Thanks brother @KPuff
Johann.
Thanks brother @KPuff
Johann.
KP, again, I appreciate the tone of your message. Your warmth and respect come through, and I want to acknowledge that. You definitely sound like someone I’d love to spend time with. It’s obvious youre speaking from a place of care, and I don’t take that lightly. So thank you.
But I do need to push back.
You frame my position as though I’ve constructed a strawman—a grotesque distortion of the gospel—and that I’m valiantly but mistakenly “tilting at windmills.” You suggest the God I’m criticizing doesn’t exist, because that God would never command someone to breathe underwater. The implication is that I’ve misunderstood, or been misled, or am too clever for my own good.
But here’s the problem: what I’m critiquing isn’t some distorted caricature of Christianity. It’s what I’ve actually been told by Christians.Repeatedly. Here In this very thread. I was told belief is required. I asked what happens to those who want to believe but can’t. I was told that wanting isn’t enough—that I must surrender, submit, believe. I was told that if I remain unconvinced, then I have rejected God. That, somehow, disbelief is itself rebellion. That it can only be explained in terms of a turning away- a hardened heart. This is a gross and offensive mischaracterisation. It’s also simply NOT true.
It’s as ridiculous as me suggesting that someone is not actually being honest about the reasons for their faith and actually the real reasons or motives are nefarious and different to what they’re saying. I would never malign someone in that way.
What you call a “faux-gospel” is being defended—vigorously—by your fellow believers. So if I’m tilting at windmills, then someone built them. I didn’t invent this moral tension—I encountered it. And I’m not asking gotcha questions. I’m grappling with something real. A vision of doctrine that believers repeat to me almost every day.
I don’t question that your own vision of the gospel is kinder, gentler, more infused with love. But here’s the thing: you don’t get to brush off the ugly versions others preach as “not the real gospel” and move on. If your theology leads you to reject that cruel logic, I commend that. But then join me in calling it out. Don’t ask me to pretend it’s not there. Explain to Johann where he has it wrong.
You said something striking: that surrender is easy for the inferior one. I want to sit with that for a second. Because implicit in that phrase is the whole tragedy of this system. It’s one where you are asked to see yourself as so fundamentally broken, so incapable, so unworthy, that the only virtuous posture is abasement. Where basic human dignity is pride. Where honest doubt is rebellion. Where even someone who seeks with genuine openness but simply cannot believe is told they have shut the door. And that my simply failing to find it any more convincing than you find Islam is a moral failure.
You say my “logic can’t hold” because it leads to contradictions. But I’m not arguing abstract logic here. I’m talking about real people. People who, like me, opened their hearts and were met with silence. People who were told that their inability to believe was sin. People who are now wrestling with shame, fear, and spiritual injury. Still haunted by threats of punishment for their honesty.
You can say I didn’t understand the gospel. But I was told it. I read it. I tried praying. I listened. I hoped. And still, nothing happened. You can choose to see that as rebellion. But I ask you—genuinely—what would you have me do? Fake it? Pretend belief I don’t actually hold, just to qualify for grace?
You say “the door is open.” But if that door only opens for those who are able to believe—and if belief is not something we can choose—then it is a door that opens for some and not others. And in that case, my moral challenge stands. Because a door that only opens for the chosen few, while claiming to be universally open, is not good news. It’s a trap claiming to be a welcome.
So no, I’m not here to win. I’m here as I said because even to this day after decades of thinking and speaking about this, I still care. About truth. About decency. About the people hurt by a system that tells them their doubt is damnable. If you care about those things too—then we’re not enemies. We’re allies with different convictions.
But I won’t yield to a system I find morally incoherent. I can’t pretend it makes sense just to keep the peace. And I won’t confuse warmth of tone with soundness of argument. Your kindness is real. But so is my concern.
Where exactly am I wrong? Please tell me plainly. You seem to want to push me into using moralistic or philosophical reasoning. William Lane Craig and Ravi Zacharias would have gladly met you there, but I will not. My foundation is not polished rhetoric or clever syllogisms. My ground is the Scriptures. I do not lean on my own intellect to justify the truth. I live by what I preach. I strive to walk the talk, not merely talk the walk.
What concerns me is that you have chosen to set aside the Scriptures and instead desire to argue on the basis of philosophy and moral sentiment. That shift reveals a deeper issue. If the words of God are not sufficient, then no reasoning built on man’s thoughts will hold firm either.
Doxastic voluntarism - Wikipedia.
Doxastic Voluntarism
Doxastic voluntarism is the philosophical doctrine according to which people have voluntary control over their beliefs. Philosophers in the debate about doxastic voluntarism distinguish between two kinds of voluntary control. The first is known as direct voluntary control and refers to acts which are such that if a person chooses to perform them, they happen immediately. For instance, a person has direct voluntary control over whether he or she is thinking about his or her favorite song at a given moment. The second is known as indirect voluntary control and refers to acts which are such that although a person lacks direct voluntary control over them, he or she can cause them to happen if he or she chooses to perform some number of other, intermediate actions. For instance, a person untrained in music has indirect voluntary control over whether he or she will play a melody on a violin. Corresponding to this distinction between two kinds of voluntary control, philosophers distinguish between two kinds of doxastic voluntarism. Direct doxastic voluntarism claims that people have direct voluntary control over at least some of their beliefs. Indirect doxastic voluntarism, however, supposes that people have indirect voluntary control over at least some of their beliefs, for example, by doing research and evaluating evidence.
This article offers an introductory explanation of the nature of belief, the nature of voluntary control, the reasons for the consensus regarding indirect doxastic voluntarism, the reasons for the disagreements regarding direct doxastic voluntarism, and the practical implications for the debate about doxastic voluntarism in ethics, epistemology, political theory, and the philosophy of religion.
Table of Contents
Introduction
Indirect Doxastic Voluntarism
Direct Doxastic Voluntarism
Arguments against Direct Doxastic Voluntarism
The Classic Argument
The Empirical Belief Argument
The Intentional Acts Argument
The Contingent Inability Argument
Arguments for Direct Doxastic Voluntarism
The Observed Ability Argument
The Action Analogy Argument
Significance: Ethical, Epistemological, Political, and Religious
Conclusion
References and Further Reading
Johann.
Ahh, dear blindwatchmaker.
I’ll try to concisely respond to two of your assertions:
I have already said:
I cannot refute your unpleasant encounters with Christianity, neither can I defend them. I can’t defend them in any way other than I would also defend you; that we all (humans) suffer from the dark drapery of ignorance. You ask me to join you in your war against that ignorance, and I have to confess it would be hypocritical of me to enjoin a war in which I have been, and probably still am a guilty terrorist. It may not land on you, but my struggle is not against flesh-and-blood, but against domains, against influences, against the purveyors of the darkness of this age, against spiritual hosts of wickedness in spiritual realms. I am like you, a victim of an insidious misinformation campaign; we share in this struggle, as do those against whom you find yourself at war. I consider them, much as I consider you, comrades; that we are all trying to do our best to represent reality as we know it. It’s your internal war you wage, not mine. I don’t fault you for it, nor do I attempt to dissuade you from it. You are not my charge. I have a different assignment, not to abandoned you to be bloodied on the battlefield, but to assist the war effort the best I can in the assignment I have been given; to speak the truth in love, to testify of the truth I have been given, to work diligently to train the raw recruits, and to do everything I can to unfoot (destabilize) the strategies of the real enemy. You are not my enemy, even if I am yours.
I sure understand this, I’ve felt the hair raise on my nape same as you. But what if God actually IS much higher than you or I, would we not logically “look up”? What if He were so much higher than what, to me, has always felt like “basic human dignity” that it now actually feels to me like “pride”? What if I now see God as so Holy (perfect) that looking at His Holiness causes the reassuring feeling that I always took for my “honest doubt” to now begin to actually feel like it was truly a lower form of rebellion all along. This is my testimony. I believe your testimony, now try to believe mine, even if you can’t imagine it to be true. The reason God tells us that our coming to reality involves abasement is because that is reality. God is higher, He is Holy, He is unclouded by misinformation or deceit, he is not changeable, ductile, or reducible as we are. We are actually lower, and fighting against that reality is fighting against ourselves. God does not leave us with the disinformation, but, in Love, reveals to us our true state; created lower beings in need of a savior.
From my foxhole I look up. Looking up I see you, standing tall, well armored, tirelessly fighting, noble, etc., but when I look past you, when I look way way way way past you, much further up than I thought heaven could expand I see God, and I realize, we are not just lower, we are both infinitely lower, and I am abased. God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble. I am a simple recipient of His grace.
Look up
KP
Johann, here’s where I think you’ve gone wrong.
You say your foundation is Scripture, not “philosophy or moral sentiment.” But Scripture itself makes moral claims. It says God is good. It says His judgments are just. And it invites us to trust that — not merely to recite it.
But trust is not blind repetition. If you say, “God is just,” and I ask, “What do you mean by just?” — and your answer is simply, “Whatever God does is just,” then you’re no longer using the word “just” in any meaningful way. You’ve made it synonymous with “whatever happens.”
That’s not reverence. That’s moral abdication.
You accuse me of leaning on my own intellect. But in fact, I’m appealing to the very moral faculties God gave us. If our conscience cries out at the idea of someone being condemned for sincerely failing to be persuaded — and we smother that voice rather than examine it — then we’re not being faithful. We’re being afraid.
I’m not asking you to surrender Scripture. I’m asking you to consider whether your interpretation of it aligns with the God you believe is both truth and love.
If your only reply is, “Don’t question it — it’s written,” then you haven’t shown that it’s just. You’ve only shown that it’s powerful.
And as I’ve said before: power and justice are not the same thing.
Thank you for posting that summary of doxastic voluntarism — it’s actually very familiar territory for me.
Just so you’re aware, I’ve written a full-length book on this very subject. The core argument of my book is that belief is not a matter of direct voluntary control, and that the moral systems which treat it as such — particularly those that threaten punishment for disbelief — are profoundly unjust.
I appreciate that your post lays out the basic categories, including the distinction between direct and indirect control. That distinction is central to my treatment as well. The key ethical point, though — and one I’d love to hear your response to — is this:
Even if belief can be influenced indirectly (by study, openness, etc.), that still doesn’t make it a voluntary act in the morally relevant sense. We are not free to believe at will. And if belief is involuntary, then condemning someone for not believing becomes, at best, deeply problematic — and at worst, morally grotesque.
If you’d like, I’m happy to share more of the book’s argument. But please do know: I haven’t just Googled this. I’ve lived it, researched it, written it, and thought very seriously about its implications for faith and justice.
Thanks KP. I do hear the sincerity in your voice, and I appreciate your willingness to engage with both empathy and vulnerability. I don’t doubt for a second that you’ve experienced something real and transformative. And for the record—I don’t see you as the enemy. Not at all. You’ve shown more grace and generosity of spirit than many others I’ve engaged with, and I respect that deeply.
But I do want to be honest about what troubles me.
You’ve described a God who is so holy, so high, so “other,” that even honest doubt—born of openhearted seeking—must ultimately be reinterpreted as rebellion. You may not intend to frame it that way, but that’s the system you’re defending. The only acceptable posture, in this view, is complete surrender—the abandonment of personal dignity, the internalization of unworthiness, and the acceptance that even sincere moral effort counts for nothing without abasement.
That’s not a rescue mission. It’s a system that makes self-negation a prerequisite for grace. It asks people to see their own decency, their own conscience, even their earnest attempts to understand, as prideful obstacles to truth.
That’s not just “hard teaching.” It’s a worldview in which goodness is only goodness if it admits it isn’t. And where being unconvinced—even after real seeking—is still treated, however gently, as culpable.
I get that this system feels righteous from the inside. But from the outside, it just looks like gaslighting. It’s painful to see obviously good people embrace and perpetuate something so horrible.
I’m not asking you to abandon your faith or testimony. I’m just asking you to consider this: maybe—just maybe—some of us aren’t proud or rebellious or deceived. Maybe we’re just unconvinced. And if God exists, and he’s just, he’ll know the difference.
Neither of these concepts is the same as choosing to act as if some idea is true. The choice to act a certain way does not require being convinced of anything in particular. For the same reason, doxastic voluntarism does not require a person to act in any particular way on the basis of what he or she “believes.” Whether or not a person behaves in a way consistent with his or her beliefs is a separate question. Putting these points together, we distinguish between the intellectual “belief” being referred to by doxastic voluntarism and the spiritual “belief” referred to in the Bible. Scripture’s presentation of “belief” implies trust and faithfulness, whereas the doxastic concept is purely abstract.
Philosophers generally reject the concept of direct doxastic voluntarism. The idea that one can simply “flip a switch” in order to accept an idea as true runs contrary to both experience and common sense. It would be tempting to argue that direct doxastic voluntarism is also unbiblical, based on the idea of predestination. Particularly according to Reformed interpretations, the idea that a person has the power to believe or not believe, entirely on his own power, is false. However, keep in mind that these ideas deal in distinct meanings of the word belief. The Bible speaks of those who seem, intellectually, to accept certain ideas but do not express the submissive, saving “belief” relevant to spiritual matters (see James 2:19; Matthew 7:21–23).
In contrast, indirect doxastic voluntarism is more widely considered to be true. This interpretation implies that people cannot choose what they believe, but they can choose whether or not they will subject their beliefs to scrutiny. The most common analogy of this concept is that of learning to play a musical instrument. A person cannot simply “choose” to play a musical instrument well. However, he can choose to take lessons, knowing that will lead in the right direction. He can also choose which instruments to pursue and which to leave alone. Applied to choosing beliefs, a person can—indirectly—select what to believe through investigation and lack of investigation.
Indirect doxastic voluntarism seems to fit well with the Bible’s approach to faith and (spiritual) belief. Scripture indicates that we are expected to scrutinize our own beliefs (2 Corinthians 13:5), to investigate what we are told (Acts 17:11), and to submit to the truth we find (John 5:39–40). While the Bible suggests that saving faith requires an act of God (John 6:44), it also indicates there is sufficient evidence in human experience for people to be held accountable for seeking the truth (Psalm 19:1; Matthew 7:7–8). As a result, the Bible has an extremely rational basis for saying that all men are “without excuse” (Romans 1:18–20). According to Scripture, people are responsible for what they believe, even if they cannot arbitrarily “choose” those beliefs. This, more or less, is exactly what indirect doxastic voluntarism implies.
This conclusion, once again, should be taken with the understanding that Scripture distinguishes between what a person accepts in his or her mind versus what he or she trusts and acts on in the heart. The concepts are similar, but doxastic voluntarism does not refer to exactly the same thing as the Bible’s concept of “belief.”
Only a minority of philosophers reject all forms of doxastic voluntarism. According to these opinions, intellectual beliefs are completely involuntary; even the choice to seek out information is an unintended consequence of a person’s pre-existing state of mind. Rejection of doxastic voluntarism is more common among those who favor a strongly deterministic worldview. This approach could also be considered compatible with the more extreme versions of divine determinism, but this (again) is a minority view. Practically speaking, there is little value to such an approach, since human experience requires the assumption that we can and do change the opinions of others.
Scripturally speaking, the two main interpretations of doxastic voluntarism have to be answered separately. Direct doxastic voluntarism is not as easily squared with the Bible as indirect doxastic voluntarism. The Bible suggests the ability of human beings to seek, search, and question and affirms our responsibility to do so. But the Bible does not suggest we have an unlimited control over our own minds; therefore, indirect doxastic voluntarism would appear to be the more biblically sound approach. A total rejection of doxastic voluntarism, to the point of absolute determinism, is not only scripturally weak but unlivable in practice.
Yes?
@Blindwatchmaker
I would like to answer your question, but i would like it, if you could consider the fact that ur question has a complicated answer, and thus i cannot say a simple “yes” or a simple “no”, and i dont have answers beyond this point, thats a normal human limitation, so pardon me on that..and yeah im running out of ideas.
@Blindwatchmaker @Johann
5.Eschatological clarity
Ok, u say Eschatological clarity is a “dodge”, arguing it fails to address present moral concerns. This mistakes human epistemic limits (Kantian finitude, Critique of Pure Reason, A51/B75). If justice serves a teleological purpose, its full intelligibility may require a broader temporal horizon, not an evasion but due to reason’s context bound nature. The demand for immediate clarity assumes epistemic omnipotence, this is CONTRADICTS YOUR skepticism ( be careful we are on hot ground, u can modify ur answer, and pls remain in context, i would like to align to specific view of your thoughts, but if you change ur views in the middle, i wont be able to catch it..so pls u can look into it..it would be helpful)
An axiological teleology ensures justice aligns with rational ends, revealed in a future state, without negating present coherence.
Can u tell: If human reason is finite, how can you demand exhaustive moral clarity now without contradicting your own epistemic humility?
6.Skepticism
U talk about the system of circularity, claming that defining justice as God’s nature “bulldozes” morality. This again ignores the transcendental argument (adapted from Van Til, secularized) that moral reasoning presupposes an objective normative gound, which human intuition cannot provide without begging its own authority. Your intuitive morality, lacking a foundation is contingent and non-binding, unable to sustain your critique. This issue here is your skepticism’s incoherence
Can u tell: If morality is intuitive and contingent, how do you condemn divine justice as objectively wrong without presupposing an absolute standard?
7. Belief as Volitional
Ok, ur likening the system to Pascal’s Wager, arguing that belief is not conditional and condemning honest doubt is unjust. Your incompatibilist view ignores doxastic voluntarism (Clifford, the Ethics of Belief): belief formation involves rational choices, engaging or dismissing evidence. Justice evaluates engagement with rational cues, not forced assent. Your Santa analogy..idk it doesn’t work I think. Your claim that a just God would distinguish rebellion from doubt assumes his own moral standard and this begs the question.
Can u tell: If belief formation is wholly involuntary, how is any epistemic stance, including your skepticism, morally or rationally accountable
Appreciate the lightning-fast reply, Johann. Honestly, I’m in awe — the speed with which you synthesized a textbook-level account of doxastic voluntarism, spanning Stanford-grade distinctions, Aquinas, Calvin, Romans, and philosophical consensus data, all in what seemed like about nine minutes… Anyway, I’ll respond on the merits.
You correctly distinguish direct from indirect doxastic voluntarism. That’s important, because the key moral objection here has always been about direct belief — the kind supposedly required for salvation. The idea that someone can just decide to believe, flip a mental switch, and assent to a proposition they’re not convinced of is both psychologically implausible and philosophically rejected. You admit as much — and so do most philosophers.
But you pivot quickly to indirect voluntarism, implying that since we can choose to investigate, reflect, or expose ourselves to new ideas, we are morally accountable for what we end up believing. And that’s where your reasoning stumbles.
Here’s the problem: Influence is not control.
Yes, we can read, reflect, pray, surrender, question. Many of us have. But the outcome of that process — what finally persuades us or doesn’t — isn’t something we choose. You wouldn’t morally condemn someone for failing to master the violin despite years of lessons. Why, then, condemn someone for failing to become convinced despite sincerely seeking?
When you bring in biblical categories — saying that “belief” in Scripture is about trust and surrender — I agree, but that doesn’t help your case. Because you can’t trust what you don’t think is real. You can’t surrender to someone you’re not convinced is there. All roads lead back to the same sticking point: salvation depends on a belief that cannot be willed into existence — and that makes moral condemnation incoherent.
Finally, your claim that “only a minority of philosophers reject all forms of doxastic voluntarism” is misleading. Almost all reject direct voluntarism, and even indirect voluntarism — as a basis for moral blame — is far from settled. You make it sound like the burden is on me to explain why unbelief shouldn’t be punished. But I’d suggest the burden is on you to explain why it should — especially when it’s not chosen.
You are advocating for something cruel and ugly with a distrurbing certainty that it’s moral and righteous.
This isn’t rebellion. It’s rational engagement with a system that claims to be just but punishes people for what they cannot control. If your response is simply “God says so,” that may settle it for you — but not for those of us who believe justice means something deeper than obedience.
Here’s the problem.
Your real issue is not intellectual uncertainty, but a refusal to submit to what God has revealed. You have already stated that you do not accept the Bible as unquestionable authority, so when Scripture is quoted, you treat it as irrelevant. But that is the very heart of the problem. If God has spoken, rejecting His Word is not neutral — it is rebellion.
You say it is circular to appeal to Scripture, yet you offer no justification for your own moral standards. You condemn divine justice while offering no objective ground for moral judgment. You assume a higher bench from which to critique the Judge of all the earth, but Scripture already answered this posture. Who are you, O man, to answer back to God?
You also insist that unbelief cannot be blameworthy unless belief is under your direct voluntary control. That idea is foreign to the Bible. The issue is not that belief is a mechanical switch you failed to flip. The issue is that truth was set before you, and you refused it. The light came, but men loved darkness. That refusal is not excusable — it is moral guilt.
When you say that God’s justice is merely power pretending to be virtue, you are not speaking from philosophical neutrality. You are charging the Almighty with injustice. That accusation is not the fruit of honest inquiry. It is pride dressed up in academic robes.
You also try to moralize against divine judgment while denying that there is any moral absolute to begin with. If there is no ultimate truth, no transcendent right and wrong, then your complaints about what is cruel or unjust collapse into personal taste. You want to condemn God from a position of moral authority, while denying that any real moral authority exists. That is not reasoned argument. That is contradiction.
Finally, you seem deeply offended that the gospel is not a debate, but a summons. It is not a conversation among equals. It is a call to repent and believe. That is not tyranny. That is mercy. God does not owe you another breath, let alone a detailed explanation. He gave you His Son. And if you will not bow, then you are not merely mistaken. You are condemned already.
If you seek, you may yet find. But if you cling to your pride, your fall will be great.
I believe I’ve understood where you are coming from now. Let’s not pretend or keep circling around the issue any longer. This is not the place for that.
Shalom.
Johann.
You’ve thrown everything at the wall—Greek, Latin, Kant, Van Til, axiological teleology—except a straight answer. And that’s telling. Because you know, as any decent person does, that the system you’re defending is morally bankrupt.
You talk about “epistemic responsibility” and “axiological grounds” like they’re magic words that absolve the horror at the heart of your theology: a god who punishes the unconvinced. Not the wicked. Not the cruel. Not the indifferent. The unconvinced.
Your argument amounts to this:
“We’re all broken. God is holy. You’re damned unless you believe. And if you can’t, that’s your fault too.”
You’ve taken moral language—justice, goodness, love—and emptied it of content. “Justice” now just means “whatever God does.” “Goodness” means obedience. “Love” means eternal punishment unless we submit. You’ve created a closed circle where cruelty is righteousness as long as it comes from above.
And when someone points this out, you cry relativism. But I’m not asking for God to meet my standards. I’m asking if you still have any.
If you can’t say it’s unjust to damn a sincere truth-seeker, then you’ve surrendered your moral compass at the altar.
That’s not faith. That’s indoctrination.
So I’ll ask again, plainly, and I dare you to answer it without retreating into jargon:
Is it morally just to condemn someone for not believing something they find unconvincing?
Yes or no?
can u please do the favour of answering the
can u tell questions
stop accusing me..if u are a serious philosphy student u would answer it..so answer the can u tell questions, it answer why u ideas are faulty (if u give an ans, it would be good)
ligit u put summarize software or what..cant u read the whole post..it answer..but now we went to street debates of “yes or no” lol, u can go to hydepark and do it..
why dont u answer this:
Here’s the answer friend.
Is it morally just to condemn someone for not believing something they find unconvincing?
Only if their “unconvincing” is not a neutral accident, but the fruit of willful blindness. And Scripture says exactly that.
The objection assumes belief is merely a passive response to evidence, but both Scripture and reason say otherwise. Faith and belief are not mechanical reactions to data; they are moral responses to revealed truth. That truth is not only outwardly proclaimed but inwardly resisted.
John 3:19: “And this is the judgment: the light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil.”
Here the verb “ἠγάπησαν” (ēgapēsan) is aorist active indicative third person plural, from ἀγαπάω. The condemnation is not merely for failing to believe, but for loving darkness, an active, volitional preference. Their unbelief is the fruit of disordered desire, not epistemic helplessness.
2 Thessalonians 2:10–12: “They refused to love the truth and so be saved. Therefore God sends them a strong delusion, so that they may believe what is false, in order that all may be condemned who did not believe the truth but had pleasure in unrighteousness.”
Here again, the refusal is not rooted in inability to perceive but in a moral rejection:
“οὐκ ἐδέξαντο τὴν ἀγάπην τῆς ἀληθείας” (ouk edexanto tēn agapēn tēs alētheias) — they did not receive the love of the truth
“εὐδόκησαν ἐν τῇ ἀδικίᾳ” (eudokēsan en tē adikía) — they took pleasure in unrighteousness
Both verbs are aorist active indicative, marking deliberate posture. The issue is not that the truth was unconvincing, but that they did not want it.
Paul gives the same moral structure in Romans 1:18–21. The verbs matter:
“κατέχουσιν τὴν ἀλήθειαν ἐν ἀδικίᾳ” — they suppress the truth in unrighteousness
“γνόντες τὸν Θεόν, οὐχ ὡς Θεὸν ἐδόξασαν” — knowing God, they did not honor Him
Again, suppression and refusal are volitional acts, not failures of logic.
Philosophically, even secular thinkers like Bayer and Salmieri acknowledge this distinction in their paper How We Choose Our Beliefs. They argue against the myth of direct doxastic voluntarism (choosing belief instantly), but affirm indirect doxastic voluntarism: you are responsible for what you seek, what you avoid, what you ignore, and how you respond. The soul shapes itself through these choices.
Biblically, belief is more than cognition; it is submission to truth. Faith is a moral yielding.
The unconvincingness of divine truth is often a reflection of the heart, not a failure of revelation.
John 7:17: “If anyone’s will is to do God’s will, he will know whether the teaching is from God…”
The verb here is “θέλῃ ποιεῖν” — if he wills to do — a third person present active subjunctive, showing conditional volition. Understanding comes to those who want to obey.
So yes, it is morally just for God to condemn someone for not believing what they find unconvincing — when that lack of conviction is the result of refusal to seek, refusal to submit, refusal to love the truth. Their condemnation is not for an intellectual defect, but for a spiritual revolt.
You are not condemned for ignorance you could not help.
You are condemned for shutting your eyes, hardening your heart, and scorning the truth you were shown.
Johann.
Blindwatchmaker
Just for giggles, I went back and read your original post. Compared to the your most recent post to Johann where you credit yourself for having written the book on this subject, I now see you actually do know something about “gaslighting”. Bravo. (smile)
I’d like to help clear up something you think you heard me say. You said:
My communications skills are not those of a seasoned writer, such as yourself, but That looks nothing like what I was trying to say. I was simply offering my personal testimony; I was relating to you what happened to me. Those were my personal revelations. I was not telling you, or anyone, that abandoning your personal dignity is “the good news”, and if you can accomplish it, you may purchase some good will with God. I can’t imagine you, or any searcher, would ever think that if the bar for acceptance by God is self-abasement, that somehow translates into the best news you have ever heard. Good News is exactly that; it will sound “Good” and it will be “News”. Listen for it.
I really do understand why you, like a car stuck in the snow, keep returning to the same rut your spinning wheels have created for you. ( from my perspective. I’m sure this is not your perspective.) If you need to reframe my personal experience into some kind of my dictating rules to you, then back into the proverbial snow rut you go. I did not experience “doubt born of open-hearted seeking” those are your experiences. I experienced a revealed understanding of my personal blindness to my own opinion of myself, and that even in spite of half-hearted seeking. I am not defending a “system”; you are imposing that on me. I am not telling you, or anyone, about some kind of “acceptable posture”. I’m definitely not suggesting your “moral efforts” should “count” for anything, as you say. If you are hearing that from me, I am failing at communication. I’m telling you God revealed Himself to me, and what happened as a result. I hope you can appreciate the difference I am feebly trying to relate.
Not only am I willing to consider that:
I’m shouting that in unison with you. From my personal experience I never thought of myself as “proud or rebellious or deceived” either. I am proclaiming, as you say, God does exist, God is Just, and God does know the difference. Don’t worry about that. I’m with you there! I’m not suggesting you to “think differently”, you “force yourself to believe” anything, or to act in any “acceptable manner” any more than I’m asking you to chant some mantra, take some pilgrimage, recite some incantation, or work a few laps around some holy beads. I’m telling you what happened to me, and it happened to me exactly like I later learned God said it would happen in his word.
In my own words: I’m “describing a God who is so holy, so high, so other,” that even “honest doubt” can melt and honest acceptance of the truth can take its place. For me, this path did pass through "complete surrender", but it was honest surrender. Never did my journey even smell the odors from the valley of "abandonment of personal dignity", quite the opposite. I eventually recognized a personal dignity I never knew existed. For me, the “internalization of unworthiness” was an artifact of revelation, not a cause. I surely didn’t go looking for it. For me, the “acceptance that even my sincere moral effort count for nothing” was a gift, it came as an illumination, and was never placed in front of me as an impossible hurdle to jump. Those are your interpretations.
I could offer, beside my personal testimony, advice that might help guide you in your quest to understand the reality I have been invited into (if you are even on a quest). I don’t want this to sound like something you must do to earn an audience with God, or anything like that. If it sounds like that to you, kindly ignore it. My gentle advice would be to “look up”; to quiet your internal voices long enough to hear God, in Jesus, reveal to you how dear you are to Him. Proclaim a ceasfire long enough to listen to how much He loves you, and how much He has already done for you, long before you ever dreamed of making watches.
I’m here if you need me
KP
Samuel—
Alright. Let’s do this properly. You said I avoided your three “CAN U TELL” questions, so I’ll take each in turn.
1 Axiological teleology.
You’re saying justice should be understood as “serving God’s ultimate purpose,” and that if it fits that purpose, it’s not unjust. But come on. If that “purpose” involves punishing people eternally for something they had no control over—like not being able to believe something that doesn’t convince them—then dressing it up in words like “teleology” doesn’t help. It’s still cruel. Saying “it serves a cosmic goal” doesn’t magically make it good. Ends don’t justify means—even divine ones. Calling it justice just because it’s part of God’s plan empties the word justice of all meaning.
2.Compatibilism and my own skepticism.
I didn’t dodge this. I reject compatibilism because it’s a shell game. It redefines freedom to include being “free” to do what you were determined to do, as if that somehow makes condemnation fair. Under your system, God can make me unable to believe, and then judge me for not believing. You can call that freedom if you like, but it’s not freedom in any meaningful sense.
As for me being accountable: I don’t claim belief is a choice. But I do think people are responsible for how they engage with evidence—whether they seek honestly, avoid bias, try to be fair. That’s what I’ve done. I looked, I read, I asked, I prayed. I wasn’t persuaded. If your system says that deserves hell, then what it punishes isn’t rebellion—it’s honesty.
3. Grounding morality.
You keep saying that unless I believe in a divine source of morality, I have no right to say anything is wrong. But that’s just not true. We use moral reasoning all the time—conscience, empathy, the deep human sense that causing needless suffering is wrong. That’s not relativism, it’s reality.
Meanwhile, your position is that whatever God does is good by definition. That’s not a moral standard. That’s raw authority. If your system needs to redefine “goodness” so it can include condemning honest, sincere people forever… then you’ve already lost it. That’s not reverence. That’s moral surrender.
Also, side note: the disconnect between the philosophy-jargon you paste and your usual teenage text-speak is, frankly, wild. If your writing has “axiological teleology” in one sentence and “idk ur just Googling stuff lol” in the next, maybe take a moment to reflect on where this stuff is really coming from. It’s pretty obvious.
And look—I’d say more, but I keep getting throttled by the forum system “for the safety of the community.” So if I disappear again, that’s why.
But let’s be honest: we’ve gone in circles because almost every reply in this thread has boiled down to one move:
“It seems cruel and unjust, sure—but if God does it, it must be good.”
That’s the whole game.
If you need to redefine goodness to make room for that, you’ve already lost any connection to it.
That’s not reverence. It’s moral collapse.
“If you can’t say it’s unjust to damn a sincere truth-seeker, then you’ve surrendered your moral compass at the altar.”
No. What has been surrendered is the biblical definition of a truth-seeker.
There is no category in Scripture for someone who sincerely seeks God and is damned. There is not a single example. According to the Word of God,
Those who seek God find Him. Those who do not seek Him perish.
That is not a rhetorical flourish. It is the structure of divine revelation.
Scripture’s Definition: The Seeker Finds
Jeremiah 29:13
You will seek Me and find Me, when you seek Me with all your heart.
Isaiah 55:6–7
Seek the Lord while He may be found. Call upon Him while He is near. Let the wicked forsake his way and the unrighteous man his thoughts. Let him return to the Lord, that He may have compassion on him.
Matthew 7:7–8
Ask, and it will be given to you. Seek, and you will find. Knock, and it will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives, and the one who seeks finds.
Hebrews 11:6
Whoever would draw near to God must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who seek Him.
Greek: ἐκζητοῦσιν αὐτόν — those who diligently seek Him.
Acts 17:27
That they should seek God, and perhaps feel their way toward Him and find Him. Yet He is actually not far from each one of us.
The Condemned Are Not “Sincere Seekers”
Romans 3:11
No one understands. No one seeks for God.
Romans 1:18
They suppress the truth in unrighteousness.
Greek: κατέχουσιν τὴν ἀλήθειαν — they actively restrain and hold it down.
John 3:19
Light has come into the world, and people loved the darkness rather than the light because their works were evil.
2 Thessalonians 2:10
They refused to love the truth and so be saved.
Greek: οὐκ ἐδέξαντο τὴν ἀγάπην τῆς ἀληθείας — they did not welcome the love of the truth.
The Real Question: Do You Trust God’s Testimony?
If the Bible says that those who seek God will find Him, and those who perish did not seek but suppressed, then to argue that a true seeker is damned is to accuse God of lying and call His judgment unjust.
That is not preserving morality. That is accusing the Judge of the earth.
Genesis 18:25
Shall not the Judge of all the earth do what is just?
The issue is not your moral compass.
The issue is your definition of seeking.
You have replaced the biblical definition with a sentimental counterfeit.
But God’s Word has already spoken, and His justice is perfect.
The Verdict:
If they sought God, they would have found Him.
If they rejected, it was not for lack of evidence but because they loved darkness.
If they believe, it was mercy.
If they reject, it was pride.
There is no third category.
There is no class of “sincere but lost.”
Only seekers who are found and suppressors who perish.
Psalm 19:9
The rules of the Lord are true and righteous altogether.
Still here.
Johann.
Thanks Johann. You’ve said the quiet part out loud.
According to you, everyone who seeks finds. So if someone doesn’t believe, it proves they never really sought. It’s a neat trick — rig the game, then blame the player.
But here’s the uncomfortable truth:
The Bible doesn’t just claim that unbelievers failed to seek hard enough. It says they are “condemned already” (John 3:18).
It lumps the unbelieving in with the vile and the murderers, and throws them in “the fiery lake of burning sulfur”(Revelation 21:8).
That’s not a metaphor. That’s eternal torment for the crime of being unconvinced.
And you’re defending this by redefining seeking until it only ever ends in belief. If they didn’t believe, then by definition they must not have sought “with all their heart.” Circular. Self-protecting. Morally grotesque.
This is the theology of a rigged courtroom.
It starts with the verdict — guilty — and works backward to invent a reason.
If you can read about someone who longs for truth, wrestles with doubt, begs for clarity, but dies unconvinced — and your answer is “they loved darkness” — then I have to say it plainly:
You’re not defending divine justice.
You’re baptizing cruelty.
And no amount of verse-stacking can cover that stench.
Hi KP
Let me address the “gaslighting” line first—because, respectfully, that was uncalled for. Asking hard questions and critiquing an idea isn’t manipulation or deception. It’s what open conversation looks like. And I’ve been honest about my views from the start, both here and in the book I’ve written on this topic. That’s not gaslighting. That’s engagement.
(By the way, I never claimed to have written the book on the topic. I wrote a book on the topic. Quite a different claim. And your phrase “credit yourself” felt unnecessarily barbed—it’s a needlessly sarcastic way of saying something that could have been put far more neutrally. I was a little disappointed to see that from you.)
Now, I do hear you. And I appreciate the warmth in your tone here. You’re describing something personal and powerful, and I’m not trying to take that away from you. But I hope you can see that for those of us who’ve searched sincerely and not had the kind of revelatory moment you describe, there’s a real tension in hearing testimonies reframed as “what God does” and then being told, implicitly or explicitly, that if it hasn’t happened to us, the fault lies somewhere in us.
That’s the system I’m interrogating—not your sincerity.
Also, just to clarify, this thread wasn’t about promoting a book. But I’m gathering perspectives for the next one, and I’ve found this exchange—honestly—thought-provoking and valuable, even when it’s been difficult.
I’ll leave it there for now. Thanks again for the respectful tone.