Sunday, December 11, 2016

How could Paul know?

I've just been listening to a debate between Atheist Dan Barker and Catholic William Albrecht, which I found on a random podcast while searching for something to do with Dan Barker. The subject of the debate was "Did Jesus rise from the dead?"

Barker's basic case was that historical methods can never lead us to a conclusion that a miracle happened, as they only operate in the realms of probability and repeatability. In general, he gave a good, but hardly spectacular defence of this.

Albrecht, on the other hand set out to prove that not only was Jesus raised from the dead, but that he was raised in a physical body. The main body of the discussion in the debate ended up arguing about the meaning of the phrase 'spiritual body' as used by Paul in several places in his letters. 

Albrecht seemed to think that if he could show that Paul meant something physical by using the phrase "spiritual body" that this would somehow prove the resurrection, and prove it was physical. Barker seemed to think that if he could show that Paul meant that Jesus was raised as a spirit (i.e. non physical) then this would prove that Paul's experience of Jesus was purely in the form of visions, which would not entail any kind of resurrection, physical or otherwise.

I felt that this whole aspect of the debate was utterly irrelevant. Because why should it matter what Paul meant by what he said in the letters? 

How on earth could Paul possibly know anything about the nature of Christ's resurrection body? 

He never knew Jesus pre-crucifixion, and he never met Jesus post-resurrection, except in the form of an appearance or vision. He did not touch Jesus.

So on what basis could Paul say anything at all, with authority, about the physical nature of the post-resurrection Christ? All he knew was what he has seen (but not touched), what others may have told him, what he deduced from the OT scriptures, and what he received by revelation or inspiration.

In a historical investigation of the question, we can't appeal to inspiration, revelation, interpretation of scripture, so the only authority Paul could have on this issue (the physical nature of Christ's resurrected body) would have to have come from others. Perhaps Cephas or James, both of whom Paul mentions speaking to in Jerusalem. Paul never says where he got this information. 

It is debatable whether or not Paul actually meant a physical resurrection, but even if he did believe this, his authority is entirely second hand. Paul believed it because some unspecified person told him. That's not great authority.

And going further down this line of thought, how could many of the people who apparently saw (and may have touched) Jesus in the period between resurrection and ascension could definitely say that his flesh was "incorruptible"? Did anyone try to corrupt it? According to John, Thomas didn't even take Jesus up on the offer of touching him. Nobody could make this claim on experiential grounds. It can only be made on the basis of deduction, revelation, or inspiration.

So how did Paul know? He didn't. He asserted it because it fit with his theology, but Paul's opinion can tell us nothing about whether the resurrection was a historical event.

Monday, September 19, 2016

Belief and choice

Romans 10:9 says:
"If you declare with your mouth, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in your heart that God raised him from the dead, you will be saved."
Basically, I've been taught and always have believed that those are the two things you need to do to be a Christian. Just believing, without the declaration, is no good. Likewise, declaring without the belief just doesn't get you there, you need both. 

I've been reflecting recently on these words, and the implications of them. The two things detailed in that statement are not the same. Declaration is an action, it is something that we can choose to do, or not. Belief is not an action. You cannot choose to believe something or not. You need persuaded into belief by evidence or authority.

Belief is not a choice.

Don't believe me? Surely you can choose to believe me? If you're not prepared to do that, how about believing something that doesn't matter? Can you believe that, for example, the moon is made of cheese? If belief is a choice, you can choose to believe that, right?

No matter, how hard you want to choose to believe something, if there is contrary evidence, and you honestly consider the evidence, and believe the evidence, you simply can't believe something that goes against the evidence you have accepted.

That's where I am at with regard to being a Christian.

I was raised with a set of beliefs that I accepted on the basis of the authority of who told me the things in the first place. People I trusted, and who were demonstrably correct in some other things they said, taught me to believe in God, to believe in Jesus, to believe in the bible, and I did.

Part 2 of the Romans 10:9 criterion was built into me from an early age. From my childhood I was halfway to being a Christian.

Part 1 came later, when I decided to follow Jesus for myself. From the age of 17 I fulfilled both of the parts of Romans 10:9. I have never subsequently given up on that choice.

However, I have looked at the evidence, and I have been persuaded by much of it that my childhood belief in God, Jesus and the Bible was misplaced. There are not good grounds for believing that. Indeed, there are very good grounds for not believing that Jesus was raised from the dead. The evidence points against that belief.

I didn't want to, but eventually I had to be honest with myself and accept the fact that the evidence was compelling and that Jesus (if he ever lived at all, which is a separate question) if he died on a cross (which is far from historical fact), did not rise on the third day. Having considered as much evidence as I could get my hands on, I found that my belief in the resurrection melted away. I can't simply choose to believe in it. I don't believe in it any more, because of the evidence.

So by the Romans 10:9 criterion I have stopped being a Christian. Not because I chose to do anything. I didn't choose to stop being a Christian. If anything, I would still choose to proclaim that Jesus is Lord, if I could actually believe that he is. But I can't believe that.

C.S. Lewis once (famously) wrote of his conversion:
"In the Trinity Term of 1929 I gave in, and admitted that God was God, and knelt and prayed: perhaps, that night, the most dejected and reluctant convert in all England"
I seem to have done the opposite. Eventually, having considered the evidence, I admitted (to myself) that God was not God and Jesus was never raised, and slowly (over a transition of several years) I have now become a somewhat reluctant de-convert from Christianity. I don't claim to be dejected though. There is much relief and satisfaction in reaching a conclusion that is in agreement with reality.

The cognitive dissonance I have been wrestling with for a decade or more has now gone.

I guess that should be the end of this blog, but I'll probably keep posting away anyway.

Monday, July 18, 2016

The focus of worship

I've been being annoyed by the lyrics of worship songs in church on my most recent few visits there.

Increasingly, I've become aware of the rather large number of worship songs which say, in essence, "I thank you God for making me immortal". The emphasis is not, as many Christians probably think, on what God has done, but rather it seems to be increasingly on what God has done for me. And what he has done is dealt with my sin (so, nothing left for me to do), removed my guilt (so, nothing to worry about) and given me eternal life (so, death is not an issue). 

The supposed focus of Christian worship is on Jesus, but I'm noticing more and more that the real focus is rather more selfish. Its pretty distasteful actually.

Its nothing new either. Think of the words of Amazing Grace...

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

Why "But who made God?" is not a stupid question...

Continuing my thoughts on recently read apologetics, I come to Rev David Robertson's dismissal of the "But who made God?" argument in the book "Why I am not an atheist". He basically (and patronisingly) writes off this argument as childish. Well, he says that it is 'the alleged killer problem' for 'many fourth-form school pupils', implying that any mature thinker will see that this is a red herring. Well, its a long time since I was in fourth-form, and I still think this question has value. I've not heard a good rebuttal to it yet, which I guess is why Robertson has to insult the questioner rather than take the question seriously.

He swiftly jumps to the 'Kalam cosmological argument', which he expresses as:

  1. everything that has a beginning of its existence has a cause of its existence
  2. the universe has a beginning of its existence
  3. therefore the universe has a cause of its existence
"The logic is irrefutable" he says, "The evidence is overwhelming". Hmmm. Not so fast. There are problems with the argument as posed. 

The first (and probably biggest) issue with this line of reasoning is in point number 1. It is missing a very important clause. I think it should be expressed more like this:
  1. everything in our universe of space and time that has a beginning has a cause of its existence in the same universe of space and time...
We might also add an extra clause to the end with the disclaimer: "except quantum events, of course" as those effects apparently occur without causes, even within our universe. Given my modification to point 1, however, point 2 becomes questionable. The universe is not to be found within the universe. Why should the rules that apply within the container also apply to the container itself?

Beyond that, I also have problems with the idea of the universe having a beginning. Certainly it has an origin, in the mathematical sense of the word 'origin', but that is not the same as a beginning. There is nothing before the 'big bang' (or whatever we want to call it) where the supposed initiator could be. There is no time there, there is no space there, there is literally nothing. There is no room for anything to exist, and certainly no non-existent thing could reasonably be said to be an initiating agent. We could redraw the mathematical axes and place the origin elsewhere. The 'origin' doesn't actually have to be at t=0.

I guess most folk imagine the big bang as a single point, a 'singularity' if you will, which then exploded out in three dimensions. Imagine for the moment that the whole three dimensional explosion only occurs in two dimensions. It starts as a point, and explodes in a circle with increasing diameter. Can you picture that? Assuming that the universe doesn't keep on expanding forever, at some point this circle reaches its maximum size, and then perhaps begins to shrink back down on itself, eventually condensing down to a single point again in the so called 'big crunch'. You get a sequence something like this:

Now stack up those circles (viewed almost side on) like this:

What you see (in a very idealised manner) is that the sequence of circles essentially describes the shape of a sphere. Of course, in reality the circles are not discrete, but continuous. So this three dimensional sphere essentially represents four dimensional space-time. 

For us, from our point of view, uncontrollably falling through 4 dimensional space-time on the time axis, there is a clear point of origin, that we imagine is time = 0. But if the observer were not fixed on the time axis like we are (and remember, the apologist is imagining an eternal and timeless agent here), then the selection of our t=0 as the origin is somewhat arbitrary. You could select any point on the surface as origin. Indeed, if the four dimensional existence of the universe is somewhat analogous to a sphere, then what we don't have is a point of origin, rather we have a boundary to the 4D universe. A surface. Not a point in space, but a surface in space-time.

Now stating that the universe has a beginning seems a bit myopic. The universe has a surface. But not everything with a surface has a cause. So the second statement becomes meaningless. And so the conclusion doesn't follow.

Everything that is, is inside the surface of the sphere. There is literally nothing outside of it. Nothing transcends it. It just is. Viewed in 4D, It doesn't change, but change is what happens within it. All cause and effect is inside it. The surface just is.

Now we can conceive an 'eternal' (whatever that means) 4D universe, that doesn't need a cause, because it just is. It is only because we perceive by the arrow of time that we think there is a beginning.

It is only if you are fixated on the time axis, that you need a prime mover. You can call that prime mover 'God' if you want, but he'd just be a blip on the surface.

By the way, this reasoning still holds, I think, if you don't agree with the big crunch idea. In that eventuality, the universe is not a sphere but a parabolic cone. But still a surface...

Monday, June 27, 2016

The bell curve of belief

Where do you fall on the bell curve of belief?

I've been reading apologetics again, and midway through reading yet another argument about the fine tuning of the universe, I suddenly realised that all apologists are to be found right at the end of the bell curve of belief. And for the most part, all anti-apologists are to be found at the other end of the bell curve of belief. People in the middle, or within a couple of standard deviations of the middle of the curve, don't write apologetics books (or anti-apologetics ones).

One end of the bell curve is absolute and total belief in God. The other end of the bell curve is absolute and total belief in naturalism, with no possibility of a spiritual aspect to the universe. Much apologetics (and anti-apologetics) seems to assume that every thinking person must fall into, or close to, one of those two camps. 

Most people don't have that kind of certainty about everything. I certainly don't. Indeed, there's not much certainty in that 'certainly don't'. But the apologists on both sides seem to want to persuade everyone into one of the absolutes. But the weird thing is that they don't seem to target the people in the middle, they each take their aim and fire their shots at the opposing end of the bell curve.

They also target the people who are ever so slightly nearer the middle of the curve than they are. These are the folk who are not absolute believers in something, but aren't too far away. At the Christian end of things, these people are the Bible-believing Christians who have never really asked some of the big questions, but simply assume that the church's teaching is basically right. These are the people who accept the package deal of faith, without question. The goal of apologetics is to keep these people from considering to the 'wrong' sort of arguments and to keep them from shifting closer to the middle of the bell curve. At the atheist end of the curve are the non-believers who simply don't believe, but have never really considered the claims of Christianity in any significant way. A few random acts of kindness on the part of Christians could shift these people closer to the middle, so the anti-apologists seek to bolster the non-faith of these people and pull them outward.

I'm somewhere in between. Not in the middle, as I climbed off that uncomfortable fence some time ago, but certainly not near either end. Apologetics is happening all around me (mostly by my personal choice) but the arguments are just not working on me, because they're not really aiming at me.

How about you?

Monday, June 20, 2016

"No longer a friend of Narnia"

“My sister Susan,” answered Peter shortly and gravely, “is no longer a friend of Narnia.” 

“Yes,” said Eustace, “and whenever you’ve tried to get her to come and talk about Narnia or do anything about Narnia, she says, ‘What wonderful memories you have! Fancy your still thinking about all those funny games we used to play when we were children.’” 

“Oh, Susan!” said Jill. “She’s interested in nothing nowadays except nylons and lipstick and invitations. She always was a jolly site too keen on being grown-up.” 
“Grown-up, indeed,” said the Lady Polly. “I wish she would grow up. She wasted all her school time wanting to be the age she is now, and she’ll waste all the rest of her life trying to stay that age. Her whole idea is to race on to the silliest time of one’s life as quick as she can and then stop there as long as she can.”

From "The Last Battle" by C.S. Lewis
I'm going to assume you know the context of the passage quoted above. If you don't, you really should read all of C.S. Lewis's Narnia books. Yes, all of them. You'll find this baffling exchange in the final volume, but it won't make much sense unless you've read the others.

The question this passage poses to the reader is how Susan Pevensie, who lived for many years as Queen of Narnia ("Once a king or queen in Narnia, always a king or queen in Narnia") in the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, and returned again to Narnia in Prince Caspian, who was there when Aslan was killed by the White Witch, and who was one of only two witnesses to his resurrection, who spoke to Aslan in private at the end of Prince Caspian, how she could come to believe all that was merely "funny games"?

In the context of the Narnia stories, this change of heart is utterly inconceivable. It should be impossible for someone who has been through all that to reject it as fantasy. And yet, Susan apparently does.

I've read that Lewis did not think that this passage from The Last Battle was the end of the story for Susan, but that her journey beyond this point was an adult one, and not one that he wanted to cover in a children's book. But he never told anyone the actual story he had in mind, or if he ever developed it.

Of course, the allegory in the Narnia stories is well documented, and its easy to jump to conclusions of the meaning of this passage. "No longer a friend of Narnia" is analogous for 'no longer a Christian', right? Hmmm. Would that it were so simple. I think Lewis is quite clear that Narnia is somewhat akin to the faith of a child, and at the end of The Last Battle, Aslan leads the characters in the story from Narnia into something bigger that transcends it, and characters from our world into something bigger that transcends it. Something more grown up. All the characters in the book go beyond an attachment to Narnia, not just Susan, its just that she takes a different path.

I suppose it is telling that Susan is never described as "no longer a friend of Aslan". That would be something different. Did Susan lose faith in Aslan? I guess if she thought that all the adventures in Narnia were simply "funny games" then maybe she did. Maybe she never did learn to find Aslan by the 'different name' that he has in our world.

But the question remains, how could someone who has experienced Narnia in all its wonder, come to view it all as a fiction? Or rather, if I can turn this into the real question that I am really addressing, how can someone who has experienced the reality of the Christian life, who has felt the power of the Holy Spirit, who has had a personal relationship with Jesus, how can such a person come to view all that as fiction?

The reality is that this happens all the time. People who were real Christians lose faith and turn away from the Church. I've listened to and read quite a lot of interviews with ex-Christians recently, it happens again and again. To understand the issue I think we have to consider the three basic possibilities:
  1. Option 1 is that Christianity is true and these people were once real Christians who believed in and experienced the real thing. 
  2. Option 2 is that Christianity is true, but these people never really experienced the real thing. They only ever had a fake faith, and never tasted the real thing.
  3. Option 3 is that Christianity is not true, and these people once believed it, but came to see that their beliefs didn't square with reality.
People who abandon their faith generally come to see the world as though Option 3 is the truth. Its certainly where I find myself these days.

Christians who see their friends and family leave the faith generally end up believing Option 2 - its so much easier to believe that than Option 1. For a Christian to believe Option 1, they have to invoke the devil and lots of deception going on. But believing Option 1 also entails lots of concern that the same could happen to the believer, so they must remain vigilant to the attacks of the evil one, and not ever consider any evidence that suggests that Option 3 might be true. For the believer, Option 2 is a place of security, because of course, every believer believes that their own faith is real, not fake.

In the context of the Narnia stories, Susan falls into category 1. Narnia was real to her, and somehow she has been deluded into thinking that it was all just nonsense. Even in the fictional world of Lewis's books, where animals can talk, I find that hard to believe.

But in the real world, where am I? I once believed in Christianity. From my point of view, it was a real faith, and just as real as Christianity is for everyone who still believes. I'm now of the opinion that Option 3 is the truth. Christianity is not, and never has been true. Either I'm right, or I'm deceived. Part of me still holds that as a small possibility, but on the whole I think I need to dismiss that, as it raises far more questions than ever it answers.

So am I no longer a friend of Narnia? I guess so. But I still do love the stories as the fiction they are.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

But can it explain your destiny?

In the closing chapter of "Why I am not an atheist" (which I have just finished reading), Ravi Zacharias summarises part of his own book "The End of Reason" (which I have not read), and among other things, makes the following claim:
"A world view basically offers answers to four necessary questions - questions that relate to origin, meaning, morality, and hope that assures a destiny. These answers must be correspondingly true and, as a whole, coherent"
He then spends most of the chapter explaining how the Christian worldview succeeds better than an atheist worldview at answering these questions. He never questions the questions. 

Why must a worldview answer all these? Why are they necessary

Surely that biases our opinion in favour of or against certain worldviews by definition, before we've even got to consider them?

Let's start in the middle - Morality. I think I agree with Ravi that our worldview has to give us some guidance as to how to live; what ought we to do? However, I'm not sure this is an 'ought' - we each simply do live according to our worldviews. Anyone who lives in a way apparently contrary to their own worldview, generally does so because they do not fully understand their own worldview, or have not adequately or honestly expressed it. (The first example of this that springs to mind is the huge number of Christians who have sex with people to whom they are not married. They say 'true love waits' is part of their worldview, but actually then mitigate that idea with concepts of a God who'll forgive anything, and so they do it anyway, because they want to. But anyway, I digress...)

So, fundamentally, our morality does flow from our (honestly expressed and fully defined) worldview, because it can't do anything else. But there is no way of judging worldview against worldview here, my morality is fully consistent with my worldview, yours is fully consistent with your worldview. But there are no objective standards outside of either worldview to judge which is better, are there? If your morality is inconsistent with my worldview, does that make my worldview correct? No. It doesn't validate your worldview either.

What about Meaning? Must our worldview offer meaning? The search for a meaning in life is something that only really begins once the questioner has attained a certain amount of leisure and comfort in life. Those who struggle to survive don't need any meaning other than survival, and don't generally have time to think about it anyway. I am convinced that life is better than non-life, so survival itself could be all the meaning that there really is. Does there need to be someone or something greater than me to bestow meaning on my life? I don't think so. We find ourselves in a universe that is far more massive, complicated and interesting than we can possibly comprehend, so if we need to find some meaning for ourselves, it shouldn't be too hard.

There must be an Origin. I agree with that. But does my worldview actually need to have a coherent answer to the question of where we came from before it can be taken seriously as a viable worldview? I'm not sure it does. "I don't know" is a perfectly valid answer to the question of origins. Indeed, I think it is more than that. I think it is "I don't know and neither do you!" You may believe something about the origin of all things, but you certainly can't claim to know in any meaningful way. The more I think about the big questions of life, the more I understand that we really don't know very much about anything with certainty. You can have belief about something. You may even have some philosophical reasoning to justify that belief. You might even have hints of evidence that make a case. But what you can't have is sufficient justifiable certainty to attain knowledge of anything that happened millions or billions of years ago - what happened then is so far beyond our experience horizon that we can only guess, estimate, and hypothesise. So maybe your hypothesis is consistent with some observation of reality, that doesn't prove it, or disprove any other hypothesis, for that matter.

Fair enough, if your worldview offers a story of origins which is inconsistent with reality, then we would be right to challenge and dispute that worldview, but if your worldview offers no answer to the question of origins, it can't be shown to be false in this regard. Its more justifiable to hold to a worldview that doesn't have an explanation of origins than to hold to a worldview that does have an explanation that seems inconsistent with reality. Postulating a pre-existent, transcendent, everlasting, timeless deity as creator actually has far more problems cohering with reality than admitting "I don't know" does. 

Finally, what of Destiny and Hope? Certainly a worldview that "assures" a destiny seems, on the face of it, more appealing than one that doesn't, but what if the future is actually unknown and unknowable? In reality, we don't actually know what will happen in the future. Sure, we can observe trends and make general predictions about large systems, like the weather, for example, but we can't make specific and accurate predictions about that. Will it rain on my garden at exactly midday tomorrow? We can't see that. More importantly, questions like "will I live to see my 50th birthday?" cannot be answered, not in your worldview or in mine. Hope? I hope I live to see 50. Destiny? It isn't written yet. You might think that it is written and pre-planned somewhere, by some God, but you can't know what is going to happen to me, on this side of death or on the other. If there is an 'other' that is. So much of religious worldviews of destiny relies on there being some life post-mortem - your worldview requires it to give hope to those without hope. But is there any evidence for it? No. All you have are (interpretations of) biblical promises that you will never find out the reliability of until after death, if you are able to find out anything after death, that is. My worldview says "I don't know" on the life after death issue too. Does that make your worldview better than mine? Ravi Zacharias thinks it does, but I think his criteria for judging between worldviews are simply begging the question.

Wednesday, June 01, 2016

Atheist pastors within the church...?

I've recently discovered the "Life after God" podcast. This is what Ryan Bell of "Year without God" fame started after his year without God ended and he decided to carry on with the rest of his life without God.

I've only listened to the first three podcasts so far, so am the best part of a year behind, but the first couple of interviews on the podcast have intrigued me, and confused me.

The first interview comes in Episode 2, and features Gretta Vosper, a minister from the United Church of Canada who is an atheist, and yet still leads a congregation within the United Church of Canada. Hang on, what?

That's right. The United Church of Canada employs an atheist pastor to lead one of their congregations. 

The short version of the story is that Gretta didn't start out as an atheist pastor, she started out as a liberal Christian pastor, and along the way came to realise that she didn't believe in a personal God. She started expressing this to her congregation in 2001 and found (to her surprise, I think) that she wasn't immediately thrown out as a heretic. Over the course of the next decade the focus of her church changed and there was a general outflow of Christians and a small inflow of skeptics, doubters and outright atheists. In 2013 she went the whole hog and finally admitted to being an atheist. The congregation carries on being a place for people of all beliefs. Last year, the United Church of Canada began a process of looking into this ministry to see if they should get rid of her or not. As far as I can tell, she's still there for now.

I'm kind of with the Church here. The Church exists to worship God and preach His (with a capital H) message and it seems to me to be entirely reasonable that the Church should seek to root out and remove people within its ranks who do not follow this agenda, indeed, who go entirely against this agenda.

What surprised me about the conversations on the Life After God podcast was the attitude of Ryan Bell (the host), Gretta Vosper and David Hayward (the "Naked Pastor", interviewed on Episode 3) to this situation. All of them seemed surprised that the Church should be seeking to remove an atheist pastor from post! All of them seemed to think she should remain in post. The argument seems to be that the atheist pastor is doing a good work... but I think that this good work is entirely at odds with the agenda of the Church. Why are they surprised? Why is Gretta intent on remaining a pastor within a Christian organisation, when she doesn't accept the divinity of Christ, or anyone else for that matter? I just don't get it.

Yes, I understand how hard it can be for someone who has served as a pastor in the church for their whole life to find something secular to do after leaving the church, but I don't understand them fighting for the right to remain a pastor within the church. 

It sounds like Gretta has a largely non-believing congregation anyway, so they are presumably financially able to pay a reasonable salary for her if they left the United Church. So why don't they simply leave and form an atheist community somewhere outside the Church? The whole thing strikes me as very odd.

Interesting to listen to the discussion on the podcast though, so I'll listen to a few more shows at least.

Tuesday, May 10, 2016

What apologists believe... (a.k.a. "I don't have enough faith to be an apologist")

I've been reading apologetics again. More of the same old, same old, I'm afraid. The writer of Ecclesiastes was right, there is nothing new under the sun.

One thing that I have noticed this time around, though, is one particular belief that many apologists seem to share: they believe that everyone has to believe in something

Fundamental to their message is that those people who don't have faith in the Creator God of the universe, must have faith in some other impersonal process that caused the universe to come into existence and ultimately is responsible for the instigation of and evolution of life on earth.

I can't really see a good reason for them to hold this belief, but several apologists I have read recently have made the same basic case; that the atheist must have faith in some process or other, for which there is little or no evidence, and this is (apparently) less reasonable and rational than having faith in God.

It seems that, for apologists, the opposite of faith-in-God must be faith-in-something-else.

I don't agree. The opposite of faith-in-God is doubt-in-God.

I think what is happening here is that all apologists have a great central belief at the very heart of their worldview, and they can't imagine what life would be like without that central belief. So they impose a similar worldview onto others, taking the central belief in God out of the picture, and leaving a big hole that simply must be filled with something.

The thing is, for many non-believers, the lack of certainty in where we came from and what happens after death, and such topics, is not a big deal.

We are here now. How did this come about? Well, actually, I don't know. Various people have come up with various theories, with various amounts of evidence or reasoning which support them. Apologists are among those who have selected one of those theories, placed their faith in it, and (as an article of that faith) have dismissed all the other theories as being invalid. I'm currently in a position of agnosticism with regard to the various theories of origins. I have looked at evidence and reasoning for God, and the evidence and reasoning for other theories, and (at present) can't see compelling reasons for selecting one of the various theories on offer as my preferred 'belief'. I certainly can't see any compelling reason to put faith in one.

Apologists, particularly the sort that claim things like "I don't have enough faith to be an atheist", seem to think that everybody must choose to put their faith in one or other of the various competing theories.

Nah. Not choosing is quite a reasonable position to take.

The standard evangelical Christian worldview requires its adherents to believe in certain things. Belief is seen as the way to salvation. Other worldviews do not actually require adherence or belief.

I just wish some apologists would understand that.