The Goal of Relative Timelessness: Have My Cake--Eat It Too

Just finished Alan Padgett's chapter in Ganssle's edited work, God and Time. The book describes four different views on this relationship, with contributions from Paul Helm (Augustinian), William Lane Craig, Alan Padgett, and Nicholas Wolterstorff. I bought the book largely for Nicholas Wolterstorff's chapter on "Unqualified Divine Temporality." Wolterstorff defends what is, largely, my view on God and time. His chapter was good, no doubt. For the most part, I related to what he was saying the best. However, it was Padgett's chapter that, I think, really went the furthest in attacking a strictly atemporal view of God.

Padgett really makes the distinction between two extremes: everlasting eternity (temporal eternity), and timeless eternity (atemporal). With a very short section on what he sees as the weaknesses of the former, he spends many pages taking apart the latter. At the center of his complaints about atemporality are its problems with coherence. It is not, to Padgett, that the atemporal model is, in itself, a completely incoherent view. "The main objection [Padgett has] to the timeless model is simply stated: It is true only if the stasis theory of time is true. Since the stasis theory of time is false, we should reject the timeless view because we should, whenever possible, bring coherence to theology." (GT, 95)

Padgett goes on to make a very good argument for the "process" view of time over the stasis view. According to process theories,"temporal passage is a real part of the physical universe" while stasis theories "deny the reality of temporal passage."(96) He insist that "even a timeless God must await the present moment to act on really existing (present) things, if the process theory of time is true."(97) In fact, Padgett even seems to admit the concept of real change in the person of God, something classical theology works very hard to deny--yet clearly contradicts scripture.

Overall, I like Padgett's approach to atemporality. However, I found him a little frustrating, and here's why: he insists that atemporality is necessary for a coherent theology, but still tries to bring stasis theory into theology in the back door. In his section "Eternity as Relative Timelessness," having argued brilliantly against atemporality, he turns around and affirms a "God outside of time" mentality. Distinguishing between "pure duration" and temporality within created space-time ("measured time"). His reasoning, God has created space-time and so, must transcend it. His transcendence over time must be such that even his own time (God's time--pre-created space-time) must be ontologically dependent on him. But my question is, "why?"

It seems to me that we are sometimes too worked up about the transcendence of God. The notion that God created or is necessary to his own temporal (or atemporal) existence seems silly to me. What is wrong with stating that God has a nature, whether it is temporal or eternal? Is there something wrong with God if he doesn't transcend his own nature?

Scripture speaks of God's inability to lie. Does this mean he doesn't transcend truth? He cannot be tempted, either. There is nothing wrong with stating that God has a nature. I happen to think his nature is temporal, so that his temporality is not something he must transcend. It simply is what he is.

Just a short note on Padgett's chapter. Overall, it is good, but in the end he moves to atemporality in order to protect God's "Lordship over time." But I think this is unnecessary.

A Boydian Response to the Bridge Tragedy

In several of my posts, I've discussed the topic of God's will and attempts to: interpret how events fit in God's will, discern what God's will is, and explain why God allows bad events to occur. I have taken the position of an open universe, meaning that God simply created a system in which people (and angels) can choose wrong and events like this can happen. This system means that sometimes tragedies will occur, disease will attack, and accidents will happen. It means God has created a system in which the agents of that system have some control over what happens. It also means that God does not control every event, but interacts with that system dynamically. There is reaction with God--and not every event fits into his cosmic plan. Sometimes what God wants to happen doesn't happen.

On Greg Boyd's blog, Greg posted a response to an Augustinian preacher who attempted to rationalize the bridge collapse in Minnesota in light of God's purpose in the event. As Greg usually does, I think he nailed the response perfectly. Read his blog entry here.

Greg Boyd's Spiritual Warfare Q&A

Greetings friends. This post is just a quick one. I want to share a message by Greg Boyd and Paul Eddy. It is actually a 2 hour Q&A session on spiritual warfare. In it they touch on certainty, openness, the will of God, sin, Christianity and the political spectrum, and many other topics. They come to a lot of the conclusions I've come to and published on this blog. And, since we all have a tendency to promote who we agree with, I think the whole thing is definitely a stroke of brilliance.

You can find Greg Boyd's podcasts by searching for "Woodland Hills Church Sermon Podcasts" in iTunes or by clicking Greg's name.

You can also go to Greg's website and download a non-iTunes version. Either way, the message you want is "Spiritual Warfare Q&A."

Why It Doesn't Matter to Christians if the Government Sanctions Homosexual Marriages

OK, the title is over the top, I know. But I want it to catch your attention. Let me begin by saying that I am a committed Christian and that my view of homosexuality itself is in line with that of most conservative evangelicals. The Bible is pretty clear that homosexual acts are sinful. Though I think most Christians really misunderstand homosexuality and underestimate its roots, I can't say I approve of it as a legitimate alternative lifestyle.

That being said, I have to admit that the whole legal battle to keep marriage between a man and a woman does not interest me in the slightest. Here are two reasons why:

1. Those concerned have a tendency to say that allowing homosexuals to marry one another will "destroy the sanctity of marriage." Because marriage has traditionally been seen as heterosexual only, giving legal sanction to same-sex marriage will set America on a slippery slope. If the government sanctions gay marriage, before long polygamy and bestial marriages will follow. And Christians all over are worried sick that America will take one step further from God (as if it is currently close to God). But does it follow that allowing homosexuals to have a legal union similar to marriage (even called marriage) removes the God-ordained sanctity of marriage? I don't think so.

When I was a child, we often played a game called "house." Most of us have done it. You get together with your friends, someone acts like a mommy, someone else like a daddy, you line up some teddy bears as "the kids," and have tea. "Mommy" and "daddy" call each other "dear" and "honey." If they are particularly adventurous, mommy and daddy may pretend to kiss each other when daddy or mommy leaves for work. "House" is a game played by children in which they mimic the actions of their parents, playing a game about marriage. It's pretty innocent and normal. In the game, however, the children refer to themselves as "married." They pretend to be "married." They even refer to themselves as "husband" and '"wife." Yet, the sanctity of marriage is generally considered intact throughout the charade.

Of course, there is a difference. The government does not sanction "playing house." Children who pretend to be married to not have legal partnership as spouses. They do not actually act as beneficiaries of life-insurance policies. They are not given legal, married status. But here is why I think they are no different:

If marriage has sanctity, it has inherent sanctity. The ground given by Christians is that God created and ordained marriage, therefore it has a special place and role. I think they are right about that. I even think they are right that marriage is designed by God to be between a man and a woman. In fact, I believe it so firmly that I don't think someone who does it wrong can remove that sanctity. If two children pretend to be married as a game, they don't impugn the sanctity of marriage. They're just playing a game. In the same way, if two men decide they love each other and want to get "married," does what they are doing (which isn't marriage as defined by scripture anyhow) really remove the sanctity of marriage? If someone else comes along and says, "I recognize this as a legal union," does it remove it then? No. It doesn't. God planted its sanctity. It cannot be removed just because people do it wrongly. If it could, those of us who have done heterosexual marriage so poorly would already have ruined it.

Let me use another metaphor. Say all of America recognizes the game we've come to know as golf. There is usually a course involved, people use little white balls and expensive clubs, and you try to hit the ball into the cup in as few strokes as possible. But, say a small group of people have decided that they want to play golf by using small wooden mallets to hit larger wooden balls across the lawn through metal wickets (croquet). They begin to petition the government to get croquet recognized as a legal form of the game "golf." They want recognition that those already playing croquet, have, in fact, all along been playing "golf." Say, then, that the government sees no problem with this and begins to consider sanctioning croquet as golf.

Now, of course, avid golfers all over the country are furious. The golfer's rulebook clearly defines what golf is, and it is not croquet! Some even say that no respectable golfer in his right mind would even consider touching a croquet mallet, much less calling that silly game "golf." They argue that, changing the name of croquet to "golf" will impugn the inherent dignity and beauty of golf.

Let's say that the duffers lose, and those with the mallets are now golfers. Now what? What happens? Well, you have a lot of people playing golf as it was. You also have a lot of people playing the game formerly known as croquet. Have the games changed? No. Just the names. Are croquet players actually playing golf? Only in name. They still aren't doing the real thing. They've just changed the vocabulary. Golf itself hasn't changed at all. It's just that some people are now more easily able to live in their fantasy. But they'll never win the Masters! And, most likely, real golfers will just start calling golf something else (like American golf--remember the same thing happened with football when Americans started calling their game the same thing the rest of the world calls "soccer!").

If the government gives homosexual couples the legal right to refer to themselves as "married" it doesn't actually change marriage. Marriage as ordained by God is intact. It always will be. Marriage doesn't need our protection to survive. We, as individuals, need to use it correctly to survive. And this requires individual commitments. So what if the government decides to redefine marriage? God hasn't. But the interesting thing is, he doesn't ever stop people from sinning. He only warns them not to. So, two men now think they are married and receive legal benefits? Is their relationship any less sinful than before? No. Is marriage, in God's eyes, any different? No. Does it matter that they can collect life insurance on one another now? I don't see why. Why should I care who is the beneficiary on their life insurance policies? I'm concerned, primarily, with the condition of their souls, not their work benefits.

That's reason one.

2. I used to think differently about this. But when did Jesus tell us to legislate Christianity? It just seems odd to me that we expect a nation that is so far from God (and all nations as nations are far from him) to want to live by his rules. Sinners sin. Why should I expect them not to? Why do we expect people who aren't Christians to behave as if they were? Is that the way Jesus approached sin?

Look at it this way. God ordained the sexual relationship between a man and a woman, within marriage. Yet, since time began people have been getting it wrong. Throughout history there has been adultery and prostitution (isn't it called the oldest profession?). Yet, when Jesus (God in flesh) walked on this earth, he didn't lobby the Roman government to make adultery illegal! He didn't even try to illegalize prostitution (which we have done). In fact, when Jesus did find someone about to be stoned for adultery (within Jewish law), what did he do? He rescued her from that fate and told her to stop sinning.

Jesus met sin differently than contemporary American Christians want to. We want the government to enforce Christian values on people who aren't Christians. But Jesus met sin by living among sinners and offering them love, hope, and a way out of the problems caused by their sins. Aren't we actually doing the opposite of early Christianity in demanding that the world bend to make us more comfortable?

Greg Boyd's book The Myth of a Christian Nation has been helpful to me in these thoughts. I've been thinking this way for some time, but he's given me some fuel. His idea is that we aren't called to legislate Christianity from the top down, but to evangelize from the bottom up. His point is that, even if we win the battles for prayer in school, heterosexual marriage, and abortion (which we won't), we aren't doing the work of the kingdom.(pp.114-115) Let me add to his point. Jesus said, "My kingdom is not of this world, or else my servants would fight." Perhaps today he'd say, "or else my servants would lobby." Really, when we concentrate on keeping Christian values as the legal norm, we aren't thinking of others. We're thinking of ourselves. We're trying to keep America comfortable for us. But that's not the proper mindset for Christians. First century Christians weren't about governmental reform. They were about a counter-cultural phenomenon known as Jesus Christ. They preached love, acceptance, and repentance. Why aren't we?

So, let them get "married." It doesn't affect my marriage. And, more importantly, it doesn't change my mission at all.

Post-post: Having read a little further in Boyd's book, I stumbled across some pages in which he deals specifically with this (really!). I thought it prudent to include a few quotes:

"Do evangelicals fear gay marriage in particular because the Bible is much more clear about the wrongfulness of gay marriage than it is about the wrongfulness of divorce and remarriage? No, for the Bible actually says a good deal more against divorce and remarriage than it does against monogomous gay relationships. Do they go after this particular sin because the research shows that gay marriage is more damaging to society than divorce and remarriage? It seems not, for while one might grant that neither is ideal, there's no clear evidence that the former is socially more harmful than the latter--especially given the fact that divorce and remarriage is far more widespread than gay marriage. But in any case, this point is completely irrelevant since the present issue isn't over gay unions. The issue is only over whether these unions should be called 'marriages.' To the best of my knowledge, no one has shown that the social welfare of our nation is significantly harmed by what monogamous gay unions are called." (Myth of a Christian Nation, 137)

"We evangelicals may be divorced and remarried several times; we may be as greedy and as unconcerned about the poor and as gluttonous as others in our culture; we may be as prone to gossip and slander and as blindly prejudiced as others in our culture; we may be more self-righteous and as rude as others in our culture--we may even lack love more than others in the culture. These sins are among the most frequently mentioned sins in the Bible. But at least we're not gay!" (Boyd, 137-8)

"To be clear, I'm not suggesting that the church should publicly take a stand for gay marriage, nor am I trying to influence how evangelicals vote. Some may feel it best for society to outlaw gay marriages--others to allow it. In a democracy you're asked to give your opinion on such matters, so give it according to your conscience. I'm simply maintaining that, in our role as public representatives of the Kingdom of God, Christians should stick to replicating Calvary toward gay people (as toward all people), and trust that their loving service will do more to transform people than laws ever could. [paragraph break] If your particular burden is to free people from their homosexuality, then go aobut it in a Calvary-like fashion. Commit to suspending judgment, start befriending gays, and then serve them in love--for years. Perhaps your loving kindness will lead some of them to faith and open doors for dialogue as God gently works in their lives--just as he works in yours. You may eventually develop a trusting, committed relationship in which you are invited to address issues in a gay person's life as you invite them to address issues in your life, for God uses relationships like this to lead us all into greater conformity to Jesus Christ." (Boyd, 138-9)

Talking Points: Mercy and Pacifism

No one single topic for this post. I want to throw a couple of ideas out there for the minds on my list to comment on.

First, I'm still finishing up Pinnock's A Wideness in God's Mercy, but I'm moving it into Theo's Picks because I think it is simply a must-read. His concept of an optimistic soteriology is refreshing. This is a thoughtful available light theology with a contemporary pragmatic value. It's not always comfortable, but it is a real shift in thinking. It is a hopeful theism.

Second, I want to throw out a couple of ideas I've had in recent discussions about pacifism. I've just started Myth of a Christian Nation so I haven't run across any of Boyd's ideas about pacifism, but I've heard a few of them. Also, several of my closest friends hold to some form of Christian pacifism, and I want to throw out a few questions for discussion.

Generally, the argument is something like this: The thrust of the teaching of Christ on violence is decidedly non-violent. Therefore, though governments do bear the sword for a defensive and punitive purpose, the position of the Christian should be a non-violent one.

For now, I want to avoid the topic of war. I think it is far too broad to cover in a forum like this. There are too many different types of wars and different motives to treat it fairly. Also, since our country is at war, and there are so many different feelings and thoughts on this war, I fear it is difficult for us to be objective.

However, on the topic of personal protection, I think there is some room for discussion. Our friends Scott and Anna stopped by tonight and we touched on the subject (before a hungry baby interrupted our discussion). The question I think we were approaching was, "Is it ever justified to attack an intruder (or even to kill) in defense of my family?" Or are we to "turn the other cheek?"

A few discussion points:

1. It is interesting to me that Jesus, while telling us to love our enemies in Mt 5:43-48 and to not resist an evildoer and to turn the other cheek in verses 39 and 40 is the same Lord who told his disciples to buy a sword just before he died (Lk 22:35-38). Presumably, he knew about Peter's sword well before Peter struck the soldier's ear in Gethsemane! Why does he allow swords to be carried by his disciples? Perhaps the injunctions to pacifism in Matthew 5 should be understood in the context of revenge for wrongdoing, not protection from it. That is certainly the thrust of verses 37 ff. I can only turn the other cheek after the first one has been struck. Perhaps this is another exaggeration to make a point--just as the command to hate our mother and father is really a command to love Jesus more, perhaps "turning the other cheek" is merely an injunction to avoid exacting revenge.
2. It seems to me that Jesus tells me to turn my cheek when someone wants to hurt me--but does he command me to turn my daughter's cheek when someone wants to hurt her? If an intruder hurts me and takes my belongings, that is one thing. But should I stand buy and allow my wife, daughter, or son to undergo rape because of this command? Whose cheek do I have the right to turn anyhow? Does the injunction apply to someone who desires to harm my family because of some sick, perverted fetish? Does Jesus command to give someone who takes my cloak my tunic also mean that if someone takes my wife I should also give him my daughter? I cannot imagine it.
3. In the case of rape, if the injunction to turn the other cheek applies, what of the command to sexual purity? Isn't a person facing rape justified in fighting back from the perspective of attempting to obey the command to sexual purity?

These are just a few thoughts. Ecclesiastes 3:3 states that there is a time to kill and a time to heal. Perhaps Jesus' teachings on pacifism need to be understood in the context of the rest of scripture. Perhaps there is a time when it is appropriate to "turn the other cheek" and a time when it is appropriate to stand up to an attacker. Does my love for my family--and for my community--not warrant my desire to protect the innocent from the criminal?

Was Pelagius Right and, If So, Is Christ's Death Unnecessary?

I'm reading Clark Pinnock, A Wideness in God's Mercy, and it is as fascinating as it is encouraging. Pinnock is trying to find a balance between a pessimistic soteriological stance, in which very few are saved, and Universalism--in which all people are saved. Both extremes are unacceptable, in his view. The discussion attempts to find an optimistic theology of salvation centered around the concept of the "pious pagans" of scripture like Job, Melchizedek, Cornelius, etc. ("pious pagans" is my paraphrase).

In the early chapters of the book, he finds fault with Augustine (rightly) for founding a narrow, pessimistic view of salvation. "There were features in Augustine's thinking which led him inexorably to a pessimism of salvation. In the bitter Pelagian controversy, for example, he was driven to emphasize the sheer gratuity of divine grace at the expense of any human contribution....Augustine took it in the direction of a pessimism of salvation. People are hopelessly lost in sin, can do nothing to save themselves, and deserve nothing from God as judge."(p.38)

Basically, Augustine, in response to Pelagius, went to the extreme of claiming that man cannot do any good on his own and is completely in need of God to offer Grace--even to give him the ability to accept it. But what was Pelagius saying? What is the Pelagian controversy?

I don't want to oversimplify it, but Pelagius was a theologian who claimed that it had to be possible, logically, for the average person to live a sinless life. And throughout history, the name "Pelagius" has been synonymous with controversy--if not heresy. At the heart of people's problems with this idea is the notion that, if it is possible to live a sinless life, Jesus' death is irrelevant. Most likely, the reader feels the same way. But, in the spirit of the Abyss, let me challenge the prevailing wisdom against Pelagius with my own thoughts!

It seems to me that taking a side in the Pelagian controversy is a natural thing to do, and unavoidable. And I understand why most people are offended by Pelagius. There are difficult ramifications to his idea. However, I think there are difficult ramifications of the opposite idea, as well. Let me explain.

Romans 3:23 states, "All sin and fall short of the glory of God," as I remember it. In other words, there is no person who does not sin--for this reason, the point of the epistle is that all people (Jew and Gentile) need a savior! I agree, otherwise I would be a heretic. But does this mean that it is impossible for me not to sin, or does it mean that I am tainted by the human condition to desire sin so much that the odds are infinitesimally small that I should live my entire life without ever giving in once?

Here is the crux of the argument. Most of us, except those of us who have accepted hardcore Calvinism, accept that we are free agents with the ability to choose what we will do from moment to moment. I think biblical Christian theology rests heavily on our own responsibility in sin. For that reason, I have to accept that in any case in which I am tempted to sin, I am faced with a choice. I can give in to the part of me that desires to sin, or I can choose not to. And, if I'm going to be transparent with you--sometimes I do, sometimes I don't. If, in every case I am tempted to sin I have a choice, then it has to be logically possible (not probable, but possible) that I should make the right choice in every instance.

Now, most people accept that in each individual case I have free choice. But they tend to stop short when it comes to the overall picture. We have a tendency to say, "No, we can't live a sinless life--it's impossible." But I ask this question then, "At what point in my life do I enter a situation in which I have no choice but to sin?" Which time is it impossible not to sin? And if there is a point at which it is impossible not to sin, how can I be held accountable for something I have no choice in doing? Freedom necessitates the possibility of a sinless life.

Mind you, I'm not advocating that this is likely, or that any of us will achieve this. But I think it has to be possible--if not pragmatically, at least logically.

Usually someone will say something to the effect of, "Well, on a cognitive level, perhaps. But the fact that we can sin without knowing it makes it impossible to go through life without sinning." In response, I offer two answers:

1. Personally, I don't believe it is possible to sin without knowing it--the essence of sin is willing disobedience and rebellion. Romans also states that sin is not imputed when there is no law--and Paul states that when he learned the law sin sprang to life and he died. I think if a person does not understand an action to be sinful, it is not accounted to him as sin because he is not willfully disobeying. I think this is what Jesus means when he tells his disciples that they will not enter heaven unless they become like children--innocent. Anyone who has children understands the profoundness of this verse--children lie and do things wrong all the time, but they are considered innocent because they are not able to comprehend that their actions are rebellion against a transcendent law.

2. Even if it is possible to sin without knowing it, it's still non sequitur that a sinless life is absolutely impossible. Even if is possible to sin without willful disobedience, it is still conceivable that a person should do the right thing in every situation. It isn't likely, but it is possible.

But doesn't this eliminate our need for Christ? If we could live sinlessly, doesn't that mean he didn't need to die? This is the question that I always run into in this discussion. But the truth is, I don't understand why people jump to that conclusion. Let me illustrate with an analogy.

Let's say that I can't swim, but I am invited to a party which will be held on big yacht floating in the middle of a very deep lake. Now, let's say that at one point, someone asks me if I would like to swim in the lake. I know what I should do--I should stay on the boat and put on an extra life vest. But let's say that I choose to jump in the water and immediately begin drowning. Now, I had several choices to avoid my immanent death. I could have decided not to attend the party. I could have made sure to wear a life vest. I could have chosen not to jump in the water. In all choices, I was free--and I made the wrong choice each time. Now, does the fact that I chose the wrong thing mean that I don't need a lifeguard to save me? Quite the opposite--the fact that I freely chose to do something so deadly is exactly why I need a savior!

I think the problem with the argument is that we're assuming that our need for Christ's sacrifice precedes our actual sin. But did Adam and Eve need a savior before they chose to disobey? They lived a sinless life, until they decided to rebel against what God had told them. After this, they needed a savior. Unless they were predetermined to sin, which some people do believe, they could have chosen to do the right thing--in which case, Jesus' death would not have been necessary for them.

In my opinion, the fact that it is possible for me not to sin does not eliminate my need for Christ. Quite the opposite--it emphasizes it. The fact that I could have chosen not to sin makes Christ's sacrifice all the more loving and, well, unfair! We believe that he willingly died for people who are guilty of willing disobedience--they could have chosen to live sinlessly, but they didn't. At the heart of the profoundness of Christ's sacrifice is the fact that we don't deserve it! It is our freedom in the choice to sin that makes Christ's sacrifice so much more profound.

On the other hand, if I can't help but sin then it really isn't my fault that I do, and it is questionable that we need someone to take a punishment that we don't really deserve.

One last note... We are unable to save ourselves--but only after we sin! Before we sin, we don't need a savior. This is why children are innocent.

I am very happy to take comments about this post. What I'm trying to do right now is find a way to come to grips with my own inadequacies and faults as a man and a Christian. I'm getting counseling right now and my counselor and I tend to bump heads about this a lot--he's trying to convince me to not be so hard on myself and others, but I'm stuck on the fact that I must be able to choose to do the right thing from one moment to the next. This is the theology I believe, but in practice it's a hard one. I'm trying to come to grips with self-forgiveness. Any help?

A Benefit of Non-Certainty

In my recent posts, I have dealt with epistemological certainty when doing theology. My view gets a bad rap sometimes, but it is honest. However, last night I think I discovered a real benefit to acknowledging doubt.

My family and I went out to do some clothes shopping (a truly rare occurence). Of course, after two hours of shopping, I was delirious and groggy. We decided to eat at Applebees (another rare occurrence), and were seated at a table just outside the bar area.

The restaurant was not crowded and it was easy to listen in on the conversations of other people in the room. One man was very easy to hear--he was seated at the bar and talking to a woman there. He sounded like he was a university student, but he was a little older than what is typical. He had had anywhere from two to nine beers, apparently, and was feeling pretty confident. Ironically, he looked and sounded pretty ridiculous. He was one of those lucky guys whose reaction to alcohol was largely philosophical. He began to explain to the woman next to him--in several different wordings and volume levels--this basic idea: "God" is just a human construct developed to provide people with comfort in the face of their struggles.

Now, I was immediately interested and were it not for the fact that I was there with my family and this guy was nearly incoherent, I would have attempted to engage him in conversation. But here is the crux--his statement really had me thinking, and had me a little worried. I began to wonder how I would respond to him if he had presented that idea to me. How do you answer such a claim? The worst of it was, I've heard the question before and even talked about it in classes. This was exactly Ludwig Feuerbach's idea when he inverted the Hegelian Dialectic and claimed that God is a projection of man.

Of course, if God is a projection, he is a poor projection. If we were creating him for our comfort, you'd think we'd create a more comfortable God. That's the first and easiest problem with his statement. But it is not a proof that the man was incorrect. How can I show him that he cannot possibly be right? I came to the conclusion that I couldn't prove it one way or the other. I flirted with despair!

It finally occurred to me that the reason I was having a hard time trying to argue in my mind against his statement was that his statement really wasn't an argument. He wasn't giving a reason not to believe in God, he was giving an explanation for the question, "If God doesn't exist, why is there so much talk about God?" He was shouting (literally) that God is a figment, but was really beginning from the paradigm that God does not exist. But there is a central flaw here related to certainty.

I really think the strength of Christianity lies in something other than knowledge. What do I mean . . . ? The man at the bar last night was resting on the assumption that God definitely does not exist. And his anger was reflective of the feeling of assurance he had about God's ontological status. This is the weakness of atheism: it claims to have all of the ins and outs well in hand--it claims that it knows with certainty that God definitely does not exist. From there, it attempts to explain why we have all of this talk about God. But that kind of knowledge is exactly what is not possible from an enlightenment definition of knowledge--even though that is what modernity claims about God. It really is impossible to prove God's ontological status one way or the other with a modern understanding of knowledge. At last, non-certainty has a bright side!

That is also the strength of Christianity. We don't claim to have complete knowledge--far from it. We are limited humans with limited ability to know anything with certainty. The atheist claims he knows that God does not exist--if he doesn't claim that, then he is really just an agnostic. But the Christian is free from this prison of knowledge to refer to himself as a believer. I finally breathed a great sigh of relief last night when I realized, I don't have to prove it, only believe it. Christians are not knowers in the Kantian sense, but believers.

Really, it takes a great deal of hubris to claim to have knowledge of God's existence or non-existence. As my friend said to me today, what a person is actually saying when he claims to know is that he himself owns that knowledge, he has complete grasp of it. Saying "I know" is really a statement about my ability to know something. But I don't think I am capable of knowing or having a complete understanding.

The Bible means something else completely when it refers to knowledge. It is an experiential knowledge, not an acquiring knowledge. It is this concept of knowledge that I hope to understand someday. I am just about ready to start reading Polanyi's Personal Knowledge and have also picked up Wittgenstein's On Certainty. When I finally come to my conclusion, I'll let you know!