1) Faith Again: Introduction

Exactly what faith is has never been all too big of an issue; the exact nature of faith’s relationship to good deeds, on the other hand, has been a point of theological contention between Christians for millennia.  The following intends to explore that relationship as it appears in the Bible, starting first by disarming misconceptions and going on to establish a conception of its own.  It is here argued that faith is something of a marriage – a relationship, if you will – between what someone believes and what someone does.  Faith in Christ implies both believing His truth claims and placing yourself in obedience to His commands.  It does not imply the absence of doubt or evil deeds, but rather their subordination to trust and good deeds, respectively (the nature of this subordination is too profound for me to explore in this essay).  Faith, in short, is the motivation out of which good deeds spring.

2) Faith Again: The Problem of James

In the Christian world today, one means through which the idea of faith is distorted is through what I believe to be misled interpretations of the gospel of James, specifically chapter 2 verses 14-26.  Not that I contend that the whole book should be thrown out and considered uncanonical; I’m sure that there are plenty of informed people with such an opinion, but being myself brutally uneducated, I am forced to operate on the a priori assumption that James was, in fact, divinely inspired upon writing his letter.  James’s repeated assertion in verses 17, 20, and 26 that “faith without deeds is dead” is often cited by those who vouch for a works-based soteriology (by this, I am referring to a plan of salvation dependent entirely upon the individual’s good deeds).  

Christians with a faith-based soteriology (that is, a plan of salvation dependent entirely upon the individual’s faith in Christ) counter by reminding such people that a works-based soteriology is simply impossible to square with the overall message of the gospel of John, specifically 3:15-16, 6:40, and 8:24.  In addition, there are several instances within Paul’s epistles where he clearly advises against a works-based soteriology, while at the same time upholding a faith-based soteriology:

For we maintain that a man is justified by faith apart from observing the law (Rom. 3:28 NIV, see also Rom. 8:3-4, Gal. 3:23-25, 5:4-6, Eph. 2:8-9, Phil. 3:9, Col. 2:13-14, and Tit. 3:4-5).

Paul’s beliefs are affirmed also in the letter written to the Hebrews by an unknown author, possibly even Paul himself:

The former regulation is set aside because it was weak and useless (for the law made nothing perfect), and a better hope was introduced, by which we draw near to God (Heb. 7:18-19, see also Heb. 10:1-4).

Peter and John affirm this soteriology to lesser degrees in their own letters (1 Pet. 1:9 and 1 John 5:11-12).  I agree with these contentions entirely, but in regards to deriving a works-based soteriology from the gospel of James, I would like to make an even bolder argument.  Even if the epistle of James is allowed to stand alone, verses 14-26 in the second chapter of James cannot support a works-based soteriology.

3) Faith Again: Finding James

It is necessary to note that people do not simply have faith out of thin air; their faith is always in something, whether that be Jesus, or the Buddha, or that one piece of obscure but powerful advice your kindergarten teacher gave you ever so long ago.  The question therefore becomes: when James talks about faith, what is he assuming as the object of that faith?  Historical context strongly suggests that this object is Jesus Christ; the historians tell us that James was busily working to expand the Christian church at the time this letter was written.  This strong indication is affirmed as a certainty by another verse in the letter:

My brothers, as believers in our glorious Lord Jesus Christ, don’t show favoritism (James 2:1 NIV, emphasis added).

Consider also James’ own language.  Every instance of the word “faith” as it is found in James 2:14-26 is derived from the Greek word pistis, which can be translated to specifically indicate “reliance upon Christ for salvation” (Strong #G4102).  This certainly changes things.  Not only can we derive the object of “faith” as the word is used by James but also the reason for it.  James advocates faith in Christ for salvation.  And this, as we can clearly see, clashes vehemently with a works-based soteriology.

Allow me to demonstrate the point a little more clearly.  A works-based soteriology does not, in fact, result in a complete absence of “faith” in the broad sense, as the name – and its opposition to a faith-based soteriology – seems to imply.  A works-based soteriology has merely shifted the object of one’s faith.  One who operates on a works-based soteriology has faith in his works for salvation instead of Christ.  But we have already seen – through inferences based on the historical context of, the language in, and the remainder of this epistle – that James has written what he has written on the assumption that his readers already rely on Christ for their salvation.  And, of course, you cannot rely both on your own works and Christ for salvation simultaneously.  Christ’s words echo, “No man can serve two masters” (Matt. 6:24 and Luke 16:13).  We must choose one or the other: either we embrace a faith-based soteriology as advocated by Jesus, Paul, Peter, John, and, yes, even poor, misunderstood James, or we embrace a works-based soteriology for God knows why.

4) Faith Again: A Brief Rejoinder

We therefore conclude that a faith-based soteriology is biblical.  But this, in no way whatsoever, means that we throw out deeds completely.  That is clearly heresy.  It would result in a head-on collision with the words of James, not to mention seriously bringing into question many of the words of John:

If we claim to have fellowship with Him yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not live by the truth (1 John 1:6 NIV, see also 2:4, 2:6, 2:9, 3:6, 3:9, and 3 John 1:11).

Consider also the words of the apostle Peter:

But just as He who called you is holy, so be holy in all you do; for it is written: ‘Be holy, because I am holy.’ (1 Pet. 1:15-16 NIV, see also 1 Pet. 2:11-12)

Even Paul, our primary advocate of raw faith, knows not to thrust aside good deeds.  In his letter to the Romans especially, he is well aware that his faith and grace centered theology brings about the temptation to go on sinning, and his repeated attempts to reel in his audience on the matter is really quite heroic:

Do we, then, nullify the law by this faith?  Not at all!  Rather, we uphold the law. (Rom. 3:31 NIV)  

What shall we say, then?  Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase?  By no means!  We died to sin; how can we live in it any longer? (Rom. 6:1-2 NIV)  

What then?  Shall we sin because we are not under law but under grace?  By no means! (Rom. 6:15 NIV)

Lastly and mostly, we have Jesus’ confirmation as to the importance of good deeds (Matt. 5:20, 7:24-27, Luke 6:31, 6:47-49, John 8:11, 14:21, and John 14:23-24).  We must stick to the bare-bone facts as the Bible has explicitly fed them to us, reading between the lines only barely, wherever warranted by context.  We have two such facts.  First, salvation is achieved by faith in Jesus Christ apart from works.  Second, faith and works share an inseparable bond, such that, if works are divorced from faith, faith ceases to exist.  The question therefore becomes: what is the nature of this bond?  What relationship do faith and deeds share?

5) Faith Again: Testing One Hypothesis

We might begin by hypothesizing that deeds are meant to show that one has faith.  James certainly seems to think so:

Show me your faith without deeds, and I will show you my faith by my deeds (James 2:18 NIV)

And it is indeed true that good deeds, as a general rule, are proof of being in the Christian life (Rom. 6:2-4, return to 1 John 2:4, 2:6, 2:9, 3:6, 3:9, and 3 John 1:11).  But we must distinguish.  It will not do to say that good deeds are meant to prove faith.  That is, we do not perform good deeds for the sole purpose of proving our faith.  Jesus repeatedly railed on the Pharisees and Sadducees of His day for their over-emphasis on proving their religiousness:

And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men.  I tell you the truth, they have received their reward in full (Matt. 6:5 NIV, see also Matt. 23:5-7, Mk. 12:38-40 and Lk. 20:46-47)

Common sense should tell us that looking at someone in need and thinking, “Well, I’d better go help that person to prove that I have faith in Jesus Christ,” is an invitation to hypocrisy.  To whom are we trying to prove our faith?  God?  That is really rather foolish.  To people?  Nothing wrong with that, as far as it goes.  But why not, rather, help someone in need because you love them?  Isn’t that Jesus’ call to action (Matt. 22:39, Mk. 12:31, see also Rom. 13:9-10)?  If you are only helping them in order to prove something, you are still ultimately being selfish.  So what we have here is a useless fact.  It is indeed true that deeds prove the existence of faith.  But that is not why we do them.  Why, then, do we do good deeds?  If it is indeed true that a living faith is supplemented by deeds as James says, it is quite important for us to find their source; that is, what motivates us to do them.

6) Faith Again: There is no Motivation

Unfortunately, the Bible largely regards this question as an absurdity.  Consider Paul’s words again:

What shall we say, then?  Shall we go on sinning so that grace may increase?  By no means!  We died to sin; how can we live in it any longer? (Rom. 6:1-2 NIV)  

When confronting a possible hole in his argument, Paul states that we should not sin because we (the Christians) have died to sin.  But if I was really arrogant, I might then ask, “Why should I die to sin?” to which he would probably be forced to answer, “Because you should.”  You see what has happened?  We are talking in circles.  Now, I do not disdain the Bible for writing off the question, “Why should we do what is right?”  Indeed, if we explore the basic logic of the original question, we realize that it is intrinsically absurd.  We have essentially asked, “Why should we do what we should do?”  Well, there’s no point in asking why we should do what we should do.  We simply should do it.  There may well be reasons for abstaining from sin; for instance, a Christian may abstain from premarital sex to avoid unwanted pregnancy and sexually transmitted disease.  But these possible downsides do not fully explain why a wrong deed is wrong and a right deed is right.  Things are not wrong because they are detrimental, they are detrimental because they are wrong.  Why are they wrong?  That answer remains rooted in the character of an inscrutable God.

The Adoption & Barriers to Entry

The Adoption

                There comes a turning point in the life of every child born into a Christian family which I like to call “the adoption”.  I intend for this post to be an engaging and encouraging account to those adolescence within that stage of their life.

                First, what is this turning point which I call “the adoption”?  What is the nature of it?  Speaking from experience, I know that the actual state of being a Christian can become very autonomous if you have been living in a Christian home all of your life.  Such is true about nearly everything when you are maturing.  It is only natural.  But when it comes to Christianity especially, this fluctuation of mind and attitude, this inevitable sense of autonomy, results in a crossroads between two excruciatingly crucial decisions: am I all in or all out?  Am I going to really continue being a Christian, or is the day I leave my family the day I leave my faith?  What I call “the adoption” is when one makes the choice to really continue being a Christian.  In essence, the adolescent who does this becomes their own Christian, and Christianity becomes theirs rather than their family’s.  This sense of ownership is why I refer to the choice as an “adoption”.  This adoption is by no means easy.  There are certain, highly specific things that discourage one from going through with it.  I refer to such discouraging circumstances here as “barriers to entry”.

Barriers to Entry

                We know that a barrier to entry is something that discourages one from “adopting” Christianity.  But what precisely is the nature of this barrier?  Essentially, it is a personal standard set by the potential adopter of the faith.  Christianity must measure up to this personal standard; or more accurately, the potential adopter must be convinced that Christianity measures up in order for him/her to be comfortable enough to go through with the adoption.  Until then, Christianity remains irrational or unacceptable, among other things, depending on what sort of barriers to entry a particular person has.   After prolonged reflection regarding these “barriers to entry”, I have centralized the bulk of these barriers into two broad, inclusive categories.  If there are other sorts of barriers to entry that do not fall into these two categories, I regret to announce that I do not know of them.  And obviously there are infinitely more barriers to entry when it comes to an outsider becoming a Christian.  But I am referring here to barriers against the adoption of the Christian faith and those only.  I engage those who have been with Christianity all their life and at this point don’t see it as much more than a “tradition”.

                I’d first like to address intellectual barriers to entry.  In this, before adopting Christianity, the person must be brought to believe that Christianity is true, or at least logical, rational, etc.  This potential adopter needs their reasons to be a Christian; “Just because,” or, “Because I say so,” will not suffice and may even alienate the adopter from the faith.  Until they are convinced, Christianity remains to them irrational, deceptive, impractical, etc.

                Cultish and overly emotional church services are the bane of intellectuals.  “Cultish” practices will likely only be cultish by their estimation, whereas others in the church participate quite comfortably.  Something as simple as closing one’s eyes and lifting one’s arm to the heavens during worship may look to an intellectual to be highly impractical.  Emotions are not to be trusted; so if an emotional rush is all Christianity has going for it, then the intellectual’s barrier against Christianity remains (probably even thicker than before).  Conversely, apologetics, for intellectuals, are as valuable as the Holy Grail.  They are often more than willing to accept a genuine presentation of logic, reason, and common sense in favor of just about anything, including Christianity.  The key word here is presentation.  What they despise is dictation (“You must believe this!” “It’s true because the Bible says so!” etc.).  They must be presented with unbiased information so as to make an unbiased conclusion.  Dictatorial church services will be bland or even offensive to intellectuals.  Seminars and lectures that engage the audience as if they were outside Christianity (as opposed to church services, which tend to assume that everyone there is a Christian) are particularly appealing to intellectuals, even if said intellectual has already accepted and adopted Christianity. 

One important thing which an intellectual must be brought to believe before really adopting Christianity is that the Bible is reliable.  If the very cornerstone of the faith is unreliable to them, there is hardly any hope of them becoming good Christians, since the most important things about Christianity are in the Bible.  One you manage to convince him otherwise, though, it’s not very hard for him to accept the Bible as authoritative, since all things sensible and reliable tend to carry authority for him in the first place.  In addition, it is fatal to shelter intellectuals from other religions.  An intellectual is almost certain to see religions in general as competing for truth value.  If an intellectual is not permitted to test the legitimacy of other philosophies and religions against Christianity, they will likely be tempted to suppose either that no religion is true or that every religion is true.  Something, in their world, must be assigned ultimate truth value, and if they are not presented with reason enough to decide one thing to be true and the other to be false, they deal with it by denying that the “true-false” question ever had to be asked in the first place.  This hurts far more than their adoption of Christianity.  Risky as it might seem, it is imperative that intellectuals be given the tools they need to honestly engage the question of religion on a true/false level; in the end, it will make him/her much more comfortable with adopting Christianity.

I’d like to address teachers who teach youth specifically.  If you are instructing a single person or a group with intellectual barriers to entry you should, above all, keep in your mind one key word: bias.  Your sermons, lessons, etc. ought to be free of bias as much as is possible and appropriate to the setting (i.e. for a church service, you would not make the sermon so unbiased that it loses its necessary “churchiness”).  Instead of saying, “This doctrine is clearly true because it is in the Bible.  Now let me break down what it means…” you should start a square or two back.  Start with, “Reason suggests that the Bible is quite right to lay down this rule,” give them the reasons for which they are so thirsty, then you can go on with, “Now that I’ve got you quite convinced that this doctrine is true, let me break down what it means…”  The proverb “give an inch, gain a mile” could not be truer when it comes to overcoming the skepticism of intellectuals.  Always consider putting your starting line further back than you think you should.  Consider starting at the assumption, “This is not true,” in regards to the topic of your lecture.  From there, use reasoning and rhetoric to work your way up to the assumption, “This might be true,” then work up to, “This is true,” then conclude with, “How does this truth apply to me?”  Doing this, as opposed to jumping the gun and starting at the assumption, “This is true,” will get most intellectuals eating out of the palm of your hand.  What’s in your favor is that most intellectuals who have grown up in a Christian home, regardless of how skeptical they seem, genuinely want to adopt Christianity.  They want to believe that Christianity is rational, the way they want to believe that just about everything they do is rational.  I believe, perhaps more than anyone (having had this type of barrier at one time myself), that Christianity can offer precisely what they want from it.  All you have to do is show it to them.

I speak now to intellectuals specifically.  In regards to the current cultural atmosphere, you live in a time of history that is in one way greatly in favor of your adoption and in another quite the opposite.  It is no secret that Christianity has been taking a lot of challenges in the last 50-or-so years.  The public would like you to think that Christianity has nothing to say in response to these challenges.  But the evidence suggests otherwise.  Indeed, I’d contest that Christianity itself is none the wiser because of these challenges.  Recent years have a seen a re-surge in Christian apologetics as Christians seek to answer the challenges against them honestly and boldly.  This is how the current culture is both in favor and against your adoption.  While the challenges against Christianity are growing, so is the Christian response.  For those with this type of barrier to entry, apologetic classics such as “Mere Christianity”, “The Case for Christ”, and “I Don’t Have Enough Faith to be an Atheist” may be just your cup of tea.  Practical sections of the Bible, particularly the epistles of Paul, might prove to be great resources as well.  My advice?  Try to remember, above all, that one does not have to commit intellectual suicide to be a Christian.  Of course Christianity seems irrational.  To base one’s entire life on something you can’t even see gives the immediate impression of complete lunacy.  But first of all, don’t we do this quite often?  People base their lives on the unseen all the time: love, right conduct, enjoyment, etc.  There is evidence that these things exist (i.e. chemical reactions in the brain), but the things themselves are still ultimately unseen.  Second, we are supposing here that the very meaning of life ought to seem rational to us, which is of course ridiculous.  Christianity’s contention that life itself has meaning implies that meaning is overarching; it stretches its influence far over and above us.  And if that is true, how can we ever hope to fully understand it?  I suppose that you could simply state that the world has no meaning.  But I find this to be oversimplification.  In the words of C.S. Lewis, “If the world had no meaning, we would not have decided that it had no meaning.”  For instance, if all humanity could not see, we would not have decided that we could not see.  We would be incapable of understanding that we could not see because we would have no idea what sight was in the first place.  In the same way, there had to have been meaning in the first place for us to have decided otherwise. 

When I say that Christianity seems irrational, am I saying that it actually is irrational?  Of course not.  I’m only saying that it seems irrational.  Allow me to explain.  In the words of Sherlock Holmes, “Once we’ve eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.”  People in general tend to oversimplify in this realm also; they suppose that something improbable is irrational.  But is it not irrational to deny the truth in any case, regardless of the apparent improbability of it being true?  If someone really does get a full house during a game of poker, is it rational to deny it simply because of the wild improbability of that happening?  As a general rule, and given the evidence, I contest that Christianity ought to be given an equal chance in your selection of a worldview.

                The second barrier to entry, dichotomous to the first, is the emotional barrier to entry.  This sort of person, before fully adopting Christianity, must be brought to believe that Christianity is valuable, or in some sense useful (not in the practical sense of application, but in the emotional sense of psychological healing and completion), and, perhaps most especially, humane.  The difficult part is that each feeler (“feeler”, here, denotes one with an emotional barrier to entry) has their own personal definition of “valuable”, whereas the definition of “reasonable”, while slightly variant from person to person, is largely universal.  Regardless of the wide variation, until a feeler can be brought to believe that Christianity is valuable by their own standards, it remains for them unacceptable, inhumane, and/or negligibly important.

                Apologetics are only useful to a feeler insofar as they already find Christianity to be valuable, in which case they no longer possess an emotional barrier to entry.  A feeler cares little for the true/false value of Christianity.  For them, the competition is between acceptability/unacceptability, as outlined by their own personal values.  If they want it to be true, they need very little reason to think that it is true.  If they don’t want it to be true, they care little for the amount of logic and evidence in favor of the conclusion that Christianity is true (This makes feelers sound like highly irrational people.  In reality, they are champions of faith for its own sake and tend to be proficient in dealing with other people on a personal level).  Hypocrisy and depravity in the Church is the bane of this type.  If Christianity is not potent enough to liberate people from their sins, then really how valuable is it?  Hypocrisy is even worse.  If Christianity adds nothing to the world but judgmental “Pharisee” types (of which surely the world has enough), then why be a Christian?  You can understand, then, this type’s tendency to ignore apologetics while Christianity remains inhumane to them.  If a nation of hypocrites came to you and said, “Join us because we’re right,” surely you would not feel the least bit inclined to join them!

                It is important that, very early on, a feeler understands the separation of doctrine and deed.  They ought to learn to detach the Christian from his actions; otherwise, every action of a Christian will itself be considered the Christian thing to do.  This mentality is damaging to anyone who holds it; but most especially the feeler who, in order to adopt Christianity, must find the doctrine of Christianity to be acceptable even when the actions of Christians are flat-out unacceptable.  It is also important that feelers be assisted in their acceptance of hard-headed teachings in the Bible.  They should not be kept ignorant of these teachings, but such teachings should be taught tactfully.  The semi-genocidal actions of Israel in the Old Testament might be taught with an emphasis on the depravity of their enemies, or the danger it posed to Israel’s morality to keep them as slaves.  The doctrine of Heaven and Hell could be taught with an emphasis on man’s choice between the two.  This seems deceptive.  But there is no need to take affront to it if this tact in no way jeopardizes the truth value of the doctrine.  There also tends to be a tension in the feeler’s mind regarding religion which ought to be addressed properly.  Feelers generally value other people and, by definition, respect other people’s values.  Since other people value their religions, this poses a problem for the feeler.  The combination of the Christian doctrines, “No other religion is true,” and, “Heaven and Hell,” collide viciously with a feeler’s need to affirm everyone’s values.  The collision could be quite softened if the feeler learned these doctrines in a perceptive way.  First, there is no need for a feeler to suppose that every religion is a complete U-turn in the opposite direction of Christianity.  It is far more accurate to say that some other religions come very nearer to the truth than others, but none as close as Christianity.  This softening permits a feeler to value Christianity without disrespecting the values of others.  Second, the statement, “Be a Christian or go to hell,” need not be in a feeler’s list of beliefs; or at least, it need not be worded like that.  A feeler need only think, “Everyone is better off a Christian,” which makes it easier for them to conclude that, “No one is well off without Christ.”  And at this point the feeler basically believes in hell, only in a far less intense sense.  Hell is likely to be the end-all be-all for a feeler.  A good healthy reading of C.S. Lewis’s “The Great Divorce” might be just what they need to get a satisfying perspective on the matter.   

                I’d like to address teachers who teach youth specifically.  It can be difficult to properly teach a group or individual of this type, since each one has a distinct set of values.  One thing you can count on to be unilaterally valued by all feelers, at least to some degree, is humanity.  To each them, Christianity must be humane; it must encourage its following to treat every human like the human that he is, since feelers themselves try to do this in everything.  Since Christianity does encourage this, all you need to do is bring it to their attention.  The harder part, however, is keeping the humanity of Christianity intact when talking about things such as brutal Israelite history and Hell.  I have suggested a few ways to do this already.  As a general rule, when teaching about emotionally touchy subjects, try to tell the truth in such a way that its humanity, sensitivity, etc. is still intact (without, of course, jeopardizing the truth of the teaching).  Another thing which feelers thrive off of is Christian ideals.  A good sermon or lecture about the beauty of marriage, or the importance of wisdom, or the wonder of God’s providence tends to resonate, at least to some degree, with every feeler who hears them.  Each of these examples represent what the Bible says people should value.  Using a healthy dose of emotional appeal, an audience of feelers can easily be convinced to at minimum consider adding what the Bible says they ought to value to their own personal list of values.  In all things, emotional appeal is what you want in order to win a feeler’s approval.        

                I speak now to feelers specifically.  I can honestly say that I understand quite how you feel, regardless of my heavier inclination towards logic and reason.  For me personally, there are two things which violate my values for Christianity.  The first is hypocritical and judgmental followers (Who does not consider such things inhumane?).  People – indeed, entire churches – have been lost to this sort of sin.  They probably do these things because someone was first judgmental of them.  But why not use such an opportunity to be especially sensitive and kind?  Such would be far better for the advancement of Christianity.  The second is the issue of depravity.  I have not seen much of God’s supposed ultimate healing power; at least, not as much as I should like.  There are many I know who are involved in church yet who ultimately remain enslaved to sin.  Is God not powerful enough to heal their imperfections?  It has been emotionally trying for me to maintain that the answer to this question is “yes” in the wake of their ongoing sinfulness still to this day.  But when I start to think that the answer is “no”, I remember my family and one particular friend who I lead to Christ.  I remember how successfully God has saved them from their own sin.  Often times when one fails to value Christianity, it is merely because he fails to look at the whole picture, or else refuses to do so.  If we really acknowledged God’s every working, we might realize just how valuable He is, and just what faith in Christ is capable of.  Some good resources for you on your journey might include testimonial books such as “A Grief Observed” and “Choosing to See”, among others’ whose names I do not know.  Books in the Bible such as Job, Psalms, Song of Solomon, and the first and last chapters of Proverbs may help you get a clear picture of what others found valuable about God.

A Lengthy Conclusion

                I’d like to begin my closure with a final address to the teachers reading this who teach youth.  So far, I have disclosed various ways that you might engage one type or the other.  While the methods are useful, I find it insufficient simply to leave my address to you at that for a few reasons.  First, you will quite certainly never have the luxury of teaching a group that has only one type of barrier; you will almost certainly have to engage both with a single sermon.  Second, if you teach a particularly large youth group, you cannot well know which barrier has the majority reign, if either.  Third, as I mentioned offhand, these two barriers are largely dichotomous.  Given, everyone is quite certain to face both barriers at some time in their life.  But it is also certain that they will not experience each barrier at the same time or at the same intensity.  An intellectual with intellectual barriers, while entranced by logical appeal, conversely takes affront to emotional appeal, thinking the speaker to be deceptive and/or manipulative.  A feeler with emotional barriers to entry experiences just the opposite.  Logical appeal, to them, is bland and of negligible importance unless Christianity can present itself as valuable.  To cater to one is to automatically shut out the other.  To give to one, you must rob from the other.  This makes teaching advice specific to one type or the other hard to actually apply.

                There are some suggestions I’d like to put forth in order to help overcome this.  First, you might try making the sermon, lecture, etc. predominantly logical with a few flashes of emotion slipped in.  For instance, you might use reasoning and logic to lead up to a certain conclusion, engaging the intellectuals in the crowd and getting them on board with the conclusion, at which time you actually express the conclusion highly colored with emotional appeal and idealism to appeal to the feelers in your crowd.  The intellectuals won’t care how the conclusion is laid out since they will already be quite in agreement with it (if you’ve done the job right).  Conversely, the feelers in the crowd will be able to understand that the conclusion is valuable, even if they were bored for the past minute or two during which you laid out all the rationale and evidence behind it.  Another thing you could do is start a series based solely on one type of appeal and to make known, in advance, what sort of appeal the series will wield.  At the announcement of a new series, make known, in some way or other, what sort of appeal the series intends to use.  In this, the youth know what they are signing up for when they arrive at youth group.  It eliminates the surprise that supersedes a feeler’s sense of boredom or an intellectual’s sense of offense, lessening its intensity a bit.  If you take this route of “block scheduled appeal”, so to speak, make certain to switch it up regularly.  Make every other sermon intellectual; don’t make feelers or intellectuals wait too long for their sermon type.  The good news is that if you really hit your sermons home, a feeler will be quite willing to endure a month of practicality in exchange for the following month of idealism, and intellectuals will be quite willing to do just the opposite.

                Besides all of this, there is one method in particular which appeals to both types: testimonies.  Testimonies tend to possess more appeal to one type than the other type depending on the personality giving the testimony, but the good thing is that it does not shut either type out.  Even if a feeler testifies about the time that they overcame an emotional barrier to entry, intellectuals won’t take affront to it.  The feeler is not trying to convince them of anything using irrational, unreliable emotion.  He is merely telling his story, and there is no quarrel that the intellectual can raise about that.  Conversely, feelers will not be bored by the testimony of an intellectual.  In fact, they’ll probably remain quite engaged.  Testimonies appeal especially well to feelers, since in that, the testifier is largely disclosing their values, which feelers always respect in others.  The one weakness in a testimony is that it does little to actually move an intellectual closer to thinking that Christianity is true or a feeler to thinking it is acceptable.  The benefit, then, is that it keeps the possibility of adoption open.  The testimony of an intellectual about the time they found reasons be a Christian will keep intellectuals in the audience open to the possibility that they themselves could find reasons to be a Christian.  The testimony of a feeler about the time they found value in Christianity will keep feelers in the audience open to the possibility that they themselves could find value in Christianity.  Wherever they are in their journey, it keeps them from the conclusion which could end it all – Christianity cannot be reasonable or Christianity cannot be valuable – because someone just testified that it is reasonable/valuable to them.  If you find your youth group slipping – giving up on their adoptions – you might try scheduling a testimonial.  The days prior to and following the testimonial, work hard on a sermon that really hits one group or the other hard.  Try to target the group to whom the testimonial most appealed last week.  If an intellectual testimony, follow up next week with a powerful intellectual lecture, and vice-versa.  This “combination attack”, so to speak, effectively opens up the possibility and then strikes while the window is open.

                For an effective second and final half of my conclusion, I have decided to take my own advice and give my own testimony.  Considering the subject matter of this essay as a whole, I’ll testify only about the time that I adopted Christianity; leaving out the conventional topic of testimonies – coming to Christ.  It is almost certain that this testimony will contain much more allure for intellectuals, since it is the story of the day that I overcame my intellectual barrier to entry and adopted Christianity.

                I could not tell you when this story started, for it started the day church and the Faith became for me an autonomous things that held little to no spiritual value.  Surely there exists no such day.  The process and my entry into autonomy was a gradual one.  The Devil plays his game that way; for if the Truth and the Lie were to compete head on the Lie would be thrust away without competition.  Rather, the Lie relies on stealth, sneaking in and chipping at the Truth as gradually as possible until, before you even realize it, nothing remains of the Truth and your mind is naught but a cavern of Lies.  I was by now thirteen, and I had become self-conscious enough of the autonomy that I openly complained about it.  “Another sermon about ‘Jesus saves’?!” “Yes, we know the story of Jonah,” “This is second-year Sunday school material.”  Regardless, I managed to hope against hope that one day I might attend a church which discussed the obscure stories and doctrines of Christianity and the Bible.  I had outgrown milk.  It was about time I started eating solid food.

                There were two things I could not have told you were happening within myself at the time which hindsight has supplied me with a clear perception of (Funny how much clarity hindsight affords!).  The first was that I was facing an intellectual barrier to entry.  I wanted Christianity to be true and reasonable and proper.  Lake Havasu City could not offer me this sort of Christianity.  Well… perhaps could not is severe.  I would not wager to say that the pastors and church leaders were intellectually deficient.  To the contrary, their audience was, and as such the leaders had to dumb themselves down to maintain proper appeal.  At least, that was their perception of the matter.  I’m not so certain whether or not that was true.  Because, even while the church leaders tried to maintain what they saw as “proper appeal”, their churches remained barren; full of not but “snow birds” (the Havasuvian term for elders who live in Lake Havasu City only for the winter and elsewhere during the summer).  I’m convinced, because of the fruit of some of my own work among the unbelievers in Havasu, that all the city really needs is some good old fashioned Christian apologetics.  All the church leaders I knew thought quite the opposite, of course, and as such I was the odd one out (indeed, my entire family was the odd one out).  I was one of the only ones in my age group who had some thirteen-or-so years of Sunday school under my belt.  I was the only one who wanted – nay, who needed – a lecture on systematic theology, or philosophy from a Christian perspective, or the ins and outs of a Christian worldview.  I was cruelly rejected this by leaders who did not know how to train their followers how to, or worse, who did not think their followers capable of loving God with all their minds.

                The second thing about myself I can only tell you in hindsight is that I was drifting away from Christianity.  Have you ever known that you were changing, and watched yourself changing, but you did not know if the change was for the better or how you might stop the change?  This was how it was for me.  Somewhere, in the deep recesses of my subconscious, I knew that I was drifting away.  But I had scarcely any idea that this was happening, let alone what I might do about it.  This, of course, never showed on the outside.  I looked to be one of the most zealous Christians on the block.  I think, regardless of this slow inner change, that I was (I do not presume to have been the “best” Christian, only one of the more “zealous”).  There resides within me a very deep sense of loyalty.  Since Christianity was my family’s faith, I very much wanted to stay loyal to it; and this loyalty was largely genuine.  There is a chink in my chain though; a single character trait that keeps me from being a pure loyalist.  There resides in me a sense of originality and imagination in the way I want things to be.  Had this been switched with a comparative contentment and desire to keep things just as they are, then I would be a pure loyalist.  My imagination remains the only thing standing between my personality and the personality of pure loyalist.  I am capable of great loyalty, but not for its own sake.

                I was drifting away from Christianity because there was no “sake”.  If I was to remain loyal to Christianity, it would have to be for the sake of loyalty itself, which I refused to do.  My barrier dictated that I would only be loyal for the sake of logic, reason, etc.  But this “sake” was not in Christianity’s favor; not as it had been presented to me thus far.  In fact, other religions and worldviews had plenty of “sakes”.  Of course Atheism looked quite reasonable and practical to me in comparison to Christianity, which managed to waste an hour and a half of my life every week (though I had not yet become complacent enough to consider it a waste at the time).  All worldviews must hold that they are the most logical and reasonable, else they would not succeed to convince any intellectuals.  The problem was that Christianity, as it was in Lake Havasu City, insisted only that it was valuable and acceptable and humane, almost completely ignoring the intellectual side.  And I wasn’t going to really join a religion where all it had going for it was an emotional rush and no more.

                I remember quite distinctly a day when we – my siblings, my dad, and I – were in my dad’s office where he worked as the worship pastor at Lake Havasu Baptist.  I’m quite certain now that we were helping him organize it, since he had only recently been hired there and only recently had moved all of his things in.  My dad, while sorting through a box full of books (Christianity the theme of every last one) pulled one in particular out.  “You’d like this book, son,” he said something of the like, getting my attention, “Very intellectual.”  What he held in his hands was small, worn, and faded.  It was almost all white; not pure white but off-white, very probably the result of wear-and-tear.  There was a highly simplistic cover illustration: a circle divided into three horizontal rows, each with writing in them that was legible but only just.  The title?  “Mere Christianity”.

                The title was an initial surprise – in a very good way.  Had man been encouraged to judge books by their covers, this book would have, for me, been appraised rather highly.  The simplicity of the title, as accentuated by the simplicity of the cover art, was what really ensnared me.  This brought to mind not boring church services that unendingly recounted the same facts so that anything useful had to be gleaned after much mental processing, but what I had been wanting all along.  I’d had enough of peripheral facts crowding space in my mind and complicating everything.  I wanted, “Just the facts, ma’am,” and somehow the title and cover of the book convinced me that that was just what I was going to get.

                Surprisingly, upon bringing it home, I did not forget about the book.  At the time I was not much of a reader (Surprising, huh?  I conjecture that this was due to the fact that a book I had tried to read long ago was too difficult, or too descriptive.  I was never good at picturing things in my mind as books relayed the details, let alone keeping that picture in my mind every time the object was mentioned again.  To this day, only non-fiction or fiction books with short descriptions and more action are my cup of tea).  I picked up the book and began reading.  My original impressions were not let down.  Though at thirteen I barely understood the complexity of Mr. Lewis’s arguments, I understood enough to see Christianity in the light I had always wanted to see it; a doctrine of logic, reason, and sense.  I’d read a chapter.  I’d lie back on my bed and contemplate it.  I’d re-read a difficult section.  Though I self-resolved to read only a single chapter a day (for what reason I am not certain; possibly to give myself time to contemplate it or time to do other entertaining things), I couldn’t stop myself from going on.  I’d read some three or four sections a day, which was quite a bit to process for a thirteen-year-old.

                Just like I cannot tell you where this story starts, I cannot tell you where it ends either.  That is, I cannot tell you the precise day that I adopted Christianity.  This process, too, was gradual.  That is how I find God to work quite often as well.  Service to Him is no single act; it is an eternal discipline.  Christianity became less my family’s and more my own, yet still somehow remaining a family affair.  I became my own Christian; or perhaps more accurately, I am becoming my own Christian, since the adoption neither started nor does it ever seem to end.  Though I started it long after, it is no exaggeration to say that this book is what, at the root of it, inspired me to start the very blog you are now reading! 

                To this day, I am perplexed by my dad’s remark to me when he introduced me to the book; I am referring to when he said, “Very intellectual.”  He obviously said this because he knew that I was intellectual, and he figured that the book would resonate with me.  And it did, and he was right, of course.  But the perplexing part is that I do not recall, to any extent, being overtly intellectual in any way before thirteen.  Indeed, I did not start thinking of myself or admitting to myself that I was intellectual until after reading the book.  It was as if, after reading the book and being able to comfortably conclude that Christianity was reasonable, I was finally able to really be an intellectual.  Not until Christianity was intellectual could I be intellectual, for I was a Christian.  Before I could be defined as intellectual, the thing that defined me also had to be intellectual.  I found myself, my true, intellectual self, in Christ and the doctrine that is Him: Christianity.  It leaves me with a provocative question.  Did I adopt Christ?  Or did He adopt me? 

Apologetics: Atheism versus Christianity

                The following essay will actually give very few points of its own.  Rather, the majority of it will be comprised of counterpoints; indeed, counterpoints countering protest that Atheists traditionally raise against Christianity.  Obviously, every protests against Christianity cannot be addressed here.  But I think that I have successfully centralized the vast majority of them for presentation in this essay (I’ll let you be the ultimate judge of that success).  The following are common questions and comments construed as ample evidence for denying Christianity, each of which will be engaged in detail and in order:

                “If religion causes war, then why be religious?”

                “Christianity is not based on evidence.”

                “If God created the universe, then what created God?”

                “Why is there evil in the world?”

“If religion causes war, then why be religious?”

                An Atheist probably makes this protest with the Christian Crusades, Islamic Jihads, etc. fresh on their mind.  The protest certainly has its merits and is cause for consideration.  But I also find that it does not constitute ample evidence for denying religion completely.  Why?  Because Atheists, when making this statement, are not being even-handed.  There are plenty of other things besides religion that give people reason for war.  I charge that if an Atheist is to deny religion on account of its violent history, it must deny these other things that cause war or admit to being hypocritical.  Before I proceed to argue that, I’d like to rephrase the Atheist protest to promote consistency across the terminology I plan to use in this essay: “Religious conviction causes war.”  This rephrase is not merely for better coherence within this essay; I consider it to be a more concise way of framing the issue in general.  For there are plenty of Christians, Islamists, Buddhists, etc. who are not convicted enough about their religion to go to war over it.

                To look at history and accuse religious conviction for war is warranted, but only part of the truth; there are plenty of other convictions responsible for war.  Hitler waged war on account of his racial convictions.  Stalin waged war on account of his convictions regarding government and economic philosophy.  Julius Caesar waged war on account of his political convictions.  The Mongols, the Norsemen, the Chinese, the Japanese; all have been involved in wars on account of their convictions.  And if “religious” constitutes “belief in the supernatural”, then none of the examples I just listed involve religious convictions; they are each non-religious convictions.  It is much more even-handed to state that religious and non-religious convictions cause war; to say that religious conviction alone causes war is not reporting the whole story.  Now, if an Atheist is to deny religious convictions of any kind on account of the fact that they have been responsible for many past wars, then an Atheist, in order to fully commit himself to the truth of his protest, must also deny convictions or beliefs that are non-religious because they cause wars just as brutal and just as frequently as religious convictions.  And at this point the Atheist must give up Atheism, for Atheism is itself a non-religious conviction.

                “Atheism is no belief, it is a fact,” I’m sure plenty of people will protest.  Such a person probably misunderstands what I mean when I say that Atheism is a belief (or conviction, the two terms are indistinct here).  What I’m not saying is that Atheism is ignorant.  People nowadays tend to assume that people “believe” only when there is a lack of evidence.  I see it as just the opposite in many instances; many (such as myself) traditionally only believe in something after being presented with ample evidence to do so.  What I am saying is that no one on earth can ultimately know whether or not Atheism is true.  Given, if something looks, sounds, and feels like a duck, it probably is a duck.  But unless we somehow know, beyond any doubt, that it is a duck, the most we can do is believe that it is a duck.  Unless an Atheist has personally witnessed the big bang and all the processes that followed, the most they can do is believe that it happened, even if that belief is based on evidence.   To recap: In order to fairly deny religious convictions on account that it results in war, one must also deny non-religious convictions because they, too, result in war.  And since Atheism is a conviction, the argument itself backfires on the Atheists who try and make the argument. 

“Isn’t it perfectly reasonable for an Atheist to reject the convictions specific to the aforementioned tyrants while keeping his own personal, distinct convictions?”  What’s ironic about my inclusion of this anticipated protest is that I completely agree with it.  I consider it quite reasonable, to an extent, for an Atheist merely to reject those convictions specific to tyrants while maintaining their own convictions.  But surely you see what implications this has for the religious side of the question, don’t you?  If you hold that it is reasonable for Atheists to have non-religious convictions though they lead to war, you must also hold (in order to be fair, at least) that it is reasonable for religious people to have religious convictions though they lead to war as well, so long as they, too, do not hold the exact same convictions as religious tyrants.  As such, an Atheist cannot say that it is unreasonable to be religious because people start wars on account of religion.  Well, I suppose they can say this.  But to do so would be hypocritical.    

“One can be an Atheist without sharing the same convictions as Hitler, Stalin, etc.  But if someone is a Christian, for example, then do they not by definition have the exact same convictions as the Crusaders?”  The answer is no, they do not.  In fact, I’d wager to say that less than 5% of Christians today believe that the Crusades were fully justified.  And even further, the Bible, the authoritative text for Christians, says nothing that justifies the Crusades.  Indeed, it says several things that directly condemn the Crusades (e.g. “Judge not, lest ye be judged,” “Thou shalt not murder,” etc.)  So while the Crusaders may have claimed to be acting in the name of God, Biblically speaking, that claim was quite in vain (third of the Ten Commandments: “Thou shalt not use the LORD’s name in vain”).  It is misguided to suppose that any act done by a Christian is itself in line with Christian moral beliefs; even if the Christian himself claims that it is.  It is further misguided to suppose that, in order to become a Christian, you must affirm the “say so” of every other Christian ever.  To profess to be a Christian is not to profess to share every single conviction with every other Christian.  So a Christian can still be a Christian reasonably; they can accept Christianity while rejecting the supposed “Christian” convictions that have led to war in the past.

The conclusion?  Any Atheist is free to deny religion.  They are even free to deny religion on these grounds and these grounds alone. But to do so would be hypocritical.

“Christianity is not based on evidence.”

                I understand in part where this protest comes from.  All the more why I want to contest it, for I do not consider where it comes from to be a place of honest reason and common sense.  The following lines argue that point of view. 

A good place to start when considering the protest itself is to look at what Christianity is based on.  It is almost solely based upon Jesus.  And regarding Jesus, Christians, generally speaking, have two beliefs: 1) he was actual – he actually existed on the earth as a human at one time historically and 2) everything he preached is true.  How do these two beliefs measure up in terms of evidence?  The first measures up beautifully.  There are plenty of historical manuscripts backing Jesus’ story.  There is also reason to believe that those manuscripts are reliable.  Jesus’ followers were Jews and, per Jewish religious practice, would have understood the importance of taking notes during Jesus’ ministry.  The intensive and extensive impact of Jesus on culture A.D. (not to mention his splitting the calendar in half) make it hard to suppose that story of Jesus was a mere fantasy.  How does the second belief fare in terms of evidence?  I have more extensively presented this evidence in my posts, “Apologetics: Jesus’ Story” and “Who do you say Jesus is?”  I’ll present three primary bits of evidence, two of which are broken down in those posts.  First, the chances of Jesus fulfilling all of the prophecies about him by accident are next to zero.  Second, the idea that Jesus is a liar does not fit well with how much the apostles were willing to suffer.  For who is willing to suffer on account of a liar?  You may protest: “Do you not, though, contest that many religious leaders are liars?  How do you explain their willingness to suffer?”  My answer?  These followers did not have irrevocable evidence proving that their leaders were liars (of course they were presented with evidence, but they considered it excusable).  To the contrary, the apostles followed a man who claimed to be the Son of God.  And the Son of God, by definition, cannot die.  Thus, Jesus’ death was in fact irrevocable evidence to his apostles that he was a liar.  And yet they suffered and died in the name of this liar, whom they fully knew to be a liar?  Notice how this observation doubles as evidence for the Resurrection.  Finally, in consideration of Jesus’ claim that he was, in fact, the Son of God, one can reasonably make one of two conclusions about Jesus: he was a lunatic or he was truthfully the Son of God.  For if he was not the Son of God, then he lied about being as much, which is, of course, complete lunacy.  A Christian recognizes the profoundness of Jesus’ words and teachings as beyond what any lunatic could produce.  Since a Christian concludes that he was not a lunatic, they, by definition, must believe that he was telling the truth.  There is, of course, far more evidence than this; presented in numerous apologetic classics including but not limited to, “The Case for Christ”, “Mere Christianity”, “The Historical Jesus”, and so on.

“Christianity is ignorant of the evidence against it,” one might protest.  I find, however, that operating on this premise takes us into a meaningless stalemate.  Like above, consider what Christianity actually does.  If you are an informed, rational Christian (sadly, there are other sorts of Christians), you believe that the evidence in favor of Christianity outweighs the evidence against Christianity.  This is what the Atheist calls “ignorant of the evidence against it”, and of course I can see why.  But there is a fatal flaw here, for Atheism does the same thing.  An Atheist supposes that the evidence against Christianity outweighs the evidence for it.  If the converse Christian belief is “ignorance of the evidence against it”, then I could easily contest that this Atheist belief is also “ignorant of the evidence against it”.  It is at this point that we have the stalemate, for to follow the conclusion that Christianity is ignorant of the evidence against it results in nothing but useless finger-pointing.  It is much more logically sound to conclude not that Christianity is completely ignorant, but that, “Christianity’s reasoning for defaulting the evidence against it is unsound.”  Once an Atheist concedes this about Christianity (and a Christian about Atheism, for that matter), the two parties can get to discussing each other’s’ reasoning rather than arguing that one or the other “is completely ignorant”. 

It does no good for an Atheist to argue that Christianity is based on no evidence whatsoever, for I already presented a mere sliver of evidence in its favor.  If an Atheist is to argue against Christianity on evidential grounds, they must argue that the evidence is lacking and/or not compelling.  And to the one who wishes to do that, I suggest you get started doing your research, forming up your logic, and triple-checking for fallacies.  Because Christian professors the world over have already done the same.  The conclusion?  An Atheist is free to think that Christianity is unreasonable, but its evidential legitimacy cannot be defaulted by the mere one-liner, “Christianity is not based on evidence.”   

“If God created the universe, then what created God?”

                Christians, in response to this question, will likely give a vast range of answers which Atheists generally consider to be without merit.  I understand full well why they think this.  The only thing that a Christian can give in response to this question is an excuse: “God is eternal; he does not need to be created,” “God always existed; he needs no cause.”  This apparent attempt of a Christian to waive the need to rationalize their answer tends to turn an Atheist off to Christianity.  Have I any better of an answer to this protest?  No, I have only excuses.  But I do have a valid point to bring up regarding the logic on which the question is based in the first place.  Now, an Atheist often brings up this point to explain why they are not a Christian.  But what they often fail to realize is this: Atheism runs into the same exact problem Christianity does while trying to answer the same exact question.

                Allow me to present an example.  If someone asked a Christian, “Where did the world come from?” they would answer, “God created it.”  That someone would probably then ask, “Who created God?” at which time the Christian, perhaps frustrated, would give the first excuse that popped into his head.  Now consider someone questioning an Atheist; “Where did the world come from?”  Their answer?  “A microscopic, infinitely dense particle (or something of the like, I do not pretend to be an expert).”  That someone could then ask, “Where did that come from?”  At this time, the Atheist is forced to do exact same thing as the Christian and give an excuse, “It always existed,” “It came from another dimension (And that dimension came from where?).”

                I’m sure that there are several hundreds of physicists who have written books rationalizing the existence of that microscopic, infinitely dense particle.  But are there not hundreds of Christians who have done the same with God, not only theologically but philosophically and metaphysically as well?  Why should we suppose that the Atheists are any better off than Christianity with their excuses about the infinitely dense particle “always existing”, or even vice-versa?  You may protest, “An Atheists excuses are based on evidence; a Christian’s aren’t.”  But that brings me back to the section before this, where I discussed the problem with Atheists and Christians calling each other completely ignorant.  I’ll repeat a similar argument here briefly if you skipped the previous section.  An Atheist looks at the universe and says, “Matter interacts with matter in a fixed and complex way.  It could very easily have interacted in such a way as to create the universe.”  On the other hand, a Christian looks at the universe and says, “Matter interacts with matter in a fixed and complex way.  Surely there is an intelligent Creator behind this.”  Are not both of these conclusions based on evidence; indeed, the exact same evidence?  Here, evidence A can just as rationally point to conclusions B or C.  So it is highly unfair to suppose that only Atheism or only Christianity is based on the evidence simply because you agree with one or the other’s conclusion about the evidence. 

So now we have a level playing field; a Christian has nothing but excuses to offer explaining the origin of God.  But neither does an Atheist have anything but excuses to explain the origin of that microscopic, infinitely dense particle.  Regarding the question spotlighted in this section, then, we have one conclusion: to turn to Atheism instead of Christianity on the grounds of this protest and this protest alone is to act hypocritically.

“Why is there evil in the world?”

                Some of you may have read my post with this exact same title.  I’ll not be repeating that whole post here.  In fact, just like the question above this one, a Christian can offer naught but excuses to answer this question.  Intelligent, sensible excuses perhaps (such as with my post on the matter), but excuses nonetheless.  I contest that there is, like the questions above it, a fatal flaw with the question itself. 

When calling the world “evil”, Atheists often fail to recognize that they are, in fact, comparing the world to a Standard from which it falls short.  This Standard, by definition, must be above and beyond the world.  Why?  Consider if the Standard were in the world.  Now, the Standard, which is in the world, has judged the world to be evil (or at least, to have evil in it).  But does that not mean that the Standard has judged itself to be evil, since the Standard is in the world?  And at this point the Standard’s authority deflates.  For if the Standard is the least bit tainted by evil, then what gives it the right to judge the world?  If the Standard is to judge the measure of the world’s good, then the Standard itself must be the ultimate measure of good; in other words, the Standard must be perfectly good.  The world is evil.  The Standard must be perfectly good to judge the world as evil.  Therefore, the Standard cannot be in the world.  Since it cannot be “in” the world, the Standard must be above and beyond the world (it cannot be “below” the world for obvious reasons).  The Standard is supernatural, for that is the definition of something above and beyond the world.  To recap: in order to call the world “evil”, one must acknowledge a supernatural Standard from which the world has fallen short.  The person who acknowledges this Standard need not be a Christian or perhaps even a Theist.  But they cannot be an Atheist, as Atheism denies the supernatural.  So the protest, “Why is there evil in the world,” cannot even be made by an Atheist to deny Christianity without their rejecting their own beliefs.  In fact, in a way, the protest helps Christianity; for to acknowledge evil is to acknowledge the supernatural, which is a huge stride towards Christianity.

                Now, I suppose an Atheist could modify their protest, saying, “Why is the world inconvenient for me?”  This modification vetoes the need to acknowledge anything supernatural.  Rather than a supernatural standard, this protest acknowledges a personal standard.  An Atheist could also say, “Why has the world fallen short of my standards?”  However, if the protest is modified like so, then I find it to be largely without merit.  Why?  Because the person who makes it is claiming that God ought to make their life perfectly convenient.  I cannot identify sufficient grounds for making this claim.  Consider things like school, relationships, practice, etc.  Each of these things has a significant degree of inconvenience, but I doubt if anyone would argue that each of these things are ultimately rewarding.  In fact, I find that the most rewarding things are always inconvenient.  For is it not the inconvenience that makes the reward all the more appreciated?  To illustrate my point, consider broccoli and chocolate.  The taste of chocolate is all the more appreciated because something as distasteful as broccoli exists.  Whenever you eat chocolate, you know that you could be eating broccoli, and as such can appreciate the chocolate more.  Moreover, if something several times more delectable than chocolate came along, it is logical to suppose that chocolate would become quite distasteful to us.  For every time we ate chocolate, we could be eating that which tastes much better.  In the same way, the inconvenience of a situation (broccoli) by abstraction accentuates our appreciation of the reward (chocolate).  Thus, belief in God cannot be painted as unreasonable on the grounds that inconvenience exists in the world.  Indeed, considering the rewarding character of inconvenience, God looks much more meaningful in that He allows it, the way a teacher allows disappointment to motivate the improvement of his student. 

                So the argument that comes very near to defaulting Christianity, “Why is there evil in the world?” cannot be made by an Atheist.  And the argument that can be made against Christianity as an Atheist, “Why is the world inconvenient for me?” holds no merit.

               

                In the end, I mean each of these words with the highest possible respect to any of my opponents who read them.  I am not “out to get” anyone; only to speak truth where I find it.  What, then, can be said in conclusion to all of this?  I know that there are a lot more protests out there that I did not address (do be sure and check back on occasion; I may have added a few).  But in general, there is one thing that I would like to say to anyone who is not a Christian, not merely Atheists.  Let us not suppose, as I think many of us are tempted to, that there is any “easy button” that “simply denies” Christianity.  It cannot be swiftly brushed aside by a single argument, or snippet of evidence, or supposedly unanswerable question.  Indeed, I’d wager to say that no worldview can be so easily brushed aside.  We are tempted to think so and/or convince ourselves of such because it can be exhausting and unfruitful to try and logic ourselves into or out of a particular worldview.  Yet if we do not put in such effort, then what right have we to unyieldingly cling to any worldview at all?