God, are you there? And if you are, well, do you care
about all my fears keeping me here?
Calling out your name, am I calling out in vain?
I’m wondering why you don’t hear my cry.
I can’t understand what your doing;
but it’s not my place to question your ways.
Lord, give me a glimpse of where your going.
Let me follow you today

But I feel like I’m lost in December,
too far from the world I used to know.
Can you see me? I’m dying in this winter.
Or is this just part of the narrow road?

I can’t understand: when I reach for your hand,
your love can’t be found; seems you’re not around.
Hearing of your perfect will, never knowing why I still
can’t see your face, can’t feel your grace.
Wishing that the questions weren’t so painful;
but I’m longing to find your truth.
Knowing that the answers aren’t so simple;
Lord, I’m needing to see a glimpse of you.

But I feel like I’m lost in December,
too far from the world I used to know.
Can you see me? I’m dying in this winter.
Or is this just part of the narrow road?

How soon I forget that the story’s not over yet.
Because late one December night, God broke the silence
with the sound of the child that would save us,
filling the world with his light.

But I feel like I’m lost in December,
(Oh my child, I hear you.)
too far from the world I used to know.
(You’re not alone.)
Can you see me? I’m dying in this winter.
(I will always be with you…)
Or is this just part of the narrow road?
(… wherever you go.)

I know what you are thinking: that title is quite unfair.

In many cases you would probably be right, but at least when it comes to Stilwell I am not sure it really is unfair at all. He has made a proud effort at littering the internet with ample evidence supporting the fairness of that title, evidence that is not difficult to find. In fact, the very description of his personal blog states: [1]

“Synaptic misfirings from the incoherent mind of an incurable dilettante happily lost in Tokyo.”

I know, I know—“Don’t quote me, bro!”

~*~

Stilwell recently (7 March 2012) left a comment on my previous post that failed to make it past the moderation queue; it was deleted because it violated the very first rule of our Comments Policies here at the Aristophrenium, which in part reads:

If we receive a comment that’s littered with gratuitous invective and lacking any substantive point of view, it will not be published. Civility is not a requirement but some effort at an actual argument certainly is.

We do make exceptions every once in a while, but they are quite rare and left to the discretion of the site administrators. (For example, I had recently made an exception for Dr. Jonathan Sarfati of Creation Ministries International, and only because he is a high-profile public figure who we were quite pleased to hear from.)

I am going to make an exception for Stilwell also, but this shall be a highly modified exception in the sense that I am going to make it the subject of a blog post in its own right, and for three reasons. First, I want the reader to see what according to Stilwell passes for intelligent commentary; and obviously he did too because he submitted it for public viewing. Second, I want to respond to the claims and accusations he made therein, setting some things straight; and obviously he wanted me to because he did submit it for my viewing. And third, I want to set forth my concluding remarks on what has been a very silly and disappointing experience.

Read the rest of this entry

I always find it truly ironic when atheists profess to be champions of skepticism and critical thinking, as if they esteem reason and the rigors of logic, but collapse in a heap of emo histrionics when challenged to argue for their atheism. The most recent case: Phil Stilwell.

I realize that you have no idea who that is. Neither do I, quite frankly, although he is certainly trying to make a name for himself on the worldwide web. (And when you see what passes for ‘reason’ in Stilwell’s world, like me you might find yourself wondering why he is embarrassing himself so broadly.) Stilwell is responsible for a number of different blogs, only three of which I am aware of [1] but he seems willing to create a new blog at the drop of a hat. [2]

Three days ago in a chat on IRC someone dropped a link to a debate between Stilwell and some Christian named Jay Atkins; the debate was published in a standalone blog created by Stilwell called Snake Oil Jesus: Vekl Come Knocking. (“Vekl” was apparently a pseudonym used by Atkins.) After reviewing the debate, I was interested in how fundamentally flawed Stilwell’s arguments were and disappointed with how Atkins either failed to notice the flaws or chose to ignore them.

I decided to find out more about Stilwell and ended up discovering his personal blog, and in particular a rather strong claim he made therein, that “the God of the Bible does not exist.” [3] I was interested in finding out how he might attempt arguing for that claim in a debate against me, so I challenged him to another debate, one that should prove quite different from that with Atkins. The only stipulations I had were that it had to be in written format and the resolution had to be, “The God of biblical Christianity does not exist.” Beyond that Stilwell was free to establish whatever parameters he wished.

He accepted the debate challenge and the resolution.

But unfortunately he proved to be unwilling to argue for his claim in a debate. What he wanted instead was to argue against my claim, which was a difficult proposition because I had not made any claims. So over the next two days Stilwell invested all his efforts in trying to get me to make a claim or two that he could then argue against. He proclaimed confidently that he could demonstrate a “logical incoherency” in my view, if only I would carefully explain to him what my view is. Unfortunately none of that would have anything to do with his claim, which was produced at least two and a half years ago by a line of reasoning that neither made, nor even could make, any reference to my views.

And yet ignorance of my views was not a luxury Stilwell ever had. Even though the purpose of the debate was for him to argue for his claim, for some reason he insisted that my theology of redemption had to be the context in which he would make that argument and incessantly pressed me to explain it to him. Unfortunately for him, he actually had been made aware of the pertinent information regarding my theology of redemption; from the very beginning I told him that I was confessionally Reformed and affirm the five solas of the Protestant Reformation, and in another email I had even pointed him to the Westminster Confession of Faith as well as the Cambridge Declaration. (And Stilwell’s response? “David, I am not going to study your theology.”) So whatever the reason might have been for his unwillingness to argue for his claim in a debate, an ignorance of my theology of redemption could not be part of it since between those two documents not a single relevant datum of information that he could have possibly needed was missing.

No matter what the proposed context of the debate was—whether the context of his original argument or the context of my theology of redemption—he flatly refused to argue for his claim in a debate.

As for the heap of emo histrionics that Stilwell collapsed into, see the series of emails that we exchanged over the last few days. [4]

Footnotes:

[1] From Synapse to Byte (Stilwell’s personal blog), The Impossible God (a smorgasbord of embarrassing arguments), and Snake Oil Jesus (a debate between Stilwell and Jay Atkins).

[2] “I will set up a WordPress blog for the debate, but you can feel free to have your own blog that mirrors the debate for whatever reason.” (Phil Stilwell, personal correspondence [2012, March 1].)

[3] “However, I do say unequivocally that the god of the bible does not exist. Jehovah, as commonly defined, is a logical impossibility due to incoherent concepts such as eternal punishment for finite lives of sinning. Jehovah also fails the internal logic test. Conventional interpretations of biblical promises to answer prayer are demonstrably false. This makes Jehovah a liar, something the bible says he is not. Therefore Jehovah and his bible fail this test of internal logical consistency.” (This quote was copied verbatim from the text of his article accessed 1 March 2012. See Stilwell, P. [2009, August 29]. “Micropoints,” Question #3, par. 2. From Synapse to Byte. [Blog.])

[4] “The God of biblical Christianity does not exist,” a series of emails between myself and Phil Stilwell attempting to set up a debate which Stilwell ultimately refused. Skip past the introduction, as it simply reproduces this blog post here.

I don’t often make reviews of debates, but when I do, it’s usually when I hear a debate that was exceptionally good and is worth commenting on. Perhaps one of the best debates I’ve heard this year was the one between Dr. James White and Abdullah Kunde on the doctrine of the incarnation. The debate took place in Australia back in September 17 of this year. The video of the debate can be viewed below:

Read the rest of this entry

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, “Christmas Bells,” The Complete Poetical Works of Longfellow (Houghton Mifflin Company, 1893).

I heard the bells on Christmas Day;
their old, familiar carols play.
And wild and sweet
the words repeat
of peace on earth, good will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
the belfries of all Christendom
had rolled along
the unbroken song
of peace on earth, good will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,
the world revolved from night to day.
A voice, a chime,
a chant sublime
of peace on earth, good will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
the cannon thundered in the South;
and with the sound
the carols drowned,
of peace on earth, good will to men.

It was as if an earthquake rent
the hearth-stones of a continent,
and made forlorn
the households born
of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head;
”There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“for hate is strong,
and mocks the song
of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep!
The wrong shall fail,
The right prevail,
with peace on earth, good will to men!”

MercyMe, “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day,” track 10, The Christmas Sessions [CD] (INO Records, 2005).

It might seem a little odd that a Christian apologetics web site should pay respect to the passing of a militant atheist who was so fervently opposed to the Christian religion, but in all honesty I rather enjoyed the contributions he made to the culture of dialogue between Christians and atheists. He was inarguably a man possessed of considerable rhetorical skill and sardonic wit who managed to articulate his antipathy for religious convictions with an eloquence that was engaging and thought-provoking. Despite the fact that his arguments were sophomoric and did not present any cogent challenge to biblical Christianity, he nevertheless forced believers to think critically and do their homework regarding the points on which he attempted to hang his arguments, and in my books that is always a good thing for it produces a more informed believer. And in the forge of his blazing vitriol, combined as it was with the likes of Richard Dawkins and the other “four horsemen” of neo-atheism, my own apologetic was tempered and refined to contend with a new breed of antitheism.

Say what you will about his venomous language but one can hardly dispute that the man was a gifted writer, “the vocation of his life, one in which he excelled,” pastor and theologian Douglas Wilson admitted (2011, para. 2). Hitchens himself confessed that writing was not just his living and livelihood but his very life; after having received some injection to relieve the pain in his hands and fingers, a side effect of which is a numbness in the extremities, he greatly feared losing the ability to write. “I feel my personality and identity dissolving as I contemplate dead hands and the loss of the transmission belts that connect me to writing and thinking,” he confessed toward the end of what would be his last essay (2011, para. 20). In spite of the stark antithesis between the convictions and values of Hitchens and myself that is one thing that we both shared in common, a passionate and consuming need to write and an abiding appreciation for its capacity to serve as a conduit for shaping not only our own thoughts but also the thinking of others. Although he used his craft as a rhetorician and author to distill and augment his enmity with God—and maybe that is one sense in which we can take Tom Gilson’s comment that Hitchens’ rhetorical effectiveness “was in many ways his undoing” (2011, para. 4)—there is little room for doubt that he was powerfully eloquent and captivated his readers, both admirers and critics alike. He may have been convincing only to the already convinced but to just about anyone he was eminently readable, engaging, and entertaining.

Nobody of course knows what will be his ultimate fate other than the fact that, like everyone else, he will stand before the judgment throne of God. It is unfortunate that he cultivated such an atheistic celebrity because it practically cemented his obdurate rebellion against God and repentance. So worried was Hitchens about the potential for reports of a deathbed confession that he crafted in advance a narrative to combat that sort of thing. As he told his friend Jeffrey Goldberg of The Atlantic in an interview (Goldberg, 2010; video clip 2:56–3:26):

Now might be the time to say, I guess, that in the event of anyone reading or hearing a rumor of any such thing [as a deathbed confession] being made it would not have been made by me. The entity making such a remark might be a raving, terrified person whose cancer has spread to the brain. I can’t guarantee that such an entity wouldn’t make such a ridiculous remark. But no one recognizable as myself … could possibly say something so silly.

As Wilson observed, it was almost as if Hitchens was “afraid of letting down the infidel team,” so to speak (para. 10), as if to express a sort of concern that his antitheistic legacy might be robbed of its credibility should he quite inexplicably turn to Christ in repentance and faith at the end. If you hear something like that coming out of my mouth, he said, then it was not me saying it. He wanted people to know that if he confessed faith, then the Christopher Hitchens we all knew “should be counted as already dead,” Wilson said (ibid.). What Wilson found most interesting was that the advance narrative Hitchens prepared, while yet manifestly in his right mind, did not involve someone claiming to have heard him cry out to God and thus misrepresenting yet another unbeliever (as had been done with Charles Darwin, for example), but rather involved Hitchens himself uttering such a thing. Was Hitchens thus implying that it was conceivable to him that he might (and thus he had to discredit it ahead of time)? I have to agree with Wilson: it is interesting that Hitchens framed the advance narrative in the way that he did.

But I bring this up because of something that I found particularly interesting beyond what Wilson observed: the biblical truth inadvertently lurking within the narrative that Hitchens crafted. If he should turn to Christ in repentance and faith at the end, then we should understand that it was not him saying it, that the Hitchens we all knew would never do or say any such thing, that in the face of such a statement he should be counted as already dead. And that is precisely what would be the case, for that is the very nature of what happens for anyone who turns to Christ in genuine repentance and faith. It is a new creation that emerges from regeneration, that is, being born again of the word of Christ and power of the Spirit; the old person is gone, having given his life up to God for Christ’s sake: “For through the law I died to the law so that I may live to God. I have been crucified with Christ, and it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me” (Gal 2:19-20). It is true that if Hitchens had turned to Christ in repentance and faith it would not have been the Hitchens we all knew who had done such a thing; indeed that Hitchens would be counted as already dead if he went from loving sin and hating God to loving God and hating sin, because those who are “in Adam” are morally and spiritually incapable of such a thing. And the one who believes in Christ will live even if he dies (John 11:25). The unintended irony of his advance narrative is that it was entirely consistent with a pronouncement of saving faith he was trying to distance himself from.

We do not know if he turned to Christ; there is no reason to suppose he did and plenty of reasons to think he did not. And that is a sad and sober thing, for on the day that he stands before the throne of God he would have nothing to which he can appeal but the 62 years he lived from April 13, 1949, until December 15, 2011, a life during which he heard the light of the gospel in many ways and from many people but preferred the darkness of life apart from Christ, the Son of God he defiantly reviled. That is not by any means something to celebrate and I want nothing to do with the Westboro Baptist type of people who would disgrace themselves and bring shame to the name of Christ by doing so. It is something that we should reflect upon soberly as we include his wife, family, and particularly his brother in our prayers.

As for me, I am going to miss him.

The deep pain that is felt at the death of every friendly soul arises from the feeling that there is, in every individual, something which is inexpressibly peculiar to him alone, and is therefore absolutely and irretrievably lost.

— Arthur Schopenhauer

(See Peter Hitchens, “In Memoriam: My courageous brother Christopher, 1949-2011,” Daily Mail Online [2011, December 16]).

(See also Larry Alex Taunton, “My Take: An evangelical remembers his friend Hitchens,” CNN Belief Blog (2011, December 16). This is a powerfully evocative piece and well worth the read. It gives you a peek at a side of Hitchens that few got to see.

There are others in the Christian apologetics community who have commented on his passing. Please take the time to read their reflections on this event:

• Douglas Wilson (Christianity Today).
• Tom Gilson (Thinking Christian).
• James White (Alpha & Omega Ministries) (video)
• Carson Weitnauer (Reasons for God).
• Jay Wile (Proslogion).
• Mark McGee (Faith and Self Defense).
• Rob Lundberg (The Real Issue).
• Frank Turek (Cross Examined).

References:

Tom Gilson, “On the passing of Christopher Hitchens,” Thinking Christian [blog] (2011, December 16).

Jeffrey Goldberg, “Hitchens talks to Goldblog about cancer and God,” The Atlantic (2010, August 6). See also Goldberg, “On the possibility of Christopher Hitchens finding Jesus” (2011, December 13).

Christopher Hitchens, “Trial of the Will,” Vanity Fair (2012, January).

Douglas Wilson, “Christopher Hitchens Has Died, Doug Wilson Reflects,” Christianity Today (2011, December 16).

Richard Dawkins was recently challenged to a debate with William Lane Craig. He declined. Craig, he said, was a “deplorable apologist for genocide” with whom he would not share a platform. The genocide in question is that of the Canaanites in the Old Testament Book of Deuteronomy (see link).

One of Richards more famous quotes from “The God Delusion” on this issue is:

The God of the Old Testament is arguably the most unpleasant character in all fiction: jealous and proud of it; a petty, unjust, unforgiving control-freak; a vindictive, bloodthirsty ethnic cleanser; a misogynistic, homophobic, racist, infanticidal, genocidal, filicidal, pestilential, megalomaniacal, sadomasochistic, capriciously malevolent bully.

One of the biggest problems that many people have with God as detailed in the Bible, which Richard has so clearly demonstrated above, is that of His judgment against nations like the Canaanites. One only has to read Biblical history to find God commanding the slaughter of the Canaanite men, women and children. Not even the livestock are spared. So what are we make of this? Is God a moral monster?

Paul Copan has attempted to answer this challenge in his book “Is God a Moral Monster? Making Sense of the Old Testament God.” His answer to the charge that God commanded the genocide of the Canaanites is that this was not the genocide that it appears to be from a simple at face value reading of the text; that the text is hyperbolic and an exaggeration of what actually happened; that these were more like disabling raids of the military bases/cities and religious centers and not the leave no survivors destructive conquest that one might assume from a face value reading of the text. The passages on the women and children are just sweeping language being used as a disabling metaphor where central structures are undermined so that the Canaanite influence is disabled. For a more thorough explanation you can check out this interview (3rd hour) with Greg Koukl on his radio show at STR or their blog. Otherwise you can get his book.

While Paul Copan’s explanation on the issues of slavery, bigamy, child sacrifice and the treatment of women in the Old testament seems sound to me, I think Clay Jones comes to the correct conclusion on the issue of the “divine genocide” of the Canaanites. He argues in his treatise, “We Don’t Hate Sin. So We Don’t  Understand What Happened to the Canaanites”, that the face value interpretation of the text is the correct interpretation. Clay also appeared on Greg Koukl’s radio show in an interview that can be found here (3rd Hour) which is where I got most of his answers for the rest of this blog post.

The first thing that needs to be examined is the culture and behavior of the Canaanites to see if there could be any justification for their obliteration as described in the Old Testament. Archeologist William Allbright tells of an ancient Canaanite poem where the Canaanite God Baal, rapes his sister while she is in the form of a calf 77 even 88 times. We have here rape, incest and beastiality in the same act. Baal also has sex with his mother and daughter. If this is who the Canaanites worshiped, if this is their God whom they emulate, then according to Jones, this is certainly what they themselves are doing. And these acts are borne out with further study of Canaanite culture. God outlaws these practices in Leviticus and this sin is punished when both the Canaanites and Israel committed them. And that punishment was harsh. Sodom and Gomorrah were examples of Canaanite cities who were judged by God with good moral justification.

So how does Clay Jones answer the complete destruction passages of the Canaanites in the Old Testament? Clay starts off by making an observation of our own culture. We seem to have been inoculated to sin. Average people just does not care anymore about many sins. Our culture does not even recognize them as sin, let alone understand what the term sin actually means. We have become so Canaanite-like in our own culture to the point where, as Clay put it, “Studying these things over the years has led me to wonder if the Canaanites might stand up at the Judgment and condemn this generation”.

Livestock

Why kill all the livestock? You do not want to be around animals that are used to having sex with people. In Clay’s article he gives an example of a female gorilla sexually attacking a psychologist.

Women

If you want to erradicate these practices from a culture, then why would you leave women who were just as guilty and as equally dangerous as the men in participating in these practices.

Children

Yes the children too. Firstly what age do you start separating children from adults? 18? 12? Clay tells of fostering children because he and his wife could not have their own children. They learned that kids coming into your house at from as young as 4 years old were bringing their culture with them. Now, what if you had killed their parents? What would teenage rebellion look like for those children who were spared. Certainly they were exposed to a highly sexualised culture and were very much likely to have been molested by that time.

So how do you stomp out that culture in order to prevent if from affecting the Israelites adversely? If you want to erradicate the sinfullness of the Canaanites, how else can you do it?

But wait, I hear you say, the Bible talks of the continued Canaanite presence in the region after this “divine genocide” occurred. How does Clay answer that? Clay directs our attention to those “divine genocide” texts and points out that Gods command was only for a specific region. There was still a Canaanite presence outside the region that the Israelites were to inhabit and that’s why there were commands still in place not to take wives from outside the Israelite culture etc. But as we read further into the text, the likes of Kings David and Solomon did not uphold these commands perfectly (by taking wives from outside the Israelite community) and thus the Canaanite culture was reintroduced into the Israels culture and corrupted them to the point where God then dealt harshly with the Israelites via the Assyrians and Babylonians.

So in conclusion, I think we can accept the text at face value. The question that remains is what do you think of God for commanding such a thing? Does God have a right to do with His creation as He pleases? If you have a problem with the selective judgment of the Canaanites then how do you feel about the almost complete destruction wrought by God of the whole world during the Flood? And how do you feel about the impending destruction of everything at Armageddon?

I cannot tell you how many times I have heard atheists characterize Christians as “wasting” their lives. Some mean it as a pejorative, others are quite sincere about it, but in every case there is some kind of concern about Christians reaching the end of their lives and discovering it was all such a waste. By and large atheists of this sort have a desire to draw the Christian away from his or her faith and into a perspective that will not waste this supposedly one and only life. So there are two thoughts I have had with respect to this notion that I wish to share. And instead of speaking broadly for Christians everywhere, which obviously I cannot do, I will speak for myself.

On the one hand, presumably as I am lying on my deathbed, exactly how do I come to the realization that it was all such a waste? Suppose I am lying on a hospital bed, perhaps overrun with cancer and death just a matter of hours away. I have lived my life according to my convictions of Christ’s redeeming grace, committed to a local church whom I have been lovingly devoted to and who has surrounded me in a warm community of support, edification, opportunity, and guidance. I have engaged my passions in learning and understanding, from theology to philosophy to science, through both self-reflection and discourse. I have pursued my appetite for reading, from captivating novels to academic textbooks. I have experienced family and friendship; I have experienced love and being loved, forgiving and being forgiven. I have known the rewards of success and the lessons of failure. I have loved those who hate me and served those who love me. And in every circumstance I have seen God’s providential hand and (even if not consistently) praised God for it all. I have known the God of all creation and have been known by him, through which I have had a scope of vision that transcends the limits of my self, humankind, or the place in history that my existence occupied. I have seen with reverential awe the breathtaking beauty and interconnected realities of God’s handiwork.

And yet somehow, as I lay here dying, I am supposed to realize this was a waste?

Exactly what might I have otherwise had or done? If I had not these Christ-centered convictions, would I have had friendships? But I had these. Would I have been able to enjoy great learning? Would I have had a rewarding career in a field I love? Would I have explored the halls of knowledge or the wonders of the cosmos? But I had these, too. Would I have loved and helped my fellow man? Would I have gained an understanding and appreciation for the views of others that differ from mine? But I have had and done all this—and much more. Given the sort of people that this expressed concern comes from, perhaps the waste they speak of is a life that was without an abiding wonder and intellectual curiosity about the natural world around us which we have explored and sought to understand through a web of scientific disciplines. But as someone with a profound appreciation and respect for such things, having consumed countless hours learning about cosmological and biological discoveries, my life was not lived without scientific wonder and curiosity. I could go on but at the end of the day I must confess that it escapes me just how I should realize my life was wasted.

On the other hand, what is it about lying at death’s door that is supposed to clue me in to it all being a waste? Granting the atheist his or her view that this life is the only one I have, that when I die there is nothing left but non-existence as my body decomposes in the ground, how am I supposed to realize this was all a waste? While I am yet alive but dying, there is nothing that would indicate that this life was the only one I had; in other words, I have not crossed the threshold of death yet so there is not anything that indicates those atheists were right. The irony which seems lost on them, however, is that even if they are right I will never know it—because as a dead and decomposing corpse I would not realize anything. On the atheist’s view, a corpse does not engage in acts of cognition.

Indeed, as I lay there dying I would not realize it was all a waste, for by the grace of God I did everything I desired to do. When you live the life that you want to, according to the values and passions you have, how is that a waste? Perhaps the things I value and desire to do is uninteresting or tedious to you, but what has that to do with me? For example, if I love to study God’s word and you do not, just how is that a waste for me? Am I supposed to live my life according to your values and desires? The way I see it, and perhaps even you as an atheist would agree with me, my life could be said to have been wasted if I didn’t do the things I value and desire to do; that is, if someone always wanted to do this or that but never did throughout his whole life, then maybe his life was wasted in at least that respect. But if he did those things which he valued and desired to do, if he lived his life fully—even if not always consistently—according to those commitments, pursuing his ambitions and passions, then exactly how was that all a waste?

If the atheist is right, if this life is the one and only life I have and I lived it according to what I value and desire to do, after which nothing but black non-existence awaits me, then my life was neither wasted nor could I realize anything about it. That’s the sheer irony of all this. About the only thing the atheist could say is that I did not live the one and only life I have according to that atheist’s values and desires—but so what? If I did that, then I would be wasting my life.

Although I appreciate the concern that such atheists have, I do have to point out the incoherence of it. Given their view, and especially their disdain for people shoving values down their throats that are not theirs, it quite literally makes no sense for them to suggest that I am wasting my life in any way. Thus their concern is misplaced and unintelligible at any rate. If you want to know whether or not Christians are wasting their lives, then ask them if they are living it according to their values and passions.

And do try being a little more self-consistent; if you are right, then my corpse would be incapable of realizing it.

Despite what he might think, Jim Gardner has a long way to go before he understands presuppositional apologetics. Although I think he is making important strides in grappling with what is being argued, it is clearly evident that he is nowhere near to finding the source of that curious odor under his bed.^[1] While I certainly appreciate the kind words he had to say about me and our recent conversation, I have to expose a fundamental confusion he apparently struggles under.

Gardner admits that he does not understand how I can draw an inference from what science explains about nature to not only the existence of God but also that the proof of his existence is contained in Scripture.^[2] I can explain that for him very succinctly:

“I don’t.”

Despite how clearly I had said it, for some reason it has not yet sunk in. As I had said in that conversation, so will I state very clearly again: the truth of God and his word is a presupposition we reason from, not a conclusion we reason to. Gardner simply must accept what is being argued if he wants to interact with it rationally and honestly. When he describes his opponent’s position in a way that is unrecognizable to his opponent, that is a clear indication that he has not understood the position; and he is not going to understand the position until he is prepared to accept what his opponent is so clearly stating, which is again:

• The truth of God and his word is a presupposition we reason from, not a conclusion we reason to.

All attempts by Gardner and Alex Botten to treat that as if it is a conclusion instead of a presupposition are doomed as straw man failures, insofar as they are arguing against a position that is different from or weaker than the one their opponent actually holds. A person cannot be expected to defend a position they do not hold. What more can one do beyond what I have done here, which is, after digesting Gardner’s 2,000-word post, to simply respond with a two-word rebuttal.

Gardner demonstrates how poorly he understands presuppositional apologetics when he says things like, “Presuppositional apologetics … [says] that everything which stems from God—including Christianity and the Bible—is a statement about the real world but not a statement about God.”^[3] Presuppositionalism is Reformed theology applied to the enterprise of apologetics, and one of the most often cited passages of Scripture in that enterprise is Romans 1:18–21:

For the wrath of God is revealed from heaven against all ungodliness and unrighteousness of people who suppress the truth by their unrighteousness, because what can be known about God is plain to them, because God has made it plain to them. For since the creation of the world his invisible attributes—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, because they are understood through what has been made. So people are without excuse. For although they knew God, they did not glorify him as God or give him thanks, but they became futile in their thoughts and their senseless hearts were darkened.

In case Gardner has missed it, verse 20 directly contradicts his statement—as does a host of other passages (e.g., Psa 19:1–3). In Reformed theology there are two sources of revelation: general revelation (nature) and special revelation (Scripture); it all speaks to the nature and character of God. One must bear in mind, however, that Scripture is ultimate and authoritative, such that general revelation is subordinate to special revelation. As it says in the 1689 London Baptist Confession of Faith (1.1),^[4]

The Holy Scriptures are the only sufficient, certain and infallible rule for saving knowledge, faith, and obedience. Although the light of nature and the works of creation and providence give such clear testimony to the goodness, wisdom and power of God that they leave people without excuse, yet they are not sufficient to give the knowledge of God and his will that is necessary for salvation. Therefore it pleased the Lord to reveal himself at various times and in different ways, and to declare his will to his church. To ensure the preservation and propagation of the truth, and to establish and support the church against human corruption, the malice of Satan, and the world, he committed his complete revelation to writing. The Holy Scriptures are therefore absolutely indispensable, for God’s former ways of revealing his will to his people have now ceased.

But how poorly he understands presuppositional apologetics is made all the more clear when he portrayed it as being some kind of cosmological argument. He seems to think the argument goes something like this: the universe cannot come from nothing so it must have come from Something, and atheists willfully deny that the nature and character of that Something constitutes proof of God; moreover, atheists are unable to account for their own existence without implicitly acknowledging that Something (which is somehow God).^[5] I have a one-word response to that:

“Lolwut?”

I have no idea where Gardner got this from. Neither Sye nor Dustin have ever argued anything even remotely similar to this, nor can anything like that be found in the writings of Cornelius Van Til, Greg Bahnsen, Gordon Clark, Michael Butler, Vincent Cheung, John Frame, K. Scott Oliphint and so forth—all of them presuppositionalists of one camp or another (q.v. Van Tilian vs. Clarkian presuppositionalism). Gardner so poorly understands what is being argued that we can safely say that he does not understand it at all, much less poorly. His attempt at describing the presuppositional argument is utterly unrecognizable. It might be what a person would get if he threw William Lane Craig’s kalam cosmological argument and presuppositionalist jargon into a blender and hit purée—an epic mess that nobody would recognize. It is not what a presuppositionalist argues, it is not what an evidentialist argues, it is not what Craig would argue, it is not what an atheist would argue; literally nobody would recognize that reconstruction Gardner attempted.

I think Gardner needs to first understand what he is objecting to before he attempts objecting to it. He might detect a curious odor, but he has no idea where it is coming from, much less has he determined that it is a stray sport sock or plucked it out to give it a wash.

~ * ~

There is one thing I would like to know. Gardner said quite frankly, “There is no God to deny or accept.”^[6] That is a very interesting truth claim, and I would really like to see the argument which produces it. I challenge Gardner to provide the premises which lead to that conclusion.

Gardner also said that he struggles to understand how people “who are so clearly capable of researching and understanding all of this for themselves still somehow manage to come to such obviously flawed assumptions about the validity [or even] the intellectual honesty of their own position.”^[7] That is another interesting truth claim, that my presupposition is invalid and intellectually dishonest. Is Gardner up to the challenge of providing the premises which lead to that conclusion?

1. ^[1] Jim Gardner, “I think Jim is getting closer to becoming a Christian,” How Good Is That? [blog] (2011, October 30). ↩
2. ^[2] Gardner, para. 4. ↩
3. ^[3] Ibid., para. 8. ↩
4. ^[4] Andrew Kerkham, 1689 London Baptist Confession of Faith, 2nd edition (2001). ↩
5. ^[5] Gardner, op cit., para. 11. ↩
6. ^[6] Ibid., para. 6. ↩
7. ^[7] Ibid., para. 7. ↩

—because if there was a prize, Botten would have to award it to me. He recently wrote a surreal account of our exchange from the other day which he closed with the following offer: “There is a prize for anyone who can spot the ‘parting gratuitous invective’,”^[1] referring to my accusation. I am happy to claim that non-existent prize:

Ryft, I’m through with you as well. You’re just as bad as Alan for avoiding direct questions.^[2]

I suppose Botten could respond by saying that was not an insult but a compliment; however, given the record of his opinion of Rhology (who he calls Alan), I think he would find it rather difficult making that stick.

Now I called this recent post of his surreal but perhaps I can add ironic; it was surreal insofar as it spun what actually happened in complete reverse, yet it was also ironic in that his post was accusing me of spinning things around. Readers can draw their own conclusion, of course, but have a look at what he said.

Indeed I believe that the earth is very old and that Genesis is not wrong in its account of creation, and indeed this so mystified Botten that he asked me numerous times and in various ways how this could be—but at no time did I blitz him with requests to prove me wrong. That is an utter reversal of what happened, which can be easily verified by anyone particularly because I provided extensive citations. He said that the earth being old directly contradicts what Genesis says about creation, which he equated with the young-earth interpretation. What I hammered him with were requests to prove himself right; that is to say, I expected him to support his claim. The earth being old contradicts the Bible only if the young-earth interpretation is right, and I was not about to let him beg that question. (Moreover, how could I demand that he prove me wrong when I did not make any claims about what Genesis says?)

He says he did point out “the biblical reasons for thinking that [Genesis] preaches a young-earth creation.”^[3] The only problem is that he actually did not. All he did was assert the young-earth interpretation—that Genesis recounts God bringing the world into material existence, including Adam, and that calculating the genealogies tells us this was not more than 10,000 years ago—but stating a case is not the same thing as making a case. For some reason Botten seems to think that the exegetical burden of proof is met by simply asserting the interpretation.

The earth being old contradicts the Bible only if the young-earth interpretation is right. So if he wants to make that claim—that the earth being old contradicts the Bible (and therefore the Bible is wrong)—then he will need to support that claim without begging the very question.

Or hurl gratuitous invective from the comfort of Reverse World.

(Incidentally, I have no idea why he had trouble commenting on that post; certainly others had no difficulty commenting there.)

1. ^[1] Alex Botten, “Christian blogger Ryft gets spinning,” An Atheist Viewpoint (2011, October 14), para. 7. ↩
2. ^[2] Alex Botten, “A question for young earth creationists,” An Atheist Viewpoint (2011, October 11, comments section, 21:11; emphasis mine). ↩
3. ^[3] op. cit., “Christian blogger Ryft gets spinning,” para. 7. ↩