Do I still believe in God?

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I want to start off by apologizing for being so dramatic at the end of my last post. People who know me know that I'm generally level-headed, but I can be a bit dramatic when I get worked up. Needless to say, I'm worked up about this. I thought about going back and editing the post, but what I wrote accurately reflected my feelings at the time, so I think it would be a disservice to change it now. The whole point of writing this series of articles is to document my deconstruction process as it happens, so there are bound to be times when I'm not my best self. I trust that you can forgive me as it happens, and we can all move on.

Do I still believe?

I think this is the simgle most important part of the process, and to be honest, I want to get this part over with.

Yes, I still believe in God.

If I didn't still believe in God, this would be much easier. I could have just walked away. Indeed, many people who deconstruct do just walk away from the faith altogether. But fortunately (or unfortunately, dependening on your mindset), I still believe in God, for better or worse. Which means my work isn't nearly done.

For me, the reason I belive in God is pretty straightforward, but it's also not a traditional answer, so I want to explore it fully here.

My background

Growing up, I was raised in an evangelical home. I also had a deep appreciation for the sciences. Because of my evangelical upbringing, there were times when both science and faith made me feel like I had to choose between one or the other. My high school science teachers were both Christians - my biology teacher was a devout Catholic and theistic evolutionist, and my physics teacher was a Presbyterian minister. From them, I learned a middle ground that previously hadn't existed due to my narrow upbringing, both at home and in the church.

It's important to note that my bias tends toward the existence of a creator. I believe the universe must have an ultimate source, and in lieu of compelling evidence to the contrary, that source must be the creator. In my mind, whatever form that creator takes is God. An atheist or agnostic reading my reasons for believing in God will not likely be swayed because I default to a theistic position, while many others default to an atheistic position. In my mind, the basic logical workflow when asking if the universe was created goes like this:

  1. Nothing has been observed that did not have a prior source.
  2. The universe exists, therefore it must have a prior source.

In the absence of any compelling argument to the contrary, I will invoke God as the source of all things. I do not believe that any compelling argument has been made to indicate that the universe did not necessarily have a beginning. Because I believe the universe had a beginning, I believe it had a source. I believe that the source of the universe is God. This may not satisfy the atheist or the agnostic, but as recently as 2009, 33% of scientists believed in God explicitly. According to Pew data, the ratio of scientists who believe in a personal God has remained roughly constant over the last century.

Arguments against God's existence

The field of cosmogony is the study of the origin of the universe, and many theories of cosmogony exist that purport to negate the need for God.

One theory is that the universe has always existed, and that the Big Bang was just an event that started the visible universe in motion. This theory has several iterations. My personal favorite theory is that the pre-Big Bang proto-universe was flush with randomly oscillating quantum fields, and at a certain point, a specific combination of quantum field values created a massive explosion. The energy from this explosion fueled the Big Bang and cosmic expansion (Brian Greene, The Fabric of the Cosmos, ch. 10).

Another theory is that the universe is fully capable of creating itself thanks to gravity. "Because there is a law such as gravity, the universe can and will create itself from nothing. Spontaneous creation is the reason there is something rather than nothing, why the universe exists, why we exist. It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper and set the universe going." (Stephen Hawking and Leonard Mlodinow, The Grand Design).

Another theory is the ever-popular string theory, as well as its cousin, M-theory. These theories suggest that our universe is one of many universes (the multiverse), each with their own set of fundamental laws. Under this theory, the laws of physics are random - there is no special fine-tuning of the laws of our universe because our universe just happens to be one of the universes where the laws of physics allow life to exist. The Grand Design and The Fabric of the Cosmos both have explanations of string theory and M-theory.

Response to scientific claims against God

There are many more theories in cosmogony that seek to explain the origin of the universe without invoking God. The three that I listed here are commonly cited and represent the rough majority of the scientific concensus on the origin of the universe. These three theories (and indeed, all scientific theories of cosmogony) have one thing in common. Do you see what that is?

Prior to this universe, there were the laws of physics. The laws of physics then created the universe as we know it.

Breaking down theories of cosmogony

In each and every theory of cosmogony, the laws of physics are assumed. In some, such as Hawking's self-creating universe, the laws of physics exist prior to the universe in isolation. In others, such as M-theory, the laws of physics exist as a feature of each universe, and the multiverse itself is ruled by meta-laws that control the spawning of universes. In theories that start with a proto-universe that is static and eternal, the laws of physics are baked into the universe, but because time is an artificial construct, not a real feature of the universe, the proto-universe need not have an origin.

String theory, M-theory, and other theories involving multiverses have absolutely zero (and I can't reiterate this enough: zero) experimental support, beyond the fact that they do not contradict the universe as we know it. The same is true of proto-universe theories. There can never be observational evidence for multiple universes or proto-universes. Proponents of string theory, M-theory, and proto-universes have essentially created their own religion, sidestepping the need for God in favor of an equally-unobservable, equally-untestable theory with only the slimmest circumstantial evidence. String theory, et. al have been around for decades now; surely, if there were truth to their claims, there would be some sort of experimental support beyond "it doesn't break the known universe, so it could be true".

Proto-universes, in particular, have little practical use in theoretical physics. String theory and M-theory at least offer testable predictions, but proto-universes do not. The entire function of the proto-universe is to circumvent issues of causality with the visible universe. By invoking the idea of time's arrow, cosmogony claims that a proto-universe may be eternal because time is an artificial construct resulting from changes in entropy. However, I reject the philosophy of time as an artificial construct, because even in a universe without "time", time as we understand it still exists in the sense that there is change from one moment to the next. For example, in a proto-universe, the quantum fields permeating all of space oscillate. This implies that at one moment, these fields have a discrete set of values, and at another moment (sequentially after the first), these fields have a new discrete set of values. This change happens over time, even without a change in entropy. However, some scientists still regard time as an illusion. This is nonsensical. Cause-and-effect still exist in a proto-universe, and so a proto-universe cannot be eternal into the past, no matter what clever wordplay physicists use to convince themselves otherwise. And because a proto-universe cannot be eternal in the past, it must also have had a source. Any source for a proto-universe requires pre-existing laws of physics, just like with multiverse theories and self-creating universes.

And where did the laws of physics come from?

As we can see, cosmogony hasn't really answered anything - it just passed the buck. Cosmogony pushes the goalpost back to a time beyond which we can meaningfully ask, "Why did this happen?"

The central question of cosmogony is, "Why is there a universe?" But in order to answer this question, we need to be able to answer the question, "Why are there laws of physics?" The laws of physics can explain the origin of the universe, as well as the origin of matter and energy. But unless we know why there are laws of physics, we can't rule out the possibility of God. This problem is likely why so many scientists still believe in God at all, and why a large number of scientists are agnostic instead of atheist. At the end of the day, the existence of the laws of physics is the only problem in science that cannot be answered. It is fundamental. It is philosophical.

Multiverse theory says that the laws of physics are random. But the theory requires a whole new set of meta-laws, along with an enormous, untestable, unobservable multiverse. And there is zero evidence for existing multiverse theories.

Proto-universe theories and self-creating universes don't explain the laws of physics; rather, they require them for their own existence.

No framework exists for raising laws of physics from the void. The laws of physics, for me, are the ultimate answer. Regardless of what scientific theories come and go, the laws of physics themselves are necessary for the universe to exist. And they have no known origin, no testable mechanism that can give rise to them. And if they did, from where does that mechanism arise? The buck can't be passed forever. The laws of physics, or the mechanism that gives rise to the laws of physics, cannot be satisfactorally explained without invoking a designer. Whoever or whatever set the laws of physics in motion is God.

What do I believe about God?

I was originally raised in a denomination called The Way International, a fringe evangelical group that some call a cult. To this day, I still own two books by Victor Paul Wierwille, although I have never read them. My wife, a librarian, told me that she would support me if I decided to burn them instead of donate them.

My beliefs have evolved a great deal since I joined a traditional Southern Baptist church at the age of 14. My current beliefs about God are largely informed by this upbringing.

  • I believe the Bible is the Word of God. As it turns out, my deconstruction isn't going to lead me away from the faith. This was one of my biggest fears as I started the process, but as I started writing all this *gestures wildly*, I went through many drafts. Various drafts included exactly why I still believe in the God of the Bible, as well as why I believe in Christianity as opposed to other religions. I saved the material from prior drafts so it's possible I may end up including it in a later article, but for now, I'm just going to say that I have my reasons for believing in the God of the Bible, and despite my trepidation, these reasons have stood up to their challenges in my mind.
  • I believe the Bible is divinely inspired and originally infallible. I don't believe the Bible as it exists today is a perfect document. In fact, it's pretty clear that the Bible has gone through an editorial process over the millennia. For example, that process has involved errors in transcription (did Judas fall and split his guts open, or hang himself? a common answer to this contradiction is that one of these passages includes a subtle misspelling that changed the meaning of one of the words). But I do believe that the Bible was infallible as it was originally passed down.
  • I believe the Bible is meant to be a source of spiritual truth and wisdom, not a historical document or science book. I'm "science-affirming", which is a political way of saying I believe parts of the Bible are meant to be taken literally, and others are not. This is a fact I usually keep to myself because it's a rare position among evangelicals. I believe the Bible is God-inspired, not God-authored. As such, there are times when the beliefs and prejudices of the authors will shine through. I believe it's entirely possible that the Bible teaches a version of history that may end up being at least partially incorrect, or perhaps biased. I believe the Bible speaks figuratively about a large number of subjects, and non-figuratively about a large number of other subjects. There are good points made on both sides; I believe that these are not matters of salvation. One day we will know whether the universe is 13.8 billion years old or 6,000 years old. Jesus may tell us that the core of the earth was really made of cheese all along. Jesus is going to love you just as much as he loves me, despite our obvious differences in beliefs. The most important thing - and we both agree on this - is that the Bible is a reliable source of spiritual truth. We may reasonably hang the hat of our salvation on the words of scripture.

What will I be deconstructing?

And here it is. So far, my position has been mostly consistent with the evangelical worldview (excluding my belief that maybe scientists aren't total idiots). Some of you were probably wondering what exactly was getting deconstructed at this point.

The point of useful deconstruction is to question existing beliefs. This usually involves taking the body of what we believe and taking it apart, analyzing it piece by piece, and putting it back together. I've done a lot of the hard work already while writing this article, and I've determined that I'm not leaving Christianity behind. But by the time this process is over with, I'm going to look more like Jesus than I do today, even if I look less like a Christian. I have questions about true Christian teachings, and I'm willing to look outside the evangelical church to find answers.

  • Does the Bible explicitly allow for an old universe? or does my acceptance of science require me to make compromises with my faith?
  • Does the Bible require my wife to listen to what I say because I'm a man and she's not? Does the Bible forbid my wife from teaching me? from pastoring a church? from having authority over other men, or me?
  • Does the Bible condemn gay people directly to hell? or require gay people to live a life of celibacy?
  • Does the Bible condemn sinners to hell? Who qualifies as a sinner deserving of hell? If a sinner goes to hell, is it permanent and eternal, or are there second chances beyond death?

I can hear it now. Oh, great. Just another liberal Christian.

Maybe so. As I said in the first article in this series, if that's your response to me asking genuine questions and committing to follow through wherever the answers lead, then you're probably part of the reason I'm deconstructing.

How I got here

I've simultaneously held conservative Christian personal beliefs and liberal political beliefs for several years now. I became a libertarian sometime around 2012 (the year I turned 20), and for those of you who don't know, libertarians tend to have conservative fiscal policies and liberal social policies. In other words, as long as you didn't raise my taxes or take my guns, I didn't care who you married or who adopted who or what foreign country you snuck in from. My business was my business, and your business was yours. I still aligned with the Republican party at this point, but not on social policy.

The Rise of Trump

The rise of Donald Trump concerned me prior to my full-on renouncement of political conservatism. As an evangelical, I expected one of the fully-qualified evangelical candidates to take the Republican nomination in 2016 because it was the first election cycle in a long time that a bona fide conservative Christian had a chance at the top slot on the ticket. And then, I watched as droves of people from my church and churches around the country lined up to rally and vote for the most crass, incoherent, and immoral man I've ever personally seen run for public office. Conservative Christians finally had their moment to nominate one of their own (and they had several candidates with impressive evangelical credentials), and instead, they wasted it on Trump. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining that Trump won in 2016. I'm glad he won at this point, because he exposed the evangelical church for what it really is. But my deconstruction ultimately ties back to seeing church people - people I grew up with, worshipped with - throw away their Christian principles and seize power.

The beginning was innocuous enough. Trump had publicly floated the idea of running for the presidency in prior election cycles too, but no one really took him seriously, and a run never materialized. At first, I assumed this was the case again. But then people from my church started talking about him. "He says what he really thinks," they said. "He's not politically correct. I like that." As he started his run to the top of the party by bottoming out his civility, a close friend of mine and I started posting our concerns about Trump on Facebook. The pianist from my church, who I was always close with, started verbally harassing my friend (who was 15 at the time) in his response to one of my posts, questioning his mental capacity for not supporting Trump. And that was where I drew the line. I told her in no uncertain terms that I wasn't going to tolerate that kind of behavior toward anyone on my page, especially toward a child. I came down on her pretty hard, I admit, but after seeing the rapidly decreasing standards of civil discourse that came out of the Republican party with the rise of Trump, I wanted her to understand that I was unequivocally not going to tolerate mistreatment of someone else due to their political beliefs. Her husband, who I always respected, responded to me in kind. I haven't spoken to either of them since, and I'm sure it was a mutual parting of the ways.

Things only went downhill from there. Trump ended up winning the nomination, along with an enormous amount of support from the evangelical bloc. Some Christians said they supported Trump because "we have to beat Hillary!", while others said they supported Trump because "he's not politically correct", and others still said "we need to keep the Supreme Court". It bothered me that Christians were willing to compromise on their principles in exchange for political power, but easily the most troubling for me was the way that evangelicals bought his story of conversion.

Now, I admit, any person may reasonably come to know Jesus Christ and be converted. But there's zero reason to think that this is what we saw in the person of Donald Trump. His conversion story was the stuff of horse manure. Evangelical leaders, who had everything to gain from a Trump presidency, promised their flocks that Trump had joined the ranks. He was "safe". Trump let the world know that his favorite passage from scripture comes from "Two Corinthians", and evangelicals ate this like candy. (It's important to note that "Two Corinthians" is the appropriate pronunciation in other parts of English-speaking Christendom but not in the United States, so Trump's usage of "Two Corinthians" instead of "Second Corinthians" is both suspect and telling - after all, Trump's absolute lack of change in his reprehensible public behavior indicates that he was not in fact saved, and so it wasn't likely that he used the alternative pronunciation because he was listening to his Scottish mother's favorite preacher. And that wasn't the story he ran with, either: Trump's own explanation? "That's what Tony Perkins told me to say.")

Then Trump took office. And gaffe led to scandal led to *insert generic breach of basic human dignity and decorum here*. And rather than distance themselves from Trump, evangelicals by and large embraced him. They were unconcerned by his "grab them by the pussy" rhetoric. (No, I won't censor that word. That's a direct quote, and if it really bothers you that much, maybe you shouldn't have voted for him.) For evangelicals, support for Donald Trump quickly became the litmus test that determined whether you were a real Christian or not. To this day, evangelical Christians will shun you if you dare oppose the Supreme Leader.

Aftermath

I personally watched people who had led what I thought were faithful Christian lives support a megalomaniacal serial adulterer who mocked disabled reporters he didn't like. I couldn't believe that these people supported such behavior. It made me wonder what basic beliefs and values we really shared. Obviously, we both believed in Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, but this was apparently not enough to give us a common frame of reference for how to determine what kind of man we would willingly assign power.

What else wouldn't we agree on?

Or, more importantly, what else didn't we agree on? I watched Christians openly hate gays, immigrants, and other groups that they didn't like, and increasingly for political reasons rather than spiritual ones. An English reading of the Bible would explain why Christians disagreed with gays, perhaps, but not immigrants - and certainly not why Christians would hate anyone at all, when one of the great commandments is to love your neighbor as yourself. More and more, I saw myself disagreeing with Christians writ large. My wife certainly seemed to share this sentiment, and as we grew closer in our marriage, the same things that bothered her about Christians bothered me too. We got to the point where we would see something Christians did or wrote or said, and say to ourselves, "Ugh...Christians, right?" but all the while, we were both Christians ourselves. Over the last decade, Christians have less and less reflected Jesus and more and more reflected the Republican party.

Surely, there must be more out there to Christianity than hating immigrants and bashing gays.

And so, about a year ago, I started wondering where my faith really fit into my life. If I disagreed with Christians so much, maybe I shouldn't be one? But I genuinely believe in the Gospel. I believe in the tenets of my faith. So maybe it was Christians who had abandoned their purpose in the world. Maybe I was becoming a different kind of Christian. Maybe I was deconstructing.