, thinking objectively can free us from subjectivity’s stranglehold--our emotions can become traps if we’re unaware of them. However, subjectivity determines the livability of our worldview.
Several years ago in the high school classroom, I had a rather nihilistic TA. He possessed a comedic irony covering an Eeyore-like disposition. Everything was meaningless and futile, but he was alive, so . . . whatever. Concerned a depression was developing in her son, his mother forced him into counseling. Upon my asking how it went, he told me the counselor challenged him to develop “more emotionally healthy beliefs. . . [Insert sigh] . . . Whatever.”
Our worldviews are subjective in their initiations and in their implications. So I ask: What are the implications of your worldview on your sense of self? On your relationships? On your view of the future? On your view of your past experiences? On your daily decisions? In other words, is it livable?
My faith in Jesus Christ certainly does not lack in subjective rationale for me. Of course, my emotions do not always align with my beliefs. But that is the journey--one of greater and greater consistency and wholeness. The sense of being continually unconditionally loved is the most powerful grounding for genuine self-esteem. That validation that this world is broken confirms reality as I experience it: fragments of beauty and wonder exist as well as disconcerting evil. I am part of that beauty and part of that evil, so joy, responsibility, confession, forgiveness, and renewal are all components of meaning for me. Relationships are the most valued engagements in life because others exist in the image of God, so the reality of my relationship with God is played out in my relationships with others. Following Christ also confirms humanity’s seemingly innate teleological orientation--we desire life to head somewhere; we seem to want to grow, to learn, to develop, to mature. Christianity affirms and invites that desire out.
Now, of course, these are not an exhaustive list of the subjective benefits of my following Christ. They are also certainly not objective arguments for the truthfulness of Christianity. My intent was two-fold: to invite consideration of the role of the subjective in worldview development as well as to invite considerations of worldview consequences . . . which are always experienced subjectively.
My parents making me go actually meant my mom made me go. Dad was quite emotionally detached from me, so it was difficult for me to determine his role in my life (Now as an adult, I appreciate my dad's own wounds more). There was an emotional gap, even though dad was physically present.
Into that gap entered Pastor Erickson, my second year confirmation teacher, and a father-like presence who greeted me like he was genuinely glad to see me. He affirmed and encouraged my attempts at answers. He circled our group, checking to see if we had our homework completed. I still remember his pat on my shoulder when I had it done, even if the answers were a bit off. For a girl who could not remember her dad’s touch since her childhood, Pastor’s affirming gesture opened the door of my heart to faith.
Of course, I would not say that the reason I follow Jesus Christ is because of a kind pastor I met almost twenty years ago. Nonetheless, I would say that my worldview had a subjective start. And I do not think it’s an overstatement to suggest that everyone’s worldview has a subjective start.
While we may claim, and like to cling to, objectivity in our worldviews, intellectual knowledge is fired by an emotional spark. Pathos paves the way for logos. Any decent educator understands this. Engagement, establishing of internal motivation, paves the way to understanding.
Therefore, I would encourage you to consider your worldview’s subjective beginnings: Who opened your heart to your present position? What experiences fed (or feed) that belief system? If negative relationships and experiences encouraged you to reject a particular worldview, what view have you developed instead? What relationships and experiences influenced your development of the new view? Perhaps ironically, awareness of these factors can help us to consider our worldviews more objectively.
Indeed, thinking objectively can free us from subjectivity’s stranglehold--our emotions can become traps if we’re unaware of them. However, subjectivity determines the livability of our worldview.
Several years ago in the high school classroom, I had a rather nihilistic TA. He possessed a comedic irony covering an Eeyore-like disposition. Everything was meaningless and futile, but he was alive, so . . . whatever. Concerned a depression was developing in her son, his mother forced him into counseling. Upon my asking how it went, he told me the counselor challenged him to develop “more emotionally healthy beliefs. . . [Insert sigh] . . . Whatever.”
Our worldviews are subjective in their initiations and in their implications. So I ask: What are the implications of your worldview on your sense of self? On your relationships? On your view of the future? On your view of your past experiences? On your daily decisions? In other words, is it livable?
My faith in Jesus Christ certainly does not lack in subjective rationale for me. Of course, my emotions do not always align with my beliefs. But that is the journey--one of greater and greater consistency and wholeness. The sense of being continually unconditionally loved is the most powerful grounding for genuine self-esteem. That validation that this world is broken confirms reality as I experience it: fragments of beauty and wonder exist as well as disconcerting evil. I am part of that beauty and part of that evil, so joy, responsibility, confession, forgiveness, and renewal are all components of meaning for me. Relationships are the most valued engagements in life because others exist in the image of God, so the reality of my relationship with God is played out in my relationships with others. Following Christ also confirms humanity’s seemingly innate teleological orientation--we desire life to head somewhere; we seem to want to grow, to learn, to develop, to mature. Christianity affirms and invites that desire out.
Now, of course, these are not an exhaustive list of the subjective benefits of my following Christ. They are also certainly not objective arguments for the truthfulness of Christianity. My intent was two-fold: to invite consideration of the role of the subjective in worldview development as well as to invite considerations of worldview consequences . . . which are always experienced subjectively.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
Prodigal Diplomacy?
A scattering of high school juniors and seniors gathered with me biweekly five or six years ago in a group called, “Worldview Hub.” Students shared how they would personally address various worldview questions: “Is there a God and/or some sort of spiritual reality beyond or within our world?,” “What’s the purpose of human existence?,” and others of a similar nature. The group devised a covenant wherein participants agreed to hear one another out; then ask clarifying questions within an attitude of respect.
They agreed to avoid what I have termed emphatica, the belief that if one emotionally ejaculates, exaggerates, and gesticulates while sharing their thoughts, somehow their view will be more credible, or if they employ these tactics against another, that person’s view is therefore less credible. Evidences of emphatica are all too frequent. To the credit of these mature seventeen/eighteen-year-olds, they avoided emphatica even though their beliefs and values were heartfelt--as they should be.
I miss that group. Certainly, adults discuss these matters, too. However, "maturity" typically deadens one into a comfortable belief system, either consciously or not. We surround ourselves with our “choir” or “groupthink,” dismiss any genuine consideration of other views, and assume we have adequately addressed the big questions. All that's left is to cruise down our perceptual paths.
Of course, our culture, pluralistic though it may be, encourages this model. If we really discussed answers with one another, challenged one another respectfully, we may offend, claim one thing is true a the expense of another. So we keep our worldviews under wraps or fail to believe them true enough to impact us in any appreciable manner. Therefore, while we may have some impressive diversity in our beliefs, we discuss them--or worse, hold them-- rather superficially. Or we just discuss in groupthink, so they certainly feel true. Or we employ emphatica to shut down those with whom we disagree, thereby furthering our potentially false perceptions under the heat of emotion.
I am hoping Prodigal Diplomacy proves to be a successful exception. To apply diplomacy is to represent a viewpoint in a respectful, conciliatory tone. I hope to represent the worldview components of a Christ follower in a diplomatic fashion. And I will welcome those who wish to challenge my views and/or share their own.
Prodigal reminds me to go the extravagant mile in being diplomatic. The temptation for me will be the other way, to utilize the essentials of emphatica to “win” some argument: sarcasm, condescension, ad hominem, exaggeration, straw man . . . I’m trusting my own title will hold me accountable. I hope it will also hold responders accountable.
And for those familiar, prodigal is a tied to the parable of “The Prodigal Son,” which Jesus shares in Luke, chapter 15. There’s more than just one who’s prodigal in the story, however: of course, the prodigal son wastes his father’s inheritance in wild living; yet another-- the prodigally righteous brother believes he has earned damning rights in relationship to his pathetic brother; and lastly, the prodigal father, extravagant in his love. Frankly, it’s not really clear by the end if either of these brothers ultimately grasps that kind of love. I know the feeling.
Yet, if I can remember that each of us is prodigally loved (in my view), then I believe can be prodigally diplomatic.
They agreed to avoid what I have termed emphatica, the belief that if one emotionally ejaculates, exaggerates, and gesticulates while sharing their thoughts, somehow their view will be more credible, or if they employ these tactics against another, that person’s view is therefore less credible. Evidences of emphatica are all too frequent. To the credit of these mature seventeen/eighteen-year-olds, they avoided emphatica even though their beliefs and values were heartfelt--as they should be.
I miss that group. Certainly, adults discuss these matters, too. However, "maturity" typically deadens one into a comfortable belief system, either consciously or not. We surround ourselves with our “choir” or “groupthink,” dismiss any genuine consideration of other views, and assume we have adequately addressed the big questions. All that's left is to cruise down our perceptual paths.
Of course, our culture, pluralistic though it may be, encourages this model. If we really discussed answers with one another, challenged one another respectfully, we may offend, claim one thing is true a the expense of another. So we keep our worldviews under wraps or fail to believe them true enough to impact us in any appreciable manner. Therefore, while we may have some impressive diversity in our beliefs, we discuss them--or worse, hold them-- rather superficially. Or we just discuss in groupthink, so they certainly feel true. Or we employ emphatica to shut down those with whom we disagree, thereby furthering our potentially false perceptions under the heat of emotion.
I am hoping Prodigal Diplomacy proves to be a successful exception. To apply diplomacy is to represent a viewpoint in a respectful, conciliatory tone. I hope to represent the worldview components of a Christ follower in a diplomatic fashion. And I will welcome those who wish to challenge my views and/or share their own.
Prodigal reminds me to go the extravagant mile in being diplomatic. The temptation for me will be the other way, to utilize the essentials of emphatica to “win” some argument: sarcasm, condescension, ad hominem, exaggeration, straw man . . . I’m trusting my own title will hold me accountable. I hope it will also hold responders accountable.
And for those familiar, prodigal is a tied to the parable of “The Prodigal Son,” which Jesus shares in Luke, chapter 15. There’s more than just one who’s prodigal in the story, however: of course, the prodigal son wastes his father’s inheritance in wild living; yet another-- the prodigally righteous brother believes he has earned damning rights in relationship to his pathetic brother; and lastly, the prodigal father, extravagant in his love. Frankly, it’s not really clear by the end if either of these brothers ultimately grasps that kind of love. I know the feeling.
Yet, if I can remember that each of us is prodigally loved (in my view), then I believe can be prodigally diplomatic.
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