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September 10, 2003
Hello everyone,
In the Who Can It Be Now? Father God, Mother Church, the previous issue of Le Penseur Réfléchit, I made a statement (since removed) that is confusing at best, definitely in need of mention. I was building my argumentation to support the idea that when the common (or profane) is offered up to God, it then becomes sacred. I went on to aver:
I will also add as a counterargument that the world was created by God and He pronounced his creation good. There is not a single passage in the bible where I read that he revoked his claim even after the human race fell in the original sin. There was a need for redemption of course—paid for with His Son’s blood on that hideously beautiful “tree of life” on which the “Firstfruits” was hung—but there was no loss of value and worth. This particular observation is one of the reasons I hold Lewis’ prior quotation of our own (lack of) intrinsic worth at a distance while still considering it worthwhile enough to share: it is possible that further thought and study would reveal no inherent contradiction, simply different sides of the same coin. I remain undecided and require further time for study and prayer before I wish to sanction a definite position on such a sentiment.
It was brought to my attention that there is indeed a verse that calls into question God’s original pronouncement, rendering the italicized sentence above a rather poor choice of words. Genesis 6:5–6 reads: “Then the LORD saw that the wickedness of man was great on the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. The LORD was sorry that He had made man on the earth, and He was grieved in His heart.” So what kind of implications does this verse hold for my original premise? I believe that an explanation is in order here. Let’s begin by pulling from Eternal Portraits in Everlasting Fellowship:
. . . So too, there is no difference between the sacred and the profane: all that exists was created by God, all that is created is sacred, including the temporal frame that houses the eternal portrait. So then, what do we make of good and evil? What is it that makes something evil?
In order for something to be evil, it must go against what we find in the nature and essence of God. Did God create anything that went against His nature and essence? Certainly not if we are to look at the flowers and the trees and the birds and the bees. So what can go against His nature and essence? Only a creature who has the power to choose. Evil mandates a choice and choice implies a sentient being to make it. To be sure, we find the effects of the curse around us, but even this “natural evil,” according to Scripture, is the result of humanity’s existential choice in the very beginning [see Genesis 3:17–19]. On its own, there is nothing in and of itself that is evil, for all that has been created exists from the hand of God. Even the fabric by which Satan’s frame has been knit together is not itself evil; rather it was his choice and his choosing that damned him to his unavoidable future in hell.
This theology is supported by German scholar Wolfgang Schneider who explicitly considers the two passages in question: the one I alluded to last week in Genesis 1:31 (where God pronounces His creation as being “very good”) and the one that calls it into question found in Genesis 6:5–6 (where God regrets making man). In his ultra-brief page Was God Satisfied with His Works or Not?, Schneider states:
When it then is stated that it grieved God that he had made man on earth, we must notice that God was not grieved at the original state of affairs and what He actually had made, but rather at the situation and what had become of man due to man’s disobedient and wicked doings after Adam’s sin.
As Schneider indicates, what I have consistently advocated still holds true: namely that what God created was good, pronounced so by God Himself, and that any corruption or evil that has been brought about has always been the result of sentient creatures with free will making choices that go against the grain and fabric of God. Yet the problem of evil and the existence of a good God is perhaps the single greatest theological source of insecurity for the believer and greatest spark of contention for the avowed atheist and honest agnostic alike. One such skeptical response was featured in a letter written to Lenny Esposito, founder and author of the California based ministry Come Reason.
In the opening lines, Thomas, a self-proclaimed non-believer familiar with Esposito’s writing, levels the following allegation: “If evil exists and God created everything then by inference God created evil.” He then proceeds to explain his rationale suggesting that if God created everything, then this “everything” includes both evil and sin. Though he is firmly aware that the common answer offered by believers in reply is that humanity has been given free-will, he does not feel that it is a sound or adequate explanation. To build his argument, he contrasts the difference between “capabilities” and “free-will” (note that his reply has not been edited for collegiate English: presumably he uses “human” here in the sense an older writing style would render the collective “man” or “mankind,” though there is also an issue of improper subject verb agreement):
Now we must distinguish between free-will (or freedom) and capabilities. For example, humans were created without being able to fly, dogs can hear sound frequencies that human cannot hear. These are examples of human inability (or lack of capability). I don’t think anyone would regard God as having restricted our freedom by not providing human with these capabilities. Capability and freedom are two unrelated, separate issues.
Now when it comes to our mind, the same argument applies. Human are capable of greed, hatred, self-righteousness, jealousy and many more evil deeds. These are also capabilities just like we can walk and talk. Now the important question is that when God created human why did he let us have these bad capabilities? God could have created human so that human is not capable of thinking and doing bad. Not giving human the capability to think and do bad is not a restriction on human’s free-will. Yet God not only chose to create human who is capable of doing evil but also gave him the free-will to choose to do evil. It does not make sense that a all-loving God would create something which is capable of evil and let him harm innocent people. If God is all-powerful and exists beyond time (as you have said in your web site) he must know the future. He must know the consequences of giving human such bad capabilities. Yet God chose so. Therefore I don’t believe there exists such a God as the Christians have described. If such a God exists he deserves no worship. (Didn’t God Create Evil, Too?)
Thomas ends his letter with a challenging query: “What do you think?” to which Esposito replies by first noting that evil and sin “are not ‘things’ in and of themselves.” He offers two examples: a vacuum is the word we choose to label space without matter and cold is a word we use to describe the absence of heat. Neither a vacuum nor coldness is a “thing,” but rather each refers to the negation of a thing. From this vantagepoint, Esposito continues:
Sin and evil are regarded the same [as negations of goodness]. These things cannot exist as “things” that are independent of circumstances, but are the labels given to actions or characteristics that do not meet the goal of perfection. Now, you might say “Aha! If these things are actions that can be performed, then they must exist autonomously.” That is not true. My wife recently suffered a very severe dislocation of the elbow. All of her bones were misaligned. If she could have stood the pain, she was able to bend her arm in ways that are impossible for you and I to duplicate. Our arms just cannot bend behind themselves like that. Now, just because she possessed this ability, we did not consider it an asset to be attained, but we rightly sought medical attention to put the elbow back together so it would function properly. We knew if we left it that way, there would be more detriment to her overall ability than asset.
Just like that broken arm, evil and sin are the painful results of a fall. The world and all that is in it was created perfect, but the fall of man created ramifications and consequences that we are still struggling with today. They are not abilities or goals to be achieved, but they are the terms we use to convey the idea of absence of righteousness. This is why when someone reads that God cannot lie and they try to claim that God could not be omnipotent because He lacks something, they are mistaken. The act of lying is really an act of not being able to tell the truth. When you ask why God allowed humans to have the capability for evil, you are not framing your question fairly. You might as well ask why did God create us with joints that could be broken. He did not want us to break His rules, but once we did (and every one of us has) He had to take steps to repair the state we are in.
Suffice it to say that the only truly creative power in the universe is the good. Evil does not have the power to create anything; like the vacuum or the cold, it is defined by the detraction from or perversion of the good. This realization demonstrates how God created everything yet did not create evil; evil is not creative but rather destructive: it relies on what is in order to exist: it cannot bring into being on its own. Do you see the distinction? It will prove an important one as we pursue our argumentation into deeper waters. Let’s take a detour through the world of philosophy for a moment, for it is directly related to theology, addressing many of the same issues and questions with which the various religions of the world grapple.
Philosophical inquiry exists in three basic spheres of thought, each one intertwined and interrelated with the next. These three basic areas are (1) metaphysics, the study of being, (2) epistemology, the study of knowledge, and (3) ethics, the study of morality. The way that we answer (1) the questions of metaphysics affects the way in which we will respond to the (2) epistemological and (3) ethical questions.
The central question of metaphysics is the question of existence. We may very well wonder, “How did we come into existence?” followed closely by “Why are we here?” But even before we concern ourselves with that question, we have to ask ourselves how anything can exist. Still, it has become fashionable in certain circles to question existence itself, a point a certain French intellectual sought to put to rest once and for all.
Many of you may recall hearing of René Descartes (1596–1650), the famous French philosopher and mathematician who took skeptical inquiry to new heights, hailed by many as the “father of modern philosophy.” It was from his lips the immortal Latin phrase cogito ergo sum spilled forth, better known as “I think therefore I am.” What he meant, of course, was that he may very well question the existence of reality, his senses may be fooled on many accounts, he might not be certain of much of anything beyond any doubt, but he nonetheless requires a mind in order to be able to doubt, the realization of his own doubt paradoxically certifying his existence. Today, however, it has been jokingly suggested that our catch phrase would better be described as “I think I think, therefore I might be,” postmodernity’s eternal ambivalence coloring everything with an often apathetic hue. Yet the believer has a rational response to this epistemological dilemma of “getting at truth,” and like the source of the postmodernist’s ambivalence, this answer is based on the metaphysical question of being. French existentialist Jean-Paul Sartre (1905–1980) is famous for saying “existence precedes essence”: perhaps he was on to more than his critics are willing to admit? Certainly the question of existence must first be answered before essence will have any significance.
The believer offers a simple, elegant, and logically sound explanation for existence and it begins something like this: Before the world began, before any spiritual entities were formed, before there was time or light or energy, God existed. In support of this proposition, it was none other than St. Thomas Aquinas (1225–1274) who popularized the idea of the “First Cause” in his metaphysical theory. In order for anything to exist, there has to be a cause. But in order for there to be a cause, this cause would itself have to exist. If this cause exists, it has always existed, because without existence nothing can be brought into existence. Therefore, something has always had to exist in order for anything else to exist. The theory of the so-called “infinite regress”—an endless series of causes and effects without cause—is not a plausible or logical idea because something had to be there to set the chain of events into motion. Again, that something would have to have always existed. That something is Aquinas’ “First Cause.” If you say that this First Cause is not God, then you must admit the basis of something equally noteworthy, which becomes, in essence, God. By definition, the word God refers to “that which nothing is greater than.”
Why would God, this First Cause, be “that which nothing is greater than”? In order for there to be an effect of some sort, it has to be set into motion by a cause greater than itself (if for no other reason than the entropy factor). You may say, “Now wait just a minute, buddy. I understand that while a single grain of rice is not going to produce a plate full of sushi, yet at the same time that which is effected may be greater than that from which it was effected. Take, for instance, a silicone chip ultimately made from sand (this link relies on a left-hand navigational frame entitled “Process Steps” to walk you through the production process). It is by far more sophisticated than the ingredient that is put into it.” My reply would be quite simple. “Yes, that is true enough. But you forgot one important ingredient in the mix: the team of engineers.” As amazing as human innovation is, no human being has (or group of human beings have) ever been able to produce anything even remotely as far advanced as another human being. And if we were to speak of the creation of another human being through the well-known natural process, we would still have to admit that it takes two to make one: there is still the greater cause with the smaller effect. The computer chip with all of its sophistication still does not begin to measure up to the greatest of its ingredients. We are faced with the same idea when we speak of God, as First Cause, being “that which nothing is greater than.”
The idea I am trying to convey is really quite simple, yet it is vital for our understanding of the argumentation to follow. We have established that at one time, something had to have always existed in order for anything to be able to exist: ex nihilo, nihil fit. St. Thomas Aquinas defined this “thing” as the First Cause, a euphemism for God, Who by definition is “that which nothing is greater than.” Therefore, at some point in time God was the only “thing” that existed (or else the universe itself always existed, a point which very few scientists believe). There was God and nothing. Recall that nothing is not a “thing” at all, but merely the negation we use to express the absence of matter: it literally means “no thing.” From God, the First Cause, everything that now exists was brought into existence. This means that in order for everything that now exists to be able to be what it is, God would have to be even greater. Therefore, He is “that which nothing is greater than.”
This concept is the same idea behind God being the height of perfection. If there is such a thing as perfection—if the word corresponds to any objective reality beyond its abstraction in the mind—the only Being which would embody such perfection would be “that which nothing is greater than.” The other alternative is nothing: either God Himself (“that which nothing is greater than”) is perfect or perfection does not exist. Simply put, if perfection is to have any meaning, a “flawed God” is a logical fallacy.
Now then, what about this supposedly highly intellectual question of “Did God create us or did we create God?” There are those who claim that we created God in our own image, much like most people today view the Greek pantheon headed up by Zeus on Mt. Olympia or Hades, husband of Persephone, in the nether realm. The problem with this question is that it begs the question of existence: it fails to satisfy the answer of how we got here. Yet here we are and we have been provided with a logical argument that in order to be here at all, something has always had to have been here: either us or something else. Empiricism suggests that we (i.e. the universe and its inhabitants) could not have always existed. Consider the words of John N. Clayton:
From a purely scientific standpoint, it is easy to demonstrate that matter cannot be eternal in nature. The universe is expanding from what appears to be a beginning point in space/time, which appears to be a one time event. Hydrogen is the basic fuel of the cosmos, powering all stars and other energy sources in space. If the fuel of the universe has been used eternally, that fuel will eventually be depleted, but the evidence is that the cosmological gas gauge, while moving toward “empty,” is yet a long way from being there—a condition incompatible with an eternal universe. The second law of thermodynamics insists that the cosmos is moving toward a condition of disorder, sometimes referred to as “heat death.” Even in an oscillating universe, things ultimately run out of energy and “die.” All of these evidences, and several others we have not made reference to, show that matter cannot be eternal, as Dr. Sagan and his associates would like to believe. However, this does not mean that we automatically accept the hypothesis that God is the Creator. Why is it not equally invalid to suggest that God has always been? (Who Created God?)
The second law of thermodynamics creates some serious problems for the idea of an eternal universe. Even if we allow that the earth is an open system (offset by the sun, the single outside source of energy), we still do not have an adequate basis for explaining entropy away. As anyone even remotely familiar with physics will be quick to inform you, it is impossible for work to be accomplished in a system that has reached total homeostasis.
So then, we do exist and in order to exist, we must have been brought into existence from or by something else. When we consider that an effect has to be brought about—if not by something greater than itself than at the least as great as itself—it is not illogical to consider that whatever the source of our derivation, it would have to embody much of what we find in the world around us. Yet imperfection, like evil, like sin, like “nothing,” is not a “thing,” it is a negation, a non-existent concept expressed by a sound and associated meaning. Therefore the Greek gods were obviously created in the image of man because they were full of imperfections. If anyone were to claim that these gods do in fact exist, they would still have to provide a basis for their derivation. There are, however, some supposed philosophical objections that have been raised to this idea of God. Keep the logic of the immutable First Cause loosely slung in your scabbard for easy retrieval as we slice through the arguments to follow.
First on the list is a brief highlight of the difference between the terms objective and subjective. If something is objective, this means that it is a verifiable truth that can be demonstrated: it is a fact that exists whether I happen to like and/or believe it or not. If something is subjective, it is neither wrong nor right, merely a matter of opinion and open to interpretation. As you can imagine, ethical subjectivism, the topic of this excerpt, is a term used to describe the philosophy that ethics—the study of morality and proper conduct—is subjective, or a matter of opinion, not objective truth.
Philosophers have established different methods of organizing truth claims to systematically test them in a logical fashion. One such commonly used device is called a syllogism. It is a logical proposition made up of three parts: a major premise, a minor premise, and a conclusion. For instance, we could say:
1. Women were not allowed to vote in the United States until after the 1890s (and then only in four states until 1920 when the 19th amendment was ratified).
2. Matilda Greene was an American woman who lived between 1852 and 1888.
3. Therefore, Matilda Greene never enjoyed the right to vote in America.
A syllogism can be falsified in several ways. If it can be shown that any of the premises are false, the entire argument can be discredited. If, for instance, Mrs. Greene did not in fact die in 1888 but instead lived to see her hundredth birthday in 1952, it would not necessarily follow that she never enjoyed the right to vote. We will say, for the sake of demonstration, that Mrs. Greene did live to be a hundred and she never voted once in her life. We take the above syllogism and modify the second premise to reflect her death in 1952 instead of 1888. While each of the statements in our new syllogism is in fact true, it cannot be proven by this argument—the syllogism would thus be shown to be invalid because the conclusion does not naturally unfold out of the premises. It simply does not make sense to argue that the reason Mrs. Greene never voted is because of a law that passed out of existence at least thirty-two years before she died.
A fellow believer who subscribes to this newsletter recently sent me a link from the University of Kansas excerpting a portion on ethical subjectivism from the textbook Reason and Responsibility. (Presumably because Russ Shafer-Landau is from the University of Kansas, his name alone appears on the excerpt though he shares editorial duties with Joel Feinberg from the University of Arizona. Though an eleventh edition was issued in 2001, the site references the tenth edition of the text published in 1998.) The entire book is geared for the undergraduate student, a great deal of this excerpt pointing out the various fallacies of ethical subjectivism. Perhaps my biggest interest, however, is in addressing some of its allegations on the subject of God. Hopefully when we finish, the tin man will have found his heart and we won’t be in Kansas any more.
Shafer-Landau and Feinberg begin the body of this section by differentiating between two kinds of ethical subjectivism: normative subjectivism and meta-ethical subjectivism. The word normative always refers to standards (in this case, prescribing them) and, as we have already noted, subjectivism deals with matters of opinion or personal conscience with no objective moral standard. So, in the words of the authors: “Viewed as a normative theory, ethical subjectivism claims that an act is morally right if, and only if, the person judging the action approves of it. Similarly, personal disapproval is both necessary and sufficient for an action to qualify as wrong.” Thus, truth or falsity, according to this theory, is measured by the degree of conviction or sincerity with which such beliefs are held. Meta-ethical subjectivism, as the prefix meta implies (that which transcends), is a far ranging theory that attempts to bypass the limitations imposed by normative views of ethical subjectivism. Again, in the words of the authors: “If meta-ethical subjectivism is true, moral judgments are neither true nor false. Thus contradictions never arise” (emphasis in original). For our purposes today, we will concern ourselves only with the first type of subjectivism: normative subjectivism. We would not even need this distinction to communicate our point, but in fairness to the authors, it has been included.
The text then uses a series of syllogisms to point out the inconsistencies with normative subjectivism as a theory. The first syllogism, representing “the argument from democracy,” begins like this:
1. If everyone has an equal right to have and voice moral opinions, then everyone’s moral opinions are equally plausible.
2. Everyone does have an equal right to have and voice moral opinions.
3. Therefore everyone’s moral opinions are equally plausible.
The authors point out that the structure of this syllogism is sound if its premises are verified. Most people would agree, at least in principle, that everyone has an equal right to express moral opinions (the second premise). However, the fallacy occurs in the first premise. Just because people have a right to express their moral opinions, it does not follow that all opinions are created equal. To be frank, some opinions stink with a capital S. The plausibility of a given opinion is not measured by the right of its holder to express it. Thus, this syllogism is flawed.
The second syllogism the authors cite attempts to make a case from disagreement:
1. If there is persistent disagreement among informed, good-willed, open-minded people about some subject matter, then that subject matter does not admit of objective truth.
2. There is persistent disagreement about ethical issues among informed, good-willed, open-minded people.
3. Therefore there are no objective ethical truths.
Again, this syllogism adheres to the logical standard in its format, but its first premise is again flawed. Intelligent, morally conscious individuals do disagree as anyone who has ever sat in on a church committee can personally attest. Yet the church committee does not believe that just because people disagree Christianity is a crock. It simply does not follow that just because sensible people disagree on a particular subject, there is no objective truth to be found. From here, Shafer-Landau and Feinberg address an argument based on tolerance and then they move on to the syllogism I am most interested in addressing: the argument from atheism. The argument the authors present is set up like this:
1. If ethics is objective, then God must exist.
2. God does not exist
3. Therefore ethics is not objective.
The authors immediately note that if they could discredit the second point, the argument would be effectively neutered. However, they do not feel they can do so, at least in the space allotted. So they begin by playing a game of devil’s advocate to test for feasibility. So far, we have been taking a pleasant stroll through the park but now we need to don our thinking caps and examine the text closely. Got your headgear on and strapped down tight? The authors’ reasoning goes as follows:
There is an intuitive, widely shared view that underlies the first premise. The thought is that laws require lawgivers. There are laws against assault, forgery and perjury only because lawmakers have enacted them. No legislators, no laws. By analogy, if there are moral laws, these require some lawmaker to validate them. If moral laws are objective, this lawmaker cannot be any one of us. (Remember: objective moral rules are those whose truth does not depend on human endorsement.) If not one of us, then who? Enter God.
There are two reasons to doubt premise (1). This premise seems to derive its strongest support from the common thought mentioned earlier (viz., that rules require rule-givers). But this principle is suspect. Many think that the rules of logic and the axioms of mathematics are true quite independently of whether anyone has ordained them. If that is so (an issue too complex to tackle here), then moral rules too might be true or justified even in the absence of a moral lawgiver.
Further, there is reason to think that even if God exists, God cannot be the ultimate source of ethical principles, and so cannot be the missing link that supplies objectivity in ethics.
Suppose God exists. Suppose God issues commands to us. And further suppose that our moral law comprises these commands. Ethics is objective because the law comes from God, not from us. If it didn’t come from God, it couldn’t be objective.
This familiar line of thought, often used to support premise (1), is beset by a troubling dilemma: God either does or does not have reasons to support his (or her or its) commands. If God lacks justifying reasons, then God’s commands are arbitrary, and so supply no authoritative basis for ethics. Alternatively, if God’s commands are backed up by reasons, then divine commands are no longer arbitrary. They may be authoritative. We can envision a God who is omniscient, and so knows all facts, including moral facts. This God may also be omnibenevolent, and in his goodness may want to impart the moral facts (or rules) to us, in the form of divine commands. This traditional picture preserves the goodness and omniscience of God, precisely by envisioning divine commands as being well-supported by reasons.
The problem, however, is that these reasons, whatever they are, are what really justify the divine commands. If God commands us not to kill, extort or perjure, he does so because such actions are wrong; they are not wrong because God forbids them. But this means that even theists, if they are to retain a picture of an all-good and all-knowing God, must acknowledge a source of ethical truth that exists independently of God’s commands. This means that the objectivity of ethics does not hinge on God’s commands. And that directly challenges premise (1). (Emphasis in original.)
Do you notice what the authors have done? First they suggest that like “logic and the axioms of mathematics are true quite independently of whether anyone has ordained them [. . .] moral rules too might be true or justified even in the absence of a moral lawgiver.” This statement seems to imply that believers argue that morality exists only because it was engraved on stone tablets, which to me seems a caricature of the moral lawgiver argument: a straw man, if you will. I think most people who believe in the moral lawgiver believe that morality is as factual as gravity, regardless whether it is communicated or not. The eternal consequences of such uninformed moral actions might be open to debate, but the presence of a moral postulate is not contingent upon the actual prescribing of the moral laws and few thinking believers would argue that point.
Let us look more closely at this “troubling dilemma” foisted on us by the authors of the text. They claim that:
God either does or does not have reasons to support his (or her or its) commands. If God lacks justifying reasons, then God’s commands are arbitrary, and so supply no authoritative basis for ethics. Alternatively, if God’s commands are backed up by reasons, then divine commands are no longer arbitrary. They may be authoritative.
Few believers are going to accept the notion that God’s commands are arbitrary, so we must agree that God does indeed have a reason for issuing these divine commands. Now let us look again at how they suggest that this is indeed a “troubling dilemma” for the believer:
The problem, however, is that these reasons, whatever they are, are what really justify the divine commands. If God commands us not to kill, extort or perjure, he does so because such actions are wrong; they are not wrong because God forbids them. But this means that even theists, if they are to retain a picture of an all-good and all-knowing God, must acknowledge a source of ethical truth that exists independently of God’s commands. This means that the objectivity of ethics does not hinge on God’s commands. And that directly challenges premise (1).
The underlying assumption here is in regard to where the basis from which these divine commands originate. The problem is that it fails to take into consideration the metaphysical question: how did we get here? how did anything get here? This all-good and all-knowing god to whom Shafer-Landau and Feinberg refer suffers from the limitation that he is not “that which nothing is greater than.” This god is not the same God we were talking about earlier, because if he were, he would have been able to declare such actions wrong based on his own character and creation. This god to which Shafer-Landau and Feinberg refer obviously was never self-existent, never was that which alone always existed. The God we were talking about earlier, however, alone existed—and besides Him there was nothing, which is not a “thing,” but the negation we use to describe the absence of matter. We again have a choice: God or nothing, the latter obviously no choice at all. So if something does in fact exist, it does so only because God exists, does so only because God brought it into being and sustains it even as we speak. However, immorality, like sin and evil, does not exist as a “thing,” but rather as the concept we use to express the absence of a thing. That is why, in my article Is Morality Relative to Culture?, I write that it is immorality that is relative to culture, not the other way ’round.
Thus, ethical truth does indeed exist independently of God’s commands for the primary reason that God Himself exists independently of His own commands. He does not require His own stamp of approval to exist; His commandments are merely the expression of what He has ordained and created, all part of His revelation of Himself and His perfect character. When God issues His moral decrees, He is issuing decrees based on His own being and character. Far from being arbitrary, this is the choice between that which does exist and the absence of existence. We either acknowledge reality or a lie. In fact, our eternal destiny is not based on two things that exist: it is based primarily on one thing that exists or its negation. Either we acknowledge the truth or we live a lie. The reason we are damned to hell if we refuse to acknowledge the truth is not because God is cruel or mean: it is because there is no other source of sustenance in the universe apart from God Himself. There aren’t any other options: no other choices our Creator can offer us. We effectively put ourselves there of our own volition, in the place Lewis writes he can easily imagine in which the doors are all locked from the inside. God, the perfect, omnibenevolent Gentleman simply steps aside and lets us have our way. Anything less would be to produce a race of robots.
Our very being owes it existence to our Creator. “Owes?” you ask. “Isn’t that a rather strong choice of words?” Let me simply say that if it were not for Him, you would not exist. You can either choose to thank Him or not, but the fact is we do owe our existence to Him, for without Him, we would not exist at all. If all things come from God, then He is the only objective truth in the universe, not because of His lawgiving but because of His creating and sustaining. If this means that God does things arbitrarily, then I suppose that means that everything about this natural universe with its logic and mathematical axioms—everything we have ever studied or taken for granted from the day we were born—it is all arbitrary. Indeed, it is all relative: relative to and contingent upon God, the center and source of the universe. Without God, there simply is not a fixed point of reference. Yes, “If ethics is objective, then God must exist.” If anything is objective, God must exist, not because of any caricatures of law/lawgiver arguments, but because He is the Creator, Master, and Sustainer of the universe in which we live and breathe and have our being.
Only God is immutable, the source of all objectivity. From Him comes all that exists: all of nature is His handiwork and is nurtured by His sustenance. What is sin, evil, immorality? Nothing more than non-entities, mere negations of nature. And what is truth? Truth is simply an abstraction that reflects reality, but it is not reality itself. Truth is a reflection of God’s character in the same way the image in a mirror is the reflection of the face. In order for the image to exist and have meaning, the face must first exist: the image speaks of the face but is not the face itself. No reality exists apart from God. The basis for moral truth exists solely in the reality of God. It is but the reflection of That Which Is (and was and is yet to come).
God bless,
Eric
Then what advantage has the Jew? Or what is the benefit of circumcision? Great in every respect. First of all, that they were entrusted with the oracles of God. What then? If some did not believe, their unbelief will not nullify the faithfulness of God, will it? May it never be! Rather, let God be found true, though every man be found a liar, as it is written, “That you may be justified in your word, and prevail when you are judged.”
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