Do we choose our beliefs?

Theology
163

Blindwatchmaker

First, I believe everything you said, even the parts about seeing no water, and sensing no danger, and I never assume you were rejecting the rescue out of pride or stubbornness. You have more than demonstrated that is not the case.

I receive your gentle push-back, and your reaffirmation that “failing to see” is not rebellion, and I agree. I also was never under the impression that any “of the enjoinments that can be offered here” were “new to you”. I fully understand you are well versed in all the historic rhetoric. Further, I can clearly see that you are not “closed or hostile”, or that you have “ever stopped listening”. All of this we agree upon.

What you haven’t addressed are your thoughts on Holiness; you have not really assented to an idea of perfection. Is this something, in your many years, beginning when you were a “spring chicken”, and in all the years since, you have wrestled with? Are you comfortable calling yourself holy? Or are there thoughts and/or actions that you own, that you yourself would call unholy (morally imperfect). Is there any sense, at anytime in your life, you admit you did what you knew was wrong? I recognize your current state of openness and humility, but what I’m getting at is: can you conceive of any time that the watchmaker was not blind? Did you ever feel your own thoughts or actions contributed to the blindness the watchmaker now experiences?

Providentially, today is “Whit Monday”. That means very little to most people, but for the sake of our conversation it seems poignant. It is the day we remember the giving of The Holy Spirit in the first century, launching the novel Body of Christ on earth. You can read about the event in Acts 2 (I’m sure you have read it many times). I probably should not be saying this, but I want to assure you of my love for you. I am sincerely asking my Father for the same “outpouring” upon you, today; the same healing from the blindness you claim, even if He doesn’t come in exactly the same details as He did in the first century. I am asking Him to show Himself to you clearly, to reveal Himself as the Holy sacrificial substitute for your unholiness. To open your eyes to state you are really in, to sense the icy water, to feel the vinyl seats on the bus.

I am asking you to consider your own unholiness. Being unholy does not make you unique, it only properly labels your shared humanity. Being unholy does put you in the water; being disobedient to what you knew of goodness at some point did put you on the bus; being unholy did cause your blindness, resulting in your inability to even see the icy water in which you flail, or experience the bus on which you are a passenger. Being unholy is your state, even if now, in your advanced years, you can’t imagine ever having chosen it. I know because it is a common experience of all of mankind, and it is our common guilt. All have fallen short of the Holiness of God. All have not assented to, but none have avoided this state.

Before you tell me so, I preemptively agree that none of this is new to you, I accept that you have difficulty imagining that it is real, I accept that your unbelief (blindness, as you say) does not seem to have been caused by any contribution of your own, and I empathize with your feeling you have been treated unjustly. I am glad, in a sense, you are feeling unjustly treated because it betrays your innate internal standard of justice which you recognize as having been abridged. Justice is a native component of Holiness. Recognizing your own unholiness is a native component of enlightenment. Admitting you own unholiness is a native component of confession. Speaking these revealed truths is a native component of repentance. Reaching out to the Only Holy one for rescue from the situation in which your own unholiness has entrapped you is the single component of salvation.

I am glad you are seeking Truth, I am ecstatic that you are purposing to continue to listen, and it gives me manifold joy to know you are sincere in your quest.

Happy Whit Monday
May it become a day of celebration for you

Sincerely
KP

164

@Blindwatchmaker

You say belief isn’t under your control. I say that’s not the whole story—it’s the safe one.

“Doxastic involuntarism” is a sophisticated label for a very old impulse: the desire to treat belief like weather—something that just happens to us, something we endure, not something we shape. It’s tidy. It lets you keep your hands clean. But it avoids the one thing that makes belief dangerous: responsibility.

You say the will can orient but not command. But orientation is already decision. Soil doesn’t plow itself. You don’t stumble into reflection, or accident your way into exposure. Every time you engage, every time you retreat, you’re steering. The rudder might not control the tide, but it still decides where the ship turns.

So let’s drop the metaphor. You know the steps you’ve taken. You know the books you won’t read, the prayers you won’t pray, the people you mock inwardly before they even speak. You know the weight of each inward shrug. These aren’t neurological flukes. They are a trail of choices that you now want to call “honest disbelief.”

And no, you don’t get to flatten this into a religious pluralism game of symmetry. You compare your unbelief in Christ to my unbelief in Muhammad—as if these are clean swaps on a neutral playing field. But that’s sleight of hand. I reject Muhammad after investigation. You reject Christ while standing on the threshold saying “I’m not sure the door even exists.” These aren’t the same posture. One is refusal based on presence. The other is refusal based on pretext.

You appeal to “reason, experience, and conscience.” Great. But then ask yourself—what happens when reason says “This cuts you”? When experience starts to expose things you didn’t want named? When conscience doesn’t just guide but indicts? Do you still listen then? Or do you redefine sincerity as “what doesn’t sting”?

Your sincerity isn’t neutral. It’s curated. You’ve built scaffolding for disbelief, and now you want applause for not jumping down.

You frame resistance to belief as a kind of tragic innocence—moral consequences you didn’t mean to set in motion. But that’s like striking matches in a drought and calling the fire unfair. You don’t get to walk through decades of internal vetoes and then act shocked that your affections are calcified. Apathy is not imposed. It is grown. It is fed. It is named “open-mindedness” until it ossifies into a creed.

You say you’d believe if it were true. But that’s a hedge. That’s not openness. That’s a shield. People don’t just lack belief because of evidence gaps. They lack belief because belief means surrender. It means the end of autonomy. It means the end of being the narrator of your own story. So yes—belief arrives. But not neutrally. It arrives where it’s wanted. Not where it’s merely tolerated.

You say “I hear people shouting I’m drowning, but I see no water.” But the truth is, you don’t want to see the water. You’ve built your life above the floodline, and now claim no fear because you’ve covered the windows.

And this part about “God not wanting performance”—please. This is the new piety of postmodern comfort: the idea that authenticity justifies inertia. You want to be “real,” not right. But “real” doesn’t save you from responsibility. If a man truly believes his house is not on fire while the flames rise, his sincerity doesn’t change the heat.

In the end, you speak of justice. But justice presumes agency. You want the world to be fair while disowning your own choices. You want a God who understands, not one who commands. You want a salvation that fits you, not a truth that breaks you.

And so, you’ve created the most comfortable position of all: a nonbelief that requires no bowing, no bending, no blood. Just “honesty.” Just “seeking.”

But real seeking ends. Real seeking finds. And real finding costs you everything.

That’s why you’re still here.

Johann.

165

You have plenty of people here who can give you a convoluted Scripture based Doctrine aligned explanation. I am not that person. I ask too many questions, and I don’t believe what people tell me I should believe. Obviously, if you read anything I wrote and compare it with other responses you can clearly see I don’t tow the line in general.
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Now if you want my personal belief regarding this, my opinion, I can give you that. In fact, I asked the same question as you did here at one point in my life. And I was not satisfied with the answers I got. I started asking a lot more questions, pulling at loose threads, looking for all kinds of answers, and I really looked outside the box. I spoke with a Rabbi at one point. I studied other religions. I looked at the history, the evolution of thought and belief. And I studied the Bible. First as a new Christian, than as a theologian student, then as someone with all this new additional information.

What I discovered was you can’t fit it all nice and neat into a box. People will shove it in and pretend nothing is sticking out because they can’t question their reality. They accept the answer handed to them to save peace and shuck introspection.

Why is the God of the Old Testament only concerned with this life, and not the one to come? There is never a vocalized concern for saving the souls of humanity, the threat of the eternal damnation of the whole world. Only the looming judgement of this physical world. If it becomes too filled with evil.

Ideas changed as time went on. The idea of good and evil changed. The nature of the connection of a specific god to a given tribe, as part of their identity, changed. Cosmology changed.

As we grew, our questions grew, and our understanding and belief expanded.

Christianity is in some way rooted into Judaism. Sufism is rooted into Islam. Buddism is rooted into Hinduism. Humanity was changed by Something. Disrupted from its course.

We talk about moral accountability if we are just moving as we are made…

Christ Himself acknowledges the puppetry at play, doesn’t he? When he said on the cross, Forgive them, Father, they know not what they do. The priests proclaimed, early on, who are You to forgive?

And when Christ says, let the dead bury the dead… Follow me.

Romans speaks of Vessels of Wrath and Mercy. Predestination of direction. How is this just?

And yet it is said,
"Receive the Holy Spirit. If you forgive anyone’s sins, their sins are forgiven; if you do not forgive them, they are not forgiven.”

God handed us the keys to change the destiny of all. And the responsibility to save the world from the inevitable physical destruction looming over it. A collective fate we can steer. By embodying that disruptuve force that says, Fear not, I am with you.

Is God a judge waiting for a future judgement day?
Or is it possible this world has already been judged?
This world is stuck on the path that brings us to destruction again and again. People are already dead, stuck in their own special hells built by beliefs they cannot stop clinging to- they chase shadows and delusions, wage wars, stockpile goods, horde in their homes, guard themselves from future suffering that they know is coming, isolate, over eat, zombie out on counches… Like spirits trapped in suffering, running on treadmills that never take them any where new.

Scripture says, like water poured out on the ground, so we must die. But God looks for some way to bring his banished ones home.

God, who works in individual lives, using smaller stories to express greater stakes. The Israelites, sent into capitivity again and again. Like a world that dies again and again. A world that is dead to an eternal God who sees and knows all things, seeing what finite human minds fail to, unable to. And God promises to bring His children home each time they go into exile. To prepare a place for them. To find a way to bring them home so they are not estranged. That is not the story of a God looking forward to a barbecue. That is the story of David, a man after God’s own heart, trying to save Absalom. A broken hearted Father that fights Leviathans so life can exist again. Or keep existing.

Fear not, I see you. I am with you. I leave the 99 and come here to find you, speak truth to you, bring you back to life. I forgive you the sins that lock you here.
Be free. Be made new. Transform.

166

Replying to KPuff:

KP,

Another thoughtful and generous message. Thank you — sincerely — for taking the time, not just to write it, but to feel it.

I’m especially grateful for the spirit in which you received my last reply. It means a great deal to feel understood, even in disagreement. You’ve shown me that rare blend of clarity and kindness that’s so often missing in discussions like these, and I want to return that in kind.

You asked about holiness — whether I believe in it, whether I’ve wrestled with it, and whether I consider myself morally imperfect.

That’s an important distinction to draw. I don’t think I do believe in holiness in the way you mean it — not as a pure, absolute moral standard that defines God’s nature and sets the bar for human worth. That’s not to say I don’t believe in right and wrong, or in striving to live with integrity. I do. And yes, I’ve absolutely done things I regret — times I’ve knowingly acted against my better judgment. I don’t claim moral perfection. But I see those lapses as human, not as evidence of being fundamentally tainted or disqualified from relationship with the divine (should such a thing exist).

As an aside, you mentioned the blind watchmaker — and I just want to gently clarify that my use of that phrase isn’t meant to describe my own blindness. It’s a reference to a response to William Paley’s “watchmaker” argument — the idea that nature’s complexity points to a deliberate designer. The counterpoint is that natural processes, like evolution, can produce apparent design without foresight or intention — a “watchmaker” who is “blind,” not through deficiency, but because the process isn’t guided by conscious purpose. I only raise this to avoid misunderstanding. The name isn’t autobiographical; it’s philosophical.

I know you see unbelief as a result of moral resistance. But I can only speak to my own experience. I’ve spent decades genuinely seeking truth — not to protect my autonomy or avoid surrender, but because I care deeply about what’s real. I’ve read widely, listened carefully, prayed earnestly. If I remain unconvinced, it’s not because I never opened the door — it’s because I never saw anyone on the threshold.

And this is the heart of my concern: if salvation depends on belief, but belief isn’t something one can will into existence, then it becomes a kind of spiritual Catch-22. You say we’re judged not for unbelief itself, but for the condition that led to it. But if that condition formed through ordinary human fallibility — and if we were never clearly aware of where it would lead — then holding someone eternally accountable still seems hard to reconcile with any intuitive sense of justice.

Still, I deeply appreciate the grace and sincerity in your words. You haven’t questioned my motives. You haven’t misrepresented my position (unlike some here) . And that, in this kind of conversation, is a rare and meaningful gift. Whatever our differences, I’m grateful for this exchange.

Warm wishes back to you on this Whit Monday my friend,
Jon

167

Thank you for clarifying your use of the phrase “blind watchmaker.” I now understand that you are referencing the critique of William Paley’s teleological argument and not describing your own epistemic stance as “blind.”

From your explanation, it appears you affirm that naturalistic processes such as evolution operate without teleology or conscious intentionality and that these processes account for the complexity observed in nature. This entails a rejection of the concept of a purposeful, intelligent designer underlying biological complexity. Instead, you view the apparent design as an emergent property arising from unguided, mechanistic causes.

This position aligns with the standard naturalistic paradigm in contemporary scientific discourse which emphasizes material causation over final causation.

If I have understood correctly, you hold that the intricate order in nature is best explained by blind, undirected mechanisms rather than by the agency of a conscious Creator.

Please let me know if this accurately reflects your philosophical and scientific viewpoint.

Johann.

168

yeah i saw ur answers, for it i got a clear idea abt what is happening and how much i explain, it will always be incomplete..anyways i leave it upon u, do u want me to respond or just continue..if u mention me, i will ans, but since u dont wanna talk abt philosophy..then it depends on u
just remember, ur asking what is truth, just the pilate, but what neither pilate, nor u know is the truth is Jesus and he is standing in front of u..
so depends on u, do u wanna continue with me or is it fine, but if ure expecting my ans, then ima tell tomo..but till then
Stay safe
Peace
Sam

169

Johann,

You’re right that belief carries moral and spiritual weight. That’s precisely why it must be grounded in truth, not merely in submission. But you’ve misrepresented both my position and the paper you attached.

Let’s start there. Serge Rosell’s work that you linked to doesn’t reject doxastic involuntarism—it defends it. You literally posted a paper that defends my position. He explicitly argues that belief is not under direct voluntary control. That’s why I quote him in my book. His central point is clear: you cannot simply choose to believe something, any more than you can choose to feel fear, fall in love, or find a joke funny. Yes, you can orient yourself—by reading, reflecting, opening yourself to opposing views—and I’ve spent decades doing just that. But orientation is not belief. It can create the conditions for belief to arrive, but it cannot force it into existence. And belief that isn’t real is just performance.

You accuse me of resisting Christ, of curating my sincerity, of standing on the threshold in defiance. But none of that addresses the core question I’ve asked throughout this thread:

Is it just to condemn someone for failing to believe what they honestly find unpersuasive?

You say I reject Christ while standing at the door, unlike you, who reject Muhammad after proper consideration—as if that makes your unbelief valid and mine culpable. But that comparison doesn’t hold up. I can almost guarantee I’ve engaged with Christianity more deeply than you’ve engaged with Islam. I’ve done the Alpha course three times. I’ve spent months in one-on-one sessions with a minister. I’ve studied the New Testament in Greek. I have a home library filled with Christian theology, apologetics, and biblical scholarship. I’ve wrestled with this for over thirty years. And I kept returning to it because I knew how high the stakes were. I wanted to be sure.

So no, this isn’t apathy. It’s not rebellion. It’s the honest result of sustained, open engagement.

You say I don’t want to see the water. But I’m not pretending. I truly don’t see it. That’s the point. You can call that resistance if you want—but you can’t prove its resistance simply by citing your own certainty. Muslims think you are resisting. Mormons say the same. Are they right about you just because you’re unconvinced? If not, then the standard has to be consistent. You weigh other religions using reason, conscience, and lived experience. So do I. We just end up at different conclusions.

You claim I’ve curated my disbelief—but what you call curation, I call integrity. If I don’t find a claim credible, I will not fake belief in it to appease others or hedge eternal bets. That isn’t virtue. That’s theatre. And if there is a just God, surely what matters is not whether I passed a theological test, but whether I remained honest, humble, and open in the face of uncertainty.

So no—I don’t think doxastic involuntarism is an evasion. I think it’s a recognition of something deeply human. (It’s also very well supported by neuroscience.) And I don’t think doubt—when paired with sincerity- can be seen as a moral failing by anyone, holy or not.

170

Are you familiar with the Bahá’í Faith? Just curious, since it often comes up in discussions about progressive revelation, religious pluralism, and volition in belief - especially where sincerity is elevated above doctrinal truth.

Would be interested to hear your thoughts if you’ve engaged with their writings.

Johann.

171

Jon (I trust Jon IS autobiographical). (smile)

I appreciate the clarification for “blindwatchmaker”. Your handle was a quandary rolling around in my mind, but I understand your use of the nom-de-plume now. I love the associated inferences.

I think we’ve been circling this tree sufficiently that we are kind-of repeating ourselves. I have genuinely learned TONS from you, and I do have so many questions for you, but I respect your time too much to impose on you more of the same see-saw mode conversation.

One small response to:

The way you are presenting the situation is clearly a normal perspective from inside the bus. You feel a truly “Holy Justice” would not impose eternal consequences for something you, or anyone did, (or thought) with no knowledge or intention of having offended the Holy Judge. I really do agree with your assertion, I too feel perfect Justice would not impose eternal negative consequences on a soul that had no knowledge of having offended. I too think that would be unjust. From your perspective Christians claim God has set the bar impossibly high and then God condemns souls for being unable to clear it. God then also unjustly lifts a few souls over the bar, and turns His back on the rest. You call that philosophy cruel, and so do I. This actually may be some people’s theology, and I think I understand how they arrived at this conclusion, although I think it is in error. The way to correct this error is to view the situation from a different perspective; clarity comes from trying to see things from God’s point of view.

So, let’s try, let’s look at our situation from God’s point of view. God is Eternally Holy (perfect in every sense). Holiness cannot fellowship with unholiness, just like the tiniest speck of tetrodotoxin (Pufferfish) would adulterate an otherwise perfect cup of coffee. God’s perfect creation was subsequently adulterated with the sin of disobedience. Mankind acted unholy, and the sin caused death to the perpetrator (i.e. death=disfellowship with God). The Just judge did not, at this point, impose an unjust punishment, the man imposed his own death on himself by willfully choosing unholiness (God told him an unholy act would cause his death, and he did it anyway).

Did the man believe God’s warning? We don’t know, but the outcome is the same either way. Death occurred because of the willful act of disobedience, not because God’s feelings were hurt, or because God is pernicious. Disfellowship with God was the predicted result of introducing toxin (unholiness) into the relationship.
What did the Just Judge do? Did He condemn? No. That was the existent result of man’s actions.
Did he turn His back? Again, No. God kindly clothed the naked man with skins, symbols of the death he chose for himself.
Did God pout in defeat, retreat, or give up? No. God made a Just way of redemption. Holy justice demanded a just recompense; only transferring death to the Just One, in substitution for the death of the unjust would be sufficient; only this costly level of personal sacrifice could restore the lost fellowship. The Love of God made the way; guilty man could do nothing for himself.

From Heavens perspective, God is not the condemning Judge, (as your rut assumes) inflicting punishment on those who sin even in ignorance. God is the gracious restoring Judge, offering pardon to those in peril. He is not punishing; He is un-punishing. He is not apathetic to the peril we got ourselves into, He is self-sacrificing so we can be saved from it. He is not choosing death for mankind, he is offering His life to restore yours!

I know you think others say you are judged and condemned by a God who made the rules, and is punishing you for something you didn’t intend to do. That’s your rut. I’m telling you your Creator loves you so much he is offering to restore life to your unfortunate condition of death, no matter how you believe you arrived there.

I apologize, I said this would be quick, and now I am approaching my 5000-character limit.

Thanks for listening, thanks for considering other points of view.

KP

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172

On balance I think that is more likely, although I remain agnostic in that regard.
Well outside the scope of this discussion though.

173

I wrote you a long and deeply considered post in reply to yours but for some reason it’s awaiting approval by mods…:man_shrugging:t2:

174

No prob. I’m a patient person.

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175

Some battles cannot be won. Only walked away from. Freedom is not found by winning the fight, but by letting go of it. Releasing the need to win. Releasing the one whom you have become locked in conflict with.

Two opposing forces that hold two opposing views as Sacred Truth will never convince one another that one Truth is Thee Truth.

So one of these groups must be destroyed if the two cannot learn to live in peace, allowing each other to exist, making room for a counter and contrary perspective. Bloodshed over ideas, stories, beliefs that destroy innocent life.

The horror that transfixes your eyes keeps you bound in time. You see it, and cannot look away.

The true struggle is in allowing one’s self to let go and move forward again. To not be swept in the mass call to arns, but to begin living again. Protecting loved ones from an unnecessary war.

A war in heaven where angels divide, humans mimic the celestial spheres. As above, so below. But could the least of these effect the greatest? Could the mirror between seen and unseen things make possible a reconcilliation in all creation?

That story is not yet told.

176

KP,

Thank you—as ever—for such a generous and considered reply. You write with such grace, and I always appreciate your tone, your care, and your effort to genuinely understand where I’m coming from. That means more than you know.

I agree with you that trying to see things from “God’s perspective” can offer a powerful reframing. But the difficulty for me is simple: I’m not convinced such a being exists in the first place. So asking me to step into that point of view is like asking me to act on a story I don’t yet believe is true. It doesn’t mean the story can’t be meaningful—but I can’t engage it as reality until I’m persuaded that it is.

Still, even if I grant the story for the sake of argument, it seems to me that what you’re offering isn’t so much a denial of judgment as a reframing of it. Rather than punishing people for sin, God is offering a cure to those who are spiritually sick. I understand the shift—and in many ways, it’s a more humane framing. But it still raises some hard questions:

  1. Why couldn’t God just forgive? He’s not subject to some higher moral code. If He’s the rule-maker, then why is substitutionary atonement necessary at all? Why not simply offer mercy to those who fall short—especially if He knows that their blindness, confusion, or lack of belief was not malicious?
  2. What about those who don’t see the sickness? In this view, God doesn’t condemn people for being unwell—He offers a cure. But only those who can recognize their condition and accept the cure are saved. What of those who, in all sincerity, don’t see their need? Not because they’re proud or rebellious, but because—amid a chorus of competing truth claims—they’ve honestly assessed the situation and found this one unconvincing? Must they pretend? Act as if they’re sick just in case?

That, I suppose, is still the heart of my concern. If the path to salvation depends on recognizing a truth that many sincere people simply don’t see, then it still seems to turn on a kind of spiritual visibility that not everyone is granted. And if God is loving and just, I struggle to see why that would be the system.

You’re correct to point out that we needn’t keep going over the same issues again and again—but I guess as we listen and respond to each other’s points of view, those most salient points will inevitably re-emerge.

I think your suggestion to look at things from God’s perspective (from outside the bus) has actually helped me think about another way to frame my own:

If there is no God… then the whole lot disappears in a puff of smoke.
No sin.
No fall.
No requirement for salvation.
No brokenness.
No need for forgiveness (even in our human imperfection).

Without God, Bible verses are just words in a book—
An amazing and fascinating book written thousands of years ago by men who knew less than the average ten-year-old knows now. Even if the book reveals some helpful wisdom and poetry among the barbarism, genocide, slavery, and misogyny reflective of its milieu.

And so here is the real crux of all of this:
I cannot (and have never been able to) bring myself to conclude that there is a God.
I can hope it’s true. I can pretend it’s true. I can even try to act as if it’s true.
But my mind will always know I’m cheating unless the belief is the result of genuinely having been convinced.

(This does not mean I believe that there are none.
Just that I’ve not yet been convinced that there are.)

This is why Johann posting endless Bible verses is pointless. He might as well be quoting from Moby Dick or Lord of the Rings. The justification for heeding the book can’t come from within the book (as that presupposes you have already conceded the requirement to heed it.)

This is the reason the view from outside the bus doesn’t resonate for me.

I fully understand that my perspective seems myopic to those comfortably viewing the beautiful landscape outside the bus and feeling the warmth and embrace of God’s love.
And I totally appreciate the generosity in wanting to share that.

Thanks again, KP. I do feel deeply seen and respected in our exchanges, and I hope you feel the same from me.

With warm gratitude
Jon

177

May I ask… Is there an unstated reason why you are here? Why here specifically? There are other religions, esoteric pathways, mysticism etc. Other places where you can ask about God…But you chose a Christian site to ask your questions. Did you grow up in a Christian family or have Christian influences in your peripherals? Or are you asking questions of everyone while trying to figure out what you personally believe?

And if the question is regarding whether there is a God… what would you say is motivating your search? If you don’t mind me asking… Why do you care enough to ask, Is there a God?

178

Jon

You do raise some very powerful points, and the depth of your sincerity is obvious. I fully understand that I asked you to humor me a bit, to set aside your personal viewpoint, and to try to consider a point of view that you are unconvinced is even possible. I sincerely appreciate you taking a crack at it. You did great!

I’m glad you concluded that the perspective I was offering was more humane. To me a humane solution is still lower than a spiritual solution; a humane perspective honors the dignity of humans, a spiritual perspective the higher dignity of God. (but that’s me. I understand to you, the humane solutions are the highest kind, so I appreciate the props)

I’m surprised you asked

I’m sure I do not possess the full answer to this solid question, and I doubt I can communicate an acceptable answer to you; especially since a full answer requires a spiritual perspective to grapple with it. But I can say Holiness is not some “privilege” to do as one pleases. Holiness is foundational to the being of God. Holiness is not arbitrary, malleable, mutable, or situationally optional. Justice is core to Holiness, and to not answer unholiness with the fullness of justice would, in itself, be unholy. (one of these guys who dabble in theological theory could offer you a much longer, and no doubt more satisfying answer). My answer is God cannot set aside justice and remain Holy.

That is Exactly what He has done. In Jesus, “Mercy and truth have met together; Righteousness and peace have kissed.” “Righteousness and justice are the foundation of His throne; Mercy and truth go before His face.” Mercy is how we Know God.

This one is harder to explain. However, I have told you about the sickness; you now know (or at least “you have been told”) Let’s deal with you first. Then we might be better equipped to address the concerns of others. Let’s get through this Whit Monday, and see if the question still exists on Tuesday.

Lastly you say:

You are spot on here. Pretending, acting, or any disingenuous feigning acceptance is not convincing to God. He sees through that like a thin piece of glass. I don’t recommend it. Your Honesty, integrity, and genuine sincerity is the best thing you got going for you in this project of yours. Relinquishing those would, in my opinion, be counterproductive for you.

God has told us of Himself, The High and Lofty One, Who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy: "I dwell in the high and holy place, With him who has a contrite and humble spirit, To revive the spirit of the humble, And to revive the heart of the contrite ones.” To me, this seems to describes you, to some degree. He also says of Himself: "But on this one will I look: On him who is poor and of a contrite spirit, and who trembles at My word.”. God is not here telling you, (or mankind) how to act to get past the heavenly bouncer; He is not suggesting these are the characteristics one should feign like putting on a Sunday suit, to look good for inspection. God is not laying out a recipe for acceptance here (as some may tell you). God is describing common characteristics of those who know Him because they are like Him. I see these characteristics budding in your words and in your deportment. From your perspective, If God is real, and those who know Him are like this, I think you should start packing for heaven now.

Keep listening, stay honest.

I’m here if you need me.

KP

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Thanks for the thoughtful question, Tillman—I’m happy to clarify.

As I mentioned in my opening post, I’m working on a project exploring how people understand the nature of belief—specifically whether belief is something we can choose, or whether it forms involuntarily as a response to evidence, upbringing, or even divine action. I’m not personally undecided on that question, but I’m very interested in how others, particularly people of faith, think about it and reconcile it with their theology.

You asked why I’m here, in a Christian forum specifically. I wasn’t raised in a Christian environment, but Christianity is culturally dominant where I live, and uniquely places belief itself at the centre of salvation. That makes it especially relevant to the kinds of moral and philosophical questions I’m exploring. If eternal destiny hinges on belief, then the nature of belief—how it forms, whether it’s under our control—becomes ethically profound.

Just to be clear, I’m not here because I’m personally trying to figure out what I believe. That phase of my life was a long time ago. I’ve spent decades exploring these questions, and while I remain open to new arguments or evidence—I think we all should—I’m not currently in a place of existential seeking or spiritual uncertainty. My interest is philosophical and moral, not personal or devotional.

And I askthese questions because I care about truth. I care about what people believe, why they believe it, and what moral implications follow from that. And I’ve genuinely appreciated the thoughtfulness of those here—yourself included—who’ve taken the time to engage in good faith.

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KP,

You mentioned something that really made me pause and think: that God cannot simply forgive sin because doing so would compromise His holiness. I can see where that comes from, theologically. And I understand that within the Christian tradition, God’s justice and holiness are not traits He chooses to adhere to, but are seen as essential to His nature.

Still, I find myself wondering: doesn’t that impose a kind of limit on God?

If God is truly sovereign—if He is the ultimate source of everything, including morality and justice—then wouldn’t He also be the one who defines what justice is? To say that He must respond to sin through substitutionary atonement, and cannot simply forgive someone who is genuinely contrite, seems to suggest there’s a standard above Him that He’s duty-bound to obey. But if that’s true, then isn’t something higher than God? Doesn’t that diminish the very holiness we’re trying to preserve?

It’s a sincere question, not a rhetorical one. I understand that within the Christian narrative, the cross is seen not as God failing to forgive freely, but as God finding a way to do so without violating His own nature. And I respect that framing. But it does raise a tension I’ve never quite been able to resolve.

You also said something else that struck me deeply—about humility, honesty, and the traits God esteems. If there is a God like the one you describe—one who sees the heart, who values sincerity over performance, and who honours the contrite—I can only hope that living with intellectual honesty and moral seriousness counts for something, even in the absence of belief.

Thank you again, KP. I always come away from our exchanges with more clarity, more to ponder, and a greater appreciation for what real dialogue can look like. I hope I’ve offered you the same in return.

Warmly,
Jon

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With that said, are we calling belief in something and faith in something the same thing? Or do we define them as different things?

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That’s a great question, Tillman—and I’m really glad you asked it, because I think a lot of confusion in these conversations comes from how we use words like belief and faith, sometimes interchangeably. (I have a whole chapter on this in my book.)

To me, belief and faith are related but not identical.

Belief is what happens when your mind is persuaded that something is true. It’s not a decision, exactly—it’s more like a conclusion. You might weigh the evidence, consider the arguments, and find yourself thinking, “Yes, I think this is probably right.” In that sense, belief is something that happens to us when we’re sufficiently convinced. I don’t believe things by force of will—I believe them when I find them convincing.

Faith, on the other hand, is often framed as a choice. It’s a posture of trust, sometimes in the absence of clear evidence, and sometimes even in the presence of doubt. That doesn’t mean it’s irrational—many people describe it as a kind of relational trust, or a confidence rooted in experience. And I respect that deeply.

But here’s where the difficulty comes in for someone like me: if I’m not already convinced that something is true, I can’t simply will myself into belief by faith alone. As I’ve said in other posts, I can want it to be true, I can hope, I can even try to live as if it’s true—but my mind knows the difference. Until the belief becomes genuinely persuasive to me, it’s not something I can choose to hold. When I tried to do that in the past (many years ago) it felt very inauthentic and as KPuff rightly pointed out, God would know if I was just pretending.

Some people suggest that faith is the bridge that gets us from doubt to belief. But in my case, that bridge has never quite formed—because my doubts aren’t about stubbornness or rebellion; they’re about what my mind finds credible.

Of course, for many people, faith grows over time and becomes deeply intertwined with their personal experience of God. And I fully respect that. But that kind of faith—rooted in relationship, not just doctrine—can’t really be passed on like a fact. What convinces one person may not persuade another. That’s not a flaw—it’s just part of being human.

So, to answer your question: I think belief is about what we’re persuaded is true, and faith is about how we respond when we’re not sure. Faith may sustain people through uncertainty, but it often can’t manufacture belief where none yet exists. It certainly never could for me.

Thanks again for the thoughtful question and for your genuine engagement.