What God?
Reason’s taunt calls out in refrain, “But what if there is no God?” And more, “What if your beliefs or perceptions are all just some genetic predisposition, some biochemical, neurological or psychological phenomenon, some emotional or sociological need?” Intending to provoke, I usually respond that I would choose my life of faith anyway, that without knowing more, psychological and sociological health alone not only justify it, but often demand it. It makes me whole. Then reason’s self-righteousness challenges in response, “But how does a man of integrity risk basing his life on a lie?” Fair question.
First, allow me to respond with a question of my own: does a genetic predisposition or the involvement of biochemical, neurological or psychological processes—including necessarily, evolutionary processes—dictate that there is no greater purpose, no Author or Director Spirit, no spiritual Mystery, no God in control? How does that follow? How else might we have been ushered to this place and time, ready to ask the great questions, ready to search out the purposes for it all, ready to encounter the One who calls us?
You look askance at me, and I understand. But after all is said and seen, the work of science provides no more evidence for the absence of God than for His presence. Neuroscience, for example, struggles with the relationship between neurological processes and consciousness, whether that of everyday phenomena or spiritual experience. They even struggle with a useful, researchable definition of consciousness. And to the extent they approach questions of God at all, they are reduced to proxy questions of spiritual consciousness or experience, which in turn are approached only through proxy measures of attendant neurological activity. However important this basic research—and it is important—it appears to provide only another groping, attenuated and unavailing approach to scientifically answering questions about the existence of God, and adds but little to understanding the experience of God.
What is spiritual consciousness or experience, anyway? Many think it relates more to the occasional visions or messages perceived by some, the expressive, Spirit-filled worship experiences of others, or the ecstatic prayer experiences also reported. But most often, the presence and work of God has less to do with these sensory spiritual experiences, and everything to do with transcendent faith, hope and love shared through Him—and His quiet, imperceptible process of changing you. Spiritual experience is an awareness of God’s presence and love, how He has changed your understandings, behavior and your life, of your increasing identity in Him, and the greater peace and trust you know. If that can be neurologically or biochemically measured and studied, can it in that way also be meaningfully understood? And, again, what does it prove or disprove about the existence of God?
However you may prefer to approach or answer the questions of science, faith and God, it does not preclude the reality of an author, director God working through biochemical, neurological and evolutionary processes, or in concert with them. Although personal views and the reasons for them may provide a self-satisfying level of soft support for differing conclusions, whatever they may be, there is no proof to be had. And all the studies of human biology and neuroscience, of cognition and consciousness, are unlikely to provide more than better explanations of the neurological and biochemical processes that facilitate the genetic prescriptions for anatomy and bodily function, for health, sensory perception and existential behavior.
So it is with this ongoing tension that passes for dialogue about science, the faith phenomenon, and the transcendent experience of God.
And so I am left with my epiphanies, still asking, what could be more miraculous and awe-inspiring, more beautiful, more humbling, than the complexities and unfathomable realities of evolutionary mechanisms and the progress of life? How else than through these evolving genetic, biochemical, social and psychological processes might all of creation have moved continually upward toward sentience and cognition, curiosity and questioning, the pursuit of truth and identity? For what other purpose might we be brought face to face with the history of the development of creation, and those transcendent apprehensions that lead us, than to seek the sensed Author and understandings of who we are and why we are now here?
And about integrity: Is it living a lie to reach for the highest ideals, the highest reality and, in the process, the highest potential and conduct of man in community? And is there a sounder, more enduring basis for defining that potential or prescribing that conduct, something loftier or more sublime, more resonant with right and authority? Where could trust more reliably be placed?
Consider the uneven, often disappointing nature of human authority and its standard bearers. The authority of man is based more or less on his strength, intelligence, character and wisdom, his ideas and conceptual constructs, his created institutions. But man’s qualities and ideas have too often tarnished and disappointed—lights that glow, then dim or fail. And as the institutions that men have fashioned—both secular and religious—to pursue our potential, to encourage our best conduct, have also stumbled or failed, what testament is that to man’s nature and potential? Like Icarus, we would fly closer to the sun, but consumed by our virtuosity and vanity, we forget we have but waxen wings to carry us there. Alas, flawed men fashion flawed ideas and institutions, and even if the best of them, by acclamation, are “better than whatever is in second place,” they are not nearly good enough.
Secular leaders routinely, often disingenuously, invoke the name of God. That they would seek associative or derivative authority through Him is understandable, if too often cynical. After all, their individual or institutional authority is, at best, supported only by those flawed, temporal foundations—assuming, if we may, that it is based on anything higher-minded than brute political or military power and forced submission, still so often the case in our enlightened world. Where are the higher, more enduring authorities and ideals, the more credible exemplars?
But any appeal I may make here or elsewhere to your intellect cannot convince or comfort you about the legitimacy of a life of faith and seeking God--not unless you are in some sense ready or disposed, unless in some way you sense His active presence, His invitation to you, His Spirit of Love. To be sure, it depends in part on your understandings about the notion of God, your definitions and expectations of God. And yes, the intellect often plays a central role in what we know and believe, but only regarding the things it is equipped to know. In the end, it is about acknowledging that spiritual sense of God’s presence and His acts of creative relationship in your life--and giving expression to that disposition to being loved by God and loving Him.
As I continue my faith journey, I have available to me the breadth of today's considerable knowledge and understandings set side-by-side with the shared knowledge and understandings of the ages. To that I add my own existential and spiritual experiences, and it all contributes to what I know and understand. And as my mind, heart and soul are so informed--as it all continually changes me--it also informs what I believe. And it sets the occasion for my evolving relationship with God, and my understanding of Him. It all might seem to you epistemologically circular, but for me it forms the most important of my understandings.
So, I cannot work with the supposition that God does not exist. My experience and understandings will not allow it. I could no more deny or abandon the reality of my Spirit-of-God experience than my spirit-of-man experience—kin and connected as they inextricably seem to be, transcending our individual identities as they so often do. To do so would also render life too vain, and hope and the reasons to reach higher unacceptably less than my soul requires. Even though others seem able to deny or abandon the reality of one or both—and do—I cannot. We each must make our own choices, however informed they may be, and however they may be informed.
First written: January - June 2005
Theocratic Nightmares
But don’t misunderstand me. In my ardor to make a greater point, I don’t mean to critique uncharitably the best of secular ideas and institutions. I only wish to make clear that the way they are structured and operate—although sometimes with great wisdom—produce an unlikely basis for the most sublime statement or vision of the potential of man.
But let me also be clear about this: absent the constraints of secular government philosophies and institutions—and particularly the pluralism of representative democracy—man has shown a propensity across time and cultures to evolve his religious movements and institutions into brittle, often brutal, theocratic nightmares. Surely, the wisdom, the constitutional necessity, of the separation of government institutions and religious institutions—the protection of people of differing faiths and those of none at all—is also quite clear. It’s the only way to protect us all from the extremes of organized religion, and protect organized religion from itself.
First written: Fall 2005
© Gregory E. Hudson 2007
