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The presence of evil in the world is considered by some to be solid evidence against the existence of a God. I think it proves just the opposite. The entire objection hinges on the observation that true evil exists “out there” as an objective feature of the world. Therein lies the problem for the atheist.
To say something is evil is to make a moral judgment, and moral judgments make no sense outside of the context of a moral standard. Evil as a value judgment marks a departure from that standard of morality. If there is no standard, then there is no departure.
Evil can’t be real if morals are relative. Evil is real, though. That’s why people object to it. Therefore, objective moral standards must exist as well. This discovery invites certain questions. Where do morals come from, and why do they seem to apply only to human beings? Are they the product of chance? What worldview makes sense of them?
We can answer these questions by simply reflecting on the nature of a moral rule. By making observations about the effect—morality—we can then determine its characteristics and ask what cause is adequate to produce it.
Four Observations about Morality
The first thing we observe about moral rules is that, though they exist, they are not physical because they don’t seem to have physical properties. We won’t bump into them in the dark. They don’t extend into space. They have no weight. They have no chemical characteristics. Instead, they are immaterial things that we discover through the process of thought, introspection, and reflection without the aid of our five senses.
This is a profound realization. We have, with a high degree of certainty, stumbled upon something real. Yet it’s something that can’t be proven empirically or described in terms of natural laws. This teaches us that there’s more to the world than just the physical universe. If non-physical things—like moral rules—truly exist, then materialism as a worldview is false.
There seem to be many other things that populate the world, things like propositions, numbers, and the laws of logic. Values like happiness, friendship, and faithfulness are there, too, along with meanings and language. There may even be persons—souls, angels, and other supernatural beings.
Our discovery also tells us that some things really exist to which science has no access, even in principle. Some things are not governed by natural laws. Science, therefore, is not the only discipline giving us true information about the world. It follows, then, that naturalism as a worldview is also false.
Our discovery of moral rules forces us to expand our understanding of the nature of reality and open our minds to the possibility of a host of new things that populate the world in the invisible realm.
The second thing we observe is that moral rules are a kind of communication. They are propositions: intelligent statements of meaning conveyed from one mind to another. The propositions are in the form of imperatives—commands. A command only makes sense where there are two minds involved, one giving the command and one receiving it.
There’s a third thing that we notice when we reflect on moral rules. They have a force that we can actually feel prior to any behavior. This is called the incumbency of moral rules, the “oughtness” of morality. It appeals to a person’s will, compelling him to act in a certain way, though he often disregards its force and chooses to disobey.
Finally, there is a deep discomfort that is felt when we violate clear and weighty moral rules, an ethical pain, making us aware that we have done something wrong and are deserving of punishment. This sense of guilt carries with it not just the uncomfortable awareness of wrong-doing, but also the dread of having to answer for our deed. Distraction and denial may temporarily numb ethical pain, but it never entirely disappears. Only sociopaths succeed in silencing the conscience completely.
Narrowing Our Options
These four observations provide us with a foundation from which to answer the question: “Whence morality?” We need only determine the possible options, then ask which option best accounts for our observations.
A word of caution here. At this point our discussion gets personal, because the ultimate answer to our question has serious ramifications for the way we live. It’s tempting to abandon careful thinking when conclusions that make us uncomfortable come into focus. Faced with a limited number of options, no one sits on the fence. When the full range of choices is clear, rejection of one means acceptance of another remaining.
Our options are limited to three. One: Morality is simply an illusion. Two: Moral rules exist but are mere accidents, the product of chance. Three: Moral rules are not accidents but instead the product of intelligence. Which option makes the most sense given our four observations about morality?
Some want to argue that morals just don’t exist. They’re nothing but illusions, useful fictions that help us to live in harmony. This is the relativist’s answer. This view is not an option for those who raise the problem of evil. Their complaint about the injustice of the universe is a tacit admission of morality. C. S. Lewis observed:
Thus in the very act of trying to prove that God did not exist—in other words, that the whole of reality was senseless—I found I was forced to assume that one part of reality—namely my idea of justice—was full of sense. Consequently, atheism turns out to be too simple. . . . If there were no light in the universe and therefore no creatures with eyes, we should never know it was dark. Dark would be without meaning.
Some take a second route. They admit that objective moral laws must exist but contend that they are just accidents. We discover them as part of the furniture of the universe, so to speak, but they have no deeper explanation, nor do they need one.
This won’t do for a good reason: Moral rules that have no ground or justification need not be obeyed. An illustration is helpful here. One evening in the middle of a Scrabble game, you notice the phrase “do not go” formed in the random spray of letter tiles on the table. Is this a command that ought to be obeyed? Of course not. It’s not a command at all, just a random collection of letters.
Commands are communications between two minds. Chance might conceivably create the appearance of a moral rule, but there can be no command if no one is speaking. Since the scrabble phrase is accidental, it can safely be ignored.
Even if a person is behind the command, one can still ignore it if it isn’t backed by appropriate authority. If I stood at an intersection and put my hand up, cars might stop voluntarily, but they would have no obligation to stop. If, on the other hand, a policeman replaced me, traffic would come to a halt.
What is the difference between the policeman and me? My authority is not grounded. It doesn’t rest on anything solid. The policeman, however, represents the government, so his authority is justified. The state can appoint legitimate representatives to carry out its will because it is operating within its proper domain.
We learn from this that a law has moral force when it is given by an appropriate authority, one operating within its legitimate jurisdiction. If one violates such a law, he could be punished. The same is true of moral laws. They have incumbency—force to them—if there is proper authority behind them. Moral rules that appear by chance have no such grounding.
Our second option fails because it doesn’t explain three important features that we observed about morality. Chance morality fails to be a communication between two minds, and therefore, cannot be imperative. It doesn’t account for the incumbency of moral rules, nor does it make sense of the guilt and expectation of punishment one feels when those rules are violated.
One Remaining Answer
Only one answer remains as a possible source of morality. If morality is not an illusion and not the product of chance, then morals must be the result of an intelligent designer. Universal moral laws that have genuine incumbency require an author whose proper domain is the universe, who has the moral authority to enforce his laws and the power to ultimately mete out perfect justice.
What is the best explanation for the existence of morality? A personal God whose character provides an absolute standard of goodness is the best answer. An impersonal force won’t do because a moral rule is both a proposition and a command, and these are features of minds. Ethicist Richard Taylor explains:
A duty is something that is owed . . . but something can be owed only to some person or persons. There can be no such thing as a duty in isolation. . . . The concept of moral obligation [is] unintelligible apart from the idea of God. The words remain, but their meaning is gone.
Only one option makes sense of each observation about morality: a personal God, who is the creator of both the material and the immaterial domain. Moral laws suggest a moral lawgiver. His laws are a communication of his desires—imperatives expected to be obeyed.
The existence of a God also explains the incumbency of morality. Ethics are adequately grounded because God is a proper authority for moral rules. The universe is his possession because he created it, and he has the right to rule over it.
Ethical pain—true moral guilt—also makes sense.
Since morals are not disembodied principles, but personal commands, a violation is not just a broken rule, but an offense against the person who made the rule. Danish philosopher Søren Kierkegaard has pointed out that a man could not have anything upon his conscience if a God did not exist.
Some attempt to argue that they don’t need a God to have morality. They can live a moral life even though they don’t believe in a divine being. No one argues, though, that an atheist can behave in a way one might call moral. The real question is: “Why ought he?” The Trappist monk Thomas Merton put it this way:
In the name of whom or what do you ask me to behave? Why should I go to the inconvenience of denying myself the satisfactions I desire in the name of some standard that exists only in your imagination? Why should I worship the fictions that you have imposed on me in the name of nothing?
A moral atheist is like a man sitting down to dinner who doesn’t believe in farmers, ranchers, fishermen, or cooks. He believes the food just appears, with no explanation and no sufficient cause. This is silly. Either his meal is an illusion or someone provided it. In the same way, if morals really exist, as I have argued, then some cause adequate to explain the effect must account for them.
The Final Verdict
The argument against an intelligent designer based on the problem of evil can only be raised if some form of moral objectivism is true. Morals, therefore, exist. I need not give a complete taxonomy of ethical guidelines to make my case. If there is even one moral absolute, then it invites the question: “What kind of worldview explains the existence of this moral rule?”
Atheism can’t make any sense of it. Neither can most Eastern religions. If reality is an illusion, as they hold, then the distinction between good and evil is ultimately rendered meaningless. Something like the Judeo-Christian or Muslim idea of God must be true to adequately account for moral laws.
Morality grounded in a God explains our hunger for justice—our desire for a day of final reckoning when all wrongs are made right, when innocent suffering is finally redeemed, and when all the guilty are punished and the righteous rewarded.
This also explains our own personal sense of dread. We feel guilty because we are guilty. We know deep down inside that we have offended a morally perfect being who has the legitimate authority to punish us. We also know that we will have to answer for our own crimes against this God.
In the end, we’re forced to accept one of two alternatives. Either relativism is true, or morality is true. Either we live in a universe in which morality is a meaningless concept and are forever condemned to silence regarding the problem of evil, or moral rules exist and we’re beholden to a moral God who holds us accountable to his law.
There are no other choices. As Dr. Francis Schaeffer put it, “These are not probability answers; [these] are the only answers. It is this or nothing.” If one is certainly false, then the other is certainly true. That’s the way rationality works.•
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