Do we choose our beliefs?

KP,

You’re a legend.

I laughed out loud at the “you scream like a giiiiiiiirl” bit. And yes—I’m glad we made it past the bees without incident (though I’ll be checking my helmet for honey just in case).

You’ve summed up my position really well. You’re right—my trust in those tools to justify belief is itself a kind of belief (ironically a type of faith or trust), just not a blind one. It’s something that’s been earned over time, through experience and repeated testing, both in my own life and more broadly across all of human history. They’re not perfect, (we can still make mistakes even when we’re doing it right) but they’ve earned their place at the top of my toolbox.

And since you kindly offered me the chance to correct you on both points:

– On the first, yes—you’ve nailed it. I do lean more on reason and evidence than tradition or authority (though I wouldn’t write those off completely). – On the second, I’d gently disagree. I don’t think “unbelief” is just another belief with a different label. It might sound like splitting hairs, but for me, there’s a real difference between saying “I believe this is false” and “I’m just not persuaded it’s true.” One makes a claim about the world. The other just says, “I’m not there yet.”

It’s a distinction I talk about in Chapter 4 of my book, actually—how people often collapse the space between not affirming a belief and affirming its opposite. Philosophers sometimes use shorthand for it:

  • B(p) means you believe proposition p is true
  • ~B(p) means you don’t believe p (but haven’t accepted its opposite)
  • B(~p) means you believe p is false

A lot of people—especially in religious contexts—conflate ~B(p) with B(~p) and treat both as equally guilty forms of “unbelief.” But they’re not the same thing at all. Withholding belief isn’t the same as believing the opposite. And that difference matters, especially if moral judgment is on the line.

So for me, saying “I’m unconvinced there’s a God” isn’t the same as saying “I believe there is no God.” One is a statement about where I stand right now. The other is a stronger claim that I don’t think I’m in a position to make. So I just try to be honest about what my mind is doing—and right now, it hasn’t crossed that line into belief.

Anyway, we’re deep in the cave now. Definitely getting darker. But I’m genuinely grateful to have such thoughtful company on the descent. Keep that headlamp on. Who knows—we might stumble across something worth bringing back to the surface.

—Jon

No contradiction, and you know it.

So let’s get something clear: you’re not the only one who’s wrestled with hard questions, studied psychology, engaged philosophical debate, or agonized over truth claims.

You speak as if disagreement with your position signals a failure of empathy or intellectual integrity. It doesn’t. It just means your framework isn’t the final word on moral reasoning or epistemology.

You accuse me of ignoring doxastic involuntarism, neuroscience, or the honest struggle of others. I haven’t ignored them-I’ve simply refused to canonize them as morally exculpatory. You think sincerity makes you innocent. I don’t. That’s the fundamental divide.

Your position assumes that if someone arrives at unbelief “honestly,” then that unbelief is automatically blameless. But honesty doesn’t make a conclusion right.

People are sincerely wrong every day. The fact that you find this “morally repugnant” doesn’t make it untrue, it just shows you’ve built a moral system that cannot tolerate any notion of guilt that isn’t self-ascribed. That’s not reason. That’s self-protection dressed up as philosophy.

You’re demanding I affirm your sincerity as the ultimate ethical shield. I won’t. Not because I think you’re lying, but because I don’t believe sincerity alone determines truth or moral standing. You want immunity for your conclusions without accountability for their implications. But belief-like action-has consequences.

You’re right about one thing: no amount of verse-lobbing will change your mind. But that’s not because the verses are hollow, it’s because you’ve already decided that any worldview that claims moral authority over your reasoning is inherently offensive. That’s not a neutral position. That’s a dogma. Own it.

And as for me–I don’t apologize for appealing to Scripture. I answer to it. That’s not deflection. That’s allegiance. Where your skepticism bends to intellect, mine bows to a throne. And to Christ Jesus, my great God and Savior, who saved a wretch like me.

@Samuel_23 @KPuff

God bless brother, and peace to you and family.

Johann.

In what possible world are these two statements not a MASSIVE contradiction?

Culpable means deserving blame or morally responsible for wrongdoing.

So if unbelief is culpable, then unbelievers are—by your own logic—bad. Blameworthy. Guilty. Morally at fault.

You can’t have it both ways.

Please explain this—clearly—before we go any further.

Here’s a link to help you along:
www.openai.com

You’re demanding a binary that I’ve never denied. Yes-if unbelief is culpable, then unbelievers are morally responsible for that unbelief. That’s the point. Unbelief isn’t some passive, neutral vacuum; it’s a posture toward reality, a rejection of the claims and authority of God. That has moral weight.

But let’s be precise: culpability doesn’t require overt malice or conscious rebellion. It requires agency and accountability. And I’m not talking about guilt in your self-defined moral economy. I’m talking about guilt in relation to a transcendent moral order-one in which God is not a concept up for negotiation, but the Creator whose self-revelation imposes an obligation.

You’re mistaking “being culpable” with “being obviously evil,” as if the only way someone can be guilty is if they twirl their mustache while doing it.

But moral blindness, suppression of truth, and hardened conscience don’t wear villain costumes. That’s why Jesus could say, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do,” and still hold them responsible.

So yes-by God’s standard, unbelief is blameworthy. It is not a mere intellectual conclusion.

It is a moral choice not to submit to truth when that truth has been made sufficiently known. That doesn’t mean unbelievers are incapable of kindness, creativity, or affection. It means those things aren’t credited as righteousness when the most fundamental truth, God Himself, is rejected.

You say I can’t have it both ways. But I don’t need to. You’re standing in a courtroom and calling judgment unfair because you think sincerity should be enough to walk free. I’m telling you: sincerity doesn’t erase guilt.

And if that offends you, it may be because you don’t want a world where the truth holds you accountable.

But that world exists-and you’re living in it.

And my oh my!

Dropping a link to OpenAI isn’t an argument. It’s deflection. If you’re hoping AI will save you from engaging the hard philosophical and moral claims I laid out, that tells me everything I need to know.

The issues on the table-moral culpability, the nature of belief, and accountability before truth-aren’t something a corporate homepage can answer. This isn’t about algorithms, it’s about the soul.

You’re facing questions of eternal weight and responding with a tech company’s landing page.

Let’s be honest: you didn’t offer a counter-argument because you don’t have one that confronts the moral tension I exposed. You can’t live as though truth is sacred while also insulating yourself from the consequences of rejecting it.

So if you’re unwilling to address what was actually said-about belief not being morally neutral, about sincerity not guaranteeing innocence, and about the fact that accountability doesn’t wait for your permission-then don’t pretend to be engaging. Just say so.

Because unlike AI, I’m not here to simulate dialogue. I’m here to deal with truth.

It’s 12.54 AM here in South Africa, what are you “wrestling” with?

A passage in Hebrews comes to mind immediately.

Shalom.

Johann.

Johann

You can spin it however you like, but you’ve tied yourself in a theological knot—and everyone watching can see it.

You say “unbelief is culpable”, but also insist “this isn’t believer = good, unbeliever = bad.” Those two claims don’t sit together. If someone is culpable for unbelief—if they’re blameworthy and morally in the wrong—then yes, you aresaying unbelievers are bad. You’re using moral language but trying to dodge the moral consequence.

You treat unbelief as if it’s a decision. A posture. A rejection. But belief doesn’t work like that. If it did, nobody would need to wrestle with doubt or search for truth. No one would pray for faith. No one would need convincing. You don’t just decide to believe something because someone says you should. You believe when your mind finds it compelling—and until that happens, no amount of pressure or threat makes it real.

And you know this. If someone told you to believe the moon is made of cheese, you could say the words, but your belief wouldn’t shift. That’s how belief works. It follows persuasion—not command.

So when you tell people they’re morally guilty for not believing, what you’re really doing is condemning them for not being persuaded. You can call that divine justice until the cows come home—but it guts the meaning of the word “justice” entirely. It becomes a hollow slogan.

Words mean things, Johann. You don’t get to carve out special theological definitions for concepts like fairness, justice, and morality just to retrofit them to your doctrine after the fact. That’s not theology. It’s more like desperate special pleading.

You say I’m using sincerity as a shield. I’m not. I’m trying to hold open a space for those who are genuinely seeking, in good faith—as I did—even if they don’t land where you want them to. If you can’t make room for that without calling it sin, maybe it’s not their hearts that are hardened.

I’ve engaged with your theology. I’ve looked seriously at your claims. And I’ve come to a different conclusion. That shouldn’t be a death sentence. But in your system, it is.

And quoting Jesus’ “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do” doesn’t get you off the hook. You’re still insisting people are guilty even when they don’t know. So what’s the forgiveness for, exactly? And how are they forgiven if they’re swimming in a lake of fire?

I’m not asking for special treatment. Just an honest reckoning with how belief actually works—and what it would mean to respond justly to those who don’t share yours.

And Johann, I don’t want to be in breach of forum rules, so I’ll respect them. But you and I both know what’s going on here. This is starting to feel less than genuine.

Sleep well.
South Africa is a beautiful country. I’ve been many times.

Admit it - this isn’t sincerity, it’s a charade, a pharisaical performance cloaked in self-righteousness. So tell me plainly: have you completely abandoned Christ, rejected the cross, cast aside the blood that bought redemption?

Because from where I stand, it seems you’ve crowned your own moral virtue as king - so high in your own esteem that you feel justified in silencing the Word itself when I speak it.

So let’s not dance around it. Yes or no?
I won’t flatter and I won’t soften - be blunt, for the sake of truth, the readers, and your own soul.

Thanks.

Johann.

Johann,

You attached an academic paper on doxastic voluntarism to support your claim that unbelief is a moral choice.

Did you actually read it?

Because I did. And either:

  1. You didn’t read it,
  2. You read it but didn’t understand it,
  3. You understood it, realized it contradicted your view, and posted it anyway hoping no one would notice.

None of those options reflect well on you.

The paper doesn’t bolster your case—it devastates it. It explicitly casts doubt on the idea that belief is subject to voluntary control and links doxastic voluntarism to self-deception and epistemic irresponsibility. It argues that trying to will yourself into belief (or out of it) is often psychologically incoherent and morally questionable.

That is exactly what I’ve been saying from the beginning.

You keep insisting unbelief is a conscious rejection—an act of rebellion. Yet the very paper you attached says that such framing risks turning belief into performance and self-deception. So again—who is this meant to convince? Yourself? The forum? God?

It’s like bringing a witness to trial who turns out to testify for the other side.

This is the second time you’ve done this (The other paper you posted also argued for my position and against your own. (Do we choose our beliefs? - #222 by Johann) Why would anyone do this?
It really suggests that with respect you’re a little out of your depth here and this is the risk of outsourcing your arguments—you end up quoting sources that dismantle your own position, and lacking the clarity to see it.

And while we’re on the topic of not paying attention: you asked me if I’ve “cast aside the blood that bought redemption.” I’ve said repeatedly that I’m not convinced anyone’s blood was needed for anyone’s redemption. I obviously understand that this is minority view around here but as discussed, it is specifically one of the things I remain unconvinced about.
So either you’re not reading what I write, or you’re deliberately misrepresenting me. Or—just maybe—you’re too busy staging rhetorical altar calls to understand what’s actually being said.

You’re not defending the faith. You’re performing it.

And in this performance, the props aren’t working. Your theology demands culpability for unbelief, but both the papers you post argue that belief isn’t chosen.

Your rhetoric demands clarity, but your claims collapse under their own contradictions. If you want to keep this going, do yourself a favour next time: take the time to actually read what you’re pasting.

All the best
Jon

I didn’t ask for a casual shrug or theological side-stepping. I asked you point blank: Have you abandoned Christ, the cross, and His resurrection?

This isn’t the time for polished evasions or sugar-coated pleasantries. Either you’re standing in the light of what Christ accomplished, or you’ve turned away. Either you recognize the blood-soaked victory of Golgotha and the grave-breaking power of the Resurrection, or you’re pretending they’re optional accessories to your life.

So answer plainly. Where do you stand? Because Christ didn’t suffer that brutal cross, shatter the gates of death, and ascend in glory so you could waver in indecision.

This is all or nothing. Truth doesn’t negotiate.

How do you answer?

Johann.

@blindwatchmaker

I heard you loud-&-clear, and I accept your “convincing” that there are at least three states of “belief”; “settled belief”, “settled disbelief”, and the honest & sincere middle state “unconvinced”. I can see that in my own life, and I can even see evidence of the middle state in testimonies in God’s Holy bible. I stand corrected. Thank you. I just grew!

I am still down here in the cave with you, and you keep taking calls on your cell phone from the honest and sincere people up above the rim. I’m not faulting you, I’m not asking you to stop, I’m just patiently waiting for our next plunge into a lower level of discovery. Maybe if I spur your spirit of discovery by telling you I am confident we will soon pass the veins of “subconsciousness”, “human will”, and I am hoping we can reach the cave of “deception” before our flashlights run out of battery. There ARE monsters down there. I have met them.

While we are between calls, let me sum-up. We both believe that our “settled states” (belief or unbelief) might be explained by a piece of new data combined with a bunch of “settled” data to form a new “settled state” There is also an “unsettled state” we are calling “unconvinced”, and this state holds ideas that could go either way. It’s like we have two boxes of “settled states” one full of “settled beliefs” and one full of “settled disbeliefs”. The “unconvinced” ideas do not have a box. I’m suggesting (correct me if I’m wrong) that to get a new idea homed into one or the other “settled” state boxes affords us more comfort than holding on to it in a “unsettled” condition. Agreed? We want to get it settled (this explains why you are here, maybe…)

I can see the vein of “subconscious” just below our feet. It seems it is the subconscious that feeds this “want” to get a thing settled The tools we are skilled with, those of reason, evidence, and tradition are doing their best to help us push this new idea into one of the boxes. Maybe our reason says “look at the settled boxes. Long settled ideas glow when they have some connection to new ones. When your new idea arises, see which box lights up the most. If “settled belief” lights up like a Christmas tree and “settled disbelief” only glows like a firefly, then push it into the box and get on with your life! Gheeesh! (Our reason can be so unreasonably demanding).

If I’m correct, (and I’m often not) our familiar tools (reason, evidence, tradition) present their case to our will, but it is our will that ultimately pushes a new idea into one of the boxes. Our will is our judge, and those unsettled ideas give us no comfort until they are pushed into a box. All of our beliefs and disbeliefs were settled because the appropriate box lit-up sufficiently; our reason pointed to the evidence (or a tradition) to make a solid case, and our subconscious will effectively stamped it “settled”, and pushed it in the proper box. Everything already in the boxes arrived in their “forever home” by this same process. Sure, there is tons of data in those boxes, but they all got their stamp of “settled” by the judge we call our unconscious will; an impatient judge who wants to clear his docket, who hates things to be “unsettled” because it is uncomfortable.

I know we didn’t get much farther down, but we still have plenty of rope, we still have plenty of battery in our flashlights, and I do want to make it to the monsters before you run out of patience, will, or rope.

I can take the lead if you want. But you’re doing fine. I will happily follow as long as you are comfortable. We can go anywhere in the cave you would like to explore.
When we stop for lunch, I can tell you stories of previous expeditions.

Your fellow spelunker
KP

KP

Thanks—and credit to you for being willing to pause, reflect, and adjust. Noted and appreciated as ever. (This is what genuine good faith productive dialogue looks like)

I continuer to enjoy the cave metaphor—even if I’d probably sketch the map a little differently.

I agree there’s something deeply human about wanting to get things “settled.” We prefer cognitive closure. Uncertainty can be uncomfortable (although I have learned to be more comfortable with it and even see the virtue in holding it). And yes, the tools we rely on—reason, evidence, maybe tradition for some—do their best to help us reach conclusions. Sometimes they point clearly in one direction, other times they don’t. But when they don’t, I think the most honest move is just to say so. That’s the state I’m in on a number of things. I’m not pretending to know. I’m just not convinced.

• Why is there something rather than nothing? - Great question. And I don’t know.
• How did life originate on our planet - Great question . And I don’t know (although there are now plausible candidate hypotheses)
• Is there life elsewhere in this vast universe? - Great question. And I don’t know.
(you get the idea..)

Where I’d push back slightly is on the idea that our “will” acts as the judge that ultimately decides which box a belief goes into. That feels like a return to the idea that we choose what to believe—and I’m still not persuaded that’s how belief works. I think the will might have some indirect influence, sure: we can choose what to expose ourselves to, what to reflect on, what conversations to have (as discussed). But I don’t believe we can just decide to believe something any more than we can decide to find something frightening or a joke funny. Those responses emerge from how we’re cognitively and emotionally wired, not from an act of choice.

So if the judge exists, he’s not stamping beliefs because he wants to clear his docket. He’s reacting to evidence, memory, trust, emotion, experience—the whole messy cocktail of things that shape what we find believable. The “unconvinced” state is more than just occasionally uncomfortable—it’s honest.

And sometimes it’s the only defensible position to hold.

Still, I really like the way you’re framing this—especially the idea that the process matters as much as the conclusion. I don’t know if we’ll get all the way to the monsters at the bottom of the cave, but it’s good to know I’ve got a thoughtful companion on the way down.

In my cave the middle levels are where we find insights into how to think about thinking and acceptance of ideas.
I’m hoping in the lower levels we might discover insights into how we think about morality and goodness…

Let’s keep going.
j

HI again Johann

You still haven’t addressed the central issue I raised: the academic paper you attached—presumably to support your claim that unbelief is a moral choice—explicitly argues against that very idea. I read it. Carefully. It rejects doxastic voluntarism, warns against turning belief into performance, and links the attempt to will belief with self-deception. That’s my position—not yours. So unless you can explain why you keep citing sources that dismantle your own argument,you’ve got a serious credibility problem.

Your response to this? Another demand for a yes-or-no allegiance to Christ. (As if that has anything at all to do with what this particular thread is about.)

Let’s clear something up. I haven’t “abandoned” Jesus.
I was never with Jesus. That’s the whole point of this thread. You keep asking questions as if I haven’t made my position on this explicit when I’ve said repeatedly that I’ve simply never been persuaded.

Asking whether I’ve cast aside the cross makes as much sense as asking me you whether you’ve turned your back on Xenu or Poseidon. It’s a category error—and a deeply weird one at this point. Why is it that others in the thread correctly discerned my position within my first few posts but over two hundred posts in and you still seem not to?

Even worse is your accusation that I’m pretending the resurrection is an “optional accessory to my life." That isn’t just wrong—it’s undignified. It implies I’m faking my position, that I actually do believe in the resurrection but am somehow refusing to acknowledge it. That’s not just false, it’s insulting. I’m telling you plainly what my mind and conscience actually hold. You can disagree with my conclusions and think I’m ill informed or mistaken—but you don’t get to tell me what I actually think and call it pretend any more than I could tell you you don’t actually believe and accuse you of not being genuine in your faith.

You also seem to interpret my “unconvinced” status as indecision. Fence-sitting. I get why some might see it that way, but it reveals a serious misunderstanding. Remaining unconvinced doesn’t mean being unsure or unstable—it means withholding assent because the evidence isn’t there. It’s not a halfway point between belief and disbelief. It’s a principled position in its own right. And until a claim reaches the threshold of credibility, that’s where I’ll remain. Not wavering or on the fence - just unconvinced.

You say this is “all or nothing,” and insist that truth doesn’t negotiate. Fine. Great. But that’s just a poetic declaration - not a cogent argument for your claims. And it still does nothing to support your claim that belief is chosen or that unbelief is blameworthy. (I’m reminded again of your previous contradictory statements that you’re not saying unbelief = bad, just that those who are unconvinced are ‘culpable’ .)

You’ve asserted voluntarism again and again but you still haven’t made a case for it other than pasting in lists of Bible verses.

I came here to explore opinions on whether belief is voluntary —and what it means morally if it’s not. That’s the conversation I’ve been trying to have. You’ve chosen not to engage with that at all. Instead, we get drama, declarations, and rhetorical altar calls.

Compare all this self-serious hysterical hand waving to my exchange with KP. We don’t agree, but we’re actually listening to each other. Responding to each other’s points. Building a conversation in good faith. No misrepresentations. No theatrics. Just the honest work of trying to understand.

That kind of genuine exchange is so much more worthwhile than all this silliness.
—Jon

@blindwatchmaker

You said:

Yes, I see this from your point of view. Thinking about what you have told me is what prompted me to suggest it may actually be our “subconscious will” that is deciding into which box to put new ideas. As your thoughts caused me to reflect on my own beliefs, and how I might have arrived at each one, I allowed myself to feel the uneasiness of holding an idea outside one of the settled boxes. You say you “have learned to be more comfortable with it and even see the virtue in holding it” and I respect that. Especially if you mean it is more virtuous to hold it as “unconvinced” rather than just shoving into a box so you don’t have to think about it, or so you feel less unsettled. I think that is virtuous as well. But I still can’t shake the “unsettled” feeling of being “unconvinced”. And if it feels unsettled, there must be a corresponding urge (need) to settle it. You can surely just wait for more evidence, and that seems better than impetuous impatience to me. Or you can, like you are obviously doing, actively search for more evidence. I think it is more than brave that you have accepted my invitation to search in the depths of this seemingly bottomless pit.

You said:

Great. That’s what I’m hoping too. I know you have already thought about what you might find in this middle level. I also know you are remaining honest enough to accept what you find, even if it is not what you expected.

Continuing down. Let’s talk about how former things we once held as unsettled eventually made it into one of the settled boxes. And what level of confidence do we have that all of our things in the “Settled beliefs” box are true, and all of the things in our “settled disbelief” box are false. Is there a degree of uncertainty even connected to both “settled” boxes, or is certainty what makes them settled?

I know our descent has slowed a bit, but I’m hoping our willingness to take our time produces fruit.

Watch out for bat guano.

KP

KP,

I think your idea of the “subconscious will” has something to it. I’m still cautious about the word will, because it tends to suggest conscious agency—and that’s kind of the whole debate here. But I agree: there’s definitely some kind of internal pressure to get things settled. That pressure doesn’t always come from reason either. Sometimes it’s emotional, or social, or just the discomfort of uncertainty. And we can mistake that inner pressure for a reason to believe. That’s where people end up shoving things into boxes just to make the unease stop.

But as you say, there’s something valuable about not doing that. About being willing to stay in that place for a while. I’ve come to see being unconvinced not as a sign of indecision, but as a mark of honesty. If the evidence isn’t there, why pretend it is?

Just as important, I think, is being willing to take things back out of the settled boxes. That’s a big part of intellectual integrity—being open to re-examining things you thought were nailed down. Sometimes that ends up reinforcing them. Other times, you realize they don’t belong there anymore. Either way, the willingness to go back and check is a sign of strength, not weakness.
I’ve definitely experienced this before.
It can be unsettling, scary even. But I’d like to think I’d always have the courage to reexamine even cherished ideas with intellectual honesty.

One other thing I’d add—picking up on something you mentioned and something I said to Johann too—is that being unconvinced isn’t just a stop on the way to belief or disbelief. Sometimes, it’s the right place to stay. If a claim doesn’t meet the bar, then withholding belief isn’t indecisive—it’s responsible. Not “I can’t decide,” but “I haven’t been shown enough yet.” That’s not fence-sitting. That’s just being real about where things stand.

And yeah, your question about how confident we are in what’s already in the boxes is spot on. Some beliefs probably landed there more because they were familiar than because they were tested. They just feel settled, even if we never really examined them. So checking the contents now and then isn’t a bad idea. Not because we’re trying to live in doubt, but because we care about getting things right.
I know I appeal to reason and rationality a lot but it’s important to realise that humans are actually far more driven by emotion than reason most of the time.

Anyway, I’m glad we’re still descending. Slowly, maybe—but I’d rather go slow and see clearly than race ahead and miss things. And yes, I’m ready for bat guano if it comes to that.

KP

While our worldviews are very different, and there’s clearly much we disagree on, I want you to know—above all—that I see your humanity and your decency.

You are, to my mind, the embodiment of 2 Timothy 2:24–25 (some of your colleagues may have missed church that day), and I have little doubt that if our paths crossed in real life, I’d enjoy spending time with you in friendly, respectful disagreement.

As I mentioned earlier, I have a sense that my time in this thread may soon be approaching a natural endpoint. Of course, I’m still open to descending further into the cave if we keep finding worthwhile things down there—but before that moment comes, I wanted to say thank you.

Thank you for listening. For giving me things to think about. For your vivid metaphors. And mostly for engaging in such a thoughtful, gracious, and constructive way.

Sometimes I wonder what God (if he exists) might make of exchanges like this. I suspect he’d look at your approach—with its empathy, humility, and emotional intelligence—and be pleased.

With sincere thanks,
Jon

@Blindwatchmaker

Thank you for the kind words. I too appreciate the chance to speak with you, and to glean insights from your personal studies and experiences. I’m excited to discuss with you, as one who has studied the subject, your insights on how we think about thinking. I’m hoping to absorb some valuable clarity here.

I’m not concerned, for the time being, that we label the judge that pushes our unsettled ideas into settled boxes. I concede that his name is not Will, not “Conscious Will” anyway.He is a decisive arbiter who is moved by advocates bringing their arguments before the bench. I think these skilled advocates exist, but as you have alluded to, the force that moves the judge “to settle” seems to come not only from historical data, but from the influence of a team of clever and elite barristers.

When I was convinced of the concept that bees make honey, it seemed like an easy assent. When I investigate what made that quick and easy, I discover that I really had no reason to disbelieve it; counsel for the defense did not show up for court. There was no real emotional reaction to the idea. Also, there was no predictive caution that suggested believing bees make honey will change the way I will have to live my life from now on.

When I was confronted with a concept like, “matter was created by personal intelligence”, it was not only the “Settled Belief” and Settled Unbelief” boxes that both began lighting up; what I am calling my “data reaction”. As you suggested, I also experienced an “emotional reaction”; an overwhelming “feeling” that arises from considering the concept. This “emotional reaction” was attempted to be shouted down by another voice in the room, a rational voice that I’m calling a “predictive reaction” because it suggests to the judge how my life will necessarily have to change if I adopt this concept. Nobody likes change (generally speaking) The “settled disbelief” box lit up, contributing what it could, and the “settled belief” box was also lighting up brightly. The “data reaction” brought before the court data like how modern quantum physics has probed into the building blocks of atoms and quarks and essentially admit all matter is made up of strings of “light”, which is coincidentally the same thing the Egyptian prince Moses said 4000 years ago was revealed to him as God’s first act of Creation. The judge seemed unmoved. The “emotional reaction” brought a deluge of Biblical proportions. overwhelming the room with Love, Fatherhood, acceptance, forgiveness, care, cleansing, etc. The “predictive” barrister kept having to dance about and move around to keep from getting his wingtips soiled by this rising flood of emotion.

Hearings like mine usually take place in the blink-of-an-eye, and behind closed doors, away from my conscious observation or as the attorneys say “in camera”. In my case there was unbalanced regard given to the cleverest barrister; my “emotional reaction” overwhelmed my “predictive reaction” which concentrated all his efforts on overcoming and silencing the normally formidable “data reaction”. What (or who) wrote this strong emotional argument, I leave up to you to decide. There may be other barristers who get called in as expert witnesses to serious cases like this one. I don’t know; you would know some of them better than I, for sure. I am only speaking of the barristers that seem to show up to every serious hearing. I’m wondering if, in your personal case, none of the arguments have been able to move the judge to strike the gavel, and so the hearing is continued until such time as more evidence can be presented or more testimony can be acquired. (Unconvinced). Since this, and all hearings, are held in camera, as it were, we can be aware of the process, but are only consciously privy to the outcome. It may bring some comfort to the “unsettled” feeling of a concept to think of it as a hearing that is ongoing, and not one that has been relegated to the dismal unsolved pile.

If it is getting difficult to see down here, but I am prepared. I brought a strong light that I am keeping ready in my backpack. If it’s getting difficult to breath down here in this dank atmosphere, I understand. I brought some O2 just in case we need it. If you are beginning to fear the monsters below, I’m sympathetic. I’m also prepared for them too. Looking about the cave I’m reminded of what Westley said to Buttercup regarding the fire-swamp: ““Well, I’m not saying I’d like to build a summer home here, but the trees are actually quite lovely.” (If you’re not a “Princess Bride” fan, this quote will not mean much to you)
Onward and Downward.
KP

Both are true: God enables us to believe AND we choose biblical beliefs by the power of the Spirit through Jesus’ victory. That’s why we can claim no credit.

Eph 2:4 But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us,
Eph 2:5 even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved—
Eph 2:6 and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus,
Eph 2:7 so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus.
Eph 2:8 For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God,
Eph 2:9 not a result of works, so that no one may boast.
Eph 2:10 For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.

Thanks KP.

Liking the courtroom metaphor.
I can see how it might help make sense of the different pressures we feel when confronted with big ideas. There’s not just data being presented—there’s emotion, memory, past experience. For me, I’ve come to trust that process over time: let the arguments come, let the emotional and rational voices speak, and don’t rush the verdict. And just to be clear, I apply that same approach across the board. To all claims about anything. Some cases close quickly. Others stay open. But the process is the same—fair, cautious, and driven by the best evidence I can find.

And yes, these hearings actually don’t happen out in the open. They take place in the background, below our awareness. I would def agree.

But I think we have to be careful not to draw the wrong conclusions from this. It’s easy to assume that emotional weight in a belief-forming process is somehow a flaw in the system—as if it’s evidence of bias or resistance. But emotions are part of how we process the world. They’re not some separate contaminant—they’re part of the evidence too. And while they can skew things, they can also be revealing.

Also—and this might be important down the line—we now know from cognitive science that emotional responses in the brain are typically automatic, involuntary, and deeply rooted in our neurobiology, much like hormonal releases like cortisol (under stress) or oxytocin (during bonding moments).

The amygdala, a key structure in the brain’s emotional processing system, can trigger emotional reactions beforethe prefrontal cortex (the rational part) even has a chance to assess what’s happening. This means the feeling comes before the thinking.

This means that even if someone does have an emotional reaction to a religious claim—or any claim—that doesn’t mean they chose to feel it. That reaction isn’t some kind of moral failure or resistance; it’s just part of how our brains work. In fact, the presence of that emotional component probably makes the belief-forming process even less subject to conscious control.

(I’ve taken the liberty of attaching a page from my book on how beliefs are formed and processed in the brain.)

So when I say I’m unconvinced of something, I’m not saying I’ve weighed things up and decided I don’t want it to be true, or that I’m resisting some reality I don’t like. I’m saying I’ve genuinely looked at the arguments and evidence and found them insufficient. That’s not a rejection—it’s a lack of conviction. And unless or until something changes, that’s where I stay. Not rebelling. Not running. Still open but just unconvinced.

And honestly, I think that’s a completely legitimate place to be. Maybe even the most honest one.

Thanks again for keeping this exchange thoughtful and grounded.
And I LOVE The Princess Bride! (Still remember the beautiful score by Mark Knopfler.)

As Westley put it: ‘We are men of action. Lies do not become us.’
That applies to more than just sword fights.
J

Hi Bruce, thanks for your reply.

I understand this perspective—it’s a version of compatibilism where belief is seen as both a divine gift and a human choice, enabled by grace. But from where I sit, that doesn’t solve the core problem. It just re-labels it.

If belief is only “chosen” because God enables it, then it’s not a free choice in any meaningful sense. You can’t simultaneously say, “we choose it,” and “we can take no credit for it.” That’s like saying I climbed a mountain and then adding, “but only because someone else picked me up, carried me, and moved my legs.” At some point, we have to ask: is that really my climb?

More importantly, this theology still implies that those who don’t believe—people like me—weren’t enabled. That God didn’t grant them the gift. And yet somehow, they’re still held responsible for the absence of belief. That’s the part I can’t square with any coherent notion of justice. If belief is truly a gift, then how can anyone be blamed for not receiving it?

@Blindwatchmaker.

Jon, you sneaky son-of-a barber. I can’t believe you had this map (graphic) in your backpack the whole time, and you are now just bringing it out. I was sure this was not your first spelunk, but I didn’t know you had a detailed map. Your map almost exactly overlays my own; it even has “boxes”, only some of the boxes on my map have different names, based on the courtroom metaphor we have been using. That is not an issue. Also, on my map there are more feedback loops, but I doubt those are very important either. You are amazing. You really HAVE done your homework. I Love your map. It really helps.

A short germane story: This week, I was speaking to my wife about another person, and I said, out-loud, “I think she just wants to believe that about herself”, and I was immediately reminded of the conversation you and I are having. The person is a self-proclaimed activist with what appears to be a savior complex. Most of her “activism” takes place while sitting with her laptop beside the pool of her 2.5-million-dollar home, ranting about how others are not doing enough! She was suggesting how she was “risking her life”, “getting involved”, and “making a difference”, although the results of all her “rising, risking and ranting” does not seem to have even wiggled the needle on the issue. My point is not about her, but about me; my point is about what I heard myself say. Was I able to say “I think she just wants to believe that about herself” because I think that’s possible, and do I think it’s possible because I subconsciously know I want to believe things about myself; about my own life or character, and I’m willing to “stack the deck” in my mind so I can believe them? Can I want to believe something enough to intentionally (consciously or subconsciously) deceive myself? Or do beliefs I want to be true, against prevailing data, always remain in a “special box” of "beliefs I want to be true but know they are not"? Or, can my own cognitive dissonance “feedback” sufficiently into the stream of belief development, passing through my compelling need for comfort, to form a “settled belief” that I know contradicts reality? (This subtle feedback loop does not seem to be on the map). Or have I now entered the arena of psychopathy? I think you probably understand this better than I do. We don’t need to talk about psychopathy.

You said:

That tracks perfectly with what we have been talking about.

You said re.“emotion”:

I, for one do not subscribe to the idea that emotional input is little more than a bother, or a flaw in the system. I’m not sure if you are familiar with a body of work written by a notable a Swiss physician named Paul Tournier. He would read your book with great interest, and also have some erudite input too. I bring him up here to point out, as an old sage, one of the latest books he wrote was a 130 page treatise called “The Gift of Feeling”. In this book he explains the important role of the affective contribution to personhood. He, in his own way, explains how the “feeling comes before the thinking”, as you say. I see the importance of the affective contribution to the development of settled beliefs. I remember how some of my “settled beliefs” about emotions (feelings) were formed after having read his little book. (I have two copies if you would like one).

— 5000 char. limit. a little more below------

You said:

Yes, I agree with all this; many things in my “already settled belief” box light up when I read this statement. The reason we are two scientists in the cave instead of just one is what we each bought into the cave with us. You, a strong dependency on physical data, and me a strong dependency on metaphysical revelation. The two do not disagree, but compliment each other. What you have discovered, and we both agree are complex electro-chemo chain of reactions in the brain, I also see as undeniable evidence (data) of intricate intelligent design.

You said:

And I keep saying, I agree. I don’t mean to be offensive, but you seem VERY protective of this idea. I don’t dispute any of it; I accept its legitimacy, I accept your honesty, I do not think you are “rebelling” or “running”, and I believe you are “still open”, If I didn’t I’d take my lunch and climb out of this deep hole-in-the-ground.

I have a question for you about one possible role of emotions in the development of a belief.
If I, as a child, have an irrational emotional fear that there are monsters in my closet, does not my survival brain create a counterbalancing irrational settled belief that my bedcovers somehow magically protect me? If similar monsters are suspected of being under my bed, do I not create an ad-hoc settled belief that they cannot get to me if I am on top of the bed, one that assures me that I’m only in peril if I dangle my legs over the side?

An extension of this thought might be: If I have an emotional fear (aversion) to the idea that I have been created by a superbeing, and therefore I am logically subject to this ominous “other”, could I not subconsciously create an irrational defense; a counteracting-belief that rejecting the existence of that which I fear will make said fear impotent; like the protection of my bedcovers, or how a two-year-old hides from his parents by closing his own eyes?

Is there something to this observation, or am I looking for something that is not there?

I’m studying your map for indications of where to look.

KP