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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781433548963 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Crossway |
| Publication date: | 01/31/2016 |
| Pages: | 144 |
| Sales rank: | 995,262 |
| Product dimensions: | 4.90(w) x 6.90(h) x 0.50(d) |
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CHAPTER 1
Much Ado about Nothing
For what you see and hear depends a good deal on where you are standing: it also depends on what sort of person you are.
C. S. Lewis, The Magician's Nephew
The twentieth-century journalist and Christian apologist G. K. Chesterton once said, "There are two ways of getting home; and one of them is to stay there. The other is to walk round the whole world till we come back to the same place." Chesterton's point was that truth might be closer than you realize, perhaps right under your nose. And sometimes, like with the prodigal son, truth is found at the end of a long road back to the Father's house.
Chesterton was specifically speaking of Christianity. And in his book The Everlasting Man he contrasted two helpful forms of analyzing the Christian faith. The first is from the inside. The second is from a million miles away. As he said, "The best relation to our spiritual home is to be near enough to love it. But the next best is to be far enough away not to hate it."
In other words, sometimes stepping just outside the front door of a particular worldview leaves you too close to have a clear perspective. You can be standing beneath the awning while complaining of the shade. Your proximity itself creates emotional and intellectual blind spots.
As Chesterton put it, "The popular critics of Christianity are not really outside of it. ... Their criticism has taken on a curious tone; as of a random and illiterate heckling." The modern-day terrain of heckling, as Chesterton describes it, is fraught with emotional landmines and intellectual blockades. Safe passage to meaningful conversations can be hard to find.
A Bridge over Troubled Waters
The well-known literary critic C. S. Lewis navigated this terrain as a young man. Lewis describes this journey in his first published work after his conversion to Christianity, The Pilgrim's Regress. A fictional account of his conversion, the book was written over a holiday visit with his childhood best friend. Lewis patterned the work after John Bunyan's classic The Pilgrim's Progress.
Like Bunyan, Lewis used allegory to make his point. But his "regress" offers a glaring contrast to Bunyan's "progress." Lewis wanted to illustrate that his character found spiritual fulfillment not by progressing to a far-off land to be freed from a heavy burden, but in the fulfillment of a longing that, as he learned, could take place only in the Christianity he had rejected from his youth. He found progress by turning around and retracing his steps.
Sometimes that's what progress looks like: turning around and heading back the other way. It can hardly be called progress if we are simply going further down the road but heading the wrong direction.
Lewis later described this in his autobiographical work Surprised by Joy: "But then the key to my books is Donne's maxim, 'The heresies that men leave are hated most.' The things I assert most vigorously are those that I resisted long and accepted late."
As a young man Lewis walked away from his spiritual upbringing. And it took some time for him to get far enough away to no longer hate it. But then he came back close enough to learn to love it. He walked around an entire world just to come back home.
I've seen this process myself. I've known some who have walked away from Christianity and now find it difficult, whether they acknowledge it or not, to engage in a careful and considerate conversation about the faith. As Donne said, they hate most the heresies they have personally left. They've walked away from Christianity. And now they despise it.
You've probably known someone who fits that description. They dismiss Christianity with visceral hatred, yet go on to talk about the virtues of Muslim prayers, or the value of Buddhist meditation, or the solitude of Hindu temples. They are, according to Chesterton, still too close to see clearly. That's because proximity matters.
I've experienced what may be akin to a skeptic's rejection of Christianity, though my story doesn't involve losing faith in God. In the middle of my college years I made a decisive break with the brand of Baptist fundamentalism I had grown up with. I didn't renounce faith in God or anything like that, but I did leave the denomination of my childhood.
It took me a few years to get over it, to be honest. I was bitter — probably because I was hurt. It was hard to even talk about it without feelings of resentment welling to the surface. I channeled my anger through public expression in a way that I now find unfortunate. Not necessarily because I have come around to change my opinion per se, but rather because I realize that emotional tirades aren't synonymous with compelling arguments.
I think about this when I read the e-mails or Facebook posts of friends who have left Christianity and embraced atheism. Though I don't assume I understand their journey, I think I can empathize a little, as can many who may be more objective than I was in the face of similar emotional unrest.
This tendency is illustrated in a 2013 article by Larry Taunton, "Listening to Young Atheists: Lessons for a Stronger Christianity," published in The Atlantic. After traveling to numerous college campuses and surveying students in various skeptic organizations, Taunton made six summary observations: (1) these students all had religious backgrounds of some kind; (2) they felt the mission and message of their childhood churches were vague; (3) they felt their churches offered superficial answers to their serious questions; (4) they had respect for leaders who took their questions seriously; (5) the ages between fourteen and seventeen were crucial in their later decision to become atheists; (6) and their decision to leave the faith was discussed primarily in emotional categories.
Taunton's observations offer insight on the traction that the new atheist movement has gained since 9/11 and the subsequent publication of Sam Harris's book The End of Faith. The new atheist authors have a receptive audience with young people who have left the church. And the emotional nature of their decisions, as described by Taunton, can make it difficult to build bridges for meaningful conversations.
Dueling Evangelists
Thomas has tended to ignore the banter of public atheists like Richard Dawkins. So much of the exchange between Christians and atheists in mainstream media is unfortunately filled with anger and scorn. But Thomas can't ignore his roommate, Zach. They're lifelong friends. They're in it for the long haul, as the saying goes.
But when Zach comes out as an atheist, Thomas is at a loss for how to respond. The resentment Zach now feels toward his religious past can make things awkward between them at times. Thomas represents something he wants to leave behind. But Zach doesn't want to leave Thomas behind. It's complicated.
Thomas is also committed to their friendship, and deep down he hopes one day Zach will find his way back. But Zach is hoping Thomas will come to see things his way. So, it's a bit of an evangelistic arm-wrestling match.
Some Christians might be surprised by the amount of resources designed to help skeptics deconvert Christians. Much like the evangelistic programs Evangelism Explosion and FAITH Evangelism for Christians, atheists have books and videos tailor-made for propagating the message of naturalism. I'm guessing they won't co-opt the title soul winners for their skeptic missionaries, though.
In his book A Manual for Creating Atheists, Peter Boghossian describes the optimal evangelist for deconverting Christians: "Enter the Street Epistemologist: an articulate, clear, helpful voice with an unremitting desire to help people overcome their faith and to create a better world." The author uses the term epistemologist to describe a person who helps others determine what constitutes true knowledge — which is to be found, he suggests, in atheism. In other words, a worldview that begins with something other than nature, like Christianity, cannot provide true knowledge. Such knowledge can only be found by beginning with a God-free cosmos.
That's why Boghossian encourages atheists to invite their Christian friends into "a world that uses intelligence, reason, rationality, thoughtfulness, ingenuity, sincerity, science, and kindness to build the future." Such a view is contrasted with Christianity, which is said to be "built on faith, delusion, pretending, religion, fear, pseudoscience, superstition, or a certainty achieved by keeping people in a stupor that makes them pawns of unseen forces because they're terrified." You can't argue with a thoughtful and kind worldview versus a perspective built on delusion.
Another book with a similar theme of godless evangelism is 50 Simple Questions for Every Christian, by Guy P. Harrison. The questions are intended to displace confidence in the Christian message. The first question, "Does this religion make sense?" is also the guiding inquiry of my book. It's a question that hits home with Thomas. He must decide, "Am I sufficiently convinced to call myself a Christian?"
This summarizes Thomas's mission in the face of Zach's challenge. A challenge that launches an authentic conversation about faith between friends. A challenge ripe with opportunities.
What's the Matter?
This reminds me of the exchange between Richard Dawkins and David Robertson, a pastor in Scotland. Their letters are published in the short paperback The Dawkins Letters: Challenging Atheist Myths. The correspondence began when Robertson responded to Dawkins's book The God Delusion.
I found their dialogue both entertaining and helpful, but one particular point stood out. After the exchange with Dawkins, Robertson began to hear from readers, many of whom were atheists. Robertson found many of these conversations insightful, but they almost always ended up going back to respective presuppositions, things we assume but cannot prove about reality.
I've found this to be true myself. My best conversations with atheist friends have dramatized how our contrasting starting points control where we end up. It's like we're on open escalators going in opposite directions. We can talk to each other up to a point and appeal to each other to come along with us. But we're up against the reality that we've taken our stances on different starting points leading to different places.
Presuppositions are like the ground we stand on or the track we take. They allow outcomes, frame vantage points, build worldviews. They control what we find thinkable and believable, and whether we're willing to "go there."
Central to Thomas's assumptions about reality is a belief in the existence of an eternal and personal Creator. This is his starting point for making sense of the world. Zach, on the other hand, begins with nature as his fundamental presupposition: nature is all there is. For Thomas reality is described by Christ; for Zach, by chance or chaos.
As an atheist now, Zach certainly no longer believes in God. He's comfortable with the idea that the cosmos is all there is, or ever was, or ever will be. He believes that the material stuff making up the cosmos is all that's real.
But what exactly is this material stuff that makes up the universe? What must an atheist assume about this ultimate reality?
A few centuries before Jesus was born, a Greek philosopher named Democritus took a stab at describing this very thing. He believed atoms are the basic building blocks that make up everything we see and correspondingly all that is. He considered atoms indivisible. The word atom itself means "that which cannot be cut or divided."
The term comes from two Greek words: tomos means cut, and the letter a in front is a negation. The word atheist is formed the same way: the a simply negates theos, the Greek word for God, giving us literally "no God." Many believe Democritus was both an atomist and an atheist. And according to the late atheistic author Victor Stinger, atomism equals atheism. If all that exists is the stuff that makes up the natural world, then there is certainly no room for God.
Depending on what you thought of his atomism and atheism, Democritus could be a fun guy to have around. In fact, his nickname was the "Laughing Philosopher." If you were to go back in time to the 300s BC, you might find him at the center of social life somewhere in Athens mixing it up at a toga party and poking fun at human folly. But if you fast-forward over twenty centuries to our day, what do modern-day atheists believe about the building blocks of reality?
For starters, we now know that the atom can be divided, a scientific breakthrough with serious consequences, considering the death toll of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. What about the consequences of an atheistic view of matter?
Three things would be hard to avoid while retaining an atheistic outlook. On the assumption of atheism, it seems that matter must be eternal, impersonal, and nonrational or mindless. This would seem to flow from the atheist's basic understanding of ultimate reality.
First, matter would have to be eternal. Lawrence Krauss, an atheistic author and theoretical physicist, has recently suggested that the universe came from nothing. If his book, aptly named A Universe from Nothing, solved the philosophical riddle of why there is something instead of nothing — as Richard Dawkins boldly claimed in his endorsement — then this would prove that matter is not eternal. It came from nothing.
Krauss admits in his writing and speaking, however, that the "nothing" he refers to isn't really nothing, at least not the way we conventionally understand the term. He describes nothing as a "bubbling, broiling, brew of virtual particles." He also admits that he cannot account for the physical laws that guide the nothing.
If the "nothing" Krauss is referring to includes preexisting matter, energy, or laws, then he doesn't really explain how the universe came from nothing. Instead, he is simply theorizing about how the universe came from something (virtual particles and physical laws). Of course this would certainly make for a less provocative book title: A Universe from Something. It would also imply that this preexisting something — if not created — has been around forever.
Second, matter would have to be impersonal. Take away a personal Creator, and you have no way to account for persons within the cosmos. On the other hand, if you have an eternal, personal, intentional force behind the creation, you no longer have atheism. It's one or the other — a personal Creator who gives the universe and its occupants a purpose and values, or eternal stuff that is impersonal and just there. If anything that makes up the cosmos qualifies as personal, purposeful, guided, or good, then you have taken a big step away from naturalism.
This dilemma can be seen clearly in an excerpt from Richard Dawkins's book River out of Eden: A Darwinian View of Life:
In a universe of blind physical forces and genetic replication, some people are going to get hurt, other people are going to get lucky, and you won't find any rhyme or reason in it, nor any justice. The universe that we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil and no good, nothing but blind, pitiless indifference.
Finally, matter would have to be nonrational. You cannot hold to atheism and still have a mind as the source of all things or reasonable minds as part of the world of matter. This creates a pretty big obstacle for atheist intellectuals who are willing to consider it. The prolific author and Notre Dame University professor Alvin Plantinga has spilled a fair bit of ink on this topic in what he describes as the "The Evolutionary Argument against Naturalism."
At the risk of oversimplification, let me summarize: Plantinga essentially argues that eternal, impersonal, and mindless matter cannot provide a proper foundation for proving that our minds are reliable. If our brains are just one more accident in a long string of accidents that have led to the world we live in, then why should we trust what we think? Our brains are mindless outcomes. If we are the products of unguided evolution, then there is no reason to consider our brains trustworthy. We can say they are directed at survival, but that isn't necessarily the same thing as being directed at truth or justice. (I'll say more about this in chapter 5.)
The simplest way around this problem is to insert some kind of mind behind the creation of the world that initiates and guides the process. But if you make this move, you have taken a giant leap away from atheism. Thomas Nagel, an atheist and well-known philosophy professor at NYU, flirts with this notion in his 2012 book Mind and Cosmos: Why the Materialist Neo-Darwinian Conception of Nature Is Almost Certainly False (Oxford University Press). He ponders that there must be more behind reality than just eternal, impersonal, and nonrational matter. He just doesn't come to any clear conclusions as to what it must be.
So, in sum, atheist presuppositions begin with eternal, impersonal, and mindless matter. These presuppositions must be taken on faith and cannot be proved scientifically.
Atheism is irrational — that at least is how one atheistic philosophy professor, Crispin Sartwell, describes his God-free worldview in a 2014 article published in The Atlantic:
(Continues…)
Excerpted from "Christ or Chaos"
by .
Copyright © 2016 Daniel A. DeWitt.
Excerpted by permission of Good News Publishers.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Foreword Josh Wilson 11
Introduction: Reality Used to Be a Friend of Mine 15
1 Much Ado about Nothing 23
2 The Cosmic Song 42
3 The Major Anthem 53
4 The Minor Key 70
5 Haunted by Transcendence 83
6 What If God Were One of Us? 95
7 Our Stubborn Smile 112
Conclusion: Hoax or Hope 124
Acknowledgments 131
Notes 134
Index 141
What People are Saying About This
“Dan DeWitt is a sharp, rigorous thinker who can communicate deep truths in a way people can grasp. This book shows the way forward in the struggle between Christ and our reigning secularist cultural mood. Buy three copies of this book. Get one copy for an unbelieving friend, to think through the claims of Christ. Get one for a young Christian, unsure of his or her faith. And then read one copy yourself, to equip you to engage your neighbors with the credible good news of Jesus Christ.”—Russell Moore, Editor in Chief, Christianity Today
“Dan DeWitt has written a pithy, intelligent, and delightfully readable book that takes aim at—and hits squarely—the old questions raised by the so-called new atheists. Having debated atheists Christopher Hitchens, Michael Shermer, and Daniel Dennett, I can say authoritatively that DeWitt has neither oversimplified nor overcomplicated the issues. Every serious-minded Christian would do well to read this book.”—Larry Taunton, Executive Director, Fixed Point Foundation
“A wonderfully accessible book, perfect not only for college students, but for seekers and doubters as well. Dan takes sophisticated reasoning on some of the most difficult questions and really puts it on the bottom shelf.”—J. D. Greear, Pastor, The Summit Church, Raleigh-Durham, North Carolina
“Thanks to Dan DeWitt for a very readable and articulate conversation about the power of the gospel in the face of various forms of opposition. DeWitt’s discussion will be useful to anyone who would consider the claims of Christianity in the context of other treasured options and objections. In recognizing the power of presuppositions for any view we hold, DeWitt explains how only the presuppositions of the Christian faith can provide the foundation that other views claim to offer.”—K. Scott Oliphint, Professor of Apologetics and Systematic Theology, Westminster Theological Seminary
“Dan DeWitt’s book packs a wallop. The conversational style masks a deep acquaintance with the major issues and philosophies of the day. DeWitt successfully shows how behind every apparently rational objection to faith lies a moral and ‘religious’ commitment, which can be shaken only by a gospel jolt. Winsome and engaging, this text is must reading for any aspiring Christian apologist.”—William Edgar, Professor Emeritus of Apologetics, Westminster Theological Seminary
“I’m kind of over apologetics-type books. Many—if not most—portray conversations with skeptics in this weird alternate reality where unbelievers ask all the right questions in the right order and care about intellectual consistency. Dan DeWitt knows that world doesn’t exist. And in Christ or Chaos he shows how fluid and complex journeys to and from Christ really are. Still, he avoids wandering through spiritual-sounding truisms. DeWitt is not afraid of arguments and facts. Like all his writing, this book anthologizes some of the most compelling reflections from Christianity’s best thinkers. Christ or Chaos wrestles with the deepest questions without the familiar cookie cutters.”—Aaron Cline Hanbury, Editorial Director, Relevant magazine
“Christ or Chaos gets right to the heart of the biggest human question: Are we made by God with a plan, or are we a cosmic accident? With stories, research, and personal examples, Dan will take you on a journey exploring the most important questions of life. And as you will see, the evidence for the Christian worldview is compelling.”—Sean McDowell, Assistant Professor of Christian Apologetics, Biola University; author, A New Kind of Apologist
“Change begins with conversations. With compassion-filled logical prose, DeWitt’s Christ or Chaos provides believers with an accessible icebreaker so that they can begin thoughtful long-term conversations with the nonbelieving world.”—D. A. Horton, Pastor, The Summit Church, Durham, North Carolina; author, Bound to Be Free
“In Christ or Chaos DeWitt uses argument in an artistic way to illustrate the biblical view of the world. He shows not only that Christianity is true, but also that it is the only compelling way to understand the cosmos and the human condition. This is a great read.”—Flame, Grammy-nominated recording artist
“In this book Dan applies eternal truth to modern ideologies in a way that engages and equips every reader to discover or defend his or her faith. All who care about spiritual truth owe it to themselves to read this book.”—Russ Lee, award-winning singer/songwriter; lead singer, NewSong
“DeWitt weighs the evidence for and against Christianity theologically, cleverly, and profoundly, yet with sensitivity and clarity. In the end, he reminds us that only the gospel can change the human heart and enlighten the mind. If you want to be prepared to answer difficult questions about the reality of your Christian faith in the public arena in a gentle and reverent way, this book is for you. I thoroughly enjoyed reading it and I will recommend it frequently.”—Miguel Núñez, Senior Pastor, International Baptist Church of Santo Domingo, Dominican Republic