I finally finished Ravi Zacharias’s Can Man Live Without God, which Tim had lent to me sometime last semester. I read the first two parts, and then set it down for a couple of months before finishing the last part. In the first part, he sets forth arguments concerning (1) the deadly reality of applied antitheism, from a historical perspective; (2) the meaninglessness of everything if antitheism is considered logically; (3) the deficiency of antitheism—including atheism and so-called “agnosticism,” and any other watered down combination of such worldviews—of solid, foundational logic; and (4) the failure of antitheism to provide what it claims theism lacks, both as far as satisfying the parameters of logic and also the desires of the human soul-spirit-heart-mind-body-being-thing.
The second part describes, as the title of it suggests, what gives life meaning, as an argument branching off from the discussion of the meaningless inherent in logical antitheism. This second part is very interesting and also very difficult to summarize without butchering Dr. Zacharias’s excellent prose, but the questions he asks may well give you an idea of the content:
The third part of the book specifically addresses the teachings of Jesus. The purpose of his writing is not to convert antitheists into deists, but to show that theism is not logically devoid (whereas antitheism actually is), and also to show how the teachings of Jesus logically satisfy the parameters for calling something “true.” Before he addresses Jesus, though, he argues against relativism and establishes the truth concerning truth. He addresses five areas concerning which Jesus’s life and teachings satisfactorily give an account, specifically those which antitheism cannot accurately, logically treat: (1) the nature of humanity, (2) the nature of reality, (3) the nature of history, (4) the nature of our destiny, and (5) the nature of suffering. Here, though, it seems to me that his argument ends, and he is no longer trying to persuade with logic. He leaves the reader a point on the mountain where he can see all around, and an ability to discern meaning, truth, and hope. Hope, it seems, is the keynote speaker of the entire work, and it is an undercurrent in all of the preceding arguments. He emphasizes several points within Jesus’s teachings that show the dramatic difference between Him and all others. He quotes the exceptional poem “A Death in the Desert” by Robert Browning and then repeats the poet’s sentiment in his own words: “Christ—He is either the illimitable God or one dreadfully lost. There is no room for a theory that says He was ‘merely a good man.’” This echoes Paul, who wrote,
In all honestly, Dr. Zacharias’s arguments are vast and sprawling, and I find it nearly impossible to delineate them without violating the copyright of his book. If anything I’ve written above has peaked your interest, I highly recommend you read the book. If you don’t want to buy it, I’d be willing to send you my copy that Tim gave me if you email me. First come, first serve.
As I reflected on it in discussion with Tim yesterday, the most valuable part for me, as one who treats the Bible as words from God Himself (or one who is, at least, learning to treat the words with such reverence), was not the logical argument. Honestly, toward the end, I could myself come up with skeptical questions to his conclusions, and within the context of such a small book much was left unsaid or insufficiently addressed. The most valuable part was, indeed, my own meditation on the contrasts he illumines throughout the arguments between hope and hopelessness, meaning and meaninglessness, truth and relativism, justice and legality, the pursuit of wisdom and the forfeit of understanding—and the respective connections between all of those dichotomies.
I found myself first crushed to think of the philosophies of meaninglessness endured by so many billions of people in this world and its history, and also to consider my own depressed past when I experienced a sense of utter hopelessness, the rejection of self, rejection of reality, and a struggle with suicide. But I also found myself lifted up to know that I carry with me a message, not only one full of meaning but also bringing hope. The hope is that of eternal life in the presence of the Most High, whose glory is unending. And it is not only a hope for a future paradise that I preach, but also the blessings of God as given to humanity now—all of this through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ: holiness and blamelessness before Him; adoption as sons, entitled to the inheritance of the treasures of His kingdom, like joy inexpressible and peace beyond comprehension; redemption and restoration into the true nature of created humanity; forgiveness of sins, and the erasure of all guilt and condemnation; wisdom and insight into the mysteries of His will; and the seal and fellowship of the Holy Spirit (ref. Ephesians 1:3-14). All of this is found in the riches of the grace of God, who reigns forever on a throne of justice and righteousness. Amen.
The second part describes, as the title of it suggests, what gives life meaning, as an argument branching off from the discussion of the meaningless inherent in logical antitheism. This second part is very interesting and also very difficult to summarize without butchering Dr. Zacharias’s excellent prose, but the questions he asks may well give you an idea of the content:
Every now and then I am tempted to ask the speaking in an academic setting what he or she means by the statement “I have found meaning in life.” Is there an agree-upon unit of measurement by which we can all exclaim “There it is!”? Or are we condemned to wallow in culturally relative quotients, ever changing the point of reference and relegating meaning to a sense of happiness or to how one feels at a given moment? More often than not I fear, this is, indeed, the level to which any treatment on meaning is reduced; why else would a nation consider the pursuit of happiness as fundamental to its existence?
Copyright © 1994 by Ravi Zacharias. All rights reserved.
The third part of the book specifically addresses the teachings of Jesus. The purpose of his writing is not to convert antitheists into deists, but to show that theism is not logically devoid (whereas antitheism actually is), and also to show how the teachings of Jesus logically satisfy the parameters for calling something “true.” Before he addresses Jesus, though, he argues against relativism and establishes the truth concerning truth. He addresses five areas concerning which Jesus’s life and teachings satisfactorily give an account, specifically those which antitheism cannot accurately, logically treat: (1) the nature of humanity, (2) the nature of reality, (3) the nature of history, (4) the nature of our destiny, and (5) the nature of suffering. Here, though, it seems to me that his argument ends, and he is no longer trying to persuade with logic. He leaves the reader a point on the mountain where he can see all around, and an ability to discern meaning, truth, and hope. Hope, it seems, is the keynote speaker of the entire work, and it is an undercurrent in all of the preceding arguments. He emphasizes several points within Jesus’s teachings that show the dramatic difference between Him and all others. He quotes the exceptional poem “A Death in the Desert” by Robert Browning and then repeats the poet’s sentiment in his own words: “Christ—He is either the illimitable God or one dreadfully lost. There is no room for a theory that says He was ‘merely a good man.’” This echoes Paul, who wrote,
Now if Christ is preached, that He has been raised from the dead, how do some among you say that there is no resurrection of the dead? But if there is no resurrection of the dead, not even Christ has been raised; and if Christ has not been raised, then our preaching is vain, your faith also is vain. Moreover we are even found to be false witnesses of God, because we testified against God that He raised Christ, whom He did not raise, if in fact the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, not even Christ has been raised. If Christ has not been raised, your faith is worthless; you are still in your sins. Then those also who have fallen asleep in Christ have perished. If we have hoped in Christ in this life only, we are of all men most to be pitied. (I Corinthians 15:12-19 NASB)And in the final chapter, Dr. Zacharias emphasizes the absolutely indispensable point of Jesus’s death and resurrection as the foundation and capstone of everything Jesus taught and did as recorded in the Bible.
In all honestly, Dr. Zacharias’s arguments are vast and sprawling, and I find it nearly impossible to delineate them without violating the copyright of his book. If anything I’ve written above has peaked your interest, I highly recommend you read the book. If you don’t want to buy it, I’d be willing to send you my copy that Tim gave me if you email me. First come, first serve.
As I reflected on it in discussion with Tim yesterday, the most valuable part for me, as one who treats the Bible as words from God Himself (or one who is, at least, learning to treat the words with such reverence), was not the logical argument. Honestly, toward the end, I could myself come up with skeptical questions to his conclusions, and within the context of such a small book much was left unsaid or insufficiently addressed. The most valuable part was, indeed, my own meditation on the contrasts he illumines throughout the arguments between hope and hopelessness, meaning and meaninglessness, truth and relativism, justice and legality, the pursuit of wisdom and the forfeit of understanding—and the respective connections between all of those dichotomies.
I found myself first crushed to think of the philosophies of meaninglessness endured by so many billions of people in this world and its history, and also to consider my own depressed past when I experienced a sense of utter hopelessness, the rejection of self, rejection of reality, and a struggle with suicide. But I also found myself lifted up to know that I carry with me a message, not only one full of meaning but also bringing hope. The hope is that of eternal life in the presence of the Most High, whose glory is unending. And it is not only a hope for a future paradise that I preach, but also the blessings of God as given to humanity now—all of this through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ: holiness and blamelessness before Him; adoption as sons, entitled to the inheritance of the treasures of His kingdom, like joy inexpressible and peace beyond comprehension; redemption and restoration into the true nature of created humanity; forgiveness of sins, and the erasure of all guilt and condemnation; wisdom and insight into the mysteries of His will; and the seal and fellowship of the Holy Spirit (ref. Ephesians 1:3-14). All of this is found in the riches of the grace of God, who reigns forever on a throne of justice and righteousness. Amen.
2 comments:
Have you ever read Jean Paul Sartre and Albert Camus? I think their writings embody some of what Ravi Zacharias is reacting against. We had to read them in AP French, as they were considered "great French writers", but I found them desperately depressing. In the first of Ravi's quotes on your blog, I feel like he asks the right questions but only hints at the answers. The meaning of life and happiness can be simply defined, I think, for the Christian. To put it in modern Christianeze, I would say it is when we are in the center of God's will for us. It is an absolute in reality, not tied to culturally relevant quotients, but with our fuzzy spiritual eyesight, it is a reality that is often hard to find. NJTS
He references both Camus and Sartre repeatedly throughout. You may want to check this book out. I think Sartre may be on the Program. Maybe, maybe. I'm not too familiar with the senior year reading list.
Yeah, I was limited to quote not too much of his text in my blog because of copyrights, so I could only get the core questions and quotes without doing too much elaboration.
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