Tuesday Tome - The Skeptical Believer

One of the books I'm currently reading is The Skeptical Believer: Telling Stories to Your Inner Atheist, by Daniel Taylor. You may recall that I recently read and posted about his earlier book, The Myth of Certainty, which I found to be very helpful and encouraging.

The Skeptical Believer covers a lot of the same ideas presented in The Myth of Certainty, but this time through a collection of short and winsome essays arranged into chapter sections: 1. Definitions and Diagnosis; 2. A Profile of a Skeptical Believer; 3. The Story Nature of Faith; 4. Objections to Faith; 5. Arguments for Faith - All of Them Resistible; 6. The Faithful Skeptic - Living the Story; 7. My Story within God's Story; 8. Joy, Risk, Adventure, and Love - Just the Right Kind of Story.

I'm only about half-way through at this point, but I've been enjoying what I've read so far. I'll post more about it once I've completed it. In the meantime, here's an excerpt from the first essay in the book:

But if you don’t feed him [my inner atheist], he’s not so bad. If I decide to hear him out rather than drown him out, he kind of deflates down to a manageable size. He’s a bit of a Wizard of Oz figure: “I am Skepticism, the Great and Powerful!” But in fact, he’s just a little man behind a curtain playing with knobs. Having looked behind his curtain, I sort of like him. My inner atheist still talks trash now and again, but once you see through him, he’s almost entertaining.

I’ve also noticed that he gets quiet during stories. I think, in fact, that my resident atheist may like stories. He doesn’t complain nearly so much during story telling as when I feed him propositions and facts. He tends to sit in the corner and listen, not affirming but not protesting much either. Sometimes he’ll say, “That’s just a story,” hoping the word “just” will [frighten or irritate me] and diminish the story a bit. Or he’ll grouse, “Well other people have their stories, too,” as though stories cancel each other out. But he really doesn’t know what to do with stories and so he mostly shuts up.

So, here’s the deal we’ve struck. I let my inner atheist have his say. I let him ask his question, express his doubts, roll his eyes, vent his spleen, pass a little cynical gas–whatever he feels the need to do. I even compliment him occasionally when he makes a good point. (He hates that.)

Then I go on believing. I go on trying to live my part in the story.

I’ve thought about this a lot. I don’t think this is stubborn belief despite the facts or glorying in irrationality (what some would call fideism). I think it actually quite a rational response to the limitations of reason and the rewards of belief. The upside of believing, of being part of the story, is enormous. The only downside is the possibility of being wrong. I can live with that—maybe forever.