CalvinDude.com

Since the Debunking Atheism folks like to post biography and subjectivism as if it were substantial arguments, I’ve decided to post a quick examination of whether God exists based on events that have occured within the last month in my life.

First, I’m working on a new book.  This one is set partly in Baghdad and partly in Anchorage, AK.  I needed some plot action to occur in one setting while people in the other setting are asleep, but I wanted to keep it all sane so that there are no “time” contradictions in it.  So I checked to see what the time differential between Anchorage and Baghdad.

Turns out it’s exactly 12 hours.  Pretty convenient for an author, eh?

Lesser mortals would have accepted this as verified proof that God exists.  Not I!  See, I knew that Baghdad and Alaska were on opposite sides of the Earth, so I just basically guessed and it coincidentally turned out to be easy to do the math.

But there’s more!  Since part of the action in the book involves bore tides in Anchorage (specifically Turnagain Arm), I contacted the lovely folks up there in the city of Anchorage and asked for a tide chart.  They gave me one.

Now before I got the chart, I had arbitrarily assigned a date and time to the events with the knowledge that I may need to tweak them a lot when I got the accurate information as to when the bore tide would really hit.  But (you guessed it), the arbitrary date and time I chose works perfectly.  I only had to change one part in one chapter by all of an hour!

What’s the big deal with that?  Only this: I live in Colorado.  Nowhere near the ocean.

Oh yeah, and the date that I’m using is in the future.  The near future, but the future nonetheless.

Lesser mortals would say that this constitutes proof that God exists too.  Not I!  Instead, I think that this is more easily explained by the fact that even though I’m nowhere near the ocean and have no idea when the tides wax and wane, my body is still gravitationally linked to the moon, and thus my sub-conscious just “knew” when the tides were, and then when I picked a date in the future, I was able to magically make it work because I could calculate (all in my sub-conscious, of course) the effects of the moon and the tides for a place that I’ve visted once in my entire life nearly 10 years ago, and make it work.

So, what does this say about the existence of God?  Only about as much as this or this or this or….you get the picture.

I find it hillarious when an atheist says:

Christians must believe that God not only inspired men to write the Bible, but also that he inspired those who transcribed it and inspired those who chose which books go in it.

I’m so glad that an atheist is able to let us know what we, as Christians, must believe. Especially if you just saw Steve Hay’s a mere week ago point out:

Indeed, for God to inspire every scribe would blur the distinction between special revelation and ordinary providence, divine speech and human speech.This would defeat the purpose of having revelation in the first place, since it would become impossible to demarcate the line between inspired and uninspired speech, to know when one took up where the other left off.

Are we to suppose that if Bertrand Russell were quoting Scripture to disprove Scripture, God would have to inspire Russell’s citation, so that Russell would be divinely inspired every time he quoted the Bible?

What about a paraphrase or summary? Would that also have to be inspired?

Even before the Fall there was a difference between God speaking and Adam speaking, where one ended while the other began.

So why must we believe that God inspired copyists of Scripture, or those who cannonized Scripture? All that God needed to inspire, according to Christian truth, is the original autographs.

But it’s so much easier to refute someone when you make up what they have to believe….

The following is an excerpt from a book I’m currently working on called The 13th Prime, which may or may not ever be finished since I haven’t decided if I want to keep it yet or not. 

“My point is that everyone misrepresents what the Puritans are. They portray them as a bunch of holier-than-thou self-righteous bigots who went around preaching hell, fire, and damnation. But all they really did was seek to live their lives according to the beliefs they held. They believed that God wanted them to be good people, and they acted accordingly.”

“But you brought up Jonathan Edwards,” Rick said suddenly. “He wrote that sermon. What was it? Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God. An ‘angry’ God, Killen.”

“Yes, but have you ever read that sermon?”

Rick nodded. “I read it in an English class once. I honestly don’t remember much of it other than the metaphor of God holding sinners over the pit of hell much like you would hold a spider over a fire pit.”

“Yes. And for the time, that imagery was needed. But re-read the sermon, Rick. If you do, you’ll find that the focus isn’t on the angry God at all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, let me show you.” Killen got up and searched the shelves until he found a copy of the sermon in a list of American Essays. “Here’s what I mean,” he said. He read from the text: “‘Another thing implied is, that they are liable to fall of themselves, without being thrown down by the hand of another; as he that stands or walks on slippery ground needs nothing but his own weight to throw him down.’”

“I don’t get your point,” Rick said.

“Let me finish. Here: ‘That the reason why they are not fallen already, and do not fall now, is only that God’s appointed time is not come…. The observation from the words that I would now insist upon is this—“There is nothing that keeps wicked men at any one moment out of hell, but the mere pleasure of God.”’”

Rick tried to wrap his head around that. “What do you mean?”

“I mean only this. Today, we treat Edwards as if he taught that God maliciously held sinners out over the pit of hell. But that is not what Edwards said in his sermon. God’s hand was not putting people into danger; God’s hand was keeping people from falling into the pit of hell because if God did not stop them, they would fall in of their own weight!”

Rick felt his mouth go dry. “But…but what about the angry God portion?”

“Yes,” Killen said, “God is angry when there is sin. He hates sin. And yet even while He is angered, He still acts mercifully and that is the point of Edwards’ sermon. God could have let all men fall into the pit of hell, which is exactly where we all want to go anyway; but instead of doing that, He holds us. He suspends us over the pit and gives us time.”

“Time for what?”

“Maybe to have a change of heart?” Killen suggested.

“But what about those who don’t want to change their hearts?” Rick meant it as a sneer, but Killen smiled.

“Those who don’t want to change their hearts are those who want to fall into the pit,” he said. “Don’t you think they’d be rather upset that God was keeping them from their destination? Who do you think they’d be mad at?”

John also responded to this post, and I want to highlight it because of how important this topic is.

John says: “For you, morality is grounded in God’s nature, not in his commands. But this is a difference that makes no difference.”

Actually, it does make a difference.  Your argument was that God’s commands are arbitrary (arbitrary implying they occur for no reason).  God’s commands are based on His nature, thus they have a reason and are not arbitrary.

John wrote: “God cannot be known to be good here either, without a standard of goodness that shows he is good.”

But this, of course, ignores the whole point that I made about it being a definition.

Let’s look at it this way.  John says there must be a standard of goodness that shows God is good.  Let us call that standard X.

How do we know that X is good?

It doesn’t matter what standard you pick, at some point you get to the level of definition.  Something is good because it is what defines good.

God is good because God defines good.  He does not have to conform to some higher standard–He is the higher standard.

John wrote: “Furthermore, we usually call someone good when they make good choices.”

But this presupposes that we already know what is good.  How can we know if someone makes “good choices” unless we know what is good?  The reason that we can say that people who make good decisions are good (assuming that’s accurate) is because there is a standard by which we can compare those people.

Again, God is the standard.  He is the definition of what is good.

John says: “So an additional question here is whether or not God has ever made any good choices.”

No it’s not, because God’s choices are irrelevant to the issue of whether or not He is the definition of good.  Thus, the rest of John’s argument is non sequitur too.

John concludes: “Again, all we can say is that God is….well….God, and his commands are….well….his commands.”

Yes, indeed.  God is God, and His commands are His commands.  God is the standard of what is good.  So when He commands something, what He commands is good.  If we conform to that, we are labeled good.  If we do not, we are labeled evil.  This is definitional.  This is how it works.

Again, it’s like me saying “Wavelength X is brown.”  If Wavelength Y = Wavelength X, then Y is brown.  Otherwise it is not.  This is simple definition.

Perhaps John doesn’t like the term “good” to be defined as God’s nature.  Fine, he can establish his own definition and then prove why God must obey that definition.  He has yet to do this.

John Loftus responded to this previous post by stating that his presuppositions are fewer than mine, and thus his position is better.  His exact words:

[T]he fewer things we must presuppose, then the more likely that accurately describes our human condition, based upon the principle of parsimony.

This ought to work well in the court of law.

“Your honor, it takes fewer presuppositions to suppose that the victim just died than it is to suppose that my client actively killed him; therefore, on the basis of parsimony, my client is innocent.”

Unfortunately, fewer isn’t better.  Let’s get to as few presuppositions as possible:

Nothing physically exists, I just imagine it.

That’s far fewer presuppositions than to suppose that matter exists, that it is arranged as we view it, that we actually exist consciously, etc.

But John would obviously disagree with this conclusion.

Fewer isn’t better if it can’t explain something.  John’s “fewer” atheistic presuppositions cannot explain morality and thus fewer is not better.  John’s presuppositions must be able to actually work before he can claim we need to go with the argument with fewest presuppositions.

I’ll note that John has never once explained how his morality flows from his presuppositions, let alone how his logic does.  I do give him credit for one thing though–it does appear he is at least trying to find his presuppositions now.

While I really enjoy watching 24, I have to wonder why the season finale warranted an Associated Press story, as if it were a real news event.  Perhaps it was just practice for the next story they make up….

but John Loftus is getting dangerously close to flirting with presuppositionalism!.

That’s right, with comments like: “”Plus, when it comes to ‘initial plausibility,’ we’re talking about metaphysical issues with background and control beliefs that go with them, on both sides” and “Convincing someone to believe something different and to see the unreasonableness of their position contains an irreducible personal element to it, not reduceable to logic itself” and “As I said, some informal fallacies are merely anomalies to another world-view perspective, and that’s all”

Yes, this background stuff, this “irreducible personal element”–those are our presuppositions, the unproven (indeed, in properly basic presuppositions, unprovable) axioms that someone must assume in order to begin thinking in the first place.

Taken from The Outlaw (C) 2005 by Peter Pike, pp. 247-251, used by permission:

The ocean waves crashed loudly in the distance as Sam sat down on his usual spot on the beach. He felt the warm sun on his face and relaxed in the salty sea breeze. After a moment, the familiar sounds of Larry’s footfalls reached his ears.“How are you doin’, Lar?” Sam asked casually. His nonchalance hid his real intentions for that conversation.

“Not bad, Sam.” The man sat beside him and exhaled sarcastically: “I love the smell of sea weed in the morning.”

“Yeah. And this is a good spot for it, since the tides come in to within just a few feet of us.”

“Yup. The tides are very beneficial to us.”

“So, Lar, why do you suppose the tides are they way they are?”

Larry snorted. “You’re not going to start with the moon fairy-tale are you?”

“It’s not a fairy-tale,” Sam responded. “The existence of the moon perfectly explains why tides exist.”

“There is no reason to assume that the moon exists,” Larry nearly shouted. “You only have that stupid Braille Book that tells you so! Well, if the moon exists why can’t I feel it, or hear it, or smell it, or taste it? Huh? I reach up as high as I can, but I don’t feel the moon! How convenient that it’s located so far away, huh?”

“The moon is beyond our senses, but that doesn’t mean it’s not real.”

“If I can’t experience it, then I have no reason to believe it exists.”

“How do you explain the tides then?”

“The tides exist because it is the nature of the ocean to cause tides.”

“What?” Sam was flabbergasted. “You’re just asserting that with no proof! Demonstrate how the ocean causes the tides!”

“Go to any ocean and put a boat out just off the shore with a rope tied to the beach. You will notice that the boat does not move, but it will be in water during high tide and on dry land during low tide. The ocean causes the tides.”

“How?”

“It doesn’t matter how. We can’t go and assume the existence of some magical moon that we cannot experience!”

“So you’re just an empiricist, trusting only in your own four senses. How do you know that they give you all the necessary information pertaining to reality?”

“Because I have no reason not to accept it!”

“You have the tides!” Sam exclaimed. “You can’t explain them outside of just asserting that it must be the nature of the ocean.”

“What is more reasonable?” Larry asked. “A belief in a moon that we have no empirical evidence for, or the belief that the ocean is inherently given to tides?”

“What is more reasonable?” Sam countered. “A belief in something that transcends our experience, but which is able to actually explain the tides, or the belief that the ocean just spontaneously, for no reason, gives rise to tides?”

“Bah,” Larry said. “It’s not like belief in the moon is necessary for anything! We can cross the ocean and predict the tides, all without resorting to some silly notion that the moon exists.”

“But if the moon exists, would it not give rise to the nature of the tides the way they are? You are therefore reading into your conclusion the impossibility of the moon’s existence without considering the important issues! What if, as the Braille Book says, there is such a thing as vision?”

“Vision!” Larry nearly spat in disgust. “I don’t hear vision. I don’t smell vision. I don’t taste vision. I don’t even feel vision! Why should I accept that vision exists? There is no empirical reason to accept vision!”

“There is no empirical reason to accept that it cannot exist either. You are assuming since you don’t experience it that such a thing is impossible, but that is the most naïve statement one could make! How do you know that your four senses experience the sum total of all reality? What if there’s something beyond it?”

“I have no reason to accept any thing else.”

“That’s because the only thing you’ll accept as ‘reason’ is that which doesn’t go beyond what you already assume to be true! If you can’t taste it, or hear it, or feel it, or smell it, then it’s not real, period! But what if your entire worldview is wrong?”

“I have no reason to think it is.”

“But only because you already assume it’s correct! If you take my worldview, that the Braille Book is accurate and such things as vision and the moon exist, then reality is still explained perfectly by it—in fact, even more fully explained! Your worldview cannot explain anything beyond what you experience. Tell me, Lar, how do you know that the tides are universal?”

“Because they’re everywhere the ocean is.”

“But you only know that which you have personally experienced. You do not know that tides exist in places you’re not at, or haven’t been. You just assume that it will be so because it has been wherever you tested it before.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“That makes it all relative! Your argument for it is that you experienced it—a relativistic notion—therefore, it must be so everywhere. My argument is that the moon exists objectively, even though we can’t hear it, smell it, taste it, or feel it; and therefore no matter where you go, the tides will be there! My view is objective—the tides do not depend on what I experience, they depend on whether or not the moon exists. The fact that it does guarantees that wherever I go on the ocean, the tides will be. Your view has no such guarantee. Who has more certainty in his position?”

“I have certainty! The ocean causes the tides, therefore wherever there is the ocean, the tides will be too!”

“But you have no ‘reason’ to assert that the ocean causes the tides,” Sam countered wryly. “You cannot hear the ocean causing the tides. You cannot smell the ocean causing tides. You can’t feel it, or taste it causing tides. You only say that the ocean causes the tides because you need something to explain why the tides exist, so you manufacture the evidence for it! You have no empirical reason to accept that the oceans cause the tides, and therefore you refute your own position! You have to accept it using more faith that I have to in my position!”

“Well, obviously not you since you believe in a fairy-tale!” Larry shouted before walking off and clicking his tongue at the lunatic believer on the beach…

John Loftus wants me to address the Euthyphro Dilemma.  So I figure I’ll go ahead and do that. For a full definition of the Euthyphro Dilemma, click here.

The dilemma is a “problem” for divine command theorists, supposedly.  Let’s examine it in detail.  Let’s begin simply:

1. “Good” acts are good because they are willed by God.

2. God could have willed otherwise.

3. Therefore, “Good” is an arbitrary decree of God and we do not need to follow it.

But of course 3 does not follow.  For that matter, 2 doesn’t either.

When I say that God’s commands determine morality, that does not mean God’s commands are an ad hoc arbitrary set of decrees.  They could theoretically be so, but they are not in actually because God commands based on His nature.

God’s nature is a part of who He is.  It is an attribute of God, just as it is an attribute of God to say that He is omnipresent.

If God’s commands are based on His nature (which means His will is based on His nature) then they are not arbitrary commands, but instead a reflection of Who God is.

The argument against this is: “If morally good acts are morally good because they are willed by God, then there is no reason either to care about God’s moral goodness or to worship him.”  But this likewise does not follow.  There most certainly is reason to care about God’s moral goodness and to worship Him–God is the one who made the rules; He Himself is the reason to care and worship Him.

The fallacy that the non-believer falls into at this point is the fallacy of trying to make mankind equal with God.  God is supreme to man, though, in every way possible.  God is omnipotent–our power is limited; God is omnipresent–our location is localized; God is omniscient–we know only in part; God can set morally good standards–we must follow them.

When we worship God, we are recognizing His supreme value.  We recognize that the only reason we have value is because God values us.  We acknowledge that God is Creator and Sovereign over all things, including the boundaries of what behavior we should or should not engage in.

Atheists don’t like to hear this.  From the beginning, sin has always been an attempt on man’s part to usurp God. (The serpent, after all, tempted Adam and Eve with the promise: “you shall be as gods.”)  Part of our usurption of God’s authority is our delusion of thinking that we can come up with better moral standards than God.  It is only that kind of thinking that can be so audatious as to say, “If God’s commands are arbitrary, we don’t have to obey them.”

This, naturally, presupposes that “arbitrary commands do not need to be followed.”  But how does the atheist know this?  The atheist is assuming a morality–that one does not need to follow arbitrary commands–and then condemning the position of the divine theorist, all the while ignoring the fact that the divine theory is consistent within itself and that it is only when one imports an alien morality that one can claim “contradiction.”

Now, supposedly, the divine command theory suffers from the “emptiness” problem when we look at the above.  The atheist will claim that saying “God is good” when something is good only because God commands it is nothing more than an empty tautology.  “God is good” is therefore true, but trivially pointless.

But this ignores the fact that the statement “God is good” points to an object–God Himself.  It is the case that this functions as a tautology, but it is one of definition.  That is, we are saying God is the standard of goodness; thus if one is going to define goodness, one points to God.  If this is “empty” then all definitions are empty.

If I said, “The ball is brown” then I am referencing the concept of ”browness.”  The concept of “brown” is defined as specific wavelengths of light (for simplicity, wavelength X).  Thus if I have wavelength Y and wish to determine if it is “brown”, I compare it to wavelength X.  If they are the same, then I say wavelength Y is “brown”; if it is different it is not “brown.”  So thus I say:

Wavelength X is brown.

The atheist would say, “That is an empty tautology and is meaningless.”

But it is not.  Likewise, saying “God is good” is not meaningless because God exists and we can compare our behavior to what He says is good.  He is the standard, and since He is not empty the phrase “God is good” is not empty.

The atheist will then try the “abhorrent comands” falacy.  But this falacy is blatantly absurd since it obviously imports a morality not found in the concepts of divine command theory and then pretends that divine command theory is contradictory.  If divine command theory is correct, though, none of the commands of God are “abhorrent” even if we think they are.

Thus, we see that the arguments against divine command theory rely on presuppositions not found in divine command theory.  It remains internally consistent, even if it contradicts an external thought.  As such, the atheist must prove his presuppositions correct in order to show how divine command theory fails.

If you read the comments to the previous post you will see that Daniel Morgan is interested in looking at some of the issues that are actually important.

Daniel wrote:

I have no doubt that evolution has produced in us empathetic devices, because animals display empathy just as we do. Furthermore, evolution has produced in us a degree of consciousness of the pain of others that these very mechanisms are the “conviction meters” that we so often talked about as Christians.

This demonstrates for us Daniel’s presuppositon regarding morality.  His presupposition may be summed up:

Morality is a function of evolution.

Animals feel empathy.

Humans (being animals) likewise feel empathy.

Humans can recognize pain not only in themselves but in others too.

Therefore, humans consider actions that cause pain to be wrong.

Naturally, I disagree with this presupposition.  However, before we address it, let me put mine forth.

The God of the Christian religion exists.

He has given certain laws that His created beings ought to obey.

These laws are based on His nature (thus they are not arbitrary, but they are likewise not based on something higher than God).

People who obey God’s laws are “righteous.”

People who disobey God’s laws are “unrighteous.”

(Note: these are not properly basic presuppositions, as certain points in them depend on further presuppositions; however for the sake of this argument it is sufficient to start with these as if they were both basic presuppositions.) 

Now let us look at two specific moral concepts here.  The first moral concept: Murder is wrong.  The second is different although similar: God’s allowing a murder to occur is wrong.  I, of course, agree with the first but reject the second; based on his comments, I assume that Daniel agrees with both of the above moral concepts.

So: Murder is wrong.

My view has a very easy way to hold that moral statement.  The Bible says: “You shall not murder” in the Ten Commandments.  That suffices for the Christian, but the Bible also further explains why the command is in effect: because humans are created in the image of God.

Thus we can see that the moral idea: “Murder is wrong” is consistent with the Christian presuppositions that I have set forth.

Likewise, the second moral point is shown to be contrary to the Christian presuppositions because 1) God’s law is for man, not God and thus God is not under the same commands that He gives us; 2) God is the potter and we are the clay, and thus He has the right as creator to determine the length of our lives; 3) in the case of murder, God is not the active participant anyway (rather other people engage in the act of murder, God is simply allowing the action to occur).

So accepting the first moral idea and rejecting the second definitely fits with my Christian presuppositions.  Thus, holding my presuppositions, I act consistent in making my claims that murder is wrong but it is not wrong for God to allow murders to occur.

What, then, if we look at Daniel’s presuppositions.  Let’s start with the first one: Murder is wrong.  Is this consistent with Daniel’s beliefs.

We see in Daniel’s system that pain is the determining factor in morality.  Thus, we see immediately that it would not be wrong for someone to cause a painless death.

Daniel may immediately argue that such a death is not painless to the loved ones of the one who dies.  But we are left with the possibility that there is someone who has no loved ones (e.g. someone who is the sole survivor in his family, etc.).  Thus, in his case, it is not wrong for murder to occur.

But there is something more fundamental to consider.  Life itself is painful.  People stub their toes; people lose their loved ones to natural death; people get old and their joints ache. But in death, no one feels any pain at all.  Therefore, death ought to be preferable to life in a system of morality based on pain avoidance, and murder can be viewed as a mercy instead of a crime.

In fact, the best way to avoid pain for any creature is to simply destroy all life.  So, blowing up the entire Earth would be the greatest act of mercy, especially if it could be done instantaneously so no one felt pain in the process.

This idea is of course extreme–yet it is perfectly consistent with Daniel’s presuppositions regarding morality.  Thus, the concept of “Murder is wrong” does not follow from his presuppositions, for his presuppositions could just as easily justify the murder of everyone.

Interestingly enough, it is possible that his presuppositions would result in God being condemned for allowing some murders, but only for those people who end up in hell.  In other words, God would be perfectly just in allowing the murder of individuals who end up in heaven for they would no longer experience pain.

The discussion of hell is, of course, a different topic, but for this argument I’ll grant that the atheist’s mischaracterization of it as God’s torture room as accurate.  We still see that God is not unjust for allowing some murders since not everyone goes to hell, even if He is unjust in allowing other murders since some do go to hell.

Therefore, it is not the case that all murders are wrong of God to allow.  We therefore see that the moral concepts that “Murder is wrong” and “God’s allowing murders to occur is wrong” are both unsupported as universal claims.  Daniel’s presuppositions do not allow these statements to be taken universally.  There are some murders that would not be wrong, and there are some murders that God allows that would not be wrong either.

Daniel’s presuppositions, therefore, presuppose another hidden presupposition in order to be consistent.  Daniel seems to recognize this, however, since he mentions: “I myself tend to disbelieve all claims of ‘absolute, universal’ anything…”  The problem is that if he is not arguing for an absolute, universal morality he must demonstrate how his morality applies to God.  In other words, if it is not universal then there must be a reason why God would need to follow it.  Otherwise, the entire argument is moot.

Finally, Daniel points out:

The real problem I see with nearly all of your arguments is that if you base your argument of morality upon divine command theory, we beg the question of knowing what God has commanded. In presupposing the truth of the Bible, you simply avoid this problem all together.

This is true.  Presupposing the Bible true does avoid the problem.

The real problem is not that there is a presupposition, though.  All arguments must at some point become circular.  They all rely on their unproven axioms that people take for granted.  Even the laws of logic recognize this.  You can’t get more circular than the Law of Identity: A is A.

But naturally people are able to presuppose something contradictory to what another person presupposes.  This is why people disagree.  How, then, do we determine which presuppositions are correct?

The only real way is by the internal critique of those views.  Are your beliefs consistent with your presuppositions.  If so, you have no reason to reject your presuppositions; if they do, you must either modify your beliefs or modify your presuppositions.

Thus, my disagreement with atheism is fundamentally due to my presuppositions.  My presuppositions are, as far as I can tell, consistent.  But even if they ultimately are not consistent at some point, I know for a fact that atheism does not have beliefs consistent with atheistic presuppositions.  So even if at some point I abandon Christianity, I know it is impossible for me to become an atheist since that would require me to accept inconsistency as truth.