Faith as Affirmation: Sorry, Author of Hebrews, I Don't Agree with You

Art by Samantha Muljat of Blood Bank Design

Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen. (Hebrews 11:1; NRSV) 

Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see. (NLT) 

Faith is the assurance that what we hope for will come about and the certainty that what we cannot see exists. (ISV)

It is the contention of Enlightenment rationalists that faith is by nature blind. Faith claims something is true when it's not (or, at least, when we have no reason to say it is). Such thinkers would read Hebrews 11:1 to mean that faith fills the gap between what can be known and what can't be known. It is evidence of something that cannot be proved, certainty in the face of the unknown. If this is faith, I would agree that it is negative.

Progressive Christians would read the verse and emphasize the words "conviction," "confidence," and/or "assurance." Faith is a conviction that the object of our belief is true, and faith gives us confidence that it is true, assuring us that we do not believe in vain. This is weaker than certainty (and might actually claim less than the author of Hebrews meant to), but it still claims quite a bit. It still boldly fills the gap between the known and the unknown.

This still seems negative to me. It's not certainty, as it leaves room for self-awareness and is based on conviction and not proof, but I think it still claims too much. Fundamentalists view faith as proof that their beliefs are true; progressives view faith as a personal conviction that Christianity is true. There is an important difference, but I still think the latter is insufficient because it claims more than I think we can.

Is there a weaker form of faith? Is there a faith for heretical skeptics like me? Or should we just abandon faith altogether?

My suggestion is to view faith as affirmation, not as assurance or certainty. I believe, but I could be wrong. I believe, but I recognize that I cannot know. Faith is the affirmation of things hoped for, the supposition of things not seen. Of course, this is not what the verse says, but I think it is necessary to disagree with the author of Hebrews.

To affirm something is to say yes to it. Faith says yes to the object of belief, but leaves room for doubt. And a supposition is stronger than a suggestion. A supposition is not just a "maybe." It is a claim, even if a weak one. It is an affirmation of truth-value, but one that is not certain or confident.

So I think faith should be embraced as the affirmation of a supposition, not as the certainty or assurance that something is definitely true.

Despite uncertainty, a claim is made. That claim is one of faith. But it need not ignore the uncertainty, or ignore the possibility of being false. There is room for doubt, even if the doubt remains less compelling than the claim.

This leads me to what I think is another important facet of faith: being compelled. We make faith-claims not because we are certain that they are true, but because we are compelled to make them, either by our experience, or by the appealing nature of the belief, or something else. We see truth-value, and that compels us to believe.

Truth-value. That is what faith affirms. It does not boldly claim, "This is true." It, inspired by the object of belief, claims, "This has truth-value." Truth-value means we have reason to be sure that there's something true about it, but how true it is is not clear.

This, I think, is noble faith, faith worth having. It is virtuous faith, desirable faith, and I even think it makes faith ideal, preferable to its alternative.

It leaves room not only for doubt, but for pluralism, for a universal respect for all faith-claims, and for recognizing truth value in all systems of belief. We can all have a pleasant conversation if we are all epistemologically humble.

We are finite. We are limited. We are small. We claim too much if we claim certainty. Certainty in the face of the unknown is arrogance and ignorance; it isn't faith. Faith is a risk. Faith believes. In believing, we recognize that there is a gap between what is known and unknown, because that gap occasions the belief.

If you KNOW that Christianity is true, you don't have faith; you have fabricated certainty.

Heschel says, "God was concealed even when He revealed."* Revelation does not provide us with unmediated, certain knowledge of what is beyond us. Revelation only gives us an object of belief, something that requires faith. It does not give us something of which we can be certain.

The book of Job provides a perfect illustration of this. God reveals himself to Job. He speaks directly to him, addresses him, and comes before him. What is Job's response? Instead of having an Aha! moment, he bows before the abyss and humbly claims "I know nothing."

Truth is concealed even when it is revealed. Faith affirms the revelation, while respecting the hiddenness that accompanies it. All our faith-claims should be tempered by a respect for mystery and the unknown.

Sure, it's not a strong faith. It's not a conviction, or a confident or sure faith. But I think it's the best faith we can reasonably embrace. In all our believing, we must leave room for doubt.

*Abraham Joshua Heschel, God in Search of Man: A Philosophy of Judaism (New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1955), 193.

Scary Truth: The Important Difference Between Despair & Disorientation

From the film The Abyss (1989)

I'm a skeptic. For me, it's hard not to deconstruct, doubt, and criticize. So when it comes to my spiritual life, I have a pretty hard time with what Lesslie Newbigin calls "proper confidence."

I just wrote in a poem/song, "Everybody thinks their god is really cool / He kinda looks like them and tells'em what's true / So if someone asks if I'm confident in what I've got / Lean your face against your hand and tell'em I'm not." That's my way of saying we can never be certain of our construal of reality, and our individual versions of the truth tend to resemble our selves. Because of this, it seems imprudent to me be certain of what we believe is true.

Our finitude always limits what we can say with sure knowledge, and so I think it's important to be self-aware and self-critical, calling into question our presuppositions and assumptions.

However, when this attitude crosses over into the spiritual realm, I personally am left with an agnostic "faith." There is a constant warring within myself between belief and unbelief. To a certain extent, that's fine with me, but at times this battle makes genuinely calling myself a Christian problematic, as I don't always feel like one, nor do I always want to be one.

Seeking to be self-critical, I acknowledge how convenient Christianity is for me. I grew up with it. I've been passionate about it my whole life. Plus, I have a terrible fear of death that is alleviated by belief in an afterlife, particularly one in which everything wrong with the world is made right and we all live in a peaceful, love-centered community. Indeed, Christianity often seems too good to be true. But recently I've been learning the difference between despair and disorientation.

Let me explain what I mean.

As someone who is eager to progress toward the truth, I often find myself disoriented. If you're open-minded and you seek to learn a lot, from time to time you have your whole world shaken by something you read or think. This experience is daunting and, at first, maybe a little terrifying.

I call it 'disorientation'. You were settled on a particular idea (orientation) and that idea was compromised or even shattered (disorientation). I have come to love this experience, as it has always proved to be liberating and has always led me one step closer to the truth.

But there's also despair. Despair does not lead one closer to the truth. Despair halts progress. It is debilitating and life-sucking. Despair in truth-seeking happens when one cannot see any way but hopelessness and nihilism.

I know despair as well as I know disorientation. I experience it if I think about death and the possibility of nonexistence long enough--and that's why I'm beginning to think my convenient belief in Christianity is not really so bad.

Uncertainty, though unavoidable, often brings me before nihilism, as the inability to be assured of whatever version of the truth I happen to espouse makes me wonder if I can justifiably believe anything at all. It is a real struggle, but I'm beginning to see the weakness of sustaining the on-the-fence life I've been living.

I know I'm too afraid to let go of Christianity. I know at the end of the day that letting go of my faith altogether would cost too much for me. If I were to stop being a Christian--and I've tried several times--I would drift into despair, and my fear of death would take its tole on my mind.

Once, I was watching a movie and started to imagine myself on my death bed, about to say goodbye to the life I've always known. I had to stop the movie because I couldn't keep myself from crying.

Death anxiety is legitimately unhealthy. The stress it causes does damage to the brain and raises one's risk of cardiovascular disease. If Christianity isn't true and believing it is ends up meaning I lived in an ignorant bliss, so be it. I would rather die believing a lie than live in anxiety.

Learn the difference between despair and disorientation. The latter is often vital for one's truth walk; it enhances life. The former is debilitating and life-sucking.

Whatever conclusions you come to, choose life.

Jesus Wants Us to Doubt

We all know that our knowledge of the truth is incomplete. We all have an understanding that, at the end of the day, humans trying to understand all there is to know about God is like ants trying to understand the universe. If we're humble, we'll acknowledge this.

Because our knowledge of truth is incomplete, we should never be certain. We don't know everything there is to know, so we cannot make absolute claims about truth.

Part of why our knowledge of truth is incomplete is because our own personal bias always accompanies our truth claims. To use Plato's analogy, we all have caves. No matter how much we try to escape our caves, we will always remain in them to a certain extent. We cannot stop our own humanness from interfering in our truth-seeking.

Jesus understood the human condition. He understood that human knowledge is incomplete and that we all have our own caves that get in the way of us seeing the full truth. Because he understood this, he taught us to doubt.

Let me give you a few examples.

Jesus said in the sermon on the mount, "You have heard that it was said, 'an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth'. But I say to you. . . ." (Matt. 5:38-39). Here, Jesus was taking something that his audience accepted as true, and calling it into question. "You think this, but I say..."  He does this a few more times in the sermon, teaching them to call into question what they accepted as an ontological given.

In the garden when Jesus was about to be arrested, Peter took out his sword to defend Jesus and cut off a soldier's ear, for which he was admonished by Jesus. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus does this to his disciples. They do something--and most of the time with good intentions, thinking that they are operating in truth--and Jesus corrects them. He causes them to subject their actions to criticism; he teaches them to doubt.

Now let me explain what I mean by 'doubt' here.

Because our knowledge is incomplete, Jesus taught us that we should be self-aware and self-critical. We should question our own motives and actions. We should subject our claims and our decisions to critical analysis. This is a form of doubt.

Paul said, "Test everything; hold fast to what is good, and reject every kind of evil" (1 Thess. 5:21). Testing something, subjecting it to criticism, is a form of doubt. He could have just as well said, "Doubt everything; hold fast to what is good, and reject every kind of evil."

Mainstream evangelical Christianity teaches us to know what we believe. We have to be confident and certain. We cannot compromise. We cannot question. We cannot doubt. What comes out of this is a bunch of yes-people who just drink the Kool-Aid, putting their faith in and embracing a fixed, systematized Christianity that looks human and not like Jesus.

Jesus doesn't want us to put blind faith in a dominant ideology. He doesn't want us to just accept what is given to us. He taught us to call into question content control and the fixed systems of humanity. Jesus isn't a control freak; he wants us to doubt control freaks.

And guess what! We are control freaks. We have our own caves that we adapt Jesus to all of the time. We so often make Jesus in our own image. As long as we practice doubtless certainty--as long as we "know what we believe"--we will be embracing a portrait of truth that is infected with our own selves. Because we never know truth completely, as long as we completely embrace one understanding of truth, we will be in a cave, hidden from Christ's truth.

Jesus wants to save us from our caves, and that requires calling our conclusions into question. That requires doubting our caves. We often claim that we hear from God. But what if what we heard from God wasn't actually God? Moses thought he was hearing from God when he advocated the teaching of "an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth" (Deut. 19:21; cf. Lev. 24:20, Ex. 21:24), but Jesus revealed to us that that theology was more human than God-like.

We need to be self-aware. When we commit to a conclusion to the point of uncompromising confidence, we are basically saying, "I refuse to do anymore learning." We need to acknowledge our limits as humans. We need to acknowledge our bias when we make truth claims, especially when we make them about God. As long as we doubt, as long as we call into question our conclusions, and subject our truth claims to criticism, we can be sure that we are staying true to the search for truth, we can be sure that we are seeking Jesus and not just our version of Jesus.

That all being said, there is a balance. While we shouldn't embrace doubtless certainty, we should also reject doubtful uncertainty. Nihilism is a recipe for despair. But since we can be never be certain that what we believe to be true is actually true, we have only to do the best we can, seeking truth.

As Christians, we need to seek Jesus. We need him to determine for us what is true, and that means always leaving the questions open. That means never being certain, because Jesus will always show us the limits of our thinking. Never remain comfortable with the status quo, but always be growing and adapting in the journey to Jesus.

And while we can never know if what we think we hear from God is actually from God, we can find peace in the knowledge that we are seeking truth. We can find assurance and rest in knowing that, while we can't know if we are right, we can know that we are genuinely seeking Jesus, and that's all that matters to him.

Intellectual Scarecrows: More Reflections on Faith in Christianity

I went to an event featuring Jason Upton Friday night, and Jason never ceases to give me something to ponder and write about for weeks afterward. He sang a song about a bird who comes along a field with a scarecrow in it. The chorus of the song goes something like this:

If I were a bird
If I were a foolish bird,
I'd listen to my fear, and fly away from here.

But if I were a bird
If I were a wise bird,
I'd listen to my heart, and find the treasure waiting in the field

After hearing this chorus, I realized it was describing my very situation. Christianity is definitely not without its scarecrows. So do I fly away because of the scarecrows, or do I embrace the field in spite of them?

In another song, Jason sang, "I will never forget what you've done for me" (speaking of God). I realized as he was singing, that faith in Christianity is not a now-and-never-again decision. That is to say, it's not something that one decides one is or isn't going to embrace for the rest of his or her life. I had a friend admit to me that he is tired of my intellectual mood swings and my shifting beliefs. I got the sense that he just wanted me to make up my mind about Christianity. But I don't think Christianity is that kind of decision. I think it's a day-to-day decision. The Israelites had to get up every day and decide if they were going to put their faith in Yahweh, if they would remember and embrace the God of their Heilsgeschichte, their salvation history.

I could think of the times when I felt I was experiencing God, and I could choose to doubt their authenticity and explain them away, or I could put my faith in God again. When I think of the peace I randomly experienced after weeks of depression, I could choose to explain that peace as some kind of psychological phenomenon, or I could have the faith that that peace came, and only could have come, from God.

The faith decision I talked about in my last blog is a decision that has to be made every day, and it has to be made when remembering the past, when responding to the present, and when looking to the future. When I look back, I have to have faith that God was present. When I go through my day, I have to choose to have faith that God is present. When I look to my future, and I wonder where I'm going to be and what I am going to do, I have to choose to have faith that God will be present.

I still think that faith needs to be assessed and re-assessed. I still think doubt is, to use Plato's analogy, an essential key to escaping our caves. As long as I call my faith into question, I can be sure that I am not living in an ignorant bliss, happily assuming Christianity as a priori truth. As long as I doubt, I can be sure that I am genuinely seeking truth. But, just as well, as long as I refuse to exercise faith, I will be living in doubtful uncertainty, in nihilism and despair.

Life is filled with millions of opportunities to answer the question, "Which version of the story is more worthy of your faith?" If I were a foolish bird, I would see the scarecrows, listen to my fear and fly away; but if I were a wise bird, I would listen to my heart and have faith. Let's hope I find the treasure.

Should I walk away from Christianity?

So, I've been at somewhat of a crossroads with my faith. This is nothing unusual, as I kind of always am. This time, it's a battle between nihilism and despair, and faith in Christianity. I can't know that Christianity is most certainly true (see my blog on this here), which distresses me because I want to be certain. I have to use faith. And sometimes Christianity doesn't seem worthy of my faith. Angels and demons and heaven and hell? Human fingerprints are all over these notions, and they're beginning to seem simply ridiculous. And then there's the added benefit that there are so many loud Christians who are incredibly hateful and ignorant.

So what's keeping me a Christian? Well, for one, Jesus' teaching is so profound to me. It is a perfect, counter-cultural alternative to the systems of this world that will forever fall short. At the very least, I guess I could adopt a very liberal understanding of Christianity as a paradigm for social change.

However, there's also the personal God of Christianity, with whom I believe I have experienced genuine intimacy. But was it really genuine? After all, the human mind is a fragile thing. For all I know, those experiences could have simply been an opiate.

So, what if I do stop being a Christian? Well, I'd still have to deal with the loud, hateful, ignorant Christians. Leaving Christianity wouldn't make them any easier to deal with. I would also lose an objective reality to at least believe in, and would have to simply accept my inability to know truth as an ontological given that can never be overcome. I can never know truth, and what's the point of believing in anything if I can't know it's true? Nihilism. Which, for me, will inevitably lead to despair.

But what if I leave Christianity, and the personal God comes chasing me? Like, let's say I have an intimate experience with him again. Couldn't I simply explain that as a by-product of the despair I experience as a result of my recently developed sense of nihilism (another opiate)? Reasonably so.

At the end of the day, it all comes back to faith. Is Christianity worth the faith? It's exactly like the end of Life of Pi, where [spoiler alert!] you have to decide if the boy was with the tiger the whole time, or if it was fictionalized, mythologized history. "And so it is with God," he said.

Walter Brueggemann says that the systems of this world are fairy tales, so if Christianity is a fairy tale, that puts it on a level playing field with the other systems of thought in the world. So if we say fiction vs. fiction, we have only to decide which is more worthy of our faith.

Cory suggested to me that I can decide whether or not to stay a Christian by deciding if I can or cannot see meaning in anything without it. My friend Andrew also suggested that I should look to what is better for me as a person.

My fear is that the God I pray to every day, the God I spend my life attempting to have a relationship with, the God to whom I am dedicating my entire life's work (i.e. biblical studies, ministry)--doesn't actually exist. I don't want to be in an ignorant bliss. I don't want to be a Christian simply because I'm too scared to walk away. I don't want to be a Christian because I'm afraid of death, or of despair and nihilism. I don't want an opiate. I want to be a Christian because it's real. 

My wife told me I of all people shouldn't worry about being in an ignorant bliss. She said this because I doubt everything, and because whatever worldview I'm in will never actually be bliss, partly because of the frequent doubting. Cory agreed and said, "all you can do is honestly pursue knowledge and question so as to make sure you're going down the right path."

Does Christianity give life meaning?
Is it better for me to be a Christian?
Is it worth my faith?
I think it is. We'll see. 

"He used to be such a fine young Christian": Reflections on Finishing Undergrad

Photo cred: Katie Yaklin

One of my favorite quotes from all of the reading I've done these past few years comes from one of Peter Enns' professors: "For Jews, the Bible is a problem to be solved. For Christians, it is a message to be proclaimed."(1) The fact that I didn't understand this statement the first time I read it is a testament to the evolution of my thinking.

Christians like to package the Bible into creeds, or messages for evangelism, or systematic theologies. I was like this for a long time. I wanted to come to confident conclusions on everything so that I knew what I believed and could share it with others.

In mainstream evangelical American Christianity (I'll say MEAC for short), a lot of emphasis is put on 'knowing what you believe'. You need to know what you believe so you can stand firm in those beliefs when faced with opposing beliefs, in order to avoid losing your faith. I sympathize with this to an extent. The ancient Israelites often forgot their Heilsgeschichte (salvation history) with Yahweh, and started denying it to collude with the religions and cultures of other nations. They needed to know what they believed about Yahweh so that they could faithfully stand firm in their calling and in the relationship with him.

But there is a difference between standing firm in the knowledge of one's history and relationship with God, and standing firm in one's intellectual conclusions so that no re-assessment ever occurs. The latter is intellectually dishonest as it refuses to engage in a genuine search for truth. Something I have learned over and over again the past few years is the need to be humble in making conclusions, because they are always, and always should be, subject to change upon further analysis.

A huge problem I have with MEAC is its suppression of questions and doubt. To the Jews, faith wrestles. Jacob received the name Israel because he wrestled with God! To Christians, questions and doubt are threats; they threaten the established order of Christianity. The faith of MEAC is defined by blind acceptance of unquestionable beliefs, which is not a healthy faith, as humans were not created to be mere yes-men. What such Christians fail to understand is that questions and doubt are keys to becoming more acquainted with God.

One of the biggest lessons I have learned in college is not to be so confident in my conclusions that I never subject them to doubt. Have you ever questioned your view of Scripture? Your stance on homosexuality? Your stance on salvation? Your stance on evolution? The Bible tells us to "test everything; hold fast to what is good, and reject every kind of evil" (1 Thess. 5:21-22); don't condemn people like me for doing this intellectually. Instead, subject everything to critical analysis as well. If you aren't willing to do so, then you might not actually be interested in truth.

"The canonical literature does not offer a settled, coherent account of reality; rather, it provides the materials for ongoing disputatious interpretation." - Walter Brueggemann

(1) See Peter Enns, Inspiration and Incarnation (Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2005), 71.

Evidence Demands a Verdict: On Generalizations and Presuppositions

Many Christians frequently dismiss evidence by pointing to a flaw or flaws in the ideological framework of the ones presenting the evidence. This is often accomplished by reductionism and over-generalization. For example, a friend of mine rejects evolution because the scientists who advocate it have materialist presuppositions. Believing already that reality is made up of the natural, material world that we perceive and nothing more, they exalt science and reject all theology. Thus, they get evolution. This would be a good reason to reject evolution, if it were true. But it's not true. While I agree we should reject materialism (see my blogs on materialism, here), this reasoning fails to recognize that there are plenty of scientists who embrace evolution but do not embrace scientific naturalism, and plenty who are theists, and plenty who are Christians.

Similarly, many Christians like to dismiss evidence in Scriptural study because of the supposed presuppositions of the discoverers. An archeologist will tell them that there is no archeological support for the fall of Jericho story, and that the evidence actually points against such a story, rendering it virtually impossible to possess genuine historicity. A Christian might say that such evidence can be rejected because those who analyze and study it are liberal academics who reject the authority of Scripture, and so seek to find ways of debunking it. This is such a terribly false generalization that many Christian biblical scholars would find offensive.

Side note: This does not represent all of conservative Christianity's responses to such evidence; there are conservative biblical scholars who engage in a positivist mindset about the historicity of many of the Bible's stories--whether or not their arguments hold any water is a completely different discussion.

My last example comes from Greg Boyd's testimony. When he was a teenager, he found out about several of the Bible's contradictions, and they gravely disturbed him. He highlighted all of them that he could find and brought them to his Pentecostal pastor. "What do I do with these?!" he asked, "How can the Bible have contradictions?!" His pastor paused and frankly asked him, "Greg, did you have sex out of wedlock?"

This pastor refused to engage a discussion about Bible contradictions, and chose to label Greg as a rebellious sinner, and therefore, able to be ignored. Forget the evidence, forget the fact that I'm staring contradictions in the face; if I can find out that they're coming from a sinful, rebellious teenager, I don't have to deal with them. Such a blatant rejection of evidence reveals a lack of any desire to find out what truth actually is, and instead reveals a mind that only wants to blindly accept an ignorant bliss.

Now, I'm a child of postmodernism, so I do realize our subjectivity and our presuppositions, and that all reality is interpreted reality, all facts are interpreted. However, this does not mean I just embrace whatever presuppositions I have as true, and judge reality based only on weighing presupposition against presupposition. If I am interested in what is true, I will try to rise above my presuppositions, even though I will never do so fully. If I am interested in what is true, I will listen to evidence and let that evidence inform my thinking.

The church wanted to silence Galileo because he discovered heliocentrism. The Bible seems to suggest that the earth is the center of the universe, and the sun revolves around it; so they rejected Galileo's claim that the earth revolves around the sun--something we all know to be true today.

Don't make sweeping generalizations about presuppositions to silence evidence. Let the evidence inform your worldview.

Part II: Materialism, the Universality of Faith, and the Worth of a Worldview

Continuing my discussion of materialism, I think Christian theism has much more to offer personal experience.

First, while we have seen it is not reasonable to believe that there is nothing beyond the physical realm of which we are conscious, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to suggest that, if we do accept with faith the reality of the physical world,(11) and since experience tells us that reality is dependent upon consciousness, that "the ‘real’ world is the experienced world, the world that exists in conscious experience,"(12) then it would make sense—but would not necessarily follow—that the world is dependent upon an ultimate consciousness; i.e. God. Just as reality wouldn’t exist for us if we didn’t have consciousness, so it is not unreasonable to claim, if reality does indeed exist, its existence is dependent upon God’s consciousness. As Ward says, "Just as my experiences . . . wouldn’t exist without me, without my mind, so I think objective reality wouldn't exist without the mind of God."(13)

Christian theism also offers a possible explanation for the reaching-out of the world, the emptiness of nature. Paul said, "the whole creation has been groaning" (Rom. 8:22). We reach out intellectually, existentially, and emotionally because, as Newbigin says, we have "infinite desires beyond the satisfaction of our biological necessities."(14) Or, in Augustine’s words, "our heart is restless until it finds rest in [God]."(15) Blaise Pascal describes this beautifully:

What else does this craving, and this helplessness, proclaim but that there was once in man a true happiness, of which all that now remains is the empty print and trace? This he tries in vain to fill with everything around him, seeking in things that are not there the help he cannot find in those that are, though none can help, since this infinite abyss can be filled only with an infinite and immutable object; in other words by God himself.(16)

Are we to accept that our insatiable desire, our inner restlessness, our helpless craving, our infinite abyss, can simply be reduced to the workings of evolution? The one who claims such a thing is not being honest with himself/herself.

Christian theism is also much more satisfying with regard to love. Jefferson Aeroplane sang of wanting and needing someone to love. The Beatles sang, "All you need is love!" John said, "love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God. Whoever does not love does not know God, because God is love" (1 Jn. 4:7-8). It is more reasonable to put our faith in Christian theism, which holds that we feel an overwhelming desire to love and be loved because there is a God of love that loves and desires to be loved by us, than it is to put our faith in materialism, which holds that love is simply a byproduct of evolution.

Another topic on which Christianity has much more to offer is that of free will. Materialism suggests that free will is an illusion. Christianity suggests that free will was the necessary component to a mutual love relationship with God. He wanted us to have autonomy so that we can freely enter communion with him. Psalm 8:5-8 quite profoundly describes this autonomy:

You have made [human beings] a little lower than God,
and crowned them with glory and honor.
You have given them dominion over the works of your hands;
you have put all things under their feet,
all sheep and oxen,
and also the beasts of the field,
the birds of the air, and the fish of the sea,
whatever passes along the paths of the seas.

Not only have we been created with free will, but each with uniqueness and beauty. Paul says that we are God’s poeima, his masterpiece (Eph. 2:10). No two masterpieces are exactly alike. Christian theism sees the uniqueness of each person and attributes it to the creative workmanship of God, beckoning us to join in that creativity and fashion our own masterpieces—"be fruitful and multiply" (Gen. 1:22). Materialism sees the uniqueness and creativity of each person, and reduces it to biological phenomena. Which explanation is more worthy of our faith?

A subject most difficult for materialists is morality, as their explanations of it are utterly bankrupt. Richard Dawkins says that we have to construct our own morality.(17) Such a claim has no rebuttal to relativism. If my construction of morality maintains that it is good if I steal from Dawkins, then, if I do steal from him, he cannot claim that my stealing from him was wrong. He would only be able to say that he believes it was wrong, and why should I adhere to his construction of morality?(18)

In Christian theism, on the other hand, we have a solid foundation on which to understand morality. We put our faith in Jesus Christ, who gave us the perfect good from which we can measure what is morally right. This morality is defined by self-emptying, other-focused love (Phil. 2:3-11)—running completely counter to social Darwinism’s self-centered, survival-of-the-fittest ideology, which Dawkins himself recognizes as morally depraved.(19)

Timothy Jennings has observed that nature is at its best when it is taking part in a kind of self-emptying, other-focused love. In the hydrologic cycle, the oceans give water to the clouds, which give water to the land, which gives water to the oceans. In the oxygen cycle, we give plant-life carbon dioxide, and through photosynthesis plant-life gives us oxygen. These are processes of self-emptying, other-focused giving, which Jesus ultimately modeled for us by giving up his life on the Cross.(20)

We could embrace our experience of the world and believe that our existential transcendence of the physical world points to the existence of a transcendent God; that our endless desire to love and be loved points to a God of love; that our free will and unique creativity point to a creative God who wants us to be free and to participate in his creative activity; that our inherent sensitivity to morality points to a moral standard provided by a perfect God—or, we could believe with the materialists that life is simply about survival and everything we experience is merely the work of nature, that our experiences are more illusionary than genuine. Again I ask, which worldview is more worthy of our faith?

I do not claim that all these considerations prove that Christianity is true. Neither Christianity nor materialism can be sufficiently proven as true. They both require faith. While much more could be added, a case has been made that Christianity should be preferred over materialism, that it is more worthy of our faith, because it takes seriously our experience of the world, instead of reducing that experience to the work of the world. Christianity has much more to offer our inner-selves (cf. Ps. 51:6) than the meaninglessness of materialism.

Too long have materialists acted like their view of the world is the most reasonable and factual. In reality, they exercise just as much faith as Christians do in positing that there is nothing beyond nature, nothing beyond our consciousness, and that we can fully rely on our perception of the natural world.

If there is room to doubt such a belief system—and we have seen that such room for doubt is definitely there—then why embrace such a futile, empty worldview? Why put our faith in something that offers nothing to our personal experience, but rather gives us a very pointless and hopeless view of life that will inevitably lead to despair? Why not put our faith in something that speaks to what we experience to be true, and has an answer for our most intimate desires? As Paul saw of the people in Athens (Acts 17:16-34), many worship an unknown god; what Christianity offers is the identity of that God. 

Notes:
(11) While some of my comments might make me sound like I believe the physical world is just some kind of matrix, I don’t think we should reject the reality of the world we perceive simply because we can’t know for certain that it actually exists in the way it is perceived. Matrix-like understandings of the world are as meaningless as materialism. We should simply accept the world we are given—but should also humbly acknowledge our inability to know with certainty.
(12) Ward, More Than Matter?, 134.
(13) Keith Ward in BiolaUniversity, “Science, Mind, Religion, and Reality,” http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DRt7qCuwj20.
(14) Newbigin, 179.
(15) Saint Augustine, Confessions, trans. Henry Chadwick(New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), 3.
(16) Blaise Pascal, Pensees, rev. ed. (New York: Penguin Books, 1995), 45.
(17) Richard Dawkins, interview by Jon Stewart, The Daily Show, Comedy Central, September 24, 2013.
(18) For a classic treatment of morality, see C.S. Lewis, “Right and Wrong as a Clue to the Meaning of the Universe,” in Mere Christianity (New York: Macmillan Publishing, 1952), 3-28.
(19) See Wendy Wright, interview by Richard Dawkins, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-AS6rQtiEh8.
(20) See Timothy Jennings, The God-Shaped Brain (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2013), 24-26.

Materialism, the Universality of Faith, and the Worth of a Worldview, Part I

There is a widely-held misconception in our culture that Christianity and science are in opposition. On one end of this dichotomy is the anti-intellectualism of fundamentalist Christianity that sees science as a threat to a Bible-based understanding of creation.

On the other end, subject to much less critique, are the materialists with the understanding that reality is limited to the physical world that we perceive, rejecting any and all talk of a metaphysical realm and so operating with the mindset that science is incompatible with religion.

The latter of these two is often seen as more science- and fact-based and so, more reasonable. Materialists are the sophisticated ones, chin-up and aristocratic in their analysis of petty religious tendencies. My purpose here is to pull the rug out from under this Enlightenment arrogance by exposing their dependence on faith. With faith as the common requirement for materialism and Christianity established, the issue becomes which worldview is more worthy of one’s faith. It will be shown that Christianity meets this criterion far better than materialism, as it takes seriously personal experience and speaks to the needs of that experience, while materialism simply reduces that experience to the illusory work of nature. 

Materialism, or what Steve Wilkens and Mark Sanford call scientific naturalism, "holds that all that exists is physical and can be reduced to its elemental material composition."(1) Advocates of this position have to take for granted, flippantly dismiss, or attempt to explain away consciousness. Daniel Dennett, in his monumental work Consciousness Explained, suggests that consciousness is simply a product of brain states, and could be given to a machine if the proper scientific advancement is reached.(2) 

The major problem with this, and the particular aspect of consciousness that materialists have to ignore, is that Dennett cannot prove that the material world exists beyond his consciousness. Sure, in the reality he experiences, maybe he can explain consciousness as a by-product of evolution, but he would have to provide evidence that the natural world he perceives actually exists outside of his consciousness. That, he most definitely cannot do.(3) As Keith Ward wonders, "What is the point of being a materialist when we are not sure exactly what matter is?"(4)

Ward makes another excellent point against Dennett’s proposal: "Nobody can observe anyone else’s conscious states, and we cannot really be sure that anyone else has any conscious states at all."(5) Thus, to say that we can give consciousness to a machine because consciousness is purely mechanical, would be impossible to prove, since one cannot actually make claims about any consciousness other than one’s own. 

Furthermore, inherent within materialism is the flaw of starting with the perceived world and moving to the perceiver when determining what reality is. It would be silly for me to say, "The shirt I’m wearing is blue; thus, I am able to perceive the blueness of my shirt." The only reason I can speak of the color of my shirt is that I perceive it. In order to make judgments about the color of my shirt, I have to trust what I perceive (which, in this case, would be mistaken, because of what we have come to learn about our perception of color). Similarly, I think it is mistaken to start with the material world and say that our consciousness is merely a product of it. The only way we can observe the material world is through our consciousness, and we cannot actually prove that it actually exists beyond that conscious state.

For these reasons, I see materialism and Christian theism on a level playing field, because their respective claims about what is beyond consciousness require the same amount of faith. We Christian theists believe in a God who transcends our consciousness. Materialists believe that the material world we perceive makes up reality, and that nothing is beyond it. Can either of these be proven? No. I propose, then, a question: Which belief system is more worthy of our faith? I contend that materialism is bankrupt in addressing this question, and that Christian theism is much more sufficient. 

I have shown that in order to be a materialist, one must accept the world that one perceives as reliable—as truly real. Furthermore, one must believe that nothing is beyond one’s consciousness. These actions, whether materialists like it or not, are actions of faith. By taking these steps, they trust their perceived reality and that nothing goes beyond it—and they do so without any proof. This is faith. But why should we have such faith? Why is it reasonable to believe that there is nothing beyond the reality that we observe? Not only does it lack reason, but it is counter-intuitive. We naturally reach beyond our perceived reality. Why should we believe that there is nothing beyond what we perceive when we have an inherent inclination to try and transcend our perception? As Norman Geisler and Winfried Corduan state, "humans are incurably religious . . . by nature a person has an irresistible urge to transcend himself."(6)

This is not the only area in which materialism is counter-intuitive. We experience free will, love, morality, emotion, etc. In materialism, all of these are reduced to nature at work. They are illusions. I find this claim to be ridiculous. Because our subjective consciousness is how we experience reality,(7) we shouldn’t make claims about reality that run completely counter to how we experience it. As Lesslie Newbigin says of free will, "All arguments designed to show that free will is an illusion break down into absurdity . . . [for nothing should be accepted] which simply denies our daily experience."(8) Ward also finds it strange that materialism would accept a belief system that "ignores the all-pervading evidence of personal experience."(9)

Can we honestly say that the choices we will to make, the people we love, the love we receive, the morals we cannot help but adhere to, and the emotions we feel, are all the mere work of nature? We’re just pawns in the game of evolution? Not only does this leave life bereft of meaning, it destroys everything we experience to be true. Charles Pearce once said, “A belief that can’t make any difference on how you act when acting counts is a belief that is devoid of meaning.(10) Materialism is meaningless because it does not ring true in our experience, and it has nothing to contribute to our lives practically.

Continue to part 2 here

Notes:
(1) Steve Wilkens and Mark L. Sanford, "Scientific Naturalism," in Hidden Worldviews (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2009), 100.
(2) Daniel Dennett, Consciousness Explained (New York: Back Bay Books, 1991).
(3) Dennett (ibid., 455) asks, "why should consciousness be the only thing that can’t be explained?" The answer to this is simply because we cannot go beyond our consciousness to observe and explain it. Any ‘explanation’ would require faith, because we cannot know if whatever explanation we ascribe to it is actually true.
(4) Keith Ward, Why There Almost Certainly Is a God (Oxford: Lion Hudson, 2008), 15.
(5) Ibid., 16.
(6) Norman Geisler and Winfried Corduan, quoted in Kenneth Boa and Robert Bowman, Faith Has Its Reasons, 2nd ed. (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2005), 86.
(7) So, Descartes: “I next considered attentively what I was; and I saw that while I could pretend that I had no body, that there was no world, and no place for me to be in, I could not pretend that I was not; on the contrary, from the mere fact that I thought of doubting the truth of other things it evidently and certainly followed that I existed.” Quoted in Dennett, 30.
(8) Lesslie Newbigin, The Gospel in a Pluralist Society (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1989), 69.
(9) Keith Ward, More than Matter? (Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 2011), 133.
(10) Charles Pearce, quoted by Gregory A. Boyd, "The History and Hope of Open Theism" (lecture, Open Theology & the Church conference, St. Paul, MN, April 4, 2013). This was probably a paraphrase.

Entrapment, or Yet Another Aspect of Reformed Thinking I Cannot Stand

I've been taking an apologetics course, and I have found a new nemesis: reformed apologetics (Kenneth Boa and Robert Bowman's term).(1) Reformed apologetics starts with the foundational premise, "Christianity is true and all other worldviews are false." These apologists make no attempt to objectively approach something; they consciously choose to start with this premise, and they want to instill in Christians ultimate confidence and certainty, not even deeming possible the truth of any other worldview. Thus, reformed apologetics merely consists of revealing to everyone else that their worldviews are wrong.

Furthermore, they do not think the human mind can determine what is true, so they reject all attempts to discover truth by rationally analyzing and evaluating reality, especially the Bible. The Bible, they say, is what we should use to analyze everything else; all facts must conform to Scripture's teaching. Scripture itself should not be subjected to critical analysis.

What we have here is a trap. They establish Christianity as their foundation, and then they wall themselves (and others) in so that they cannot get out. The belief system is perfectly sealed, not subject to any doubt or questioning, but immutable and safe from all adaptation.

If significant questioning or concrete evidence is presented against a reformed apologist, he will appeal to mystery, or to the fallen state of human reason. Take for example predestination and free will. Ask a reformed person how an action can be both predestined by God and a free action for which the human is morally responsible; he will either say, "it's a mystery," or "it doesn't make sense because our reason has been tainted by sin."

Do you see how this is a trap? The system is conveniently set up with the all the necessary provisions to dismiss all questioning and all doubt.

First of all, beginning with the presupposition, "Christianity is true and everything else is false," is absolute intellectual dishonesty. This is not the mindset of someone actually concerned about knowing what is true. It is circular reasoning.

All non-Christian worldviews are false.
How do you know they are false?
Because Christianity is true.
How do you know Christianity is true?
Because of the Bible.
How do you know the Bible is true?
Because of the Holy Spirit.
How do you know the Holy Spirit exists?
Because of the Bible.
...

Or, see two actual examples:

Why should I believe in Jesus?
Cornelius Van Til: Because Jesus is God(2)

Why should I believe in the Bible?
Gordon Clark: Because the Bible is the starting point for all knowledge(3)

(Maybe thinking is just too hard?)

Secondly, responding to all evidence or reasoning against one's beliefs by appealing to mystery, the sinful state of human reason, or some other spin-doctoring, is dangerous. It creates and fuels ignorance, and has no real interest in knowing what actual truth is, but is merely interested in maintaining what one already believes to be true. Except he doesn't acknowledge it as a belief, but embraces it as fact, and rejects everything that suggests otherwise. "This is true. You question it because you're sinful." This attitude is unwise on so many levels.

Such a system of thinking is a step toward insanity. No wonder so many people are leaving the church; they can see this blatant ignorance and will have no part of it. Well, have no part of it! Don't buy into this kind of "reasoning." It is insufficient and often ridiculous. Christian faith should not consist of blind certainty and a refusal to face questions and doubt.

Why would someone willingly put oneself in the cave that Plato spoke of?

Israel as witness knows that if Yahweh is not endlessly criticized and subverted, Yahweh will also become an absolute, absolutizing idol. - Walter Brueggemann

Notes:
(1) The description of reformed apologetics here comes from, "Reformed Apologetics: God Said It," part 4 of Kenneth Boa and Robert Bowman, Jr., Faith Has its Reasons, 2nd ed. (Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2005).
(2) See Ibid., 319.
(3) See Ibid., 317.

Part II of "What makes you doubt Christianity?"

Here are the contributions I received from the original blog (here). I respond to some of them with reflections and/or suggestions for what to study. If you would like to contribute, please email me at johndanielwashere@gmail.com. 

The tension between law and grace, faith and works.

I've struggled with this one before, and have written on it here. One has to shed a lot of what Luther read into the text in order to come to terms with the seemingly contradictory statements regarding Christian life in Scripture. Christianity is about living the kingdom of God, embodying the reality that Jesus accomplished on the Cross. Thus, works consist of our active participation in the kingdom of God, in Christ's reality. The law is not made up of rules, but ways we can apply the kingdom to our lives. It is easy to turn this into legalism, but that's when we start regarding Scripture as a rule-book.

It's hard to deal with/love fundamentalists and/or people who believe and teach damaging doctrines.

How patriarchal the Bible mostly is.

One major consideration needs to be made when dealing with this issue: context. It also needs to be addressed on a text-by-text basis, and often simply considering the historical context will remedy the problem. There are so many good books on this topic. Why Not Women? is one that was highly recommended to me, but there are many others. That would be a good place to start. For an assessment of one text, see my, "Does Genesis 2 Support Complementarianism?" (here). It should be said, though, that the "patriarchal nature" of Scripture is often over-stated. In many places, the Bible is quite woman-exalting.

Most Christians are so certain of what that they believe that they never question it. A great many Christians do not engage in critical thinking.

Christian hypocrisy and self-righteousness, manifested in things like treatment of/talk about homosexuals, or people of other religions.

What about those who have never heard the Gospel?

I can see this one being very hard for Calvinists, but it isn't hard for me at all. While it is unfortunate that so many people in history, as well as in our time, are not subjected to the Gospel, if one affirms a great wideness in God's merciful saving love, we can feel at peace about this issue. I have written about this here. A good book to look at on this is A Wideness in God's Mercy by Clark Pinnock, as well as those cited in my blog on the subject.

"I know my level of intelligence and understanding and there are a lot of better equipped thinkers out there who do not believe what I believe. So I wonder, who am I to think this stuff is true?"

Prayer. How come some prayers are answered but most aren't? How come someone's headache is healed, but someone else's cancer isn't? Don't we serve an all-powerful, all-loving God? Why wouldn't he heal everyone if he could?

I have some pretty bad back and neck problems that I wake up with every single morning, so this was something I struggled with for a while (and still do, depending on how bad I feel on a particular day). I have written on the subject here, "Petitionary Prayer: What is it Good for?", but I also recommend Greg Boyd's book Is God to Blame?, as well as his chapter, "Praying in the Whirlwind" in Satan and the Problem of Evil. Vincent Brummer's What Are We Doing When We Pray? is another good one. There is a lot of really good literature on this topic, but those are good places to start, as well as the works cited in my blog.

The problem of evil and suffering. It is difficult to reconcile God's benevolence with the existence of things like cancer and AIDS.

All honest Christians struggle with this at one point or another. While I have read a lot on the subject, I can think of no better person to go to than Greg Boyd. Specifically, his book Satan & The Problem of Evil. If you're really into the topic, supplement it with his God at War. For a shorter, easier read, see Is God to Blame? There are tons and tons of books on this topic, but Boyd would be the perfect person with whom to start.

Pluralism. If I were born in other parts of the world, I would not be a Christian. Do I think Christianity is true simply because of my context? How can I be so bold as to claim that the religion I follow is THE truth? There are thousands of religions all over the world, and plenty have their holy books, what makes Christianity so special?

This is an issue that is often daunting to me, and very humbling when I speak of things that I 'know'. For me, this is where the rubber meets the road, faith-wise. I wrote a personal reflection on pluralism here, saying that, in the end, one has to look at the subjective truth claims of this world and ask oneself, "Which one is more worthy of my faith?" because we can't know that Christianity is actually true.

Angels and Demons, Heaven and Hell. They seem so make-believe, as if they were made up to deal with death.

This is a tough one. What makes it worse is how angels, demons, heaven and hell have been portrayed over the years. We tend to have a shared concept of angels as winged, effeminate and covered in white; demons as ork-like or dragon-like beasts; heaven as a golden city in the sky; and hell as a fiery pit with black castle-like buildings, where people are tortured by demons. I have tried to re-word these terms in an effort to steer away from these preconceived ideas--using terms like "metaphysical" instead of supernatural, forces of chaos, instead of demons, and others. Sometimes, when words have been ascribed images that make them ridiculous, we just have to come up with new ways of referring to them.

Another thing that helps me is to recognize the signs of their existence in the world. We have desires that go beyond our experience, that go beyond what we can satisfy. We have urges to do horrible things sometimes, and we often don't know why we do such things. Sometimes things happen that can only be sufficiently explained by divine hands (I find all other "natural" explanations dissatisfying). Other things can only be explained by an actual force of evil at work--attributing the misfortunes in nature to the trial-and-error process of evolution isn't going to do it for me. I can think of many examples, but you get where I am going. There are signs in the world around us that point us beyond, and affirm what we see in Scripture.

What makes you doubt Christianity? (Yes, I'm asking you)

Not too long ago, Peter Enns wrote a blog in which he asked people what issues they struggle with in their faith walks.

I would like to do the same. I am not planning to write a response to each one, but the answers provided will probably inspire reflections. However, I do plan to respond with suggestions of people to study on each topic.

What makes faith hard for you?
What issues do you struggle with?
What makes you tempted to walk away from Christianity?
What makes you doubt?
What makes you frustrated at God?
If you're not a Christian, what are the most significant parts of Christianity that make it hard to embrace?
If you were a Christian but aren't anymore, what made you walk away?

Please, comment in the box below or email me at johndanielwashere@gmail.com with your answers!

Truth Amid 7 Billion Protagonists: The Reality of Pluralism and the Impossibility of Certainty

I don't remember how old I was, but I know I was really young when I had the realization that I am not the only protagonist in this world. It was mind-boggling for me to realize that people experience life in the same subjective way that I do, except with different thoughts and feelings. I am the protagonist of my story, and other people are supporting characters and extras in that story. Likewise, you, reader, are the protagonist of your story, and I am a character in that story. It's like in 30 Rock when Tracy Jordan says, "When I go to sleep, nothing happens in the world." I realized the utter falsity of this statement. This realization was quite daunting for me. I found out, quite literally, that the world does not revolve around me (the picture to the left captures my reaction to this realization)

This would, much later, lead me to discovering the realty of pluralism. At a young age, perhaps younger than I was when I realized I am not the only protagonist in the world, I had a thought that made me feel quite cool: "I am smarter than Albert Einstein, because I know that Jesus Christ is my Lord and Savior." It was a hard day for my faith when I realized that this isn't true either. Mormons think they have the universal truth, and that I need to be converted to their way of thinking. Atheists think they know the truth, and I need to come to their conclusions. There are 7 billion protagonists in this world, and they all, in one way or another, have a claim to truth, and all our claims differ in a multitude of ways. I could be wrong, and someone else could be right.

I'm not smarter than Einstein simply because I believe Jesus is my savior. Einstein was a pretty smart dude. Richard Dawkins is a smart guy. He's not dumb. He believes he's right, and I believe I'm right; and, as is said in Fiddler on the Roof, "He's right, and he's right? They can't both be right."

I don't know how many people have had both of these realizations. I have just assumed that everyone has, but I have found that to be mistaken. One guy I know didn't have the first realization until he was in college! For me, it was a part of growing up; I just woke up to it one day. I don't know if it's the same way with everyone, but I'm beginning to think it just isn't.

My point in saying all this is to introduce a discussion on faith and certainty. Sometimes, a conversation arises in which I share with people the fact that I fear death. Most of the Christians I say this to get confused: "But you're going to Heaven. Why are you afraid to die?" To which I say, "Well, yah, I believe I am going to Heaven. But I don't know 100% that I am going to Heaven. We Christians could be wrong." This almost always confuses them even more. They often take it as a weakness in my faith, because faith is so often held as synonymous with certainty. The International Standard Version of the Bible translates Hebrews 11:1 as saying, "faith is the assurance that what we hope for will come about and the certainty that what we cannot see exists." This is a poor translation, and most translations rightfully do not translate elenchos as 'certainty'.

Certainty is a feeling and cannot actually exist. When it comes to what is objectively true, we can't be 100% certain, which is why faith is necessary. This is very postmodern of me, but it's true. I believe Christianity is true, but I could be wrong. Atheists could be right. Because there are those possibilities, neither of us can claim to be certain about what the truth is. We can feel certain, and often do, but that doesn't make what we believe objectively true.

In science, theories, laws, and facts are all considered subject to the possibility of falsification. We simply cannot be certain of even the most basic facts. We can't even prove that reality exists beyond our minds. The simple fact that there are other creatures that see more colors than we do should tell us that we can't be 100% certain about what we perceive to be true. Thus, faith is absolutely essential, it is the starting point of every ideology. To quote Einstein (who was much smarter than I), "There is no logical path leading to [universal] laws [from which a picture of the world can be obtained]. They are only to be reached by intuition, based upon something like an intellectual love."(1) Lesslie Newbigin equates this 'intellectual love' with faith.(2)

I should clarify that I am not advocating strict pluralism or relativism, which maintains that truth is completely relative and whatever we believe is true determines what actually is true ("He's right and he's right? They can't both be right"). There is no true-for-you vs. true-for-me; objective truth exists, but, as 1 Cor. 13:12 says, we see things as in a mirror dimly, only knowing in part, but some day we shall know fully, seeing face to face. This verse should cause us to abandon all claims to certainty, but rather, humbly claim the truth of Christianity through faith.

I think it is about time the church recognizes the reality of pluralism, and instead of demanding that Christians adhere to certainty, and frowning upon all forms of doubt, we should humbly acknowledge our inability to know anything, and instead display with reason that the Gospel is preferable within the limited framework that we have for understanding our world.(3) All good thinkers will acknowledge that we can’t be certain of anything but simply have to do the best with what we have; Christians should do the same. As Paul Tillich said, we should "act as if it [is] possibly the case that [our] beliefs [are] false."(4)

The Christian approach to the pluralistic world before us should acknowledge the subjective nature of truth claims; not just the claims of our own, but also those of others. So if we say subjective truth claim vs. subjective truth claim, that ought to put us and the rest of the world on a level playing field. We can then ask, "Which narrative is more worthy of your faith?" and can make a case for embracing the Christian narrative.

Notes:
(1) Albert Einstein, quoted in Lesslie Newbigin, The Gospel in a Pluralist Society (Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 1989), 31.
(2) Ibid.
(3) On the subject of faith vs. certainty and doubt as a tool for Christian thinking, see Gregory A. Boyd, The Benefit of the Doubt: Breaking the Idol of Certainty (Grand Rapids: Baker Books, 2013).
(4) Paul Tillich, quoted in Newbigin, 42.

Concerning the Nature of Faith and Works

"For it is not the hearers of the law who are righteous before God, but the doers of the law who will be justified."
Romans 2:13

"Be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves."
James 1:22

"Blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it!"
Luke 11:28

Throughout Christ's teaching, there is an emphasis on one's righteousness. Indeed, the essence of being Christian is imitating Christ (Eph. 5:1; Phil. 2:5). However, since the Reformation, the term 'works' has become a scary word for many Christians. We do our best to avoid implying works-based salvation. We often think of works as penance or things we must do to earn salvation or to earn God's favor. Unfortunately, practicing good works can be and has often been perverted into something we must do to earn God's love--what one of my professors calls 'natural human religion'. That being said, performing good works is an important aspect of Christianity and a well-rounded philosophy of it must be established.

The Nature of Faith

James says, “Faith without works is dead” (2:14, 17-24, 26). Rather than advocating works-based salvation, he is describing something natural. The nature of faith needs works to survive. Works fuel faith. Psychologically, this is perfectly natural. A belief, if not fueled by some sort of application in one’s life, will fade. It will die. Likewise, if faith is not actively applied to one’s life, it will disappear. Not because it isn’t good enough, not because God didn’t give the person enough, but because the person did not provide the means necessary for the faith to thrive. As Douglas Moo aptly suggests, “[it] is not that works must be added to faith but that genuine faith includes works. That is its very nature.”(1) Thus, we could say that we are justified by our faith, and our faith is justified by our works. As Moo adds, “Perfect faith is produced through successive acts of obedience.”(2)
Martin Luther struggled with James' concept of faith needing works to survive, almost to the point of disregarding the book as part of the canon. Ironically, he brilliantly conveyed what I am trying to say here:

O it is a living, busy active mighty thing, this faith. It is impossible for it not to be doing good things incessantly. It does not ask whether good works are to be done, but before the question is asked, it has already done this, and is constantly doing them.(3)

The Nature of Works as Participation

Works, rather than “things I should do or else I am not a good Christian,” are acts of obedience to God. They are contributions to God's Kingdom.
Furthermore, performing good works, rather than acting out of obligation or guilt, is actively participating in the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit:

If you love me, you will keep my commandments. . . . And he who loves me will be loved by my Father, and I will love him and manifest myself to him. . . . And my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our home with him. (Jn. 14:15, 21, 23)

Abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love. (15:9b-10)

Works make us vulnerable to God’s work and influence. By obeying God, we say ‘Yes’ to his grace and we open up our hearts for him to enter in and transform our being. With works, we let him have his way in the molding of who we will become. By performing the works of his Kingdom, we involve him in our lives. Thus, by our works, our relationship with him is made stronger. “Draw near to him and he will draw near to you” (Jas. 4:8); not that God isn’t already Immanuel, “God with us” (Matt. 1:23)—not that anything can objectively separate us from the love of God (Rom. 8:38–39), but subjectively we can be distanced from him. Thus, when we subjectively engage him, our hearts and minds become more intimate and personal with him.

Our work has the power to embrace or reject God's work. Thus, we can see how natural it is for James to say that faith without works is dead. Faith is the substance of things hoped for (Heb. 11:1), but if the thing hoped for is not close to our hearts and minds, and not being manifested in our lives through our active engagement of it, what happens to the faith? It naturally dies.


The Nature of Works as Subjective Experience

The second thing we must discuss in relation to the nature of works is what the Cross accomplished for humanity. That is, salvation for all (1 Jn. 2:2), for each and every person who ever was and is and is to come. This was the objective reality accomplished on the Cross. Thus, our true nature is hidden in Christ (Col. 3:3). In Christ, we are a new creation (2 Cor. 5:17), we are sinless, perfect, complete, and wonderfully Christ-like. As Paul says, “We, then, who are perfect, let us think on that!” (Phil. 3:15).(4) However, there is an absolutely essential subjective experience of that reality that is required in order for it to take effect.

First, one needs faith. One cannot experience what Christ accomplished on the Cross without faith. One must have faith in the new creation Christ has made him/her. In order to actually experience the benefits—if you will—of the Cross, one must believe in one’s new nature as a sinless, perfect image of the Amazing Creator. This cannot just be something with which one agrees (especially since it is such an absurd concept; me—perfect?). This cannot just be an idea that one believes and sticks on a shelf but is never actualized. One has to take upon that new nature and embrace it. One must begin to manifest the new creation that he/she really is.
This is where works come in. Works are subjective manifestations of the objective reality we have in Christ. Paul says, “Let us live up to what we have already obtained” (Phil 3:16). We have obtained perfection in Christ; "Therefore, be perfect as your heavenly Father is perfect” (Matt. 5:48).

This is why Paul says, "whatever does not proceed from faith is sin" (Rom. 14:23). Faith in Christ means faith in what Christ accomplished for the one's entire being. Christ established in all people a nature from which works flow like rivers. Thus, when we sin, it is only because we do not have faith in our perfect nature in Christ. If we had perfect faith, we would always manifest the new creation and would never sin.
It is not unlike when Morpheus was trying to free Neo from the limitations of his mind. It was only the matrix that was telling him what he couldn't do. In reality, he could jump from building to building (a leap of faith, if you will), best Morpheus in combat, and stop bullets in mid-air; but he had to be opened up to that reality and embrace it so that it was made manifest in his life.

We should stop living in the pre-Cross period. We should stop living in the old, dead flesh. We must stop living in the matrix. Let us obey God's commandments so that we can embrace him with our lives and manifest the truth of our perfection in Christ. This is why works are so essential to the Christian life and why faith without works is dead.

Notes:
(1) Douglas J. Moo, James, reprint ed. (Downers Gover: InterVarsity Press, 2009), 103.
(2) Ibid., 116.
(3) Martin Luther quoted in Ibid., 117.
(4) This is Karl Barth’s translation of the verse. See his Epistle to the Philippians, 40^th anniversary ed., trans. James W. Leitch (Lousiville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2002), 111.