Arguments for God vs. why Christians ACTUALLY believe

What makes someone convert to Christianity? What makes someone remain a believer when their faith is buffeted in a secular, science-minded society?

Greg Koukl’s surprising admission

Christian apologist Greg Koukl answers these questions with a surprising admission in a recent post. I say “surprising,” but this won’t surprise any skeptic who’s been paying attention. Perhaps I should say that it’s an honest or even praiseworthy admission.

He begins by saying that he often gives talks summarizing six apologetic arguments. He doesn’t list them, but I’m sure they’re more or less what any apologist would have on their short list: the Design Argument, Kalam Argument, Moral Argument, Transcendental Argument, and so on.

But here’s the bombshell.

Though I give this talk often, these are not really the reasons I personally believe the Bible is God’s Word. They are sound evidences, and they have their place, … but they are not how I came to believe in the Bible’s authority in the first place. I suspect they’re not the reasons you believe, either, even if you’ve heard the talk and thought it compelling.

He continues, referring to Paul’s epistle of 1 Thessalonians.

I came to believe the Bible was God’s Word the same way the Thessalonians did, the same way you probably did: They encountered the truth firsthand and were moved by it. Without really being able to explain why, they knew they were hearing the words of God and not just the words of a man named Paul.

But if that’s why you believe, why don’t you lead with that? If you don’t believe because of the Kalam argument (say), why waste my time telling me about it?

Koukl says that there are rational reasons to believe things—the Design, Moral, and his other intellectual arguments—but that “God used a different avenue to change our minds about the Bible.”

Is that a better avenue? A reliable avenue? Or just an avenue that bypasses criticism from your intellect and allows you to believe the unbelievable in a twenty-first century world where science continually shows that it provides reliable answers and religion doesn’t? Koukl gives no justification.

He describes this perspective as “non-rational”—not irrational but what sounds like emotional, the opposite of intellectual. The post is full of unevidenced claims that would never stand in an article that hoped to make an intellectual argument: “the Bible is God’s word,” “God inspired those men,” “they knew they were hearing the words of God,” and so on.

And what does Koukl say to the Catholic, Mormon, or Satanist who uses the same approach to build the same emotional foundation? “Good for you”? “Welcome, brother”? He would surely use an intellectual attack to say that his religious position is better than theirs, but how does that work when he’s made clear that the emotional argument trumps the intellectual? He’s handed his religious competition the play book by which they can insulate themselves from his criticism.

Role of God

Koukl encourages Christians to “let God do the heavy lifting” by having potential converts read the Bible. The Bible is magic, I guess, softening up the target so that the Christian apologist’s intellectual argument will have an impact. Again, no evidence is given. This is close to a literal Hail Mary pass, trusting in the supernatural to make the play.

Science has the track record. Apologists happily point to history, archaeology, cosmology, and more to build a case for their individual intellectual arguments. They understand the value of science and its cachet in society, which is why they appeal to it. Their overall argument is a hybrid—science where they can get away with it and appeals to the just-trust-me magical work of the Holy Spirit otherwise.

But Science’s critique is harsh. It says, not that a belief unsupported by evidence hasn’t been disproved and so can be believed (as many apologists imagine), but that arguments with insufficient evidence mustn’t be believed.

Allow me to briefly explore one tangent. It has become popular among apologists to bolster their position by declaring that “faith” means pretty much the same as “trust”—that is, belief well grounded in evidence. This means that the fuzzier, “You’ll just have to take that on faith” definition is gone. This lets them argue that their “faith” has the same solid backing as an empirical claim like, “the sun will rise tomorrow.”

But how can that stand if Koukl says that the bedrock of a Christian’s faith is subjective, untestable, personal feelings?

Koukl has company

Koukl’s belief that the intellectual argument takes a back seat to the emotional one is shared by William Lane Craig, who says:

It is the self-authenticating witness of the Holy Spirit that gives us the fundamental knowledge of Christianity’s truth. Therefore, the only role left for argument and evidence to play is a subsidiary role. (Reasonable Faith, Third Edition, p. 47)

And this isn’t new. Sixteenth-century theologian Martin Luther is credited with saying, “[Reason] is the Devil’s greatest whore.” Rather than science, they must take the unreliable, untestable, and unfalsifiable approach—not hard in the sixteenth century but difficult today for anyone who follows reason.

See also: Christian Nonsense from People Who Should Know Better

How compelling is this Christian argument?

Imagine me as a potential customer. Only arguments and evidence will convert me to a new worldview. A Christian’s experience of the Holy Spirit is, as far as I can tell, just them talking to themselves, so their sharing that won’t help. And how would we test their claims when they’ve dismissed reason, the only potential common language we have?

According to this Christian thinking, when I stand in judgment I’ll be convicted for acting in the only way I can. But how can I be compelled by arguments that I find inherently uncompelling?

See also: “I Used to be an Atheist, Just Like You”

But if that’s why you believe, why don’t you lead with that? If you don’t believe because of the Kalam argument (say), why waste my time telling me about it?

Koukl wants to send us back to that docile, childlike state where we just believed without questioning, before the skeptical parts of our brains were mature. That kind of programming can stick, and that’s the logic behind the Jesuit maxim, “Give me a child until the age of seven and I will give you the man.”

Once this programming is set, whether adopted as an adult or (more likely) as a child, the adult defends those programmed beliefs. Not wanting to admit that they hold a supernatural worldview merely because they were raised with it or because they’d like it to be true, they muster their substantial intellectual horsepower to defend it with arguments that never convinced them in the first place (I call this Shermer’s Law).

What this appeal to the emotional argument looks like

This is what backing the wrong horse looks like. We skeptics shake our heads at what passes for apologetics, reminding ourselves that Christians are just doing the best they can with a bad hand, when this isn’t even why they believe! The Moral or Design arguments are a misdirection (or a fig leaf) to keep attention off the emotional argument holding up their worldview. Alternatively, we could see these arguments as a recruiting tool (“Well, of course I have good reasons behind my belief in God! Have you heard of the Kalam argument?”).

I imagine a dialogue between an open-minded skeptic and a Christian eager to win one for Christ.

Skeptic: “Why don’t you start with your most compelling argument?”

Christian evangelist: “A couple come to mind—the Design Argument, the Moral Argument, Kalam…. Let’s start with the Moral Argument for God.”

“So then this Moral Argument convinced you that God exists?”

“Well, no, not really.”

“The Design Argument then, or Kalam? I’d rather start with what convinced you.”

“Actually, I learned about all these arguments after I had already become a Christian.”

“If these didn’t convince you, I wonder why they’d convince me. Can’t we start with what did convince you?”

But this pushes the Christian into the emotional (what the Christian might label “spiritual”) personal experience that they wanted to interpret as the action of some person of the Trinity. It’s their claim, not your experience. They “just know” it was God, you don’t, and there’s not much more to talk about.

And is it even the skeptic or atheist who’s the target of these intellectual arguments? I think the primary target is the Christian. The goal is to quiet that nagging doubt in the Christian’s head that sometimes wonders if all these supernatural tales are what they seem—bullshit.

See also: The Holy Spirit’s odd role in evangelism

God will not provide indisputable evidence of existence,
except that He will, and when He does,
He will make it look like
it’s not actually indisputable evidence,
unless you already believe He exists,
in which case it will look like indisputable evidence.
— Barry Goldberg, Common Sense Atheism

9 responses to Christian hell

An all-loving god creating a place of eternal torment—who thought that made good theology? The idea is ridiculous on its face, but Christian apologist William Lane Craig is eager to defend the idea. WLC’s response is just a childish retort that would only satisfy someone who’s already a believer. He says, in effect, “Well, maybe God has reasons for hell that we don’t understand. Have you considered that?”

Sure, that’s possible, but why go there? Where’s the evidence? When we’re handed a claim that doesn’t stand up to scrutiny, we should reject that claim, not rationalize ways to keep it.

Hell is hellish

Some of my arguments rest on heaven being a good place and hell a bad place, so let me first respond to the claim that hell isn’t that bad. Some say that God annihilates souls that don’t make the grade. Popular Christian writer C. S. Lewis said that “the gates of hell are locked on the inside” and hell’s inmates want to be there.

The parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19–31) makes clear that hell is a very unpleasant place. There’s also mention of “unquenchable fire” (Matthew 3:12), “the fiery lake of burning sulfur” (Revelation 21:8), and the warning to “be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell” (Matt. 10:28).

If we’re on the same page that the Bible argues that hell is bad, let’s proceed.

1. God’s perfect justice

A common Christian position states that God’s perfect justice obliges him to judge us severely, but what is “perfect justice”? Fundamentalists imagine that it’s a mindlessly inflexible demand for perfection, but there are other possibilities. Perfect justice might mean not a rigid justice but a judge that is perfect in his evaluation.

Why would justice be binary, with only heaven and hell as the possible options? Can’t it be a spectrum? Couldn’t your life be graded on a scale? A wise human judge would understand that we are imperfect and wouldn’t demand perfection. That judge might evaluate each person’s life against their potential to see how morally they played the hand that life dealt. Enlightened justice along these lines sounds more appropriate for an omniscient god than Christianity’s barbaric and inflexible justice.

We’re told that God’s perfect sense of justice is offended by our petty imperfections, but why would it work that way? We can’t hurt Superman physically, for example, so how can we hurt God’s sense of perfect justice? Is he emotionally a fragile flower who goes to pieces when he sees someone say an unkind word or leave too small a tip?

A finite human can be injured, offended, or overpowered, but not so an infinite God.

If God can forgive, the crucifixion wasn’t even necessary.

2. God can just forgive

Why can’t God just respond to insults and infractions the old-fashioned way—by forgiving? That’s what we do. That’s the lesson Jesus gives with the parable of the Prodigal Son.

It turns out that God can just forgive, and we find evidence in the Bible. God makes a new covenant with Israel and Judah in Jeremiah 31:33–4 and says, “I will forgive their wickedness and will remember their sins no more.”

In Isaiah 43 (after much whining about how Israel hadn’t made enough sacrifices), God concludes, “I, even I, am he who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake, and remembers your sins no more” (Is. 43:25).

What’s all this handwaving about how God’s perfect standard of justice requires Jesus as a human sacrifice? If God can forgive, the crucifixion wasn’t even necessary.

3. One size fits all

God takes a baggy, one-size-fits-all approach to judgment. If you’re perfect (or if you’ve accepted Jesus, which makes you effectively perfect), you go to heaven. Otherwise, it’s hell.

That’s a simple rule, but we don’t do it that way in the West. The rejection of “cruel and unusual punishment” dates back to the English Bill of Rights in 1689. Even in its harshest interpretation, where justice should be retributive and criminals should suffer, justice is proportionate to the crime.

Don’t tell me that God’s hands are tied. If he made his one-size-fits-all justice rule in a momentary lapse, he can just make a new rule. He changed his mind and forgave Israel, so he can do the same thing today. He’s omnipotent, right?

Or if God is wedded to the idea of a binary decision (you’re in heaven or you’re not), he could just annihilate the bad people. Eternal torture is so 1000 BCE.

See also: Stupid Argument #19b: “All that are in Hell, choose it” 

Continued in part 2.

My grandfather used to say,
“A Republican can’t enjoy his dinner
unless he knows somebody else is hungry.”
— seen on the internet

The Holy Spirit’s odd role in evangelism

Christian evangelism is supposed to be a partnership between the Holy Spirit and a Christian, but this is like a partnership between Superman and Jimmy Olsen. If God wants to spread the word, he’s more than able to do it solo.

The Holy Spirit’s job description

Here are some Christian explanations of how it’s supposed to work.

It is the job of believers to communicate the gospel. It is the job of the Holy Spirit to convert the heart. (David Souther)

Apologetics is great in bringing a person to the point where they can say it’s reasonable, but when it comes to surrendering their heart and will, that’s the part of the Holy Spirit. (Pat Zukeran podcast @12:42)

Ultimately, converting someone to Christianity is the work of the Holy Spirit. (Grace Ruiter)

So ultimately it’s the Holy Spirit, but it won’t work unless a Christian is involved as well? What could a human possibly contribute to the process that an all-knowing god couldn’t do better?

Let’s think this through. Imagine the Holy Spirit being a billion times smarter and more capable than the human evangelist. The Christian is the junior partner—a very junior partner. It’s as if this unlikely team is charged with building a Boeing 747, and the Holy Spirit provides all the parts and assembly work except for a single cotter pin or washer or fastener—some small but essential part without which the plane is useless—and that’s what the Christian provides. Similarly, the intellectual component the Christian brings to evangelism is negligible by comparison.

Can this be God’s plan? A long-discarded, overly optimistic early draft, maybe, but his final plan? It’s almost as if God wanted the winnowing process to be more of a challenge, for the sport.

(And no, Jesus didn’t insist that today’s Christians evangelize. That charge was given to the original apostles, not today’s Christians.)

How to salvage this

But see Christianity as a manmade belief and this makes sense. A god could make converts reliably, but that’s not what we see. So Christianity groped for plan B, and this Holy Spirit/Christian partnership is it. You need to have a human in the loop to take the blame when the result looks only as good as a human could do. When there’s a conversion, it’s due to the Holy Spirit, and when there’s a failure, it’s due to the human. In practice, the perfectly reliable Holy Spirit is useless, and the imperfect human is the one who delivers the new parishioners to the church.

This explains why, when we lay our problems at the feet of Jesus, they’re still there when we go back to check.

It also sheds some light on the current furor to get rid of the Roe protections on abortion. It’s one thing for Christians to impose constraints on themselves but quite another for them to impose constraints on others. Why be a busybody about someone else’s body when God is the ultimate judge? “Let go and let God,” right?

The truth is that all-powerful God never acts in our world. God doesn’t even make an unambiguous statement against abortion in the Bible. On some level, Christians understand this, because they know that if they want social change, they must make it themselves.

The Holy Spirit’s role in evangelism is also just make-work. The partnership isn’t Superman and Jimmy Olsen, it’s a timid human in a frightening world making hand shadows by firelight.

Apparently, the god of the entire universe
desperately needs his puny human followers
to help him out—a lot, and often,
and at great personal cost to themselves.

— OnlySky columnist Captain Cassidy

Faith statements suffocate academic freedom

Physicists and sociologists don’t use the same tools, but they don’t need to be kept in separate universities with incompatible ideas about academic freedom. What does that say about Christianity that many Christian colleges have faith requirements for students and faculty?

This is the third and final article in a series responding to William Lane Craig’s response to my attack on faith statements (part 1).

Bias? That’s not a problem. We’re all biased!

Dr. Craig (WLC) has an interesting response to the problem of bias.

Finally, and most importantly, the allegation of bias is ultimately irrelevant…. Every historian approaches a topic with his biases and point of view…. As the history is supported by the weight of the evidence, the historian’s personal biases become irrelevant.

This is the “So what if I’m biased? Everyone’s biased!” argument. I guess I’m old-fashioned on this subject because I’d like to think that bias isn’t binary (you’re biased or you’re not) but is measured on a scale, and we can and should strive to be as unbiased as possible.

The point can be generalized. We all have our biases, including atheists. (If Christian scholars need to attach a disclaimer to their work, so do atheists!)

When I subordinate myself to an unchanging statement, I’ll do just that. Until then, I’m free to reach any conclusion the evidence leads me to, and I only have fear of embarrassment keeping me from changing my mind. No job rides on this. The situation for the professional Christian scholar is quite different.

[WLC] is part of a church in which a perfect God made a clear statement of his unchanging rules that unaccountably is so ambiguous that new Christian denominations are splintering off at a rate of two per day.

I agree with WLC on a point

WLC does make one important point, so let me take the opportunity to clarify my position. He said:

But our work is to be judged by the soundness of our arguments, not by our biases. So you’ll never find me dismissing the work of an atheist philosopher on the grounds that he is biased, even though it may be blatantly obvious. Rather I seek to expose the fallacy in his reasoning or the false or unjustified premiss in his argument.

So the answer to your question, How do we know if the work of a Christian scholar is to be trusted? is easy: you assess it by the arguments and evidence he offers in support of his conclusions. Ultimately, that’s all that matters.

Yes, it would be an ad hominem fallacy to reject the work out of hand solely because it came from a Christian scholar. “That article came from a Christian scholar bound by a doctrinal statement; therefore, it’s garbage” would be an example of this error.

Here’s what I’m saying.

1. Christian institutions hurt themselves with doctrinal statements because those statements put a cloud of doubt over their scholars’ work. Signing such a statement binds the scholars to never reach a contrary conclusion on any of its points of dogma. They can never agree with one of those points without our dismissing the work as an inevitable conclusion rather than the result of honest research. It’s a disservice to the scholars, and it’s a disservice to their work.

2. WLC is right that I can analyze the arguments in an article and judge for myself, but this is my only option. I can’t accept or reject the conclusion without that analysis because the doctrinal statement means the author and their institution have no inherent reputation.

I can’t say, “Well, this article comes from MIT, and their physics department has a great reputation, so I’ll initially assume that it’s reliable.” Instead, I’ll be thinking, “This Christian author is has no initial reputation. He is bound by his doctrinal statement to come to this conclusion, so he has an uphill climb to show me that his conclusion is well founded.”

3. Nonexpert readers will often be unable to do the analysis. Let me illustrate with an example. A few years ago, I had lunch with three Christians from the local Reasons to Believe chapter (RTB is an old-earth Creationist group). We were talking about whether Daniel accurately prophesied Jesus (it didn’t). I summarized the evidence that Daniel was written in the 160s BCE. One of my antagonists replied that that was impossible since the Septuagint (the Greek translation of the Old Testament) was written around 300 BCE. How could Daniel have been written in the 160s if it was included in the Septuagint? The answer, which I had to research afterwards to find out, is that only the Pentateuch (the first five books) were included in the original Septuagint, so that 300 BCE date of authorship doesn’t apply to Daniel.

Expert readers might be able to provide the devil’s advocate challenges to test the work, as WLC suggests, but not all readers are experts. WLC’s response becomes, “So you think that their conclusion is flawed? Prove it!” but that’s an unreasonable burden on the reader and a handicap to the author’s reputation.

4. This option isn’t available beyond a single paper. Take this actual headline as an example: “12 Historical Facts About The Resurrection Of Jesus Most Scholars Agree Upon.” If these “scholars” are bound by doctrinal statements, WLC’s solution would be to just read their work and evaluate it. But that’s not available to us when there’s an appeal to the consensus of an entire discipline as in this case. If these scholars are constrained in their work, this appeal is meaningless.

Academic freedom at a Christian college

WLC brings up Ivy League schools as exemplars but never addresses the elephant in the room: that they don’t use doctrinal statements. Indeed, they are world class institutions in part because they don’t use them. Doctrinal statements are incompatible with free inquiry.

WLC is a professor at Biola’s Talbot School of Theology, and Talbot gets its accreditation from the Association of Theological Schools (ATS). This makes Talbot answerable to the ATS policy guidelines on “Academic Freedom and Tenure.” While this policy accepts doctrinal statements (“specific confessional adherence”), it also demands, “No confessional standard obviates the requirement for responsible liberty of conscience in the Jewish or the Christian community or the practice of the highest ideals of academic freedom.”

It also provides for tenure to protect scholars: “The provision for appointment on indefinite tenure is one way in which institutions safeguard their faculties’ freedom to teach, to inquire, and to organize their academic programs.”

Given that this is an accreditation association for theology schools, there are presumably interpretations or loopholes that allow binding doctrinal statements. Nevertheless, this is a lot more respect for academic freedom than WLC seemed interested in defending or even acknowledging.

Conclusion

Freedom to change one’s mind is an essential right in any institution. It’s a foundational concept in the academic freedom that reigns within the Ivy League colleges that WLC says he admires.

WLC’s unhelpful response is to say that it doesn’t bother him that there are constraints. They don’t get in his way. He doesn’t need to change his mind. But if they hobble your life … well, then it sucks to be you.

I can perhaps see WLC’s position. He is part of a church in which a perfect God made a clear statement of his unchanging rules that unaccountably are so ambiguous that new Christian denominations are splintering off at a rate of two per day. The doctrinal statement could be his finger in the dike, though that’s a futile gesture when he wants to simultaneously carve out a safe space for Christian thought while polishing the image of Christianity as a field able to hold its own in the marketplace of ideas.

He can’t have both.

The Bible:
The Goatherder’s Guide to the Universe
— Seth Andrews, Thinking Atheist podcast

Harvard doesn’t require faith statements. What does that tell you?

Christian philosopher William Lane Craig takes a Pollyanna approach to faith statements—they don’t bother him, so there’s no problem.

But there is a problem. In part 1 I responded to WLC’s claim that they help create community. Let’s continue with more of his concerns.

Cause and effect

WLC moves on to misunderstand the problem. He says that a doctrinal statement doesn’t determine a scholar’s views; rather, scholars will have formed their views beforehand and only then seek an institution that fits their views.

That’s correct, as far as it goes. When you join, the doctrinal statement fits you like a just-right sweater since you picked an institution that shared your views. The problem comes when your thinking progresses, and the sweater becomes a straitjacket.

WLC is confident that this won’t be a problem—for him, at least:

Thus, it is naïve on your part to imagine that [Houston Baptist University’s] doctrinal statement, for example, imposes some sort of restraint upon me with respect to belief in the virgin birth or the deity of Christ or the resurrection of Jesus. I held these beliefs long before affiliating with HBU, and I would believe them no matter where I taught.

Craig tells us that if he hasn’t felt constrained by a doctrinal statement, then it’s all good.

But he isn’t completely clueless, and he can imagine the problem—though his solution is unsympathetic.

It can happen that one’s doctrinal views can change in the course of one’s career, with the result that one can no longer sign the doctrinal statement in good faith. In that case, the professor should seek employment elsewhere.

Oh, so it’s as easy as that? If you’ve grown so that you can’t accept the outmoded doctrinal statement, just quit.

This gets back to the original problem. Sure, you can quit your job. Maybe you’ll lose your tenure or even your career, depending on how far your views have changed. But you might have other obligations than that to the university. Can you quit if there’s a family to feed? Or do you convince yourself to muddle through by not thinking about the problem too hard?

We can humanize this issue by moving from an abstract hypothetical to the concrete problems of hundreds of actual Christian clergy with failing faith by looking at the Clergy Project. Some of these clergy members have walked away from their careers in the church as atheists, while others keep their head down as long as they can, preferring an uncomfortable present to an unknown future.

WLC seems to appreciate the problem, but Christian compassion isn’t where he goes for an answer:

The danger is that because such a move can be so gut-wrenching, the professor may be tempted to continue in his present position, even though he no longer believes the doctrinal statement. In that case, he compromises his own integrity and the integrity of the institution. If the institution does not take the difficult step of dismissing him, the seed of corruption is planted which may derail the institution in coming generations.

In other words, it’s the scholar’s fault that the straitjacket is too tight. I’m sure that’s comforting. Notice that this is just a problem within religious institutions. Scholars in public and Ivy League universities are encouraged to follow the facts where they lead.

And “the seed of corruption”? Really? Christian dogma is so uncompromising that it can’t tolerate any challenges? This is medieval thinking. Again, try to imagine this criticism coming back to a physicist or geologist in response to a paper submitted for peer review.

People change. Doctrinal statements are too brittle to accept this, but this is the fault of the institutions that demand them, not of the people.

The problem comes when your thinking progresses, and the comfortable sweater becomes a straitjacket.

Consequences of a doctrinal statement

It is false, then, as you allege, that by signing a doctrinal statement [that includes the claim that Jesus was born of a virgin], “a professor has publicly stated, ‘I promise to never conclude that the virgin birth was just a myth’.” He has made no such promise.

He has. Your point is simply that he can break his promise and quit. Yes, he can, but the original point stands: we can’t treat his conclusions at his Christian college as useful new information when he was bound to reach them. (I have more to say about this—see the link to the final part below.)

You say that he can just quit? Sure, but why have this cumbersome and punitive policy? Harvard isn’t bothered by what its scholars conclude. As long as the facts support them, their professors can build their conclusions. They’re not constrained by a prior commitment to a conclusion. What does it say about doctrinal statements that Harvard’s view of academic freedom wouldn’t tolerate them?

Mike Licona’s crime

In my original post, I discussed one cautionary tale: “Might the scholar simply have come to an unbiased conclusion? That’s possible, but how would we know? Mike Licona is a Christian scholar who found out the hard way that faith statements have teeth. In 2011, he lost two jobs because, in a 700-page book, he questioned the inerrancy of a single Bible verse.” WLC responded:

The case of Mike Licona is a good example. Licona has never denied biblical inerrancy, nor was he fired because of it.

The point about Licona is that he’s an example of someone who ran afoul of a doctrinal statement and lost his job. I don’t want to split hairs over the theological validity of the charges against him, but let me respond to the two points WLC made.

In one of his public attacks on Licona at the time, Norm Geisler (co-founder of Southern Evangelical Seminary) wrote, “Mike Licona on Inerrancy: It’s Worse than We Originally Thought.” You’re free to disagree with Geisler’s conclusion, but, yeah, it’s about inerrancy.

And I didn’t say that Licona was fired from his jobs, just that he lost them.

WLC’s point was to vaguely defend Licona against the charges and note that he’s still “a member in good standing of the Evangelical Theological Society.” That’s nice, but it still turned the guy’s life upside down. Can Craig still ignore the collateral damage of faith statements?

I agree with WLC on one important point in the conclusion, next time.

All those who persistently reject Jesus Christ in the present life
shall be raised from the dead
and throughout eternity exist in the state
of conscious, unutterable, endless torment of anguish.
— part of the Biola doctrinal statement
that WLC is obliged to believe

William Lane Craig replies to my attack on faith statements

A few months ago, I wrote “Faith statements and a call for honesty in Christian scholarship,” an expansion of my earlier criticism about faith statements. I sent a shortened version to Christian apologist William Lane Craig (WLC), and he replied.

As you might imagine, I have quite a bit to say in response to Craig’s article, but first let me remind you of my position. Faith statements hurt Christian institutions because they constrain their staff. Scholars at the Discovery Institute or Answers in Genesis or a Christian university who sign a statement that includes the virgin birth claim (to take just one Christian claim) is publicly stating that they will never write a paper that concludes otherwise. If they ever do tell us, “And that’s why the virgin birth is history, not just a story,” there’s no point in believing it since we knew beforehand that that’s what they would conclude before they began any research. Was that their conclusion after an honest evaluation of the evidence, or did they cherry pick their data? In short, is that the researcher or the faith statement talking?

Other professions have resolved this problem of constraints on scholars’ freedom. Conflicts like this must be disclosed according to the professional standards of journalists, medical researchers, historians, scientists, and those in the legal profession. If religious scholars want to sit at the adults’ table, they need similar professional standards. I’d like to see, “The author of this paper is bound by the faith statement of [Institution], which can be found at [URL].”

This would be a simple statement of fact, but if it looks embarrassing, then you begin to see the problem.

Freedom of speech demands that scholars be able to say what they want, but professional standards demand that they disclose constraints on their research such as faith statements.

Harvard changed [their motto]. They wouldn’t be where they are now if they hadn’t.

WLC strikes back

WLC began his response with a clarification.

Notice that I speak of “doctrinal statements,” not “faith statements,” as you do. Characterizing such doctrinal statements as “faith statements” carries the connotation that such doctrinal affirmations are made by faith alone, without a reasoned basis.

This sounds like someone agrees with me that “faith” = “belief poorly grounded in evidence”! He needs to tell his fellow evangelicals.

I don’t see how this avoids the problem. If “faith statements” might be held without a reasoned basis, why think that “doctrinal statements” are any different? You’d need to first show that doctrine is more grounded in evidence than faith is.

They seem to be synonyms, but “doctrinal statement” is more popular on the internet than “faith statement.” I’ll try to use the former.

This can’t be that big an issue for WLC, because at his own site, you’ll find a statement of faith! (h/t commenter richard)

Doctrinal statements create community?

WLC said that I don’t understand the value in doctrinal statements.

The primary purpose of such statements is to help build a community of scholars that has a certain ethos founded on a common worldview. Those of us who teach at such institutions value a Christian community in which problems can be explored from within a shared worldview and in which students can be provided an education which reflects a Christian worldview.

You want a worldview? How about Veritas (“truth”)? That’s what Harvard uses.

As for having a worldview shared among the faculty, try a job interview, or read some of the candidate’s published work. That’s what conventional universities do.

And think of what this says about the strength of the Christian worldview that students at a Christian college need to be protected from contrary opinions. This admits that Christianity can’t compete. People can be indoctrinated as children, but they very rarely convert in to the faith as adults, and that’s the reason for the Christian cocoon.

WLC again:

Doctrinal statements are especially important in maintaining such an ethos intergenerationally. We all know that universities like Harvard, Yale, and Princeton were founded as Christian institutions dedicated to training men for the ministry or for missionary service. But as they have drifted over the generations far from their Christian moorings, they have become secularized and lost their Christian identity.

Oops—you don’t want to go there. Ivy League schools are stellar institutions now, but they weren’t in their early days. They’re at the top because they embraced evidence and reason and followed it where it went.

Let’s look more closely at that list. Harvard, Yale, and Princeton rank first, ninth, and eighth in Nobel Prizes. One ranking puts them as the second, ninth, and seventh universities in the world. Do you think they’d be there if they were still Christian colleges?

WLC’s alma mater Wheaton College has “For Christ and His Kingdom” as its motto, which is very similar to Harvard’s original motto, “For Christ and Church.” Harvard changed theirs. They wouldn’t be where they are now if they hadn’t.

Continued in part 2.

It is better to debate a question without settling it
than to settle a question without debating it.
— Jeseph Joubert