Quincy:
I suppose I should address this—though I’m not entirely sure where to begin with the sheer complexity of the matter at hand. It feels like we’re circling the drain of a very specific, albeit exhausting, conversation. I was thinking about what Gerald Perez5 mentioned earlier—you know how he tends to look at things through that particular lens—and it strikes me that we are missing the forest for the trees. It’s much like when you’re trying to navigate a massive metropolitan hub like Chicago during rush hour; you get so caught up in the immediate gridlock right in front of your bumper that you completely lose sight of the broader transit system. We are doing exactly that here. We are obsessing over the minutiae while the larger structural issues remain unaddressed—quite frankly, it's a bit maddening. Anyway, my point—if one can even call this rambling thought a "point"—is that we need to step back. Let's try to find some common ground before we descend further into this particular rabbit hole. Or perhaps we won't. One can never be too certain in these digital forums, can one? kaže:
Just to circle back for a second—so we don't lose the thread here—I mentioned right at the start that I’m looking at this from a comparative standpoint. The core question was really about the advantages—you know, who holds the edge in which specific area? To be clear, my comparison is specifically weighing the rationalist perspective—someone who is mentally sound and an atheist—against the believer... and I should probably add a quick disclaimer there, as I truly have nothing against people of faith. 😉— Well, if you're feeling up to it, just take a look at the posts above. |
I hear you—and honestly, that first comparison you made? It really hit the nail on the head.
I’ve already pointed out that the whole trick lies in the initial premise—you essentially take an arbitrary definition of what constitutes a believer versus a non-believer, and then you just start building your entire argument from that specific starting point. It's all built on those first assumptions.
So, if you think about it—and I do tend to overthink these things—every single instance of debunking an argument is really just a way of dismantling the initial premise. It’s all connected, isn't it? You can't really tear down the house if you haven't first addressed the very foundation it's built upon.
To be more precise—though I realize how pedantic that sounds—the whole concept of a "reasonable person" is such an incredibly broad umbrella that we can both wrap whatever meaning we want around it. It’s a classic standoff, really. You’re standing your ground by narrowing the scope—arguing that being reasonable implies a certain level of critical thinking and empirical proof, essentially positioning it as the antithesis of faith—whereas I prefer to widen the lens. To me, being a reasonable person is entirely independent of whether someone holds religious beliefs or not. We're just looking at two different sides of the same coin.
Quincy:
| So, I found myself arguing that you simply cannot be consistent with your own logic when it comes to faith—it’s a bit of a paradox, really. You see, you're essentially expected to accept certain premises as absolute, finished products; they are presented to you as self-explanatory truths that you aren't even allowed to scrutinize—because, heaven forbid, if you start asking too many questions, suddenly you aren't a "believer" anymore. It’s quite a strange dynamic—I don't mean to imply that a person of faith lacks intellect—but rather that there is this specific, designated segment of their life where critical thinking is effectively cordoned off. In my view, deep reasoning and faith are fundamentally incompatible in that regard—one requires questioning everything, while the other demands you stop questioning at a very specific finish line. |
That’s exactly what you said—but even so, it doesn't mean I have to take your word for it (hehe); in other words, just because you’ve made a claim doesn't automatically mean you're actually right.
I find myself lost in thought lately—just pondering all sorts of things, you know? Life, the universe, this and that... it’s quite a rabbit hole. And, well, I feel the need to mention it again—I am a person of faith.
Everyone—whether they’re perfectly rational or just struggling to keep their head straight—eventually reaches a point where they have to accept certain facts as absolute truths. It’s almost unavoidable, isn't it? You simply accept that you exist, that the laws of physics are non-negotiable, and that you are essentially stuck navigating the world exactly as it presents itself. There really isn't much else to do but embrace the reality you've landed in. Even when people try to "prove" things, they usually just end up arguing about how phenomena can be broken down into elementary forces—yet even then, those fundamental building blocks remain largely inexplicable, or we simply choose to treat them as settled facts.
Quincy:
Now, let me give you my two cents on that:
Once a person finally accepts their own limitations—which, let’s be honest, is a hard pill to swallow sometimes—they actually start to grasp the difference between what they can control and what they simply can't. It’s about focus, really. You’ll inevitably stumble along the way—that’s just part of the deal—but even that is a lesson in itself. After all, you can't exactly dictate when you're going to mess up; those mistakes tend to happen on their own schedule regardless of how much you plan ahead.
From my own experience—and I say this after plenty of trial and error—I’ve found that once you finally accept your own limitations, something interesting happens. Your influence actually becomes more focused; it gets sharper, more effective, and far less scattered. But there's another consequence to this realization—one that I personally find incredibly vital—which is that you start to feel a genuine sense of freedom. It’s like shedding a weight you didn't even realize you were carrying. |
Well, let me offer my own thoughts on the matter in return:
The moment you accept your own limitations, you lose any semblance of consistency—especially if you still maintain that you have an absolute, unquestionable grasp on what you can control and what you simply cannot.
I did try to warn you about this earlier—though I realize now my delivery was perhaps a bit too oblique to be truly clear—but I have to ask: are you actually constructing your own reality? In a sense, that is what it seems like you're doing.
Look, when you claim that a person’s lifestyle or choices don't actually impact their health—or how they deal with illness—I have to step in and offer a reality check. It’s a bit of a stretch, isn't it? I mean, consider the sheer randomness of it all—one person faces a diagnosis like cancer and loses their battle, while another person, perhaps facing the exact same circumstances, manages to pull through and survive. It really makes you wonder about the variables at play.
Are you actually serious about that? If things like that were happening, I’d be the first one lining up to join the congregation.
This reminds me of those old stories about lightning—you know, back when people genuinely believed lightning was some divine entity. It was the same deal with floods; folks living along the Mississippi would assume a flood was just the river expressing its will. They didn't have a way to explain these phenomena, so they just slapped the label "God" on them. Now, there isn't necessarily anything wrong with that, but the issue arises when they use the concept of God as the *cause* for the lightning or the flood. That’s where we hit a snag. The problem is that once you define a phenomenon as "God," you effectively halt any progress toward understanding it scientifically. You stop looking for the mechanism because the answer is already supposedly provided. Fortunately, humanity eventually broke through those barriers and uncovered the actual physical causes.
Your examples—illness, a breakup, a blown tire on the interstate—well, maybe you don't personally understand the mechanics behind them, but assigning "God" as the explanation is essentially the same thing those ancient people did when they looked at a thunderstorm.
In my humble opinion, that isn't a subjective advantage; it's more like a mental roadblock.
I'm not sure if I've made myself clear enough here
A person can certainly understand the cause of various events without it providing much actual meaning—for instance, you know a tire blows because the tread is worn out, but that doesn't solve the existential dread of why things happen the way they do.
But look, the question here concerns the perceived benefit of faith—I was referring to the retrospective recognition of meaning, that moment when everything seems to "click" into place. For example, a man might "realize" he finally landed his dream girl because he lived an upright life (perhaps being a faithful believer), and thus his actions receive this retroactive validation. In his mind, if he believes God rewarded him, then that becomes his reality. Your external explanations—saying he got the girl because he's handsome or has a high-paying job at Goldman Sachs—are essentially meaningless compared to his internal conviction.
So,
this truly does happen, and if you want to verify it, you basically have to—well, be a believer (haha; even if you aren't the first one to try).
That whole lightning story feels a bit naive to me,
it strikes me as more of a mythological parable. Even back then, people probably realized that if they saw lightning strike several times without anything bad happening, they didn't need to be terrified—regardless of whether they understood the science behind it or not.
Today, you can describe the phenomenon and what's occurring, but that's really where it ends; it remains a mystery as to why it happens exactly that way and not some other way.
Let me be very direct.
Suppose a believer and a non-believer are both preparing to jump into a swimming pool. The believer prays beforehand that they won't get wet.
Scenario one:
They both jump in, and they both get soaked.
Scenario two:
The non-believer jumps in first and gets soaked.
Then the believer jumps in, and at that exact moment, a bird flies by and carries them safely to the edge of the pool.
What will the believer say?
"It was God."
What actually happened?
Was the reason the believer didn't get wet due to prayer?
The reason was the bird that carried them to the edge.
Did the bird fly over because of the prayer?
The bird flew over because birds fly.
THE POINT OF MY STORY: Did the man (the believer) successfully influence reality with his thoughts?
No. Birds fly, and that bird was just like any other bird—it simply flew.
Well, yes,
the ultimate reason for anything turns out to be a tautology.
In other words, we don't actually have a clue (about anything).
Or,
if a person decides that the bird flew over specifically because they prayed—then, for them, that is their reality.
People can't just manifest their way out of reality—honestly, I don't see any real advantage in trying to "convince" yourself that you have that kind of power if it isn't actually there.
On the flip side, people are constantly shaping their own existence, and there is definitely an edge to be gained if you truly believe that's how the world works. (Willpower is everything!)