Part of the reason I like to write is because I’m not a good speaker or debater. I can’t seem to get my mouth to say the things I want to get out, so my brain keeps getting stuffed with more things like kids playing “who can stuff the most jumbo marshmallows in their mouth.” But when I write, whoever’s out there either listens or they don’t, and I only have to consider one marshmallow at time. MMmmm. Tasty.
I don’t do well with things like impromptu conversations with strangers, and, to me, that’s a big part of what’s known as apologetics. Apologetics implies in–person debate, argument, and evangelization. However, when it comes to “giving an answer for the hope that I have” with strangers face-to-face, it never comes out coherent. I’m still working on fitting two, maybe three, marshmallows at a time. So, part of this blog was an excuse for deeper independent study on the topic, but I’m also hoping to pass a morsel onto the reader.
“And he said to me, ‘Son of man, feed your belly with this scroll that I give you and fill your stomach with it.’ Then I ate it, and it was in my mouth as sweet as honey” (Ezek 3:3).
See? It’s in the Bible. Knowledge tastes good. Now, let’s learn apologetics.
From what I can tell, there are two major forms of apologetics: Classical and Presuppositional. I’ve chosen these two as my focus, because they are powerful, in use today, and distinct. There are many other forms of apologetics, like Evidentialism, for example, which uses historic and scientific evidence alone to present the case for Christianity, as if it were being prosecuted in a courtroom. I leave this form out and others like it because arguments from evidence are a big part of classical apologetics, and I believe it can be subsumed under the umbrella of one or both of the forms I’ve chosen to outline.
Classical Apologetics
Classical apologetics was used by figures RC Sproul and C.S. Lewis, and presents Christianity as logically coherent––supportable by sound arguments, reasons, and proofs. Their goal is to convince a person of theism––the belief in one all-powerful and all-knowing creator that’s present and active in the world. A few powerful arguments they use are:
Ontological: This argument originated with Anselm of Canterbury (11th century) and says God is the greatest thing that can possibly be conceived. A thing that exists in reality is greater than a thing that does not exist in reality. Therefore, God exists.
Cosmological: This is an argument from cause and effect. For example, if the wind blows, it causes the American flag on my front porch to sway. But what caused the wind? Temperature differences in the earth’s atmosphere. But what caused that? As the argument goes on, one thing must cause another, leading all the way back to a First Cause. The first cause that brought all other causes into being, was God.
Moral: We all live and act as if some thoughts and actions are bad and others are good. This invisible, innate mechanism must have come from somewhere and be based off something. The one perfect moral standard comes from God, and, without God, there would be no standard of morality and our actions would be arbitrary.
If the classical apologist succeeds in convincing an unbeliever of theism, it still doesn’t follow that Balaam’s donkey talked, the walls of Jericho fell via trumpet, or Christ rose from the dead. There is another logical jump to be made to the truth of the gospel and the Bible’s special revelation. Therefore, the classical method is to employ historic and scientific evidence to prove the gospel and the Bible as the most reasonable choice. The best that classical apologetics can lead a person toward is probability; that Christianity is a person’s best bet.
Presuppositional Apologetics
Cornelius Van Til is the father of the presuppositional line of apologetics. He says,
“The Reformed method of apologetics…begins frankly ‘from above.’ It would ‘presuppose’ God. But in presupposing God it cannot place itself at any point on a neutral basis with the non-Christian. Before seeking to prove that Christianity is in accord with reason and in accord with fact, it would ask what is meant by ‘reason’ and what is meant by ‘fact.’ It would argue that unless reason and fact are themselves interpreted in terms of God they are unintelligible.”
In other words, Van Til’s epistemology––or the basis on which we know anything––starts with, or assumes God. Classical apologetics asks the unbeliever to be objective and consider the evidence, but a presuppositionalist believes that no one can really be objective. Everyone’s unique worldview determines how evidence is interpreted, and, according to a Van Tillian, an unbeliever’s worldview is just plain wrong. This form of apologetics goes on the offense, seeking to undermine the unbeliever’s foolish presuppositions. In Greg Bahnsen’s words, an unbeliever’s worldview must be “ruthlessly attacked”. There is no common ground, they claim, for intelligibility between the believer and unbeliever. When they’ve successfully undermined an unbeliever’s worldview––by evidence and reason––the apologist ought to appeal to the innate image of God within the unbeliever to bring him on board. He should do so by declaring “the self-evidencing and authoritative word of God as the pre-existing condition of intelligibility and man’s only way to salvation,” claims Bahnsen.
Presuppositional apologetics argues that it’s certain God exists and those who don’t say so suppress the truth. The transcendental argument––the proof that God exists because he’s precondition for experience and knowledge––Bahnsen says, is a form of certainty. Conversely, classical apologetics posits only overwhelming evidence for God and no “philosophical” certainty. Presuppositionalists claim certainty where classical apologists claim probability.
Where I Fall
I find myself mostly in the presuppositional camp, perhaps departing in one way (if I understand correctly). There is an epistemological problem with both, that, in my opinion, isn’t rightly answered. The problem is, how do we justify reason? Bahnsen says God justifies reason, and then uses his reason to justify God (Law of non-contradiction, transcendental argument, etc.). But how do we know reason is real? How do we justify reason itself? The problem is circular. The famous atheist, Alex O’Connor, describes how atheist philosophy shares this same problem:
“Alvin Plantinga makes the case…if you believe in evolution via natural selection, natural selection selects for survivability, it doesn’t select for truth. Which means if you believe in evolution, you believe that your reasoning faculty has not evolved to be sensitive to truth, but to survivability. Why do you believe in evolution? Because you reasoned your way into it. But the thing you just reasoned your way into, evolution, has undermined your ability to trust the reasoning process that you’ve used to reason into it. He sort of points out you can’t be a materialist and believe in evolution…[Evolution] is a vicious circle , and [Religion] is a virtuous circle.”
Christians and atheists share this circle of reason, and, O’Connor admits, the Christian circle is a better one to be in because Christianity gives a self-reinforcing circle and evolution gives a self-defeating one. However, is there a way for us all to escape? How do we leave the intellectual roundabout, and, as Chesterton puts it, perform the “mystical act of getting out at Gower Street”? Well…that is the answer; we have to perform a mystical act. The truth is that the atheist and the believer alike need faith to believe in the basic intelligibility of the universe by our reason. Like the classical apologist, I believe an unbeliever can reason to a theistic or deistic God, but they can’t reason there without faith in that logic. The unreasonable plays a necessary part inside the reasonable, and, if it doesn’t, reason breaks. As Chesterton points out,
“Imagination does not breed insanity. Exactly what does breed insanity is reason. Poets do not go mad; but chess players do... As long as you have the mystery you have health; when you destroy mystery you create morbidity.”
Because of this truth, perhaps our apologetics ought to focus less on reason in general and more on the rock-bottom necessity of faith. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t use our reason, or the existence of God isn’t objectively true; our reason makes him the most likely option. So, we shouldn’t discard our reason or its power all together, or take whatever we want to on faith. Instead, we need to admit to a mental category of mystery, and put the right things in that category. If you made any decisions today, you at least acted as if the world was intelligible by reason, and therefore admitted to something mysterious.
But if reason––and therefore knowledge––is impossible without some level of faith, then the unbeliever may be more easily convinced of other things that belong in the category of mysteries taken on faith, like Christ’s atoning work on the cross. Being shown the necessity of faith empowers the unbeliever to reject the circular ruts of reason and embrace mystery. The one who embraces mystery is closer to embracing the true myth and mystery of the gospel.