The Choices of James Lindsay

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Introduction

In a recent post, I mentioned the atheism of James Lindsay, and was subsequently informed by a reader that Lindsay had recently rejected his former atheism, and now considers himself to be an agnostic. My informant said this: “In a very recent interview, James Lindsay has said he has repented of his atheism, seeing it for the Marxism it is, and now is agnostic—and also while he doesn’t know about the metaphysical, he is deeply convicted of the anthropological and psychological truth of the Bible and the human condition.”

Three Kinds of Agnosticism

An agnostic is someone who takes the position of “not knowing” what the ultimate reality is. The word is a compound word, coming from the Greek prefix of negation and the word gnosis, which means knowledge. And agnostic is therefore someone who does not know.

There are three varieties of agnostic. The first one is flippant. He says, “I don’t know, and I don’t care to know.” This is the epistemology of a frat boy who is distracted by keggers and girls. The second kind of agnostic is the dogmatic agnostic. He is the one who says, “I don’t know, you don’t know, and nobody can know.” As we shall see, this position is basically atheism with a thin veneer of faux humility. The third kind of agnostic is the seeker—”I don’t know, but I sure wish I did.”

Every form of professed agnosticism will at some point reduce to one of these. Let’s say, for example, that someone tries this variation. “I don’t know, you don’t know, but perhaps somebody else out there knows.” That person is actually a seeker. Or someone professes to be a seeker, but cannot be prevailed upon to pay any attention to the issues. So he is a distracted agnostic, whether beer is involved or not.

So let’s take each of these in turn.

Distracted Agnosticism

We should start with the person who just doesn’t care. He says, “I don’t know, and I don’t care.” This person may call himself an agnostic, but the thing driving him, the thing defining him, is not his lack of knowledge. He doesn’t care for a reason, and that reason, whatever it might be, is the god of his operating system. Knowing the true God would bring in certain moral responsibilities that he would rather not have to deal with. Knowing the true God would likely have a drastic impact on certain parts of his life that he would rather leave undisturbed.

I earlier said that this was a frat boy system, but the distractions can go far beyond beer or girls. One man might be consumed with getting ahead with his career. Another might be focused entirely on saving the planet from environmental disaster, and that feels to him like a noble distraction. Or, returning to the frat boy, it might be just plain old hedonism. Or it could be a high hedonism, a philosophical Epicurean, walking in a Japanese garden while contemplating elegant chess moves. Whatever the reason, the issue is distraction. They care about something else more. They would rather focus on something that is not ultimate rather than something that is.

In talking with such folks, it is a waste of your time and theirs to talk about epistemology. They are only saying that they don’t know because they want to continue with not caring, and they want to continue with not caring because they have certain prospects for this coming weekend.

“And another said, I have bought five yoke of oxen, and I go to prove them: I pray thee have me excused.” (Luke 14:19). So when it comes to epistemology, save your breath for walking uphill.

This doesn’t mean you need to write such individuals off, but it would be far better to talk to them about their real issue. “Marriage is honourable in all, and the bed undefiled: but whoremongers and adulterers God will judge” (Heb. 13:4). Simply assume the last day judgment of the living God, and talk in terms of that. Of course, there is no need to pester someone with truths that they simply don’t want to hear. I am addressing what you should talk about if such a person is willing to talk at all. But if they have had quite enough of you and your chatter, then let it all go. Don’t be an evangel-pest.

But at a bare minimum, we should stop using the Greek formation of agnostic, and move over to the Latin word with the same meaning, which would be ignoramus.

Dogmatic Agnosticism

The dogmatic agnostic says that nobody knows, and this appears to get him everything that atheism does, but without having to prove a negative. “There is no God” is quite the statement, and in order to have the ability to establish the truthfulness of “there is no God,” one would actually have to be God.

If a man says there is gold in Alaska, he only has to dig until he finds some in order to prove his point. When he finds it, as soon as he has found it, he has established his claim. But if he were to say something far more far reaching than that, like “there is no gold in Alaska,” now in order to prove his point, he has to dig up all of Alaska, all the way down. Proving a negative can be really arduous.

“There is no God” is that kind of issue, and many atheists have recognized the problem, and so have retreated to something that does not seem to create that same level of difficulty for them. “I don’t know, you don’t know, and nobody can know.”

But let us tease out the hidden claim that is embedded in that last phrase, nobody can know. In the first part of the sentence, the agnostic has disclaimed any knowledge of God. He just flat doesn’t know. But somehow, by the third phrase, he has acquired a surprising knowledge of what this God has to be like, were He to exist.

“If there is a God, He must be the kind of being who is absolutely incapable of communicating with creatures like ourselves.”

This is a staggering claim, actually, and one wonders what Sunday School our agnostic friend learned it in. If you don’t know whether or not there is a God, you certainly don’t know what He is like, were He to exist. It makes no sense to say “I don’t know anything at all about God, and here is a list of things that He can’t do.”

When someone says that “nobody can know,” it sounds like a claim is being made about human ability, human epistemology. That is why it sounds humble. But it is actually a claim about divine inability.

Those who are steeped in man-centered epistemology believe that there are only two options on the menu—rationalism or empiricism. Man can figure out what is going on by reasoning his way to the truth, or man can know whatever he knows through sensory experience, The reason these positions tend to devolve into skepticism is that they require us to take a faith position—that of trusting our reason, or of trusting our experience. But why would we do that when we cannot define what reason is, or what experience even is?

A consistent Christian epistemology maintains that we can know things because God reveals them to us. The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge (Prov. 1:7). The wise man starts with God. I know things because God reveals them through the created order, through my conscience, through holy Scripture, and through the incarnation of His Son. Notice that God’s revelatory work incorporates both reason and experience, but neither reason nor experience are lights to light our path. They are not lights, but rather more like rods and cones in the eye that enable us to receive light.

To sum it up, if God doesn’t tell us, we don’t know. Apart from revelation, we are absolutely in the dark. And the claim of the dogmatic agnostic is that God, if such a being exists, is incapable of telling us. But how on earth could the agnostic know that, when he has just told us that he cannot know anything like that. Our limitations are not God’s limitations.

Suppose a Christian and an agnostic both ran afoul of some medieval authorities, and were both of them chained to a dungeon wall. To kill time, they were discussing epistemology. The agnostic said something like, “Even with all your faith, you see that you and I are in exactly the same position. I, the agnostic, am chained to the wall, and it would not be possible for me to touch the jailer’s nose. You, the Christian, are equally limited. You are just as chained up as I am, and so you are equally incapable of touching the jailer’s nose. Explain that.”

“Ah,” the Christian replies. “You think we are discussing the abilities of the prisoners. I start elsewhere. I start with the jailer. You and I are both chained to the wall. How does it follow from your premises that the jailer cannot touch my nose? That is the only real question, and you are wanting it to be something else.”

I Wish I Did Know

The seeking agnostic is actually in a wonderful position. We know that when left to our own devices, none of us would ever seek God. We are told this, flat out.

What this means is that if a sinner has started to seek after God, then this is evidence that God has already started a work in him. All the initiative must be with God. We love God because He first loved us (1 John 4:19).

And when that has started to happen, there is a promise annexed to it. These are the words of the Lord Jesus Himself.

Put another way, for the agnostic who is actually searching, for the person who does not know God, but is earnestly seeking, the Church has nothing to offer but an earnest invitation.

So come, and welcome, to Jesus Christ

The Choices of James Lindsay

So let us take the earlier summary of Lindsay’s views at face value. The summary was that “while he doesn’t know about the metaphysical, he is deeply convicted of the anthropological and psychological truth of the Bible and the human condition.”

So this is where it is crucial that we recognize the position and place and authority of presuppositions. It is good and right that he is deeply convicted of these things, but we still need to do something in order to make it make sense. What is man? Depending on the answer, we can see if there is any need to pay any attention whatever to such “deep convictions.” In other words, such deep conviction needs to have a metaphysical foundation. Without a metaphysical foundation, there is no such thing as a deep conviction.

The anthropological truth of the Bible is certainly truth, but it only exists as such in a tight weave with the theological truth of the Bible. And it is certainly true that Christians are psychologically dependent upon their Lord Jesus Christ. But if He did not come back from the dead, the name for this psychological dependence would not be “psychological truth,” but rather a snare and a delusion.

Put another way, trying to understand the Christian faith apart from the metaphysical claims assumed throughout the gospel is like trying to separate the eggs from the omelet. It is not possible to come part way. Either Christ rose from the dead, or He did not. If He did not, then James Lindsay’s former atheistic lifestyle makes far better sense.

Because of the truth of the Christian faith, we can make sense out of the deep conviction that has been stirred up in Lindsay. We can understand the reason why he wants to show respect to the Christian understanding of man. But our faith in Christ is pre-Kantian. We believe every word in the Apostles Creed, and we take it the way we take our whiskey . . . straight.

So we know where Lindsay’s respect for Christianity is coming from . . . God reveals Himself in the creation, in the consciences of men, in His inspired Word, and in the person and work of the Lord Jesus Christ. But the value of a deep conviction has to come from the a priori reality of the living God. Trying to climb up to God on the basis of our deep convictions is like trying to shinny up a rope of sand.

In order to be saved, we must receive. And in order to receive, we must be willing to receive, and that requires repentance and submission. Submission to whom? To the risen Lord. Submission to what? The metaphysical assumptions of Christian theology, the total package. Submission how? In repentance and humility. Submission when?

So, as stated before, come, and welcome, to Jesus Christ. To James Lindsay, come. Come, and welcome.