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When you say the word paganism, it conjures different images depending on your cultural background. For those raised in the 1980s, it may trigger flashbacks to the “satanic panic”—an era when concerned parents warned their children not to read comic books, listen to rock ‘n’ roll, or watch movies like Poltergeist. In retrospect, those parents may have been right after all. But that is a discussion for another time.

As a professor of Religious Studies, when I use the terms pagan or paganism, I am referring to something far more historically and philosophically substantial than stage theatrics, horror films, or tabloid sensationalism. I am not speaking of the overt and performative version of paganism—Ozzy Osbourne on stage biting the head off a bat, or self-proclaimed occultists conjuring the ghost of Aleister Crowley. Whether or not you consider that a viable career path is beside the point.

What I mean by paganism is a belief system—or more precisely, a broad family of belief systems—that stands in fundamental opposition to the biblical worldview. To identify and evaluate what is or is not paganism, one must understand both systems clearly: the biblical and the pagan. This requires a level of conceptual clarity often lacking in popular discourse. A person who is trained only to respond to surface-level impressions or cultural associations will not classify these systems correctly. Instead, we must think in terms of beliefs—about their starting points, their internal coherence, and their ultimate goals.

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Was the Serpent Right?

A few years ago, I had a conversation with Alastair Roberts on Upstream with Shane Morris (link provided below). The topic we discussed is one I have encountered with increasing frequency: Can we, or do we at some point, become God or gods?

According to Roberts, the problem in Genesis 3 was not the goal of becoming like God, but the timing and method by which it was offered. In his view, the serpent’s error lay not in suggesting that humans could become divine, but in offering that status prematurely and through disobedience. Roberts proposes that it was always God’s plan for us to become gods through the work of Christ, and that the serpent merely offered this promise in the wrong way, just as he would later offer Jesus the kingdoms of the world, but without the path of the cross (cf. Matthew 4:8–10).

This view aligns with a strand of thought increasingly found among some Reformed or loosely Reformed thinkers who have been drawn to Eastern Orthodox theology, particularly the doctrine of theosis or deification. They point to this tradition as evidence that the Christian Church has long affirmed that believers will, in some sense, become divine.

But is this a correct reading of Genesis 3, or of the larger biblical narrative?

As a philosopher, my first question must be: What do you mean? What is meant by “gods”? Before we can assess the theological or exegetical merits of this claim, we must clarify the concept itself. Let us examine a few possible meanings of the term.

Naturalistic Origins of Polytheism

The naturalistic account of the origin of religion, popularized by David Hume, suggests that early human beings emerged from a primitive, cave-dwelling existence, with little education and minimal understanding of the world around them. As they encountered unexplained sounds, perhaps a rustling in the brush or a howl in the distance, they instinctively tried to locate a source of danger: a lion, a tiger, a bear. But over time, some phenomena seemed to lack any clear, material cause. To explain these, humans posited the existence of invisible forces or “spirits.” Thus developed the first stage of religion: animism, the belief in spiritual beings inhabiting nature.

According to this theory, animism eventually gave way to polytheism, as people projected more powerful spirits into the heavens, assigning them rule over sun, moon, and storm. Over time, the theory suggests, these polytheistic deities were gradually unified into one supreme being (monotheism) an imagined composite god, like a divine Voltron assembled from lesser parts.

The Biblical Narrative in Genesis 1-11

While this model may describe certain aspects of religious development post-Fall, it does not account for the biblical account of human origins. At best, it picks up the story after the global flood, when humanity was reduced once again to subsistence-level living and was forced to rebuild without the advanced civilization they had previously developed (cf. Genesis 6–9). However, the naturalistic narrative contradicts the biblical reality that human beings, from the beginning, were created in the image of God (Genesis 1:26–27), endowed with reason, moral awareness, and spiritual capacity. They possessed divine revelation from the start, including knowledge of creation, the fall, and the promise of redemption (Genesis 3:15).

Moreover, this memory of God’s truth was preserved through the line of the faithful, running from Adam to Noah, and beyond. The post-flood generations did not emerge in total ignorance, but carried with them the remnants of revealed religion. The apostasy that followed was not due to ignorance alone, but to deliberate suppression of the truth in unrighteousness (Romans 1:18). One of the great sins that led to the flood was the intermarriage of believers and unbelievers, which resulted in the spread of idolatry (Genesis 6:1–5). The pattern of covenantal unfaithfulness, not mere intellectual confusion, is what characterizes the biblical account of religious corruption.

After the flood, one might have expected humanity to remain vigilant and avoid the errors that had led to global judgment. Yet, instead of repentance, mankind quickly returned to the same rebellion. Once again, they rushed toward collective apostasy. Under the leadership of Nimrod, the mighty warrior and city-builder (Genesis 10:8–12), humanity united in defiance of God. Rather than obey the divine mandate to “fill the earth” (Genesis 9:1), they remained in one place, constructed fortified cities, and began building the Tower of Babel, a monument to their own greatness and a safeguard against future divine judgment.

In response, God imposed a further element of the curse (the confusion of languages) fracturing human unity and preventing them from understanding one another (Genesis 11:1–9). This judgment effectively scattered the nations and halted the centralized rebellion. It also became a source of ongoing division and conflict, as linguistic barriers would contribute to warfare and national pride.

Original Monotheism

The original monotheism passed down from Adam through Noah did not evolve from primitive polytheism, as naturalistic accounts suggest. Rather, the truth of the one true God degenerated into polytheism as sinful man suppressed the knowledge of God (Romans 1:21–23). As the great men (the builders of civilization, the so-called “men of renown” in Genesis 6:4) died, death, the ever-present enemy of sinners, loomed large. While the faithful understood death as the wages of sin (Romans 6:23) and a call to repentance, the ungodly sought to overcome or minimize its meaning.

Unbelievers recast death not as judgment, but as a transition to a higher spiritual plane. The powerful men and their families were believed to ascend after death to a godlike status, ruling from the heavens. This belief gave rise to the pantheons of family gods that appear with surprising similarity across ancient civilizations: Egyptians, Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Germans, Norsemen, and others all worshipped a divine family of former rulers.

These gods were always finite, temporal, and changeable, mirroring the flawed humans who deified them. Many polytheists admitted that there may have been a primeval deity, a god who existed from eternity. Yet this being was considered remote, shrouded in mystery, and uninvolved in human affairs. As such, people were taught to pray to and interact with the more accessible gods, in hopes of joining them in their celestial realm.

This marked a profound reversal of true religion. Rather than worshipping the eternal, unchanging Creator who reveals himself in both creation and covenant (cf. Westminster Confession of Faith 1.1; Romans 1:19–20), fallen humanity turned to creatures, exalting finite beings as divine and exchanging the truth of God for a lie (Romans 1:25).  This is the essence of idolatry both physical and conceptual. 

Pagans and the Curse of Death

The hope of the pagan idolaters was to become gods—or at least ascend as close as possible to that divine status. Their worldview operated on what has been called “the Great Chain of Being”: a hierarchical spectrum ranging from dead, evil matter at the bottom to the highest levels of pure spiritual existence. This view involved several key claims:

1. It denied the goodness of creation, asserting instead that the curse of death is an inherent feature of material existence.
2. It taught that the soul preexisted the body and is now imprisoned in the physical realm.
3. It claimed that enlightenment consists in learning how to escape bodily existence through knowledge or reincarnation.
4. It viewed the highest state of being as one in which the soul either
   a) Becomes a god, or
   b) Contemplates the highest being in a purely spiritual form, detached from the body.

But the question for us is this: Does this in any way reflect the teaching of Scripture? In fact, it is the inverse of the biblical narrative and a direct rejection of it.

The Bible teaches the aseity of God—that God alone is self-existent, having life in himself and depending on no one (cf. Westminster Confession of Faith 2.2; John 5:26). He alone is eternal, without beginning or end (Psalm 90:2). We, as creatures, are temporal (we had a beginning even if we exist unendingly into the future), and though we are created to live eternally, we will never share in God’s aseity or eternal self-existence.

By contrast, many pagan philosophers (Plato, Aristotle, and others) claimed either that the soul is eternal or that the material world has always existed. This is in stark opposition to the biblical teaching that both the physical world and the human soul were created by God ex nihilo (Genesis 1:1; Colossians 1:16). General revelation also affirms that the world had a beginning and that it is dependent upon a transcendent Creator (Romans 1:20).

From this we know that we can never become God or gods. We will always be creatures—temporal, finite, and dependent. And with that knowledge, we can begin to understand the significance of the first temptation in Genesis 3.

The Original Temptation and Sin

The temptation was not merely about curiosity or outward disobedience. It was a test of their heart. It was a test of theological understanding, a test of whether Adam and Eve knew and trusted the character of God. The occasion of the temptation was the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. Many pagan and modern thinkers (from ancient Gnostics to Freud) have interpreted the tree from the serpent’s perspective. They portray it as the source of hidden, occult knowledge, and see Adam and Eve as seekers of enlightenment. In this view, God is a jealous tyrant who wants to suppress human potential, while the serpent, Lucifer, the so-called “light bearer,” offers freedom and enlightenment.

Some thinkers today, including those influenced by mystical or Eastern theology (such as Roberts), suggest that this enlightenment was a legitimate goal, only offered at the wrong time and in the wrong way. But this, too, distorts the biblical message. The command not to eat from the tree was not arbitrary or repressive. It was a boundary marking the Creator-creature distinction, and a reminder that wisdom and life come through submission to God, not autonomy from him (Proverbs 1:7).

Instead, let us consider the structure of the temptation in Genesis 3. First, the serpent raises doubt about God’s Word: “Did God really say…?” (Genesis 3:1). Second, he directly contradicts God, calling Him a liar: “You will not surely die”(Genesis 3:4). Third, he impugns God’s motives: “God knows that when you eat of it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil” (Genesis 3:5).

If Adam and Eve had truly known the character of God, they would have seen through these lies. But they didn’t. How is it that they, who walked with God, did not understand Him?

This episode reveals something profound about the nature of sin. Adam and Eve knew that “God” had given a command, but they did not truly know God. They failed to grasp that God knows good and evil eternally, perfectly, and infinitely. As the source of all being and morality, God determines what is good and evil for His creatures by virtue of having created their natures (cf. Psalm 100:3; Westminster Confession of Faith 4.2).

Human beings, by contrast, are never autonomous moral creators. We can only know good and evil by receiving God’s revelation and submitting to His moral order. He determines good and evil by creating the nature of a thing (the good for a thing is based on its nature, what is good for a human is based on human nature). We can never create in this way. When we “create” it is merely to reorganize what God brought into existence. The temptation was an invitation to moral autonomy, to define good and evil for themselves apart from God, an act of rebellion that presupposes equality with God, which is precisely what they lacked.

The temptation revealed that Adam and Eve did not understand the most fundamental theological truths: that God alone is eternal, uncreated, and self-existent (cf. Psalm 90:2; WCF 2.2), and that they were finite creatures, dependent for every breath on His will (Acts 17:25).

Organizing Our Thinking

Therefore, the claim that we can become gods carries with it a deeply dangerous theological error. It hearkens back to that original temptation, born from unbelief, in which our first parents so readily accepted a lie about God. God—who had only ever loved them, provided for them, and surrounded them with goodness—was so quickly doubted. And in doubting, they believed the worst about Him: that He was holding something back.

Ever since, humanity has followed that same path. We deny the aseity of God and elevate ourselves, seeking to become gods in our own right. But this is the very heart of sin: to seek what belongs to God alone, and to reject what it means to be a creature (dependent, temporal, and called to trust).

This is a challenge to us to be clear in our thinking. The mystic thrives on confusion and then uses that confusion to justify further confusion. We can avoid these culpable mistakes about God by making clear epistemological and metaphysical distinctions. We organize our metaphysics around what is eternal (without beginning) and what is not. God is eternal, and creation (the material world and our souls) was brought into being. This alone means we can never be God or a part of God. The reality of creation rejects any notion of pantheism, which lies at the heart of the mystic’s theosis.

Creation itself reveals this clear difference. It is what told Adam and Eve who God is. Sometimes we think they knew God because He gave them commands (be fruitful and multiply, keep the Sabbath, do not eat of the tree). But how did they know He had the authority to give those commands? His simply saying, “Because I created you,” doesn’t make it true. Couldn’t He be lying? They would know this because He alone has existed from eternity. He has the authority to command because He is the one who determined the nature of things by creation. God is only known as He reveals Himself, and all His works reveal His glory. To believe the serpent, Adam and Eve had to reject that full and clear revelation of God. This was not a mere matter of timing but a fundamental unbelief about God.

These metaphysical distinctions (what is eternal and what is temporal) and epistemological method (that God is revealed in His works) prevent us from confusing God and His creation. This is what we are told in Romans 1:18–24. It is what Adam and Eve should have done. To fail to know God in His works is culpable ignorance. At our best, in our glorified state, we do not become God; we get to know God. Our highest good is not to become gods, but to glorify God and enjoy Him forever (WSC Q1).

Those who make the aim of human existence to become gods turn the biblical narrative into a story about us. But that is one way to describe the original sin. We decenter God and put ourselves in that place.  It isn’t about us. It is about God and His glory. We are not divine, nor do we become divine. We, along with all of creation, exist to reveal God, who alone is divine. It is a category mistake to say we become God rather than we and all of God’s works reveal God.

Do We Become Gods

Is there any sense in which we do become “gods”? After all, Psalm 82:6 says, “You are gods, sons of the Most High, all of you,” and Jesus quotes this in John 10:34–36. However, the word translated “gods” (elohim) in this context is understood to refer to earthly judges or rulers; those appointed by God to exercise delegated authority (cf. Exodus 22:28). Jesus uses this passage not to affirm human divinity, but to refute a charge of blasphemy by appealing to a recognized biblical category.

In this limited and metaphorical sense, humans may be called “gods” because of their judicial or governing role under God’s authority. But they are not divine in essence. The pagan pantheons, such as the family of Zeus, likewise depict “gods” as rulers of the world. However, these were imagined as supernatural beings who overcame death and ruled from the heavens. In contrast, human beings, though they may be rulers or judges, are still subject to the curse of sin and death, and cannot overcome it by their own works (cf. Romans 5:12).

What about union with Christ? Do we become gods through our mystical union with Him, since He is both fully God and fully man? This question often arises in the context of Eastern Orthodox theology and its doctrine of theosis. But this way of thinking can only gain traction if we misunderstand the doctrine of God and the nature of the Incarnation.

Jesus Christ is unique: He is one person with two natures, divine and human, united without confusion or separation (cf. Westminster Confession of Faith 8.2; Chalcedonian Definition). We are not divine, and we do not become divine in the way that Christ is. Our union with Christ is a union in truth and by the Spirit; we are united to Him by faith, and thereby also to one another in His body (cf. John 17:17–23; 1 Corinthians 12:12–13). We become like Him not in essence, but in knowledge, righteousness, and holiness (cf. Ephesians 4:24; Colossians 3:10).

The Broader and Narrower Aspect of Human Nature

The Reformed tradition has clarified this by distinguishing between the broader and narrower aspects of human nature. As summarized in the Westminster Shorter Catechism, God is “a Spirit, infinite, eternal, and unchangeable in his being, wisdom, power, holiness, justice, goodness, and truth” (WSC Q4). Human nature, in the broader sense, includes all that makes us human (body and soul, rational faculties, moral agency) yet all of this is finite, temporal, and changeable.

To be made in God’s image (Genesis 1:26–27) means that we reflect His attributes in a creaturely way: we can be wise, holy, just, and good, but we are never infinite, eternal, or unchangeable. This is the Creator-creature distinction, and it is foundational to sound theology. We must never blur this boundary.

Therefore, any teaching that suggests we become gods, whether through theosis or mystical union, risks confusing the essence of Christian doctrine and repeating the error of the first sin. The desire to be “like God” in an essential sense was at the heart of the serpent’s lie (Genesis 3:5). To maintain the aseity of God (that He alone is self-existent and uncreated) is to preserve the truth of Scripture and the humility of the creature before the Creator.

There is also the narrow aspect of human nature, which consists in knowledge, righteousness, and holiness (cf. Ephesians 4:24; Westminster Shorter Catechism Q10). These were part of the image of God in which man was originally created but were lost in the Fall. While all humans retain the capacity for knowledge, holiness, and righteousness, after the Fall we lack their true substance. We no longer possess true knowledge, but rather operate from unbelief that masquerades as knowledge (Romans 1:21–22). We are not holy but are defiled by sin (Isaiah 64:6). We are not righteous, but instead stand condemned under God’s law (Romans 3:10–12).

In Christ, however, we are restored in these essential aspects. Through union with Him, we are renewed in true knowledge, righteousness, and holiness (Colossians 3:10; Ephesians 4:24). This is what it means to be conformed to the image of Christ (Romans 8:29). Yet, even in this restored state, we remain finite, temporal, and changeable. We never become divine in essence.

We are also told that we will rule with Christ. Paul writes that the saints will even judge angels (1 Corinthians 6:3). In this sense, we share in Christ’s reign, and one might refer to this as being a “god” in the sense of a judge or ruler—the same way elohim is used in Psalm 82:6. However, using the word “god” in this context introduces confusion, as it evokes associations with Zeus and the pagan pantheon, figures that represent supernatural immortality, not covenantal service.

What about 2 Peter 1:4?

“…He has granted to us His precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature, having escaped from the corruption that is in the world because of sinful desire.”

This verse is often cited in discussions of theosis or deification, especially in Eastern Orthodox theology. But according to Reformed exegesis, this does not mean believers become divine or share in God’s essence. Rather, it means:

• We share in God’s moral character—becoming holy, righteous, and loving through union with Christ.
• We are renewed in knowledge, righteousness, and holiness, as in Colossians 3:10 and Ephesians 4:24.
• We are made like Christ (Romans 8:29), but never become Christ, or God.
• The phrase “partakers of the divine nature” speaks of ethical and relational transformation, not ontological change.

There is no verse in Scripture that teaches believers to become divine in essence.  But that is exactly what the first temptation, and every sin since, tempted us to claim: it is essential to God as creator that he determines good and evil and we can never do that ourselves as creatures. Every sin since then is an act of autonomy and a denial of what is clear to reason about God and us.  Instead, Scripture consistently affirms:

• God alone is God (Isaiah 45:5)
• The Creator-creature distinction is absolute (Romans 1:25)
• We are made in God’s image (Genesis 1:26–27), and through Christ, that image is restored, not replaced with divinity.

The ancient idolaters who worshiped the so-called family of civilization-builders were not aiming to receive what believers receive in Christ. They were attempting to escape the curse of death without repentance. Their project was not redemption but self-deification. In contrast, when we repent and turn to Christ, we are granted eternal life, which Jesus defines as knowing the only true God and Jesus Christ whom He has sent (John 17:3). None of the idolators, ancient or modern, have eternal life of knowing God.  All of them are in culpable ignorance about God and his Word. All of them seek their own deification rather than humble submission and worship of the true and living God. 

They Are Like One of Us

But what about Genesis 3:22, where God says, “Behold, the man has become like one of us in knowing good and evil”? Doesn’t this imply that Adam and Eve did, in fact, become gods? And who is the “us” here? Let’s take those questions one at a time.

First, the phrase “has become like one of us” refers to the content of the serpent’s temptation, not to its legitimacy. Adam and Eve have now presumed to set themselves up as the determiners of good and evil. It does not mean they were successful in doing so, or that they can be. Rather, they have assumed a posture of autonomy, placing themselves in God’s role. The result is not godhood, but spiritual death. Immediately, they experience shame, fear, and alienation from God (Genesis 3:7–10). They hide, they cover themselves, and they are afraid—because they are now under judgment. God’s curse follows: “For you are dust, and to dust you shall return” (Genesis 3:19).

As for the “us,” this likely refers either to the divine counsel (cf. Job 1:6; 1 Kings 22:19) or is an instance of the plural of majesty, a way of expressing God’s grandeur and self-consultation within the Trinitarian unity (cf. Genesis 1:26). And the divine counsel is sometimes angels (not lesser gods, and we never become angels) or the “sons of God” as believers coming into the worship of God (as at the beginning of Job). Either way, it does not imply a plurality of gods or that humanity entered into the divine nature.  It is nothing like Zeus atop Mount Olympic with the other gods. God is always different in kind from angels and humans (eternal) whereas Zeus is the same in kind as the other gods (all of them are finite, temporal, and changeable).  

The Two Trees

The two trees in the Garden had sacramental significance. They were visible signs and seals representing deeper spiritual realities (cf. Westminster Confession of Faith 7.5–6). They no more necessarily impart the reality, or are the reality, than is the case with the sacraments of Baptism or the Lord’s Supper. Adam and Eve were placed under a covenant of works, which included a command, and with both a promise and a curse. They were left in a state of probation, and the temptation was permitted as a means of manifesting their inner spiritual condition.

The temptation revealed that Adam and Eve had not been seeking God as they should have, because they failed to grasp the basic distinction between the Creator and the creature. By believing the serpent’s lie, they presumed equality with God, and thus fell under the covenantal curse and forfeited the promise of life. As a result, they were barred from access to the Tree of Life, the sacramental sign and seal of eternal fellowship with God (Genesis 3:22–24).

Yet, we know that the Tree of Life reappears at the end of the biblical narrative (in Revelation 22) where the redeemed, having been made new in Christ, are once again granted access to it. This restoration symbolizes the eternal life and communion with God that Christ has secured for His people.

The Ordo Salutis

Rather than speak of deification, theosis, or becoming gods (terms that are prone to confusion and misunderstanding) it is much more precise, and faithful to Reformed doctrine, to speak of the ordo salutis, especially sanctification and glorification. In this life, Christians are progressively sanctified, made holy, through the ongoing mortification of sin and the renewal of the image of God (cf. Romans 6:6; Ephesians 4:22–24; Westminster Shorter Catechism Q35). However, we are never fully sanctified in this life. At death, believers are glorified, made perfect in holiness, and enabled to enjoy God forever (Hebrews 12:23; WSC Q37).

This glorified enjoyment of God is not the pagan “beatific vision” understood as an abstract contemplation divorced from material reality. Rather, it takes place in the New Heavens and New Earth (Revelation 21:1–4), where the works of God will continually display His glory. The “face-to-face” fellowship we are promised (1 Corinthians 13:12) refers to a direct, unmediated communion, not through signs and shadows, but in intimate friendship, as was spoken of with Moses (Exodus 33:11).

The pagans were entirely mistaken in their theology of ascent. We should not look to them for hints about what God intended us to become. Instead, we must correct their errors with the biblical narrative. God always intended humanity to possess true knowledge, holiness, and righteousness, and He ordained the Fall to be the occasion for the fuller revelation of His glory—in justice, mercy, and grace.

Yes, we will reign with Christ (2 Timothy 2:12). Yes, we will be glorified (Romans 8:30). But we will never be God—that is, we will never be eternal, uncreated, and self-existent (cf. WCF 2.1; Psalm 90:2). Nor will we become part of God in the mystical sense promoted by Eastern religious traditions, which blur the distinction between Creator and creature.

The outward signs of the two trees in Eden revealed an inward spiritual reality; one that continues to shape the whole redemptive story. Let us look, not to myths and philosophical speculation, but to Scripture alone, where God has made known what He created us to be, what we have become in Adam, and what we are being remade into through Christ our Lord.

Conclusion

Christians, do not adopt ambiguous language drawn from pagan religions or speculative philosophies. Instead, demolish every lofty opinion raised against the knowledge of God by bringing it captive to the obedience of Christ (2 Corinthians 10:5). Dash such errors against the Rock of Truth, for God alone is God, and there is none beside Him(Isaiah 45:5). We will worship Him and behold His glory, but we will never be God.

Avoid vague and misleading terms such as “becoming gods,” “theosis,” or “deification.” These terms introduce theological confusion, obscure the Creator-creature distinction, and often echo the first sin. They obscure the meaning of the original temptation and risk implying that the serpent spoke truth—when in fact, he was a liar from the beginning(John 8:44).

Yes, we are being made God-like, Christ-like, but only in a creaturely sense, by being renewed in knowledge, righteousness, and holiness (Colossians 3:10; Ephesians 4:24). This is not an ascent to divinity, but a restoration to true humanity in union with Christ. As Jesus prayed: “This is eternal life, that they know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent” (John 17:3).

If you know God (if you possess eternal life) you are now ready to proclaim the first truth about God: He alone is eternal, infinite, and unchangeable. To Him be glory forever. Amen.

Why Did God Forbid the Fruit? – Alistair Roberts and Owen Anderson

The post The Aseity of God and Our Glorification: Alastair Roberts and Owen Anderson on the Tree of Life appeared first on Dr. Owen Anderson.

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Nevertheless, Modernity also lived itself out in time for all to see. Like Aristotelianism, it claimed to have provided a foundation for knowledge and a description about the world. Its denouement came in the same way, through skeptical attacks concerning the sufficiency of this foundation. Like the medieval world, the modern world drew to a close in a series of costly and deadly wars. In the aftermath, there is general agreement that the postcolonial, globalized world is a postmodern world, but little agreement about what would constitute a new foundation for rebuilding. It is the skeptical time between the death of one age and the beginning of another.

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The post The Concept of the Natural Moral Law as a Legal Theory appeared first on Dr. Owen Anderson.

This idea dominates much of our culture today, particularly in radical views of sexuality and gender. The demand to “be true to yourself” is often framed as absolute, with no regard for God as Creator and determiner. According to this view, nothing about human nature—biological or moral—should limit self-expression. If God determines good and evil for humans then we are not truly free, we are coerced.

For many, they can’t even conceive of a different definition of “free will”; this is just what “free” must mean. The materialist accepts that assumption and says, “Then we can’t be free because there are no uncaused events and every choice is an event with a cause.” But neither of them can explain why we would ever want this definition of free to be true, except it is their rebellion against God. They recognize that this kind of freedom cannot be real if God exists and so they hate God.

But this philosophy isn’t new. It’s the same old refusal to accept our creatureliness, the same desire from the beginning: I must be my own authority, my own determiner, or I cannot truly live. It blurs the line between God and man, insisting that to be free, we must be our own creators—we must be as God.

At least the existentialists acknowledge they are working with a full-fledged competing system against theism. The real question is: is it possible to be contingent, exist, but have no essence and thus be uncaused in your choices? No, it is logically impossible. This is why those who hold this view of freedom also end up denying reason: to be truly free, they say, you must go beyond reason itself because otherwise your beliefs are determined by something outside of you.

In the end, existentialism always becomes a non-cognitive assertion.

The post Existentialism and the Rejection of Creatureliness appeared first on Dr. Owen Anderson.

Watching all of this unfold, I turned to my friend Auggie and asked, “Why did Immus decide to do that?”

Auggie confidently replied, “Oh, he saw it as a political commentary on the collapse of the LGBTQ movement. That’s what motivated him.”

Makes sense—his choice followed from reasons even if I don’t agree with them.

But then Oved jumped in: “No, no. He had those reasons, sure, but the choice itself wasn’t caused by them. It just… arose, like the world emerging from chaos. If any laws were governing it, then it wouldn’t be free.”

Here’s the tension: when we ask why someone did something, we’re looking for reasons—the thought process behind the choice. We might even go deeper and ask why they think that way—maybe it’s their upbringing, education, or personality. But all of that still leads to an explanation, not randomness. We can do the psychoanalysis, but what we want to know is the person’s conscious reasons. That is what they are responsible for. 

Our choices follow law-like patterns. That’s why they’re our choices. If they came from chaos, then:

1. They’re no longer my choices, and
2. No one—not even I—could explain them.

It’s only because the world has order—laws and natures—that we can understand anything at all. When we ask, “What is this?” we’re really asking, “What is its nature? What laws does it follow?”

This is where the empiricist stumbles. If he’s consistent, he has to deny natures. He’s left with isolated moments of experience—and no reason a new moment couldn’t just pop up uncaused.

But of course he thinks that way. That conclusion follows, in law-like fashion, from his empirical assumptions. He can’t escape it. But it is specious reasoning.

Keep asking “why people do what they do.” You can know because what they do is caused. And keep asking “who formed me in my mother’s womb?”  You can know, it was God your creator. He knows you better than you know yourself. 

So here’s the question:

Do things have natures? Or are we just watching chaos pretend to have reasons?

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