Christians: You Need to Freakin' Chill

How to Handle Doubts Without Losing Your Faith—or Your Mind

I frequently get emails—usually from young men—who seem to be at some sort of crisis point with their faith because they’ve encountered an objection that’s really puzzling them. Honestly, it often strikes me that these young men are just in way over their heads. They’re not professional philosophers, and they hardly understand the technical tall grass they’re wading into. Most of the time, these objections are just things they’ve stumbled upon on YouTube, social media, or wherever else.

OK.

Guys, this is no way to live—even apart from being a Christian. Seriously.

First, as I’ve explained many times, not all questions are problems, and not all problems are serious. Moreover, just because you detect a tension doesn’t mean there’s no resolution to that tension. You might just be an idiot—like me!

But more seriously, take a step back and think about how unrealistic and unproductive this attitude is. You are never, ever going to answer every question or solve every problem that could be raised against your worldview. I don’t care what your worldview is. Even if you’re extremely intelligent and well-read in certain areas, there will always be other areas where you’re lacking and where things will puzzle you—or even completely stump you.

Now, I’m not saying you shouldn’t try to answer questions or solve problems—of course you should! I work on this stuff all the time! But it’s foolish and irrational to let every puzzle you can’t immediately solve turn into a major crisis of faith or a source of unrelenting anxiety.

Moreover—just as a brief aside—please stop falling for silly philosophical scare tactics, where some guy—maybe even with a PhD (oh no!)—rattles off a list of “problems” or “controversial commitments” attached to your position. Anyone who’s read enough of the relevant literature on any topic can whip up an “intimidating” list of problems for any position. It’s mostly just posturing and, frankly, useless crap.

From a more personal perspective, I’ll tell you this, dear readers: there have been countless times when I’ve been hit with a puzzle or objection that seriously confounded me. And there have been countless times when I’ve spent hours—days, even years—thinking about an issue and hardly seeing what the answer could possibly be. Yet I’ve remained hopeful and confident in a few things:

1. There are people way smarter than me who’ve been hit with the same or very similar problems, and they haven’t thrown their entire system or faith away. In many cases, they’ve found a genuinely satisfying solution (which I might not fully understand, but so what? There’s lots I don’t understand!).

2. I can always study more and eventually figure things out—just like I have, many times before.

And indeed, that’s what always—or almost always—happens. Sometimes, after years of wrestling with a seriously daunting challenge, I think I really do figure it out. This has been the case for me on matters like the problem of evil, coherence issues surrounding divine simplicity and classical theism, or highly technical objections to specific aspects of cosmological reasoning.

But here’s the thing: even before I felt like I figured out some of these major challenges, it was always clear to me that the motivations supporting these positions were far stronger and more evident than the idea that the puzzles or challenges behind them could not be solved.

For example, I think the motivations behind at least a modest version of the Principle of Sufficient Reason (PSR) are infinitely stronger than any of the admittedly difficult puzzles that can be raised against it. Even if I didn’t see a good solution to those puzzles (though I think I do, and I work through them in my book), I’d still think it’s 1000% more rational to maintain a commitment to PSR than to abandon it. Just because I don’t see a solution to a puzzle doesn’t mean I see there is no solution. At the same time, I think I do see the necessary truth of PSR. That’s just one example, but it easily translates to other questions and areas.

The point is this: I get stumped just like anybody, and that’s part of living a philosophical life. If you’re not frequently stumped, you’re not really doing philosophy, my dude. You’re just looking for reassurance or confirmation of what you already believe—and that’s not good!

And let’s be honest: how many times have you strained over a puzzle, only to watch someone way smarter solve it in, like, two seconds with the greatest ease? Just think how silly it would’ve been to abandon such close and important commitments, only to later discover the solution was sitting in a book just a 1-click purchase away. Moral of the story? Take comfort in your idiocy!

But let me also be clear about something else: if you can’t handle living with puzzles or tension, then you should NOT be doing philosophy. Go play badminton or something.

To those of you determined to live the philosophical Christian life—again, particularly young men, if my inbox is representative—it’s simply time to sack up and work hard on solving problems. Don’t give up; giving up is too easy. It’s the weakling’s way out. Instead, take on—enthusiastically, with grit—the burden of difficult questions. I promise you, it’s worth it (as struggles in life almost always are, if you decide to fully face them).

Why is that? Simply because whenever I finally arrive at a solution that feels genuinely intellectually satisfying to a tough problem, I frequently find that:

1. I’ve learned things I could not have learned any other way than through serious intellectual struggle. Agitation, as is often the case, promotes growth.

2. My understanding and conception of God—and God’s relation to the world—become more refined and, at the same time, more magnificent as I come to better appreciate His radical transcendence.

One last point: For Catholics, ours is a life of faith seeking understanding, NOT understanding seeking faith. Let that sink in, with all its implications—especially for those of you wanting to live the (no doubt, at times, extremely vexing and difficult) philosophical life.

God takes the first initiative, and sometimes He may very well allow you to labor under some philosophical tension or intense puzzle precisely because He wants you to learn that YOU cannot and need not figure everything out for yourself. Faith is about relationship, and all relationships—particularly with God—require trust. Faith is not and cannot be all about you or your efforts; that’s not faith but (perverse) works, a form of rationalism, which the Church has formally—and rightfully— denounced.

Anyway.

Just some thoughts, which I hope might offer reassurance to a few of you, even if it’s not exactly the kind of reassurance you were hoping for.