Lunches with Lucas – Session V

[This is a continuing conversation...to start at the beginning, click here]

“So – did you think about it?” Lucas queried as I sat down at the table, completely dispensing with any pleasantries.

“I had a great week – how about you?” I said, ignoring him.  “At the very least you should be considerate enough to give me time to look at the menu” I said with a smile.

“Hah!  Neither one of us has looked at the menu in years!” Lucas said.  “Do they even have a menu?”

“Well, anyway, I wasn’t aware that I had homework from my good friend and lunch partner.  If I wanted homework, I’d go back to school,” I said.  “What was it I was supposed to do this time?”

“I know you haven’t forgotten!  I asked you to consider changing your view of the world from “there are no such things as miracles” to “miracles are extremely unlikely but can’t be ruled out,”” Lucas said. 

I was hoping he would have moved on from that topic.  So I ignored his challenge and went straight to what I knew he was trying to get at.  “Like I said before – that’s God’s problem.  If he wants me to believe, then bring it on – let’s see it!”

Lucas shrunk back a bit and I was surprised by the intensity of his expression.  “Oooh.  I’m not sure I would say that” he said with a serious expression.  But he continued “Fine – let me try an analogy out on you.”

“OK – go ahead – this ought to be interesting,” I said.

“Let’s say you go to the doctor and he tells you that you have cancer.  Whose problem is that?” Lucas asked, but didn’t wait for me to respond.  “Using your line of reasoning, you would say it is the “doctor’s problem.”  And sure, you may be relying on the doctor to come up with a cure for you, so in some sense it is the ‘doctor’s problem.’  But the fundamental problem is yours – you are the one who has cancer!” Lucas said, emphasizing the word “yours.”

“OK – yes – I understand what you are saying,” I granted him, as our drinks arrived at the table.  “But your analogy breaks down on many levels.”

“Well, it is just an analogy, but let’s hear it,” Lucas challenged.

“First of all, I’m not the one with the problem.  God has the problem – apparently – because he wants me to believe in him for some reason.  I personally don’t care if he believes in me – so that’s why I say it’s his problem.”

“You don’t think you have a problem??” Lucas asked with a bit of incredulity.

“Oh, I have plenty of problems – like that fact that my good friend Lucas wants me to believe in old fairy tales about miracles – but I’m not expecting God to solve them,” I said.

“Who’s going to solve your problems?”

“Hah hah!  Not you obviously,” I said.  “I’m going to solve my own problems – or at least I’m going to keep trying.  I’m just like everyone else.  We’re all in the same boat – including you – we are all responsible for solving our own problems.  If I wait for some mysterious deity to solve my problems, I’ll be waiting for a long time and my problems will just get worse.”

“I agree with you that everyone is responsible for themselves.  But there are some problems that we can’t solve ourselves – we need help.  I know you’re not a hermit – you need other people too.”  Then Lucas smiled, “like me – you couldn’t have such a stimulating lunch conversation on your own!”

“Eating a nice quiet lunch?  Doesn’t sound too bad,” I said, pretending to mull it over.  “And yes, I may need other people to help me, but it is my responsibility to go and ask for their help.”

“Well…you need someone to love you – that’s a basic need. And that requires another person to do something that you can’t control,” challenged Lucas.  “You can’t just go and ask them to love you.”

“Sounds like you’re getting into song lyrics,” I said, not wanting to give in, but feeling like this wasn’t really going the direction I wanted to take it.  “Anyway, that’s not the only problem with your analogy.  In fact, the biggest problem is that a doctor is not like your all-knowing God that you say exists.  Your analogy breaks down because any doctor, no matter how good they are and no matter what they think about themselves, they are not all-knowing,” I said.

Lucas smiled and I knew he was about to make some joke, but he didn’t.  “Go on,” he said.

“Well, the God you believe in apparently knows everything – right?  And if he knows everything, then I shouldn’t have to go to him to find out I have cancer.  He already knows I have cancer.  He should come and find me and just take care of it.  It would be a pretty mean God if he knows that I have cancer and doesn’t do something about it and just leaves me to die of it,” I said.

“That’s a great line of reasoning.  In that case, God should just keep you from getting cancer in the first place,” Lucas said.

“Sounds good to me,” I exclaimed.

“But obviously God doesn’t do that.  There is cancer.”  Lucas said.

Seemed like Lucas was setting his own trap.  “Thus proving that your God does not exist,” I exclaimed.

“No – your God does not exist.  The God I believe in obviously doesn’t act the way you think he does.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“Well, you’re describing a God who is willing to force his way into people’s lives and take care of everything.  Obviously, no such God exists because there are plenty of things that are not “taken care of” in this world, including cancer.  However, one of the key characteristics of the God that Christians believe in is that he doesn’t force people to believe.  In fact, he waits for an invitation.”

“Hmmph.  That seems too convenient.  You get to pick whatever characteristics you want to ascribe to your God so that he can’t be discovered.”  That always bothered me.

“I didn’t pick those characteristics.  It’s fundamental to my beliefs.  In fact there are number of passages in the Bible that describe this very characteristic of God.  For example, Jesus said “I stand at the door and knock” and he waits to be let in. That perfectly illustrates my point.  God waits to be invited in.”

“Sounds weak to me,” I exclaimed.

“God is certainly strong enough to break down the door and come storming in.  But he chooses to wait for an invitation.  You can call that weak if you want.   I say that it sometimes requires more strength to exercise such restraint than it does just to barge on in,” Lucas said.

“OK – fine.  But that still doesn’t explain how it is reasonable for God, knowing I have cancer, not to even tell me,” I said, trying to get back to my main point.

“Actually God thinks – knows – that every human being has a problem much worse than cancer.  And he tries to tell you all, but you won’t listen.  The thing God does not do is keep yelling until you do listen.  If you want to listen, he’s there.  If you don’t want to listen, then, as I said at the beginning, that’s your problem.  He will not force himself.  It is beneath God to have to grovel to human beings.”

“OK.  I’ll listen.”  I paused for a mock dramatic moment of silence.  “I don’t hear anything.”

“Now we are finally getting somewhere!” Lucas said excitedly, surprising me a bit.  “That is exactly the point I’m trying to get you to see.  The first step in listening is for you to allow some crack in your “no miracles, no supernatural” view of the world.  You don’t hear anything because you’ve covered your ears.  Figuratively, I mean,” Lucas injected as I waved my hands away from my head showing my ears were, indeed open.  “You don’t really allow yourself to hear anything supernatural.  As long as you reject all means that God might use to get your attention, then he has no means of talking to you.  If he is not willing to force you to believe – and I believe he does not force anyone – then the next move is yours.”

It still seemed to me that this was all God’s problem.  But Lucas’ line of reasoning seemed reasonable on the face of it.  It all seemed like kind of a cosmic Catch 22.  I was going to have to think about it.

Lucas could see I was waffling a bit.  “Think about your relationship with your wife.  Can you force her to love you?”

“No – certainly not.”

“And even if you could force her to love you, what kind of love would that be?  God wants a relationship with each one of us.  But he wants a willing relationship.  Sure he could force us to do whatever he wants…but what kind of a relationship is that?  If God forces us to believe in him, what kind of belief is that?” Lucas asked.

“I see your point…” I said, still trying to think this thing through.  “…still seems highly convenient that God wiggles out of the blame.”

“I know you would like to be able to blame God for your unbelief but you really can't.  In fact, the reality is you don't really want a God that you could blame for your unbelief.  Such a God would be a controlling ogre,” Lucas said.  Then he continued, “How about if I just ask you to make this one change:  stop saying that it is God’s fault you don’t believe and start accepting some of the blame yourself.”

“Ouch.  Sounds harsh,” I said.

Lucas relaxed a bit and his face softened.  “Yeah, I’m sorry, it is a bit harsh.”  He paused for a moment.  “I think it’s time to eat.”

The corned beef arrived at the perfect time, as far as I was concerned.  Too much to take into consideration.

[...on to session VI...]

Construction Toys and the Universe

          I’ve always loved to construct things.  I had some Tinker Toys and Lincoln Logs to build with when I was really little.  Lincoln Logs are fun, but there is not much you can build with notched logs other than a building of some sort.  Tinker Toys allow for more creativity.  But still – there are just some round hubs and some struts of different colors – after a while, you tire of them a bit.  After you’ve built the biggest tower you can make, then what?

          I’m not sure when I got my first Lego kit, but it must have been around grade school time.  The basic brick, though, isn’t much more useful than a Lincoln Log – it still is pretty much for buildings.  What really excited me about Legos was that they had gears.  Gears were, to me, the greatest things ever.  They are kind of magical.  You move one gear and that can cause a whole bunch of gears to move.  You can slow things down or speed things up.  There was nothing more exciting to me than a gear.  Well, that is, until I got my first motor!  Motors are even better.  You plug them in and they generate movement all by themselves!  No more need to crank things.  You can put together a creation, turn the motor on, and watch the whole thing come to life.  The excitement of creating something that can do “something on its own” still fascinates me to this day.  If I could build these things all day, I would.

          There was a great toy store in the town where I grew up that I loved to visit.  I would immediately go to the “construction toy” and “science toy” section.  On one such visit when I was in Junior High, I came across the greatest construction toy ever.  It was the ultimate – the Holy Grail of construction toys – and I immediately became obsessed with them.  These were the Fischertechnik kits.  Most kids in the U.S. have never heard of them probably.  They are made in Germany – in fact all of the instructions were in German for most of the kits.  But they are superior in every way to Legos – especially if you really like gears and motors and robotics.  They are superior…and more expensive…which was a problem.  I think my parents must have bought me one of the basic kits as a gift.  Here is the first kit I got: http://www.fischertechnik-museum.ch/museum/displayimage.php?album=3&pos=21.  Gears.  Pulleys.  Wheels.  They are interesting because it takes a little bit of learning to get the hang of how to assemble them together.  They are inherently three dimensional, unlike Legos which are inherently two dimensional.  They interlock in a manner that is solid (also unlike Legos, which always fall apart).  And the basic block looks just as boring as the basic Lego block:  a plastic rectangle with a knob on one end. 

          Once I got the hang of putting the Fischertechnik parts together and could build all of the example models in the first book, I was totally hooked.  I spent my time outside of school either trying to create new things with the parts I had, or else staring – meditating – at the back pages of the instruction booklet where it pictured all of the other kits available.  Whenever I worked mowing lawns or did other odd jobs, I spent that time calculating which kits I could buy with the money I was going to make.  Eventually I worked my way to getting the Hobby 3 kit (http://www.fischertechnik-museum.ch/museum/displayimage.php?album=13&pos=3 ), but I could never save enough money to get the famous (to me) Hobby 4 kit (http://www.fischertechnik-museum.ch/museum/displayimage.php?album=13&pos=4 )...something I surely dreamed about while in high school.  Oddly enough, I still don’t have that kit, though it does occasionally show up on ebay.

          One thing that made Fischertechnik kits so fascinating for me was the ability to bring motion into the things you constructed.  Motors of different kinds.  Then sensors.  Gears of all different styles – worm gears, gear track, planetary gears, conveyor belts…great stuff as far as I was concerned.  I’m old now, but I still have these kits.  Some days I think I’m more of a collector of these kits than someone who actually uses them.  Just don’t have time to “play” with them anymore.

          Because of my fascination with these types of kits, I began evaluating what made a “great” construction toy design.  One of my personal criteria is that a really well-designed construction toy should only require a limited number of parts.  What I mean is that you should be able to create other things by assembling the basic components together into a new component.  This is hard to do, and also very much against what the marketing arm of any company would suggest!  Thus, for example, most new Lego kits are themed and each kit is composed of many new and often unique parts in order to create, for example, a castle or a Star Wars scene or an excavator.  The fact that you have to have unique parts to create new things seems like somewhat of a “failure” to me.  If you had really well-designed basic parts, you should be able to create anything, right?  One construction toy that seems to follow this principle pretty well are K’nex.  Those toys came along when I was in college (and perpetually broke) so I never played with them until my kids had some.  But they tend to have a limited set of parts – connectors and rods of different lengths – that are used to make a lot of interesting things. 

          What’s the point of this bit of rambling?  It is just to think about the ultimate construction toy, and it meets my “limited number of parts” criteria in spades.  I’m talking about matter.  What are the parts you need?  There are only three:  electrons, protons, and neutrons.[1]  I find that incredibly fascinating.  If you’ve read anything on this blog, you know that I am a supernaturalist, so obviously I attribute the creative genius behind this “construction toy” to God.  But even if you are a complete naturalist, you can surely appreciate that, despite the incredible complexity and diversity in nature and in the universe, it can all be constructed with these three parts.  However, just for a second, imagine God, sitting at a big desk, getting ready to create the universe.  Personally, I kind of imagine it in the form of a Far Side cartoon.  God reaches over to his cabinet in which all of his parts are stored and – guess what? – the cabinet has only three big drawers labelled “electrons”, “protons”, and “neutrons!!”  I find that funny and amazing and completely fascinating all at once!  As a Far Side cartoon, I can just imagine the cartoon including God’s wife off to the side saying “Be careful with that – remember what happened last time when you starting pushing neutrons into that uranium molecule you made!” 

          As a supernaturalist, I believe there is at least one more part required to turn those three components into living things, and maybe at least one more part further still to turn those components into human beings, but that is for another story.  I just think it would be a lot of fun to sit down at a table and start assembling three little pieces into anything anyone could imagine.  That would be the greatest!

---

[1] I’m ignoring quantum physics here.  And why shouldn’t I?  Why should I listen to people who don’t know how to comb their hair and who can’t come up with better names for things than “quark” and “charm”???

The Flawed Decision-making Ability of Human Beings

“There is a way that people think is right, but it leads only to death.” Proverbs 14:2 (ERV)

          We have a higher opinion of our ability to make moral decisions than we should.  Actually, this relative “delusion” often extends to our ability to make logical decisions in general.  Elsewhere <here> I talked about the fact that even when we know the right thing to do, we don’t always do it.  But there is an even deeper issue that we all have, which is succinctly summarized in the Proverb above:  sometimes we think something is right - convinced of it even – but we are wrong. 

This is hard for us to accept.  We usually have a pretty good idea when other people are wrong.  We’d probably agree with the general concept that human beings are not perfect decision-makers on any topic, including moral decisions.  But when it comes to admitting that this principle applies to us – to me – well, then we get pretty defensive.  It’s easy for us to see the shortcomings in others – but when it comes to taking care of our own shortcomings, we become pretty blind.

          The point I want to make in this entry is to establish this principle:  we take a big risk when we decide to establish our own reason and feelings as the basis for determining right and wrong.  The risk is that we can be convinced that something is right, but “it leads only to death.”  In general we know the fundamentals of logic and reason.  We can think through situations and make good and correct decisions.  We have that ability.  But sometimes we just fail to make use of our innate abilities.  I’d like to make this point with three different illustrations of common human behavior.

         

          Example #1:  Our emotions and sensitivities can override our reason.  Want an obvious example of that?  Tailgating.  Driving 60 miles an hour and being 15 feet behind the car in front of you.  I’ve done quite a bit of driving in my day and I’ve driven from East coast to West coast.  And what I have observed is that at least 50% of you are chronic tailgaters.  Why is that?  There is not a shred of logic behind tailgating.  When it comes to weighing risk and benefit, it is all risk with zero benefit.  Do I really need to explain it?  But, for a variety of reasons, most people just can’t help themselves.  And it’s so easy to stop tailgating – just back off – but yet we still do it.  With tailgating, we are needlessly risking our own lives and the lives of those around us.  And I won’t even mention things like texting and driving or drunk driving.  If we can’t be trusted to use our reason properly in something so common and so simple, how can we really trust ourselves in bigger, more complex, decisions?

Example 2:  Our perspective bias – we see what we want to see.  Plenty of examples of this can be found in the world of sports.  In particular, I’m talking about fans of sports teams. People root for the sports teams of their choice and their views are totally influenced by their “fandom.”  A group of people see the same play but the fans on one side say that there was a foul and the fans on the other side say there was no foul.  Isn’t it clear that some people’s view of what did or didn’t happen is clouded by their biases as a fan?

          I’m a big Cleveland Indians fan.  As a result, I see things related to my team in a favorable light.  I still think that the Atlanta Braves pitching staff got too generous of a strike zone in the ’95 World Series.  If you’re a Braves fan, I’m sure you saw it differently (and by now you surely don’t care).  This type of disagreement occurs daily in sports.  Fans on one side say “that was obviously the worst call ever” and fans on the other side say “there is no question that was the right call.”  Well, they can’t all be right – but they are all convinced that they are right.  Totally convinced.  This just illustrates how we are so easily biased by our own situation, our own environment, our own family and friends.  This is one big reason why we can’t always trust ourselves as the final decision-maker about right and wrong.  We will often be too lenient on our friends and too harsh on our enemies (or, sometimes, vice versa!).  And, worst of all, we will almost always be too lenient on ourselves.

Example #3: We can say we believe something when we don’t really believe it.  It’s just another fact of human nature:  we can all be hypocrites sometimes.  I think it might be one of those unique qualities of human beings.  I think we all have things that, if someone asked us, we would say we believe with great confidence, yet our actions would prove otherwise.   Case in point:  “everything is relative.”  I don’t mean in “relative” as in physics, but relative in moral issues.  I know plenty of people that would deny that there are any moral absolutes.  They would argue the issue for hours – vehemently.  Yet, at the same time, they would also stand strongly on moral statements such as “it’s wrong to judge others” or “you can’t tell me what is wrong for me.”  These are absolute truths that they, in actual practice, live by.  They say “there are no absolutes”, but they live as if there are.

Of course, the moral relativists don’t have the corner on hypocrisy.  Those who stand staunchly on various moral absolutes can be the biggest hypocrites of all.  Just observe their actions!  Do they always do what they say?  It happens all the time that those who speak out against some great “sin” or other are then found to violate that very issue. 

Be honest people:  we’re all big hypocrites!

          We have to make decisions about what is right and wrong on a daily basis.  We are faced with choices – we can’t avoid that – and we have to respond, even if the way we respond is to do nothing.  All I want to conclude in this entry is that if we rely on our own great impeccable innate ability to determine what is right and wrong…well, we’re going to make some mistakes.  No – probably a lot of mistakes.  We’re just not as good at this as we think we are.

Lunches with Lucas – Session IV

<This is part of an ongoing conversation.  To go to the first conversation, click here>

I was a bit intrigued by my last conversation with Lucas, and I was kind of interested to know where he was going with the points he was making.  Interested, I would say, in the same way you are interested to see an accident up ahead.  Curious is maybe a better word.  And I knew Lucas well enough that I thought I could just get straight to the point and he wouldn’t be put off by that.

I sat down across from Lucas for lunch.  “Lucas, it really seems to me that you’ve been trying to drive to some big point…so just get to it – what is the point to this discussion about miracles and natural events and so on?”

“OK – fine.  You asked,” Lucas smiled.  “I want you to tell God – no – tell Jesus - to do a miracle in your life, I want you to see the miracle, and, as a result, I want you to completely and fully commit yourself to following Jesus for the rest of your life”, he said, fairly matter-of-factly.

Maybe I should have let him keep building up slowly!  “You can’t be serious,” I said, searching his expression.

“Well…maybe I shouldn’t have gone so far,” he said, backtracking a bit.  “Really, all I’m asking is that you change your worldview from “there is no such thing as miracles” to “miracles are extremely unlikely but can’t be ruled out.”

I wasn’t going to let him off the hook so easily.  “Wait a minute - what about this “tell God what to do” thing you just said?”

Now he was in a full retreat.  “OK, look, I overstated my point to try to get you to think about what I have been challenging you with.  Obviously you can’t tell God what to do.”

“Actually, Lucas, you can tell God what to do,” I said, feeling a bit proud that I could make a point about spiritual things.  “People tell God what to do all the time.  The problem is that there is no God to hear anyone, so that is why nothing happens.”  I figured if Lucas could be blunt, so could I.

“OK – I’m sorry I brought it up.  And not to belabor the point, but it’s not true that ‘nothing happens’ when you talk to God,” Lucas said, belaboring the point.  “Lots of people have asked God to do something and he has done it.”

“Yah, well, lots of people have asked God to do something and he hasn’t done it.  That proves nothing,” I said.

“That’s a valid point.  But the problem is that no matter what God does, you’ve set up a situation where you can always rule out the possibility that God exists.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Let me put it this way:  can you design an experiment that you could do that would cause you to believe in God…or, again, more specifically, Jesus?”

“How can you do an experiment with God – you just said you can’t tell God what to do,” I asked.

“My point is that if such an experiment were designed, it would certainly have to involve a miracle, and you don’t accept that there can be any such a thing as a miracle.  Therefore, you reject God and no amount of evidence would ever change your mind,” Lucas challenged.

“Evidence?  There is no evidence,” I challenged back.

“What I mean is that you are unwilling to put your lack of belief in God to a test because you have eliminated all possible ways God could reveal himself to you a priori.”

“Unwilling?  I didn’t say I was unwilling to see evidence – I just don’t see any,” I said.

“Sorry – wrong word choice.  It’s more that you prevent God from revealing himself to you because you have eliminated all possible ways God could do that.”

“Whatever.  I don’t see what you’re getting at.  I feel like we’re going in circles.”  Hadn’t he said this before?  Besides, it didn’t make any sense to me that any human being could “prevent” his so-called God from doing anything.  But I didn’t want to bring that up and prolong the conversation.

“So – what about my challenge?” Lucas said, ignoring my comment.  “Consider just changing your worldview from “there is no such thing as a miracle” to “miracles are extremely unlikely but can’t be ruled out.  Then people like me can no longer say that you’ve ruled God out without ever giving him a chance.”

On the face of it, it seemed like a small change but I wanted to stall him.  I wasn’t ready to change anything.  Why should I change?  I was winning the argument.  “I hate the word ‘worldview’” I said, stalling.  But I really did hate that word.

“You’re just stalling,” he said, recognizing what I was doing.  “So, then, how about changing your ‘philosophy of life’ to include the remote possibility of a miracle, or, more specifically, intentional divine intervention?” he asked.

“Well, it would have to be a really really really remote possibility,” I countered.

“Of course.  Almost by definition, a miracle has to be very rare – extremely rare – otherwise it kind of becomes just a natural event,” Lucas agreed.

I had to admit that there was some logic in what he was asking me to do.  “OK.  I will take it under consideration,” I said.

“No problem,” Lucas smiled, “let me make the decision harder for you.”

“Oh great,” I said, a bit surprised.

“You recall our conversation about the evidence for the resurrection of Jesus Christ?” Lucas asked.

“Not much.  To be honest, it’s not something I’ve committed to memory.  I mean, how can you present ‘evidence’ for something that doesn’t exist?  I thought we agreed to put that aside.” 

“Hah!  You do remember – or at least you remember that we agreed not to talk about it again.  But you didn’t listen to my arguments because you’d already decided that a resurrection can’t happen – it never happens.

“Sounds about right,” I said.  “Case closed,” I added, hoping he would move on.

“Well…if you change your philosophy of life to allow for the very remote possibility of miracles, then you’re going to have to consider those arguments.  Previously you didn’t care what I said about it – because you had already eliminated the possibility of any miracle ever happening – particularly someone rising from the dead.  But now, even if the possibility if very very remote, you can’t just reject the concept off-hand like you did before.”

“Well, I haven’t changed my mind,” I said, almost adding “yet” but decided not to.  “Is this whole discussion part of some grand plan of yours to bring up that whole conversation about the evidence for the resurrection again?  Count me out.”

“No, no, I promised I wouldn’t bring that up again, so I won’t,” Lucas said, then paused.  “Unless you ask,” he added, smiling.

“Well, that’s not happening.  So let’s move on.  It’s time to eat.”

“Yes, we can move on.  But I still want you to consider allowing for the remote possibility of miracles.”

“Do you ever give up?”  I was a bit tired of this, but couldn’t think of a good reason not to crack.  “If I agree, will you let me eat?”

“If you agree, I’ll pay for lunch!  But I’m serious.  This is a big decision…I know it’s not as simple as it sounds.”  Lucas said, backing off a bit.

“You’re right.  I’ll take it under consideration,” I said.  But I had no intention of considering it. 

I picked up my corned beef sandwich and changed the subject. 

[...on to Session V...]

Lunches with Lucas – Session III

 <Link to Session I>

         As I stepped into the restaurant, I saw that Lucas was already at our accustomed table.  That was pretty unusual, as usually I was the one who arrived first.  As I approached the table, I could see that he appeared to be talking to himself.

          “Hey Lucas,” I said, “who are you talking to?”

          “Oh – hi – I was just talking to God here,” he said, motioning to the empty chair.

          I thought about leaving, just to teach him a lesson.  “It’s an empty chair…”

          “Why can’t God be invisible?” Lucas asked.

          “That’s so childish.  God could be a chair, too, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

          “You’re right, that is kind of childish on my part.  But last time you talked about God appearing to you in this chair and said that would be enough to believe.  Isn’t that a little childish also – or at least a little selfish?”  Lucas asked.

          “What do you mean ‘selfish’?” I asked, taking my seat.

          “Well, it’s seems like you’ve only answered the question as if you were the only person that God needed to worry about,” Lucas said, drawing out the word ‘only’.  “If God’s going to do a miracle so that you will believe, doesn’t he have to do the same miracle for everyone else as well?  Otherwise, it’s just not fair and I know that you’re very worried about God being fair.”

          “Sure – what’s the problem with that?  God can appear in chairs to everyone, and then everyone would believe in him and I guess that would make him happy and you happy,” I retorted.

          “But that’s way too glib.  You aren’t really seriously thinking that through.  That whole concept just doesn’t work.  You think it is childish that I would say that God is in that chair but he’s just invisible, and you’re right – it’s childish.  But so is saying that if God appeared in chairs to everyone, it would make everyone believe in him,” Lucas said.

         

          “Childish?  You’re the one who believes in some God that you’ve never seen!” I exclaimed.

          “All I’m asking is that you give your ‘appear in a chair’ a little more serious consideration.  God is not just concerned about you.  If there is a God anything like the one I believe in, then he is concerned about everyone – and that includes everyone who has ever lived and everyone who ever will live.  So if he’s going to get people to believe in him by appearing in chairs, he has to do it for everyone over the whole history of mankind,” Lucas said.

          “OK.  I don’t see a problem with that.”

          “You don’t see a problem with creating some event that has always happened and always will happen?  Such an event would not be considered a miracle – it would just be a ‘natural’ event – like the sun rising every morning,” Lucas stated.

          “It’s not natural for anything to just appear in a chair,” I countered.

          “No, but it would be if it had always happened and always did happen.  That is almost the very definition of a natural event.  What else could you call it?  I mean if your requested ‘miracle’ had been ‘I want a being to appear behind me on the ground whenever I walk around’ and it was something that had always happened, then you would just call it a ‘shadow’, not a miracle,” Lucas said.

          “But that makes my point.  A shadow is a perfectly natural event.  There is a clear scientific, natural explanation for why a shadow appears.  It’s not magic.  It’s not a miracle.  It’s nature.  Are you trying to prove the existence of God using shadows??” I asked, a bit incredulous.

          “Of course not,” Lucas said.  “I’m just trying to point out that no event, no matter how shocking, is going to be sufficient for you to believe in God if it is something that happens all the time.  You will always have a ‘natural’ explanation for it.”

          “Of course I will.  That is because there is only nature.  But if your God does a miracle, then there won’t be an explanation for it,” I countered.

          “What?  Did you just imply that if there is something that happens that cannot be explained by science, you would consider it a miracle?”

          I realized I was on shaky ground.  But Lucas continued without waiting for my response.  “Then how about human consciousness?  It’s not explainable by science and it is something that has always happened and probably always will happen.  It is something that every human being experiences.  Seems like a perfect miracle to show God’s existence.”

          “You love to bring up human consciousness, but that is hardly evidence for the existence of God.  We are close to understanding it – we will eventually figure it out,” I said.

          “Ah, it’s an AYUNE,” Lucas said with a smile.

          “There you go making up words again.”

          “As-yet-unexplained-natural-event,” Lucas said.

          “I know – you told me before.  But consciousness will be explained,” I said.

          “Well, I might debate that – I don’t think neuroscience is even close to explaining human consciousness.  But that’s not my point.  My point is that even if some event were to be unexplainable, you would never consider it to be a miracle,” Lucas said.

          “You’re right.  And I think I’m being pretty logical if I consider natural events to be natural events and don’t ascribe any supernatural meaning to them,” I said with an air of finality.

          “Right.  So the point is that, if God wants to prove himself to you, he cannot use any natural, repeated events, even if they are completely unexplained by modern science.  Any kind of event that he might do to demonstrate his existence, if he does it fairly for every person who has ever lived or ever will live, will be relegated to being described as a natural event.  So, as far as your views are concerned, natural events are ‘out’ for God.  You will not allow God to use them to prove his existence,” Lucas said.

          “I wouldn’t use the term ‘relegated’, but, yes, I think you are summarizing my views pretty well.  Natural events are natural, not supernatural…and you can’t try to turn them into supernatural events by saying they are unexplainable.  You Christians claim that all sorts of natural events are signs of the supernatural, like when someone recovers from cancer or something like that.  It makes no sense.  I don’t see how you can claim that natural events are the evidence for any supernatural being,” I said.

          “I get you.  I think there are Christians who ascribe supernatural significance to natural events without good evidence.  But a lot of that has to do with your starting point.  I don’t really want to get into that.  I want you to try to think about your situation from God’s viewpoint,” Lucas said, looking for some approval from me.

          “Sounds a bit strange – what do you mean?” I asked.

          “I mean, let’s say you were God and you wanted to get ‘you’ to believe – how would you do it?  If you, as God, attempt to perform some supernatural event for every person for all time, ‘you’ would just say ‘that’s a natural event.’  But ‘you’ also don’t accept that there is such a thing as a miracle, so God can’t do that either.  So what is left?  You’ve blocked out every avenue for God to show himself to you and then you stand back and say it is God’s fault for now showing himself to you,” Lucas challenged.

          I needed to think that through a bit, so I tried to put him off for now.  “OK, maybe that’s how it is.  But if your God is so great, he ought to be able to figure it out,” I countered.

          Lucas was on a roll, though.  “It’s like you’re saying to God ‘show yourself’ but then you cover your eyes.  Or you say to God ‘speak to me’ and then you cover your ears.  If you were God, why would you even bother?  If someone doesn’t want to know God with that level of intensity, then why would God bother?  Seems to me that it’s your problem, not God’s problem.”

         

          I didn’t want to talk about this further.  “Fine.  It’s my problem.  So leave me alone with my problem and let’s talk about something else.”

          Lucas nodded.  “OK – let’s eat.  All I’m asking is that you think about it from God’s perspective.  I’ll leave it at that.”

          And with that he took a big bite of his sandwich.  Despite his goofy examples, I felt he probably did make a pretty good point.  But I didn’t want to think about it too much – it was time for lunch.

[...on to Session IV...]

Lunches with Lucas – Session II

<Link to Session I>

         As Lucas approached the table, I searched his face to determine if I was in for another grilling on boring “religious” topics.  But he seemed pretty content.  “Hey Lucas, how are you doing?” I asked.

          “Pretty good – how about yourself?”

          “Great.  I’m ready for one of those huge corned beef sandwiches they have here.  Along with a nice thick layer of horseradish!”  I said.

          “Hah.  Well, I’m glad I’m not working next to you this afternoon!”

          “Horseradish keeps all the bad spirits away – makes for a very successful day” I remarked, putting in a little dig at Lucas.

          “So now you see the ‘supernatural’ everywhere after our last conversation?”

          “No – just horseradish-hating leprechauns,” I joked.  “I don’t see the supernatural in everything, like you do.”

          “So, seriously, I thought it was a pretty fruitful conversation last time,” Lucas said, turning a bit more intense.

          I realized that I had foolishly stepped in to that one.  “I guess so.  I don’t recall it being particularly earth-shattering.”

          “Well, as I recall, we concluded with your view that there is only ‘nature’ and there is no such thing as anything ‘supernatural’, no such thing as a miracle, and no such thing as God.  Would you agree?” Lucas asked.

          “Isn’t it obvious?  I’m not trying to be mean, but I just don’t see ‘God’ anywhere and I don’t see the need to invent ‘God.’  The scientific view just seems the most logical, doesn’t it?  And it seems to me that believing in God just causes people to waste their life going to church and so on.  Doesn’t seem like it does them any good.  I’m happy with my life as it is and I surely don’t need to complicate things with some belief in something that obviously isn’t there.  Like I said, if God wants me to be believe in him, that’s his problem…or ‘her’ problem…or ‘its’ problem or whatever.  It’s not my problem,” I said, hoping to close out this particular topic.

          “Well, maybe it is your problem.  I mean, if there is a God and you have to face him in the afterlife, you’re going to have to answer for why you didn’t believe in him,” Lucas challenged. 

          “First of all, that’s not going to happen because there is no God.  But I’m glad you brought that up because that’s something that really bothers me.  God has no case against me or anyone else.  It would be totally unreasonable for God to blame me for not believing in him.  It’s his fault.  If he wanted me to believe in him then he should make it more obvious.  I’m a reasonable person – if the evidence were there, then I would believe in him.  If God hides from me, and then blames me for not believing in him, I think that is a pretty unjust God.  Is that the kind of God you believe in?” I asked, fairly irritated.

Lucas’ face brightened at statement, which annoyed me.  “Are you saying that God should make himself more obvious?” he asked.

          “Absolutely.  Like I said, when I look around, I don’t see any real evidence for God.  Everything has a logical explanation.  And the reason there is no obvious evidence for God is that he isn’t there to begin with,” I said.

          “Excellent.  God should make himself obvious?” Lucas asked.

          “Yes.”

          “Good.  Now we are getting somewhere,” Lucas said, still looking pleased.

          “What are you talking about?  We haven’t gotten anywhere.  All we’ve done is establish that your belief in God is founded on no evidence whatsoever and that, if there is a God, he is totally unjust and unreasonable and not worth believing in.  That’s where we’ve gotten,” I said.

“OK – so how should God make himself obvious?” Lucas asked.

          I was a bit frustrated that we were still going on about this.  “It’s easy.  There are lots of ways God could be obvious.  I mean, he could just appear right here and get the whole thing over with,” I said, pointing at the empty chair at our table.  “It’s simple.”

“Appear?” Lucas asked.  “You mean like “poof” – there he is?”

“Yeah – something like that.  That’s all it would take,” I said.

“All you would need is some kind of appearance?” Lucas asked.

“Sure – if God can do anything, then a little sudden appearance ought to be easy.  That would make an open and shut case and then I would believe.”

“I assume you’re talking about a miraculous appearance.  I mean, it wouldn’t be enough if George Burns walked up and sat down there and said he was God, would it?” Lucas asked.

“George Burns?  Wow, you are old!  No, I’m not talking about someone just walking up and sitting down – that could happen any time.  I’m talking about an appearance.  In fact, a flash of light and a little smoke would help,” I said.

“So you want a miracle?” Lucas asked, with an air of finality.

“Yes – a simple miracle.”

“But you don’t believe in miracles,” Lucas challenged.

“I know, so that’s why I don’t believe in God.  It’s not going to happen anyway,” I said

“No, I mean you’ve told me that there can’t be any such thing as a miracle.  There are only things that seem like miracles to people in the past, but they are all explainable by scientific investigation.  You’ve told me that everything has a natural cause,” Lucas said, leaning forward.

“Right - everything is just by natural causes.  There is no hidden supernatural being behind it all.  What’s the point?” I asked.

“So even if God appears right here next to us, you wouldn’t believe.  You’d just say it was some as-yet-unexplained natural event – an “AYUNE”.  A hallucination.  Indigestion.  A unique weather event.  Something,” Lucas challenged.

I was a bit taken aback, realizing I was on a bit shakier ground than I liked.  “Well, I mean, if it was so obvious…We’re talking about a being appearing out of thin air.  That would be obvious.”

“But now you’re bending your own rules.  You mean that there can be some miracles as long as they are miraculous enough?”

“Well, I’m talking about things that could only be explained by supernatural means.  Someone appearing in the chair is a supernatural event,” I said.

“Wait a minute!  Earlier you said that everything has a natural explanation, and now you’re backtracking.”

“I’m not backtracking.  There’s no one sitting there and there never will be anyone or anything that just appears there.  The point is there are no miracles.  That’s what I’m trying to say,” I said.

“But if I understand your view correctly, you not only believe that there are no miracles, but there never could be miracles,” Lucas challenged.

“Well…” I said, trying to figure out how to explain my views. 

“You’ve told me before,” Lucas interjected “that the reason you don’t even consider that anyone has ever actually risen from the dead is that there is no such thing as miracles.  But now you’re saying that there could be miracles.  Face it – you’re waffling on your own beliefs.”

“Ok, ok.  That’s not what I meant.  I know where you want to go with that.  My point is that it’s not my problem how to figure it out – it’s God’s problem.  If he wants me to believe in him, then he’s got to blow me away with something.”

“But no matter what it is, according to what you’ve told me before, no matter how miraculous it was, you’d say it is an ‘AYUNE’.”

I didn’t like that he create some new word.  “You’re making it sound illogical, but my view is the most logical.  It’s based on scientific observation.  And since there is no God, there won’t be any violation of my views.  Besides, if your God is so great, then he’s going to have to figure it out.  It shouldn’t be hard for him.”

“So,” Lucas said, with a certain air of finality, “it is God’s responsibility to prove himself to you, but he can’t use any miraculous means because you won’t accept any miracles.  What does that leave him with?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“Well, if God can’t use any ‘supernatural’ means to prove Himself to you, then that only leaves natural means, right?” Lucas asked.

“Sure – he’s God – he’s got to figure it out.”

“Through natural means only?”

“Why do you say ‘through natural means only?’” I asked, a bit confused.

“Well, isn’t it basic logic to say that if everything is divided into ‘natural’ and ‘supernatural’, and you get rid of ‘supernatural’, then the only thing left is ‘natural’.”

“I guess, if that’s how you want to put it,” I said.

“So, to summarize, you are convinced there is no God because you don’t see him.  But in order for him to appear to you, it would have to be through some natural means?” Lucas asked.

“It doesn’t have to be something ‘natural’ – it just can’t be a miracle.”

“So God has to prove himself to you and he can’t use any supernatural means.  He just has to use natural means.  Is that a correct statement?”

I wasn’t really sure that sounded right, but I was ready to move on.  “Sure, if that’s how you want to phrase it, fine.  Are you happy now?” I asked, hoping to wrap this up.

“Yeah, that’s enough thinking for now.  Let’s eat,” Lucas said with a smile.

“You’re not done with this, are you?” I said.

“Hah” he said with a big smile.  “I’ve got a lot more up my sleeve.  But right now I think it’s time for that horseradish!”

“You too?  I didn’t think you liked horseradish,” I said.

“Well, with enough of that wafting into our brains, we might just see someone appear in that chair…maybe even ten someones!”

“Good luck with that!” I said as I took a good first bite and let the horseradish clear my brain from the conversation.

[On to Session III]