This blog emphasizes epistemic humility, where one might say that the only genuinely mistaken position is claiming certainty about metaphysical matters (as well as many other topics beyond this blog’s scope). That’s why I describe my views as a hope rather than a certainty, and I maintain this is the only truly rational stance anyone can adopt given the inherent uncertainty in our knowledge. This means we make a choice — we are not convinced by proof, the presence or absence of evidence, or even profound personal experiences. None of these can be completely determinative; they serve only as data points around which we construct the narrative in which we choose to place our hope.
Continue readingIntellectual Humility: Thinking About Faith and Bias
The essence of Christianity should be obvious. Love as its foundation isn’t some obscure theological discovery requiring centuries of scholarly debate—it’s there in Scripture, clear as day. The early Christians understood this. Yet somehow, between then and now, we’ve managed to obscure something that should be self-evident.
Continue readingSeeing Truth Beyond the Letter in Christianity
From time to time, I refer to love as central to Christianity. That this might be the case is often not evident from the behavior of Christians both through history and today, nor is it always clear from simple interpretations of Scripture. The goal of this essay is to introduce the perspective that love does underlie the faith.
Aesop’s fables present us with a curious paradox. If we approach them as literal accounts, they are demonstrably false—foxes do not engage in philosophical musings about unreachable grapes, nor do tortoises and hares arrange footraces to settle questions of persistence versus natural ability. Yet dismissing these ancient stories as mere falsehoods would be to miss their essence entirely. The truths they convey transcend their fictional narratives so profoundly that, millennia after their composition, we still invoke “sour grapes” to describe the all-too-human tendency to disparage what we cannot obtain. The fables are false in letter but true in spirit, false in detail but true in wisdom.
This same framework offers a fruitful way to approach Biblical interpretation—to read Scripture not merely as a chronicle of historical events, but as a collection of narratives that point toward deeper, enduring truths. This is not to argue for a wholesale rejection of historicity. Few Christians would embrace a purely allegorical reading of pivotal events like the resurrection of Jesus. Rather, it is to suggest that the primary value of Scripture lies not in its narratives as such, but in the profound truths those narratives illuminate and embody.
This naturally raises a critical question: what are these fundamental, basic truths that Scripture seeks to convey?
Continue readingFrom Nihilism to Love: Searching for a Life of Purpose
Although compelling arguments exist on both sides of the debate between atheism and Christianity, each worldview is often associated with a central philosophical difficulty. For atheism, the most intractable challenge is nihilism. For Christianity, it is the problem of evil.
Nihilism, in this context, is the claim that if reality is purely physical and devoid of any transcendent source of purpose, then life ultimately has no intrinsic meaning. This conclusion seems to stand at odds with our lived experience, which instinctively points toward purpose, value, and significance.
The problem of evil—or suffering—presents an equally serious challenge for Christianity. It asks how a benevolent, omnipotent God could permit profound suffering, especially the suffering of the innocent. The emotional and philosophical weight of this question has made it one of the most enduring objections to Christian belief.
Yet both worldviews have developed thoughtful responses to their respective challenges.
Continue readingOpening Our Minds: Why Science Shouldn’t Reject Ideas That Sound Religious
When Christian apologists point to unsolved mysteries in science as potential evidence for their faith, they often overreach. These mysteries don’t specifically validate Christianity—but dismissing them entirely may be equally problematic. The scientific community risks making a critical error: rejecting entire classes of explanations not because they lack merit, but simply because they bear a superficial resemblance to religious concepts.
Continue readingKelvin’s Clouds and Pascal’s Wager
A recent comment on my latest post got me thinking about how Pascal’s Wager compares with the perspective I’ve been developing here.
Pascal’s Wager argues that it is more rational to believe in God than not. The reasoning is that if God exists and you do not believe, the loss is infinitely negative (eternal death). But if you do believe and God exists, the gain is infinitely positive (eternal life). The wager assumes that, since we cannot know the truth with certainty, we must make a choice within that uncertainty.
At first glance, this sounds very similar to the perspective that I’ve been developing here: the recognition that ultimate truth is beyond our reach, and so the real question becomes—where do we place our hope?
Continue readingThe Neglected Core of Christianity
Critics of Christianity often seize upon specific doctrines or practices they find objectionable: the notion of Hell, theological disputes about Jesus’ death, historical mistreatment of women, young-earth creationism, or even Christian attitudes toward science. These criticisms are not trivial, and many of them point to real shortcomings in the way the faith has been articulated or practiced. Yet, there is a significant oversight in these lines of attack: none of these disputed issues represent the heart of Christianity.
Continue readingWondering About Truth and Science
Science is often celebrated as humanity’s most powerful tool for uncovering the nature of reality. From the mechanics of the cosmos to the intricacies of biology, science has radically expanded our understanding and transformed the way we live. Its success, particularly when applied through technology, is undeniable. But should we take this as a sign that science is the only valid way to seek truth?
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The Hard Problem of a Love-Based Society
An earlier post touched on the difficulty of building societies grounded in love, especially when viewed through the lens of evolutionary theory. In particular, the idea made famous by Richard Dawkins—that we are, in a sense, vehicles for “selfish genes”—poses a profound challenge. According to this view, the behaviors and traits that have been favored by evolution are those that enhance the survival and replication of genes, often at the expense of others. Even altruism, when it does appear, is typically explained as a strategy that ultimately serves genetic self-interest.
This perspective doesn’t necessarily mean we are doomed to be selfish in every interaction. Social cooperation, empathy, even self-sacrifice, can all arise under the right conditions. But if these behaviors are essentially byproducts of a deeper drive for genetic success, then what does it mean to hope for a society built on selfless love? Can such a vision be anything more than a noble exception to nature’s dominant rule?
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Dawkins’ Hope
In The Selfish Gene, Richard Dawkins presents the provocative idea that, although humans are shaped by evolutionary forces that favor selfish behavior, we are also capable of choosing to rise above this inherent selfishness. He argues that we are not prisoners of our genetic programming—we can choose altruism, compassion, and cooperation. However, Dawkins offers no clear explanation for how or why humans possess this capacity to override our evolutionary instincts. Presumably, he would regard it as an unintended byproduct of other advanced cognitive traits that evolved for different reasons—an emergent property rather than a designed feature.
But this remains speculative. From a strictly naturalistic perspective, there’s little reason to assume that humans are fundamentally different from other animals when it comes to the ability to transcend self-interest. Evolution does not inherently favor such choices unless they serve a reproductive or survival advantage. Therefore, while Dawkins’ call to “rise above” our selfish genes is inspiring, it risks being dismissed as mere wishful thinking unless grounded in something more substantial—something that can account for both the origin and the power of such a choice.
One way to make sense of this idea is to think of it as a shift in focus—from self to others. This is a useful lens through which to understand a particular kind of love: not the romantic or emotional kind often labeled as “love,” but rather a self-giving, other-centered orientation. In this view, love becomes synonymous with freedom from selfishness. It is the active decision to prioritize another’s well-being above one’s own—a deliberate act of self-transcendence.
Perhaps the clearest and most developed articulation of this concept is found in Christianity. The tradition repeatedly affirms love as the highest virtue: “God is love,” “For God so loved the world,” “Love your neighbor as yourself.” Love, in the Christian vision, is not merely a private feeling but a foundational force meant to permeate all human relationships. While not all expressions of Christianity have lived up to this ideal, many of the earliest Christian communities, as recorded in both scripture and history, exhibited striking examples of sacrificial love and radical generosity. Despite the faith’s many failings over time, Christianity has nevertheless served as a foundational influence on Western ethical and moral values, precisely because it cast love—understood as the defeat of selfishness—as central to human flourishing.
At the heart of this transformative vision is the idea that humans are created “in the image of God.” Though interpretations of this phrase vary widely, its core implication is that human beings are distinct from the rest of the animal kingdom in some essential way. This uniqueness may be precisely what allows for the possibility of breaking free from purely instinctual, self-centered behavior. If we bear some reflection of the divine—if we are more than just sophisticated animals—then perhaps the call to rise above our selfish genes is not merely a hopeful aspiration but a real and attainable path.
(Note, this essay used AI to polish the writing, but the ideas, content, and overall organization are mine.)
Kelvin's Clouds 