How in the world was I able to fit it all together in harmonious etc. etc. if it is a falsification?
In Germany, we have a saying, “Words are patient!” (Wörter sind geduldig), meaning that how people interpret or misinterpret words can lead to misunderstandings. The words can be misused, and there is no way of preventing that.
Just because you can fit words together doesn’t qualify it as true. The Gospel of Mark concentrates on tragedy, the Gospel of Matthew has a gripe against the Jews, the Gospel of Luke tries to emulate history, and the Gospel of John sees everything as a cosmic event—quite a variety of interpretations of a Nazarene carpenter who was crucified for opposing the authorities.
And how did you arrive at that interpretation, I wonder?
Years of reading, listening, and holding devotionals, sermons, and lectures. I have gone through a library of literature on the Bible and probably forgotten more than I remember now.
Sounds like a falsification?
I agree agape doesn’t mean we are protected from pain. I agree he is here. The because doesn’t make sense to me.
“My” (not mine) counter to the problem of evil was the free will defense.
Agape requires choice.
This was the only nugget in your last lengthy reply that was relevant to Flew’s book…
I am not interested in discussing gnostic stuff that is not relevant to Flew’s book or the accepted canon.
Regarding embodiment/incarnation, though… and panentheism… if the timeline was not asequentially concurred by Being, could there be “disembodied” spirit/cognition? Doubt it. Highly.
You insult me with this comment. I wrote quite a lot before you even got started. You probably insulted me because I criticised your “harmonisation” attempt. This is not a basis for discussion.
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Everything they say, isn’t a basis for discussion… that is what happens when One takes One’s thoughts as facts and only facts.
#fax
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Agreed
^This is a very thoughtful discourse. Or is it merely agreeable?

I like how on 44 & 48, Flew accepts that pain is something theists let count against (falsify) the hypothesis that God loves humankind, so that it is not an empty hypothesis, and things can count for (verify, though less stringently defined) that hypothesis, as well. I like that he agrees with Heimbeck’s critique that he was wrong to collapse the distinction between “counts against” and “is incompatible with”. It becomes an issue of – is it a defeater? Flew references the free will defense (73), and distinguishes between the moral movings of action/will and the physical motions of necessary will – seeing design in both (110…). No algorithm without a programmer; no automation without design.
Here’s a falsifying defeater: If there is no demonstration of God’s love in a context understood by the community in which it was demonstrated (47), the claim that God is love is not real/actual – it does not apply.
This got me thinking back to…
If there IS a good (loving), omnipotent God, THEN there is a problem of evil.
If there is no good (loving), omnipotent God, there can be no problem of evil, because without real/actual goodness, there cannot be its privation (evil).
Those who affirm evil is a problem must accept (in order to remain consistent) there is a real/actual good, omnipotent God of which evil is the privation.
If there is a real/actual good, omnipotent God of which evil is a privation, there will be a demonstration of that goodness (love) in a context understood by the community in which it was demonstrated (47). Everything before that demonstration would be prefiguring/foreshadowing in order to “teach the language” and prepare the message of the demonstration (living, incarnate parable, 46) to be understood.
That relates to panentheism, because how can a God who is merely transcendent communicate an eternal truth (“God is love”) experienced/applied immanently in human history?
I like this quote from Varghese in Appendix A, 183: “If we are centers of consciousness and thought who are able to know and love and intend and execute, I cannot see how such centers could come to be from something that is itself incapable of all these activities.”
It is an echo of where Flew writes in agreement with Thomas Tracy how God (spirit) would be identified: “To say that God is loving is to say that God loves in concrete ways, shown in his actions, and these actions represent his identity as an agent.” (150). If love is not love without demonstration, then said demonstration (active love) is eternally concurrent, omnipresent & omnitemporal, subsuming the sequence (“timeline”). I believe this agrees with his discussion of Brian Leftow following his discussion of Thomas Tracy, if by “outside” of time, one just means “not subject to, but instead subsuming as source.” “At the very least, the studies of Tracy and Leftow show that the idea of an omnipresent Spirit is not intrinsically incoherent if we see such a Spirit as an agent outside space and time that uniquely executes its intentions in the spacio-temporal continuum,” (153-154). To me that is panentheism, but not an impersonal creator/mind (oxymoron).
I take issue with N.T. Wright’s Appendix B where he says, “Only it isn’t through the Word and wisdom and the rest. It’s in and as a person,” (192). Word, wisdom, person… same, same. And, “I think he knew he might actually be wrong,” (193). That doesn’t make sense of the evidence. There must be some subtle cultural thing going on with that sentence to where Wright didn’t actually mean that.
Is Flew really a deist if he thinks God did not just wind up the designed watch & let it go, but intricately wove together life? Is he really a deist if he is open to God making his love actual in human history? He says in his concluding reflections, “Is it possible that there has been or can be divine revelation? As I said, you cannot limit the possibilities of omnipotence except to produce the logically impossible. Everything else is open to omnipotence,” (213).
I am interested in knowing how Flew’s contribution as an atheist to “Did Jesus Rise from the Dead?” (with Habermas and Miethe, published 2003) differs from his contribution as a deist to “Did the Resurrection Happen?” (again with Habermas, published 2009).

A quote from Flew that sticks from his preface to Wright’s appendix:
“I think that the Christian religion is the one religion that most clearly deserves to be honoured and respected whether or not its claim to be a divine revelation is true. There is nothing like the combination of a charismatic figure like Jesus and a first-class intellectual like St. Paul. … If you’re wanting Omnipotence to set up a religion, this is the one to beat,” 185-186.
I presupposed our ability to have an on-topic discussion of Flew’s “There Is a God”.
I have done my part.
Good day.
First off, you ignored my direct references to the book, which is more science than orthodox Christianity, which might not appeal to you, but you selected the book.

The beginning of the book focuses on the fact that Antony Flew was a well-known atheist and philosopher famous for his advocacy of atheism and secular humanism, and how, in the later years of his life, he underwent a significant shift in his beliefs, moving from atheism to a form of deism. Whilst this may be used to indicate how views can change, I didn’t find it particularly riveting.
The details of Flew’s journey and the reasons behind his change of mind about the existence of God were more interesting, but it is more a reconsideration of his atheistic stance than a conversion. Critiquing some of the key tenets of atheism and presenting his reasons for finding certain atheistic positions untenable, he merely shows that these views are often not fully thought through. The conversation that Alex O’Connor had with Richard Dawkins made that very clear. youtube.com/watch?v=AR7xh-dijiI
One significant aspect of Flew’s change of mind was his openness to intelligent design, particularly in the complexity and order of the universe. Too many creationists jump on the bandwagon in this area, but Flew is too sophisticated for that. His contention is validated by the fact that mathematicians have sat with palaeontologists, have calculated based on what we believe to know, and realised there is not enough time for random events to lead from the planet’s beginning to intelligent life.
We don’t even know the basis of reality because matter has form at a microscopic level, form needs patterns, and patterns suggest information. If you placed salt on a metal plate and used a violin bow to make vibrations, the salt organises itself into patterns, so perhaps vibration has a role to play. We know that solid material has a higher frequency than soft material. But where do vibrations come from? This potential that had a beginning somewhere seems to have an intention behind it, although I don’t believe the anthropomorphic interpretations that many fundamentalists believe in.
The tree represents life well because it defies physical impracticalities (such as gravity) to get water and nutrients to the highest leaf and draws carbon from the atmosphere to grow. The tree’s ability to overcome those challenges and its role in nutrient cycling and carbon sequestration highlights natural processes’ intricate and seemingly purposeful design.
So, Flew discusses the limitations of science in explaining certain aspects of existence, suggesting that a purely naturalistic explanation falls short of a parsimonious answer:
Science spotlights three dimensions of nature that point to God. The first is the fact that nature obeys laws. The second is the dimension of life, of intelligently organized and purpose-driven beings, which arose from matter. The third is the very existence of nature. But it is not science alone that has guided me. I have also been helped by a renewed study of the classical philosophical arguments. …
In 2004 I said that the origin of life cannot be explained if you start with matter alone. My critics responded by triumphantly announcing that I had not read a particular paper in a scientific journal or followed a brand-new development relating to abiogenesis (the spontaneous generation of life from nonliving material). In doing so, they missed the whole point. My concern was not with this or that fact of chemistry or genetics, but with the fundamental question of what it means for something to be alive and how this relates to the body of chemical and genetic facts viewed as a whole. To think at this level is to think as a philosopher.
The reductionist view that has dominated us for over 250 years, which caused the engineering God hypothesis to be very prominent amongst believers, but as Iain McGilchrist recently pointed out:
Turner writes: ‘To honestly deal with the question at hand here – where does design come from? – there is no way of avoiding the problem of intentionality: it is the 800-pound gorilla sitting in the corner.’ This is surely wrong: the gorilla is sitting, not in the corner, but in the middle of the room. ‘The living world is not only a designed place’, he concludes, ‘it is, in its peculiar way, an intentionally designed place … a living phenomenon replete with the purposefulness and intentionality that is the fundamental attribute of life itself.’ Let me say, before the howls begin, that neither he nor I are arguing for an engineering God. What we have to explain is how there is order, complexity, beauty and purpose, while at the same time accepting that what we are dealing with is not a machine, and it has no extrinsic purpose, such as a machine has – it does not fulfil, in what would have to be an instrumental fashion, the purposes of something external to it.
McGilchrist, Iain . The Matter With Things: Our Brains, Our Delusions and the Unmaking of the World (pp. 751-752). Perspectiva Press. Kindle Edition.Flew also says, “I must stress that my discovery of the Divine has proceeded on a purely natural level, without any reference to supernatural phenomena. It has been an exercise in what is traditionally called natural theology. It has had no connection with any of the revealed religions. Nor do I claim to have had any personal experience of God or any experience that may be called supernatural or miraculous. In short, my discovery of the Divine has been a pilgrimage of reason and not of faith.”
Flew’s citation of Einstein’s statement is also telling: “My religiosity consists of a humble admiration of the infinitely superior spirit who reveals himself in the slight details we are able to perceive with our frail and feeble minds. That deeply emotional conviction of the presence of a superior reasoning power, which is revealed in the incomprehensible universe, forms my idea of God.”
In the appendices, Flew expands on five phenomena that he says are evident in our immediate experience that can only be explained in terms of the existence of God:
1. Flew contends that the rationality inherent in the physical world, such as the order and predictability observed in the laws of nature, suggests a transcendent intelligence. According to Flew, the consistency and orderliness of the universe point to a rational and intentional Creator.
Iain McGilchrist also addressed this aspect:
Does this tell us something about the nature of God? Whitehead thought so. Moreover he saw God as the principle that made possible, and was expressed in, the newness of creation, the presence of order in complexity, and of purpose, within the cosmos. His view of God’s interaction with the cosmos is dialectical, in that God and the world fulfil each other and bring each other into being. The one and eternal becomes many and ceaselessly changing, just as the many and ceaselessly changing become one and eternal. In the words of Schelling once more: ‘Existence is the conjunction of a being as One, with itself as a Many.’
This is not, then, as Whitehead crucially recognised, two processes, but two facets of a single process:It is as true to say that God creates the World, as that the World creates God … Neither God, nor the World, reaches static completion. Both are in the grip of the ultimate metaphysical ground, the creative advance into novelty. Either of them, God and the World, is the instrument of novelty for the other.
McGilchrist, Iain. The Matter With Things: Our Brains, Our Delusions and the Unmaking of the World (pp. 1914-1915). Perspectiva Press. Kindle Edition.
This is a point I have discussed elsewhere: the experience of all living things contributes to the knowledge of the intelligence that started it all. Whether that happens in time or out of time, the purpose of our lives is to be the feeling, experiencing tentacles that extend into physical existence.
2. He emphasises the capacity for life to act autonomously, especially in living organisms. He argues that the autonomy and purposeful action exhibited by living beings imply a source of life that imparts purpose and direction rather than mere random processes.
Of course, this is also an aspect of ethical teaching and judging what is good and right. The fact that we have a discussion in contemporary times is a sign that autonomy may indeed be a sign of sophistication, but so much so that it can become a burden. Coming from nursing, I can relate well to the following:
Autonomy is another unusual preoccupation of our age. Too little is very obviously a social ill, and so it is certainly a worthy aim. But it may conflict with other important values, requiring us to qualify its application. There is a false antinomy between personal fulfilment and the fulfilment of others: we constitute society and society constitutes us. In a healthy society, the needs of self and others are as much as possible harmonised, and neither should be allowed to tyrannise the other. The main casualty of autonomy as a principle for reaching moral conclusions is a proper concern for the impact of an action on how we view humanity at large – on human dignity, to use an unfashionable term. For a deeply thought-provoking look at how this plays out in the courts of law, I recommend Charles Foster’s Choosing Life, Choosing Death: The Tyranny of Autonomy in Medical Ethics and Law:
The universal law of the medical autonomists is not geographically universal. In fact it is only to be found in a relatively small, highly educated part of the West. There is a wider point: autonomy itself (as opposed to the universal liberal law at its heart) is a Western idea – mysterious to and frowned upon by those outside the West.
Which does not of course make it wrong, but may alert us to what it is that we are failing to take into account in our attempts to harmonise competing claims, a necessity for good moral decisions.
McGilchrist, Iain . The Matter With Things: Our Brains, Our Delusions and the Unmaking of the World (p. 1752). Perspectiva Press. Kindle Edition.3. Flew considers consciousness, the ability to be aware, as a phenomenon that requires explanation. He contends that the existence of conscious experience, particularly self-awareness, suggests the presence of a transcendent mind or consciousness that is foundational to our own.
McGilchrist calls upon Bergson to explain how all the expressions of consciousness, our sensations, emotions, and ideas, ‘display a double aspect: one is clear, precise, and impersonal; the other is confused, infinitely mobile, and inexpressible, because language cannot grasp it without immobilising its mobility’. This obviously supports his hemisphere hypothesis, which shows how attentiveness is twofold and is so throughout the animal kingdom. This makes a gradation of consciousness possible, which could support the theory I put forward that “God’s” inquisitiveness spreads throughout all living beings, not just those we deem sentient.
4. Flew points to the human ability for conceptual thought, the power to articulate and understand meaningful symbols, particularly language. According to Flew, the capacity for abstract thinking, communication, and the use of symbols indicates a higher intelligence behind the human ability to engage in meaningful thought and expression.
Of course, conceptual thought needs language, but it may have been expressed in other ways before the development of written language. The primordial linguistic attempts probably grew out of enactment or artistic portrayal, which means showing rather than trying to describe using symbols. It is interesting that human beings seem to have been engaged in megalithic building before the first examples of expressive language. We have found tablets containing lists and symbols, but nothing in that age that can be conceived of as mythology, legend, or narrative.
5. Finally, Flew addresses the concept of the human self as the “center” of consciousness, thought, and action. He suggests that the existence of a unified and self-aware center of experience, the “I” or self, raises questions about its origin and nature, pointing to a transcendent source that provides coherence to personal identity.
The interesting thing about self is that our idea of self is a brain function that can be inhibited or even disrupted by injury to the brain. Our awareness of a bodily self changes when people have a stroke, for example, with right hemispheric damage leading to a neglect of everything on the left and even a reduction of reasonableness. This is illustrated by patients not even believing that their left arm is theirs, as I have often experienced in nursing practice. This indicates that a balanced idea of self depends on both brain hemispheres working together. McGilchrist suggests that we can habitually disengage with the more reasonable right hemisphere, for example, when we think we are threatened or in danger.
But we also have another problem, which can come from using one side of our perception, namely what Meister Eckhardt called the intellect:
The active intellect … cannot entertain two images together, it has first one and then the other. [But] … if God prompts you to a good deed … whatever good you can do takes shape and presents itself to you together in a flash, concentrated in a single point … When the intellect discerns true being it descends on it, comes to rest on it, pronouncing its intellectual word about the object it has seized on.’ But it can never do what it longs to do, namely to say ‘this is this, it is such and not otherwise’. It carries on in ‘questioning and expectation; it does not settle down or rest, but labours on, seeking, expecting and rejecting … Thus there is no way man can know what God is. But one thing he does know: what God is not. And this a man of intellect will reject.’ Intellect peeps in and ransacks every corner of the Godhead, and seizes on the Son in the Father’s heart and in the ground, and sets him in its own ground. Intellect forces its way in, dissatisfied with wisdom or goodness or truth or God Himself. In very truth, it is as little satisfied with God as with a stone or a tree. It never rests …
Intellectually, we may “ransack every corner of the Godhead” and never understand. The broader intuitive experience of the transcendentals, truth, unity (oneness), beauty, and goodness impart an insight that the intellect cannot access. This means that Flew’s rational enquiry is limited. Positing that the existence of God provides a more plausible explanation for the depth and complexity of these phenomena, indicating an underlying purpose and intelligence in the universe, requires that we must leave the rational enquiry, that brought us so far, behind us, and enter unknown terrain.
I wrote my reply with all of your replies in my mind — I just did not quote them.
Would you have preferred I showed my work? Do you understand how difficult that would’ve been? I arranged it the way I did for a reason.

I wrote my reply with all of your replies in my mind — I just did not quote them.
Would you have preferred I showed my work? Do you understand how difficult that would’ve been? I arranged it the way I did for a reason.
I would have preferred, as I have done, that we reference each other’s comments as well as the book we are talking about. To put my comments down to being “gnostic” is derogatory.
It wasn’t all your comments. Just some of them in one of your replies. Do you consider my lack of interest insulting? It’s not you. It’s gnosticism.
With regard to the resurrection, Flew takes this story into consideration:
A modern myth circulating at the moment says that it’s only we who have contemporary post-Enlightenment science who have discovered that dead people don’t rise. Those people back then, poor things, were unenlightened, so they believed in all these crazy miracles. But that is simply false. A lovely quote by C. S. Lewis relates to this. He is talking about the virginal conception of Jesus and says that the reason Joseph was worried about Mary’s pregnancy was not because he didn’t know where babies come from, but because he did. It’s the same with the resurrection of Jesus. People in the ancient world were incredulous when faced with the Christian claim, because they knew perfectly well that when people die they stay dead.
Once more, the consideration is built on a wrong assumption, namely that people at the time of Paul believed in miracles. However, the fact that they didn’t isn’t straightaway evidence for the validity of the claim. The connection with the supposed incarnation completely ignores the parallel legendary accounts of other religious figures. In the Hellenistic-Roman world, there were beliefs in divine or semi-divine beings descending to Earth in human form. For example, some rulers or emperors were deified, and stories of heroes and demigods often involved interactions between the divine and the human. These stories were often told after their death, exemplifying them.
This phenomenon is not unique to a particular religious or cultural tradition; it can be observed in various contexts. The posthumous development of stories and legends often serves several purposes, including elevating the figure’s status, establishing a religious or cultural identity, and promoting a particular set of beliefs or values. The stories of heroes like Heracles (Hercules) and Perseus often involved divine parentage and extraordinary feats. The details of their lives and exploits were embellished over time, contributing to their legendary status.
What seems to be more poignant is that Christianity had opposing views to the common Roman attitudes. The deification of Roman emperors, who were sometimes considered divine during their lifetimes or posthumously, involved the creation of narratives that emphasised their connection to the divine. This served political and ideological purposes, reinforcing the ruling elite’s authority. The deification of Christ could be seen as a contradiction of these habits because Christ died on the cross as a result of his kenosis and was said to be “elevated”. It might have been a point of contention between Paul and the “Superapostles” despite Luke’s fictional accounts.
And what we then find — and this to me is utterly fascinating — that we can track, in early Christianity, several modifications in the classic Jewish belief about resurrection. First, instead of resurrection being something that was simply going to happen to all God’s people at the end, the early Christians said it had happened to one person in advance. Now, no first-century Jew, as far as we know, believed there would be one person raised ahead of everybody else. So that’s a radical innovation, but they all believed that.
Jews to this day believe in the resurrection at the end of days, and the idea of someone being resurrected in the way Jesus was said to have appeared was completely at odds with common sense. Visions were accepted to a certain degree, but claiming the bodily resurrection was and is a sacrilege.
Second, they believed that resurrection would involve the transformation of the physical body. Those Jews who believed in resurrection seem to have gone in one of two directions. Some said it would produce a physical body exactly like this one all over again, and others said it would be a luminous body, one shining like a star. The early Christians didn’t say either of those things. They talked about a new sort of physicality — this is very clear in Paul, but not only in Paul — a new type of embodiedness that is definitely bodily in the sense of being solid and substantial, but seems to have been transformed so that it is now not susceptible to pain or suffering or death. And this is quite new. That picture of resurrection is not in Judaism.
Exactly, and that is the reason why we can say that Paul was starting a completely new cult. The Jews have clear ideas about the coming of the Messiah, which transforms the world. This has not happened, even if the long-term consequences have had positive effects. Some Rabbis have doubted the identity of Paul as a Rabbi because of these completely outlandish claims.
Third, of course, they believed that the Messiah himself had been raised from the dead, which no Second Temple Jew believed because, according to Second Temple Judaism, the Messiah was never going to be killed. So that was novel.
Ditto
Fourth, they used the idea of “resurrection” in quite new ways. In Judaism, the idea had been used as a metaphor for “return from exile,” as we find in Ezekiel 37. But within early Christianity — and I mean very early Christianity, for example, Paul — we find it being used in connection with baptism, holiness, and various other aspects of Christian living that were not in mind within Judaism and its use of “resurrection." This again shows quite a radical innovation, a mutation from its form in the Jewish viewpoint.
If this was the way that word was used, it would indicate that misunderstanding is inevitable over time.
I’ll come back to the other points, I have little time at the present.
Bob,
We are discussing a different book now? Would you care to put a reference so that we might join you?

Bob,
We are discussing a different book now? Would you care to put a reference so that we might join you?
Appendix B, Page 195: What Evidence Is There for the Resurrection of Christ?
There IS A GOD: How the World’s Most Notorious Atheist Changed His Mind. Copyright © 2007 by Antony Flew.
You did read the book, didn’t you?