This is technically the third installment of my "Conversations with Clayton" series in which I reflect on discussions I've had with Clayton, my best friend and Christian minister. The series began with Conversations with Clayton (part one). The second installment turned out to be an entry on only one topic, which also serves as its title: Salvation. Likewise, this entry deals with one topic: critical thinking.
Critical Thinking
Clayton and I have been friends for nearly a decade. In that time I have seen him move steadily deeper into Christian faith, whereas I moved away from it entirely. His choice of school, career and wife have all been conditioned by his Christian worldview, so much so that, were Clayton ever to conclude that his beliefs are erroneous, his entire life would turn to chaos (at least for a while).
I know what that kind of chaos looks like. I remember being a minister, married to a very Christian woman (my first wife), and having doubts about my faith. I recall my wife's reaction when I first told her I had such doubts, and the subsequent marital turmoil. I wonder, then, how well Clayton can think about his beliefs objectively. I mean, I know Clayton has the cognitive capabilities to think critically; I don't know whether he has the will, given how deeply entrenched in the Christian Bubble he is and how much he stands to lose should he ever change his beliefs.
This isn't a criticism of my friend; I would question whether anyone who puts himself in such a position is able to seek the truth without prejudicial hindrance. Coming to terms with my own beliefs (and lack thereof) took me years, mostly because of how deeply entrenched inside the Christian Bubble I was. This was my version of Plato's Cave, and I was trapped inside, staring at shadows I believed to be reality. I had to conquer both my own desires and the fear associated with a major life change. For a lot of Christians - and this is exactly how it was for me - giving up Christian faith means giving up an entire lifestyle, including social activities, and oftentimes, most of one's friends.
And then there's the general sense of awkwardness that comes with the complete overhaul of one's paradigm. For me, that awkwardness came from having to reconcile a past that's saturated with Christian culture with my present-day atheism. For example, the other day I was listening to a CD by Bride, an old Christian band I used to rock out to back in high school. Why was I listening to it? Because I came across that CD while organizing my stuff, and I was in the mood to listen to music that I haven't heard in at least 15 years. Sure, it's Christian, but I like the way it sounds. More than that, it brings back some good memories of hanging out with my friends, going to Christian teen conventions and doing other church youth group activities. These memories are dear to me, regardless of what I think about religion these days. Still, atheist blogger + Christian music = kinda awkward, especially when someone asks me what I'm listening to.
Occasionally I'll run into an old classmate from Bible college. Such encounters usually include questions like, "So how's your walk with the Lord?" or "What church are you attending these days?" Yeah, that can be a little awkward.
I remember that first Sunday morning in which I decided I wasn't going to church. I may as well have woken up on Mars. I had no idea what to do with my time.
My point is, who wants to deal with all that? Who wants to give up the comfort of familiarity, the security of thinking you have the universe all figured out, the church friends (who you know damn well will abandon you if you renounce your faith)? Who wants the awkwardness that comes with transitioning to a new paradigm?
Any change in a person's life brings with it a level of stress - even positive changes. All change is loss, and all loss is mourned, even if that loss is nothing more than the loss of the familiar. Considering that a major paradigm shift can have the same psychological impact as packing up and moving to another universe, the feelings of loss become magnified.
What makes religion even more difficult to contend with is that it has to promote the antithesis of critical thinking; that is, religion has to uphold faith as a virtue and condemn doubt as a vice. A religious mindset is one in which the believer must become entrenched in the religious lifestyle. The religion must dictate all things. It's not enough to believe; one must dedicate one's entire life to the religious dogma. I remember more than one preacher at those Christian teen conventions telling the thousands of teenagers in the audience that "god doesn't want to just be a part of your life. He wants your entire life devoted to him. He wants everything. He wants to be your everything." Have faith. Don't doubt. All glory to the Hypnotoad.
Here's the problem: thinking critically requires one to, as James Sire says, "speculate without the restraints of prejudice, self-interest or prior commitment to a way of life or set of values." We can get so wrapped up in a particular way of life that we can't even imagine living life another way. We are naturally egocentric, viewing the world with a "my way is the best way because it's my way" attitude. Critical thinking can occur only when one first puts aside his personal preferences and desires and seeks truth without worrying about a "prior commitment to a way of life."
Critical thinking is possible, but for those entrenched in their particular religious bubbles, the road to genuine truth-seeking will be filled with roadblocks and difficulties. It is, however, a path worth taking, and the benefits of critical thinking far outweigh any fantasy offered by any religion. The truth, as they say, will set you free.
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