What are the benefits of being religious?

Gerald Perez5 said:However,
I consider myself both a believer and a rational person,
and I don't simply accept "facts without evidence"; in fact, you are merely stating your position rather than actually proving it.

There is quite a lot of problematic reasoning in your argument—starting from your initial premise (which seems biased, as it equates being non-religious with being rational, thereby implying a believer cannot be rational) all the way down to your final conclusion.

Still,
once a person accepts their limitations (the so-called "rational man" described by kresho2), they simultaneously lose any absolute clarity regarding what is within their influence and what isn't—after all, what he thinks he "knows" might just be another illusion, much like how one might be deceived about what they "know" they cannot or do not know.

Or,
you don't actually *know* (with any certainty) that "whatever happens to that person would have happened even without their prayer"—that's a massive "what if" scenario.

...

The advantage lies in the fact that a believer perceives events as happening precisely because of their faith (whether it was recovering from an illness, finding a partner, or even having a tire blow out due to a mistake)—everything gains meaning retroactively. That is a subjective advantage.

As for an objective advantage—believers have a better sense of humor.

Just gonna repeat myself a bit to stay on track—I mentioned at the start this was a comparison; the question was about advantages—meaning, who has the edge over whom. I noted I'm comparing a rational person (someone mentally sound, an atheist) against a believer (and I noted I have nothing against believers 😉) — so check the earlier posts if you want.

So, I said that with faith, you can't really be consistent with your own reasoning because you have to accept facts based on what's presented to you as absolute truth—you don't have the right to question them, otherwise you aren't a believer anymore. Basically, logic and faith are incompatible (this doesn't mean a believer doesn't think, it just means a specific part of their life is closed off to questioning)

Now, to answer you:
When someone accepts their limitations, they learn what they can influence and what they can't. Sure, they'll mess up along the way, but that's part of the lesson—you can't control when you're going to make a mistake.
From my own experience, accepting those limits makes your impact more focused and effective, and another huge thing—in my book—is that it makes a person feel much freer.

Gerald Perez5 said:However,
I consider myself both a believer and a rational person,
and I don't simply accept "facts without evidence"; in fact, you are merely stating your position rather than actually proving it.

There is quite a lot of problematic reasoning in your argument—starting from your initial premise (which seems biased, as it equates being non-religious with being rational, thereby implying a believer cannot be rational) all the way down to your final conclusion.

Still,
once a person accepts their limitations (the so-called "rational man" described by kresho2), they simultaneously lose any absolute clarity regarding what is within their influence and what isn't—after all, what he thinks he "knows" might just be another illusion, much like how one might be deceived about what they "know" they cannot or do not know.

Or,
you don't actually *know* (with any certainty) that "whatever happens to that person would have happened even without their prayer"—that's a massive "what if" scenario.

...

The advantage lies in the fact that a believer perceives events as happening precisely because of their faith (whether it was recovering from an illness, finding a partner, or even having a tire blow out due to a mistake)—everything gains meaning retroactively. That is a subjective advantage.

As for an objective advantage—believers have a better sense of humor.

Are you being serious? I'd be the first one to sign up for faith if that were actually how things worked 😉

This reminds me of the old stories about lightning—back when people thought lightning was a god. Same goes for floods. People living by a river used to think the flood was the river god. They couldn't explain these things, so they labeled them "god." There's no issue with that part. But they attributed the cause of both the flood and the lightning to a deity. That's where the real problem started. The issue was that no progress could be made in understanding these phenomena because they were already "explained" away as God. Luckily, humanity broke through those barriers and figured out the actual causes.
Your example—whether it’s getting sick, a breakup, or just a flat tire—you might not be able to articulate it, but offering explanations like that is basically the same thing as those ancient people who blamed lightning strikes or floods on gods.
In my humble opinion, that isn't some kind of subjective advantage... it's just a total mental block.

Gerald Perez5 said:However,
I consider myself both a believer and a rational person,
and I don't simply accept "facts without evidence"; in fact, you are merely stating your position rather than actually proving it.

There is quite a lot of problematic reasoning in your argument—starting from your initial premise (which seems biased, as it equates being non-religious with being rational, thereby implying a believer cannot be rational) all the way down to your final conclusion.

Still,
once a person accepts their limitations (the so-called "rational man" described by kresho2), they simultaneously lose any absolute clarity regarding what is within their influence and what isn't—after all, what he thinks he "knows" might just be another illusion, much like how one might be deceived about what they "know" they cannot or do not know.

Or,
you don't actually *know* (with any certainty) that "whatever happens to that person would have happened even without their prayer"—that's a massive "what if" scenario.

...

The advantage lies in the fact that a believer perceives events as happening precisely because of their faith (whether it was recovering from an illness, finding a partner, or even having a tire blow out due to a mistake)—everything gains meaning retroactively. That is a subjective advantage.

As for an objective advantage—believers have a better sense of humor.

Let me be super clear here.
Imagine a believer and an atheist are about to jump into a swimming pool. The believer prays beforehand so they won't get wet.
Scenario one:
They both jump in, and they both get soaked.
Scenario two:
The atheist jumps in first and gets soaked.
Then the believer jumps in, and right at that moment, a bird flies by and carries them straight to the edge of the pool.

What’s the believer gonna say?
"That was God."

But what actually happened?
In that second scenario, was the reason the believer didn't get wet because of a prayer?
Nah, it was the bird that carried them to the edge.
Did the bird show up just because they prayed?
The bird showed up because birds fly.
THE POINT: Can a person (the believer) actually influence reality through their thoughts?
No. Birds fly, and that bird was just like any other bird—it flies.

People can't change reality with their thoughts, and I don't think there's any actual advantage to "convincing" yourself that you can. 🙂

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!)

fadedbison17 said:Let's just not confuse rationalization (trying to explain everything—even the stuff that can't be explained) with being reasonable (just accepting reality for what it is).

I don't see any point in worshiping some god of the wind and praying for help when I know he isn't there. When something happens that a believer would call an answer to prayer, I know there’s actually a different reason behind it—maybe I don't know it, and maybe it doesn't matter—but it's not because of my faith. If you're fully aware that God doesn't exist, what's even the upside to believing? Seems better to me to just accept that I don't know certain things and maybe I'll learn them later, maybe not...

Okay, that's your take—personally, I don't think reality changes just because I believe or want something to be true...

First, I'd accept what they told me (that I'm seriously ill and dying soon—which is how I took your comment about there being no hope).
Since I have this massive love for life, I'll do everything possible to help myself recover, or if recovery is impossible, I'll just live out whatever time I have left at the highest quality possible.

I don't need to delude myself into thinking "something" is coming to save me when I know it won't, and I'm fine with that. I don't see it as being pessimistic, just irrelevant—waiting on some higher power to step in...

Sure. The point is that you can achieve the same results—that sense of optimism—without believing in God, though it probably feels easier when you do. Maybe it’s just me.
Quincy:

That’s just your opinion—and frankly, I don't think reality cares much about what you believe, what you want, or how much you wish things were different.

Perhaps I wasn't being clear enough. I realize we can't bend objective reality to our will—that’s a lost cause—but each of us owns a subjective version of it. That's something we actually have the power to shift. You know that one well. The map is not the territory—an old adage, yet one people still struggle to grasp. We spend our lives staring at models, data points, and simplified abstractions, convinced they represent the messy, chaotic reality of the actual world. They don't. A blueprint isn't the house; a stock ticker isn't the economy. I learned this the hard way back when I was working in Chicago—spent months obsessing over a projected growth model only to watch the whole thing evaporate because of a single local supply chain hiccup that wasn't even on the radar. People mistake the representation for the truth. It’s a dangerous habit.?
Quincy:

First thing I’d do? Actually listen to what they told me. If you’re saying there's no hope—then I suppose I should just take that as my death sentence.. Because I have such a deep-seated love for life, I’m going to do everything in my power to facilitate healing—or, if that turns out to be an impossible goal, I’ll focus on making sure the rest of my days are lived with as much quality as possible.

The placebo effect—it’s a fascinating, if somewhat unsettling, bit of psychological theater. People will swear by a sugar pill just because they believe there's a remedy behind it. It’s a reminder that the mind isn't just an observer; it's an active participant in our physical reality. I once saw a guy at a clinic in Chicago convince himself he was feeling better after being given nothing but saline—purely based on the authority of the white coat. It makes you wonder how much of our "medicine" is actually just expensive suggestion.

I’d argue there’s a profound distinction between being an optimist and being a believer. An optimist holds onto the hope that things
will eventually turn out okay. A believer, however, possesses the certainty that everything is already as good as it can be, because they trust that
God is looking out for them.
Optimism feels more like a passing mood, whereas true faith is a foundational state of being, even if it has its ups and downs.

Gerald Perez5 said: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!)

Look, I'd rather stay on track here—let's not spiral into whether faith makes sense in general or not. That debate ended before we even started it. For me, it doesn't (I'm an atheist), and for you, it does (you're a believer). That's enough for me 🙂

Gerald Perez5 said: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!)

Yeah, and my point is that if there isn't an explanation for something yet, it's better for the sake of scientific progress to just say "we don't know what this is" and go find out, rather than trying to explain it away with some "supernatural" nonsense

Gerald Perez5 said: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!)

I didn't say I know for sure what I can influence—I just said humans make mistakes, and everyone does, myself included 😉

If I'm following you correctly, you're hung up on why one person dies of cancer and another doesn't?
That just shows we don't know enough about cancer yet—it doesn't prove some supernatural force is punishing someone for doing something wrong.

Gerald Perez5 said: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!)

Well, then that person is just chasing something that isn't there (just my take, not trying to force it on anyone).
If that person believes the fact that some higher power exists, they'll go looking for ways to prove it... but does that actually mean that power is real?

Gerald Perez5 said: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!)

I grew up in a Catholic family, so I'm familiar with faith. From my own experience, I can tell you it hasn't done me any favors—not a personal attack on anyone, just my own stance.

Gerald Perez5 said: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!)

The lightning thing is naive, and you actually pointed it out yourself (a few lines up). Some guy found a girlfriend because he was a good believer? I'm not saying I know the answer to your question (don't even know which guy you're talking about), but I'd rather say I don't know why he got the girl—maybe it was one reason, maybe a thousand reasons I'll never know—but I know it wasn't because of some higher power.

Gerald Perez5 said: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!)

But why does it have to be this way and not something else? It sounds like the explanation feels too simple for you, so you're just tossing it aside and assuming there's gotta be something else going on, right?
Personally, I don't think there's anything else 🙂

Gerald Perez5 said: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!)

What you're saying sounds like it's only "good" if you're lying to yourself about something you actually did—like telling yourself you succeeded when you didn't—and acting like the delusion is the same thing as the truth.
In the long run, I don't think that mindset does anyone any favors.

My whole point is that manufacturing your own reality doesn't actually help people thrive.
If someone gets bad news—like a terminal diagnosis where they might only have 7 days left—I think it's better to face that reality and make those 7 days count as best they can.
If a guy finds out his partner is cheating on him and he's head over heels, it's better to deal with the facts and figure out a path forward than to hide the truth from himself.
And if someone hits a milestone—landing a job at Google, getting a new car, finding a partner—it's better to just feel that pride and happiness internally, rather than trying to credit some higher power... which, let's be real, could just as easily take it all away.

placidranger said:Sure. The point is that you can achieve the same results—that sense of optimism—without believing in God, though it probably feels easier when you do. Maybe it’s just me.
Quincy:

That’s just your opinion—and frankly, I don't think reality cares much about what you believe, what you want, or how much you wish things were different.

Perhaps I wasn't being clear enough. I realize we can't bend objective reality to our will—that’s a lost cause—but each of us owns a subjective version of it. That's something we actually have the power to shift. You know that one well. The map is not the territory—an old adage, yet one people still struggle to grasp. We spend our lives staring at models, data points, and simplified abstractions, convinced they represent the messy, chaotic reality of the actual world. They don't. A blueprint isn't the house; a stock ticker isn't the economy. I learned this the hard way back when I was working in Chicago—spent months obsessing over a projected growth model only to watch the whole thing evaporate because of a single local supply chain hiccup that wasn't even on the radar. People mistake the representation for the truth. It’s a dangerous habit.?
Quincy:

First thing I’d do? Actually listen to what they told me. If you’re saying there's no hope—then I suppose I should just take that as my death sentence.. Because I have such a deep-seated love for life, I’m going to do everything in my power to facilitate healing—or, if that turns out to be an impossible goal, I’ll focus on making sure the rest of my days are lived with as much quality as possible.

The placebo effect—it’s a fascinating, if somewhat unsettling, bit of psychological theater. People will swear by a sugar pill just because they believe there's a remedy behind it. It’s a reminder that the mind isn't just an observer; it's an active participant in our physical reality. I once saw a guy at a clinic in Chicago convince himself he was feeling better after being given nothing but saline—purely based on the authority of the white coat. It makes you wonder how much of our "medicine" is actually just expensive suggestion.

Maybe...

placidranger said:Sure. The point is that you can achieve the same results—that sense of optimism—without believing in God, though it probably feels easier when you do. Maybe it’s just me.
Quincy:

That’s just your opinion—and frankly, I don't think reality cares much about what you believe, what you want, or how much you wish things were different.

Perhaps I wasn't being clear enough. I realize we can't bend objective reality to our will—that’s a lost cause—but each of us owns a subjective version of it. That's something we actually have the power to shift. You know that one well. The map is not the territory—an old adage, yet one people still struggle to grasp. We spend our lives staring at models, data points, and simplified abstractions, convinced they represent the messy, chaotic reality of the actual world. They don't. A blueprint isn't the house; a stock ticker isn't the economy. I learned this the hard way back when I was working in Chicago—spent months obsessing over a projected growth model only to watch the whole thing evaporate because of a single local supply chain hiccup that wasn't even on the radar. People mistake the representation for the truth. It’s a dangerous habit.?
Quincy:

First thing I’d do? Actually listen to what they told me. If you’re saying there's no hope—then I suppose I should just take that as my death sentence.. Because I have such a deep-seated love for life, I’m going to do everything in my power to facilitate healing—or, if that turns out to be an impossible goal, I’ll focus on making sure the rest of my days are lived with as much quality as possible.

The placebo effect—it’s a fascinating, if somewhat unsettling, bit of psychological theater. People will swear by a sugar pill just because they believe there's a remedy behind it. It’s a reminder that the mind isn't just an observer; it's an active participant in our physical reality. I once saw a guy at a clinic in Chicago convince himself he was feeling better after being given nothing but saline—purely based on the authority of the white coat. It makes you wonder how much of our "medicine" is actually just expensive suggestion.

I get where you're coming from, but I don't think I can just wish my way into changing my own internal reality. If I did, I guess I'd just say—the map only shows the territory if you actually want it to... 🙂

placidranger said:Sure. The point is that you can achieve the same results—that sense of optimism—without believing in God, though it probably feels easier when you do. Maybe it’s just me.
Quincy:

That’s just your opinion—and frankly, I don't think reality cares much about what you believe, what you want, or how much you wish things were different.

Perhaps I wasn't being clear enough. I realize we can't bend objective reality to our will—that’s a lost cause—but each of us owns a subjective version of it. That's something we actually have the power to shift. You know that one well. The map is not the territory—an old adage, yet one people still struggle to grasp. We spend our lives staring at models, data points, and simplified abstractions, convinced they represent the messy, chaotic reality of the actual world. They don't. A blueprint isn't the house; a stock ticker isn't the economy. I learned this the hard way back when I was working in Chicago—spent months obsessing over a projected growth model only to watch the whole thing evaporate because of a single local supply chain hiccup that wasn't even on the radar. People mistake the representation for the truth. It’s a dangerous habit.?
Quincy:

First thing I’d do? Actually listen to what they told me. If you’re saying there's no hope—then I suppose I should just take that as my death sentence.. Because I have such a deep-seated love for life, I’m going to do everything in my power to facilitate healing—or, if that turns out to be an impossible goal, I’ll focus on making sure the rest of my days are lived with as much quality as possible.

The placebo effect—it’s a fascinating, if somewhat unsettling, bit of psychological theater. People will swear by a sugar pill just because they believe there's a remedy behind it. It’s a reminder that the mind isn't just an observer; it's an active participant in our physical reality. I once saw a guy at a clinic in Chicago convince himself he was feeling better after being given nothing but saline—purely based on the authority of the white coat. It makes you wonder how much of our "medicine" is actually just expensive suggestion.

Not much of an expert myself, but I'm definitely down to learn more. What's your take on the placebo effect?

Look, I get that people can talk themselves into things and create these "self-fulfilling prophecies." But honestly? That doesn't mean they actually succeeded just because they believed in it—it just means they finally pointed their focus... you know, dialed in their concentration on one specific thing...

Faith equals concentration and focus? I wouldn't call it that...
People who lock in on a specific goal or target are way more likely to actually pull it off—that’s just common sense. But honestly, there's no point acting like some higher power is making it happen... it really just comes down to the grind—you know, that pure focus...

Everyone believes in something. It’s just unavoidable. Even an atheist operates under the conviction that there isn't a God, and they act based on that specific certainty. Or look at how someone might be convinced a certain food is bad for them—and sure enough, it ends up making them sick. But if you don't believe it's harmful, it doesn't affect you the same way.

It’s one of those deep topics where psychology, sociology, and philosophy all crash into each other. If you look at history, religion basically emerged from this fundamental human need to represent the vastness and wholeness of the universe through a symbol. Along with that, we developed rituals as these little anchors—reminders to show respect and gratitude when we feel that sense of being part of something much larger than ourselves.
But here's the thing: just like any symbol, whether it's an image, a story, or a physical gesture, the true essence eventually gets lost. Over time, what was once profound turns into a relatively hollow ritual. We saw the rise of institutionalization, and once you have institutions, you get power hierarchies. That’s when things shift; instead of letting a person connect with that greater whole on their own terms, they insert a middleman—like a priest—to do it for them.

On the plus side, having a unified belief system can act like a sort of social glue, making a community feel more cohesive and tight-knit.
The downside, though, is pretty heavy. The bedrock of any society should be the individual, but in these systems, the individual starts to lose their importance. They stop being seen as a person and instead get treated like a tool or a servant meant to serve some "higher cause."

Look, I'm not exactly out here preaching religion, but I honestly don't think it's possible for a human being to live without believing in something. Even if you were the last person left on Earth who held a certain belief, you'd still be driven by it.

@fadedbison17

It seems we aren't quite on the same wavelength—you’re taking me a bit too literally, I think. You’re latching onto my specific examples as if they were the core argument, when really, they’re just incidental.
Because of that, there’s honestly no point in me going through your replies line by line, even if some of them are—well, let's just say they're a bit of an eyesore.

To put it simply,
I’m not talking about using the supernatural to explain away every little thing that happens—at least, that isn't how I approach it. (Now, many religious people might certainly do that, and hey, there's nothing inherently wrong with it; the world is just built that way, populated by ordinary folks who are, frankly, pretty average in every sense of the word, and most people aren't exactly speculative philosophers.)

Regardless, no matter how much I learn or understand, I am always acutely aware of one thing: I know that I know nothing. Anyone who refuses to accept that is either being foolish or is simply lying to themselves.
But here is the catch—you can't actually live your life based solely on that realization. So, even when you know your convictions aren't absolute certainties, you have to move forward, building some kind of fortress of belief and acting as if you truly know something—constructing a morality, a set of principles, and so on.

So,
I could master everything there is to know about the world—the causes behind this and that—but there is always a persistent caveat attached: the fundamental nature of the universe is incomprehensible. The great mystery of existence remains unsolvable; that Kantov "x" will remain an "x" for all eternity.

And that is precisely why that "x" exists—because there will always be room for God, for faith, and so on. That is what the author of this thread was questioning in the opening post—how is it that we always find these patterns throughout history?

And now, looking at what’s actually bothering you,
it isn't that "x" (or God) providing an explanation for a specific occurrence—like lightning strikes, or a girl, or a movie you wanted to see. You can always find a more grounded, earthly explanation for those things. But when it comes to explaining generally, the "big picture," the ultimate meaning of anything at all—there is no final answer. And that is where God enters the frame.

For instance, whatever you might know about the nebulas of Andromeda, planetary motion, or the composition of the sun—that’s all trivial stuff. It doesn't really matter to you whether the sun is made of helium or aluminum. But does a meal taste good? Will you enjoy a great movie? Will your brother be okay? Those things matter deeply. If those "ordinary" life events go wrong—if life just starts falling apart—that is when you begin to question the meaning of it all, and you won't find an answer in mathematics or the natural sciences. For many, the answer will be faith, or the support of a community (a nation, a church, a local group, etc.). A rare few will navigate it alone—though even they rely on sheer willpower or faith.

And I won't ramble on,
but you claim you haven't seen any "benefit" from faith. My response? I don't expect a "benefit" in that sense—in fact, if that's how you look at it, the title of this thread is misguided. I simply believe (it was my choice), and life treats me kindly (there's your benefit right there). That is the version of God I hold onto, much like what Kuzanski said: He follows me like a shadow.

And as I mentioned, it seems I made the right choice...

Gerald Perez5 said:@fadedbison17

It seems we aren't quite on the same wavelength—you’re taking me a bit too literally, I think. You’re latching onto my specific examples as if they were the core argument, when really, they’re just incidental.
Because of that, there’s honestly no point in me going through your replies line by line, even if some of them are—well, let's just say they're a bit of an eyesore.

To put it simply,
I’m not talking about using the supernatural to explain away every little thing that happens—at least, that isn't how I approach it. (Now, many religious people might certainly do that, and hey, there's nothing inherently wrong with it; the world is just built that way, populated by ordinary folks who are, frankly, pretty average in every sense of the word, and most people aren't exactly speculative philosophers.)

Regardless, no matter how much I learn or understand, I am always acutely aware of one thing: I know that I know nothing. Anyone who refuses to accept that is either being foolish or is simply lying to themselves.
But here is the catch—you can't actually live your life based solely on that realization. So, even when you know your convictions aren't absolute certainties, you have to move forward, building some kind of fortress of belief and acting as if you truly know something—constructing a morality, a set of principles, and so on.

So,
I could master everything there is to know about the world—the causes behind this and that—but there is always a persistent caveat attached: the fundamental nature of the universe is incomprehensible. The great mystery of existence remains unsolvable; that Kantov "x" will remain an "x" for all eternity.

And that is precisely why that "x" exists—because there will always be room for God, for faith, and so on. That is what the author of this thread was questioning in the opening post—how is it that we always find these patterns throughout history?

And now, looking at what’s actually bothering you,
it isn't that "x" (or God) providing an explanation for a specific occurrence—like lightning strikes, or a girl, or a movie you wanted to see. You can always find a more grounded, earthly explanation for those things. But when it comes to explaining generally, the "big picture," the ultimate meaning of anything at all—there is no final answer. And that is where God enters the frame.

For instance, whatever you might know about the nebulas of Andromeda, planetary motion, or the composition of the sun—that’s all trivial stuff. It doesn't really matter to you whether the sun is made of helium or aluminum. But does a meal taste good? Will you enjoy a great movie? Will your brother be okay? Those things matter deeply. If those "ordinary" life events go wrong—if life just starts falling apart—that is when you begin to question the meaning of it all, and you won't find an answer in mathematics or the natural sciences. For many, the answer will be faith, or the support of a community (a nation, a church, a local group, etc.). A rare few will navigate it alone—though even they rely on sheer willpower or faith.

And I won't ramble on,
but you claim you haven't seen any "benefit" from faith. My response? I don't expect a "benefit" in that sense—in fact, if that's how you look at it, the title of this thread is misguided. I simply believe (it was my choice), and life treats me kindly (there's your benefit right there). That is the version of God I hold onto, much like what Kuzanski said: He follows me like a shadow.

And as I mentioned, it seems I made the right choice...

I prefer precision and clarity; I think it's absolutely possible to perceive the world, and I don't think there's (or needs to be) such a thing as the big picture. When it comes to philosophy, I lean toward objectivism—whatever I know, I know for sure, and there's no "x" factor involved (the stuff you mentioned regarding Kant)

Anyway, looks like we've gotten to know each other a bit better and drifted off-topic, so let's leave it at that 😉

Lawrence Robinson5 said:Everyone believes in something. It’s just unavoidable. Even an atheist operates under the conviction that there isn't a God, and they act based on that specific certainty. Or look at how someone might be convinced a certain food is bad for them—and sure enough, it ends up making them sick. But if you don't believe it's harmful, it doesn't affect you the same way.

It’s one of those deep topics where psychology, sociology, and philosophy all crash into each other. If you look at history, religion basically emerged from this fundamental human need to represent the vastness and wholeness of the universe through a symbol. Along with that, we developed rituals as these little anchors—reminders to show respect and gratitude when we feel that sense of being part of something much larger than ourselves.
But here's the thing: just like any symbol, whether it's an image, a story, or a physical gesture, the true essence eventually gets lost. Over time, what was once profound turns into a relatively hollow ritual. We saw the rise of institutionalization, and once you have institutions, you get power hierarchies. That’s when things shift; instead of letting a person connect with that greater whole on their own terms, they insert a middleman—like a priest—to do it for them.

On the plus side, having a unified belief system can act like a sort of social glue, making a community feel more cohesive and tight-knit.
The downside, though, is pretty heavy. The bedrock of any society should be the individual, but in these systems, the individual starts to lose their importance. They stop being seen as a person and instead get treated like a tool or a servant meant to serve some "higher cause."

Look, I'm not exactly out here preaching religion, but I honestly don't think it's possible for a human being to live without believing in something. Even if you were the last person left on Earth who held a certain belief, you'd still be driven by it.

If a person clearly defines what counts as knowledge (and how they actually verify it), they can accept certain insights as facts.
If they define "faith" separately from "knowledge," they can tell the difference between what they believe and what they know.
In that case, a person could claim to know that God doesn't exist.

God doesn't exist. It's not about faith, I just know. 😉

Lawrence Robinson5 said:Everyone believes in something. It’s just unavoidable. Even an atheist operates under the conviction that there isn't a God, and they act based on that specific certainty. Or look at how someone might be convinced a certain food is bad for them—and sure enough, it ends up making them sick. But if you don't believe it's harmful, it doesn't affect you the same way.

It’s one of those deep topics where psychology, sociology, and philosophy all crash into each other. If you look at history, religion basically emerged from this fundamental human need to represent the vastness and wholeness of the universe through a symbol. Along with that, we developed rituals as these little anchors—reminders to show respect and gratitude when we feel that sense of being part of something much larger than ourselves.
But here's the thing: just like any symbol, whether it's an image, a story, or a physical gesture, the true essence eventually gets lost. Over time, what was once profound turns into a relatively hollow ritual. We saw the rise of institutionalization, and once you have institutions, you get power hierarchies. That’s when things shift; instead of letting a person connect with that greater whole on their own terms, they insert a middleman—like a priest—to do it for them.

On the plus side, having a unified belief system can act like a sort of social glue, making a community feel more cohesive and tight-knit.
The downside, though, is pretty heavy. The bedrock of any society should be the individual, but in these systems, the individual starts to lose their importance. They stop being seen as a person and instead get treated like a tool or a servant meant to serve some "higher cause."

Look, I'm not exactly out here preaching religion, but I honestly don't think it's possible for a human being to live without believing in something. Even if you were the last person left on Earth who held a certain belief, you'd still be driven by it.

spot on observation.
makes me wonder how long ago faith was actually a good thing because it kept everyone together. it's been ages since people needed a strict moral code just to stop themselves from killing each other and stuff like that...

People only start looking for God and faith when they're drowning.

The truth is, we're always in trouble when we rely on blind faith instead of actual knowledge.

If you want to stop struggling, you've got to live by logic and facts, not by praying to God.

You can't fix life's problems using religion—that's just adding more chaos to the mix.

fadedbison17 said:I prefer precision and clarity; I think it's absolutely possible to perceive the world, and I don't think there's (or needs to be) such a thing as the big picture. When it comes to philosophy, I lean toward objectivism—whatever I know, I know for sure, and there's no "x" factor involved (the stuff you mentioned regarding Kant)

Anyway, looks like we've gotten to know each other a bit better and drifted off-topic, so let's leave it at that 😉

Alright,
I suspect you might be mistaken—though, granted, I can't say that with absolute certainty (of course); and while I'll likely never truly know which one of us holds the ultimate truth, I tend to trust my own intuition more, and consequently, I weigh my own perspectives a bit more heavily. That's just how I roll.😉

In the meantime, why don't you try to solve this one: what is the single greatest movie ever made? 😉)

fadedbison17 said:Just gonna repeat myself a bit to stay on track—I mentioned at the start this was a comparison; the question was about advantages—meaning, who has the edge over whom. I noted I'm comparing a rational person (someone mentally sound, an atheist) against a believer (and I noted I have nothing against believers 😉) — so check the earlier posts if you want.

So, I said that with faith, you can't really be consistent with your own reasoning because you have to accept facts based on what's presented to you as absolute truth—you don't have the right to question them, otherwise you aren't a believer anymore. Basically, logic and faith are incompatible (this doesn't mean a believer doesn't think, it just means a specific part of their life is closed off to questioning)

Now, to answer you:
When someone accepts their limitations, they learn what they can influence and what they can't. Sure, they'll mess up along the way, but that's part of the lesson—you can't control when you're going to make a mistake.
From my own experience, accepting those limits makes your impact more focused and effective, and another huge thing—in my book—is that it makes a person feel much freer.

Are you being serious? I'd be the first one to sign up for faith if that were actually how things worked 😉

This reminds me of the old stories about lightning—back when people thought lightning was a god. Same goes for floods. People living by a river used to think the flood was the river god. They couldn't explain these things, so they labeled them "god." There's no issue with that part. But they attributed the cause of both the flood and the lightning to a deity. That's where the real problem started. The issue was that no progress could be made in understanding these phenomena because they were already "explained" away as God. Luckily, humanity broke through those barriers and figured out the actual causes.
Your example—whether it’s getting sick, a breakup, or just a flat tire—you might not be able to articulate it, but offering explanations like that is basically the same thing as those ancient people who blamed lightning strikes or floods on gods.
In my humble opinion, that isn't some kind of subjective advantage... it's just a total mental block.

Let me be super clear here.
Imagine a believer and an atheist are about to jump into a swimming pool. The believer prays beforehand so they won't get wet.
Scenario one:
They both jump in, and they both get soaked.
Scenario two:
The atheist jumps in first and gets soaked.
Then the believer jumps in, and right at that moment, a bird flies by and carries them straight to the edge of the pool.

What’s the believer gonna say?
"That was God."

But what actually happened?
In that second scenario, was the reason the believer didn't get wet because of a prayer?
Nah, it was the bird that carried them to the edge.
Did the bird show up just because they prayed?
The bird showed up because birds fly.
THE POINT: Can a person (the believer) actually influence reality through their thoughts?
No. Birds fly, and that bird was just like any other bird—it flies.

People can't change reality with their thoughts, and I don't think there's any actual advantage to "convincing" yourself that you can. 🙂

But then again, what is at the core of anything that actually changes our world, if not a single thought?

Gerald Perez5 said:Alright,
I suspect you might be mistaken—though, granted, I can't say that with absolute certainty (of course); and while I'll likely never truly know which one of us holds the ultimate truth, I tend to trust my own intuition more, and consequently, I weigh my own perspectives a bit more heavily. That's just how I roll.😉

In the meantime, why don't you try to solve this one: what is the single greatest movie ever made? 😉)

whatever floats your boat👍

Gerald Perez5 said:Alright,
I suspect you might be mistaken—though, granted, I can't say that with absolute certainty (of course); and while I'll likely never truly know which one of us holds the ultimate truth, I tend to trust my own intuition more, and consequently, I weigh my own perspectives a bit more heavily. That's just how I roll.😉

In the meantime, why don't you try to solve this one: what is the single greatest movie ever made? 😉)

Not sure if you're asking which movie I actually think is good—but whatever, here's my pick: Fountainhead (Gary Cooper). 😉

rustymaker5 said:But then again, what is at the core of anything that actually changes our world, if not a single thought?

Let me give you an example to clear things up:
It's one thing if I think about making a post, then actually hop onto Reddit and type it out.
It's a whole different story if I just close my eyes and pretend the post already exists...

fadedbison17 said:Let me give you an example to clear things up:
It's one thing if I think about making a post, then actually hop onto Reddit and type it out.
It's a whole different story if I just close my eyes and pretend the post already exists...

Well, yeah, obviously. That second scenario is just pure fantasy, and without any actual physical effort, it stays right there in your head, true enough...

Though, I did come across some theory once suggesting that the brain doesn't always distinguish between performing an action and just vividly visualizing it. 🤷 Obviously, that wouldn't apply to actually being active on a forum, clearly, but it’s a fascinating thought... It might have something to do with belief systems, or those chemical reactions triggered when we convince ourselves we can or can't do something. It all sort of trickles down into how we eventually choose to act, or whether we act at all...🤷

rustymaker5 said:Well, yeah, obviously. That second scenario is just pure fantasy, and without any actual physical effort, it stays right there in your head, true enough...

Though, I did come across some theory once suggesting that the brain doesn't always distinguish between performing an action and just vividly visualizing it. 🤷 Obviously, that wouldn't apply to actually being active on a forum, clearly, but it’s a fascinating thought... It might have something to do with belief systems, or those chemical reactions triggered when we convince ourselves we can or can't do something. It all sort of trickles down into how we eventually choose to act, or whether we act at all...🤷

Interesting point.
I feel like people really need to work on separating daydreaming from actual movement—because once you put in that effort to tell them apart, you start seeing what you're truly capable of... which makes everything way more efficient since you're actually dealing with reality instead of just vibes.

fadedbison17,

you're making a massive mistake regarding what "reality" actually entails.

see, reality isn't just this sky above us, that rock over there, the house, or that tree... a person's reality also encompasses a web of intersubjective relationships—what we call symbolic reality.

And you—whether you like it or not—are woven into that fabric. Your specific version of reality depends entirely on the belief systems and social convictions of the community around you. For instance, your reality would be diametrically opposed if you were living among a group of religious fundamentalists compared to living in San Francisco or wherever you are now; in those two different "realities," the consequences of writing a post like yours (if it happens to be radical or controversial) would be worlds apart. Here, I’m just debunking a misguided opinion of yours (hehe), but over there, they might actually take your head off. And the beautiful thing is, in both places, that physical reality you’re focusing on remains the same: there's still the sky, the rocks, the houses, and the trees.

If that makes things even slightly clearer—and if you can follow a train of thought that is quite obviously different from your own—then you start to see how much people actually reshape reality. Of course, that doesn't mean they can manifest a house out of thin air just by thinking about it—though, honestly, it's not entirely naive to ponder such things once you realize that the world and yourself always exist in a state of relation, and that everything you perceive as objective exists only relatively, in relation to your own consciousness and so on; besides, 😉 Matrix + tells you something very similar. We've all heard about various "phenomena"—altered states of consciousness, levitation, telekinesis, astral projection—is it all a hoax? I have no idea, most likely just tricks and illusions, but if someone truly, realistically moves objects with their mind, then we're dealing with a different kind of reality than the one we're used to.

But look, I don't mean to go that extreme; simply being immersed in symbolic reality (as we all are) means your life is already dependent on the thoughts of others.

ps — Fountainhead is an excellent film, and it serves as a perfect example of how a man (Cooper) alters reality through sheer force of will.
[Still, whether it's the absolute best film ever made is up for debate, and that was the whole point: you were claiming that it's absolutely possible to know the world with certainty.]

Gerald Perez5 said:fadedbison17,

you're making a massive mistake regarding what "reality" actually entails.

see, reality isn't just this sky above us, that rock over there, the house, or that tree... a person's reality also encompasses a web of intersubjective relationships—what we call symbolic reality.

And you—whether you like it or not—are woven into that fabric. Your specific version of reality depends entirely on the belief systems and social convictions of the community around you. For instance, your reality would be diametrically opposed if you were living among a group of religious fundamentalists compared to living in San Francisco or wherever you are now; in those two different "realities," the consequences of writing a post like yours (if it happens to be radical or controversial) would be worlds apart. Here, I’m just debunking a misguided opinion of yours (hehe), but over there, they might actually take your head off. And the beautiful thing is, in both places, that physical reality you’re focusing on remains the same: there's still the sky, the rocks, the houses, and the trees.

If that makes things even slightly clearer—and if you can follow a train of thought that is quite obviously different from your own—then you start to see how much people actually reshape reality. Of course, that doesn't mean they can manifest a house out of thin air just by thinking about it—though, honestly, it's not entirely naive to ponder such things once you realize that the world and yourself always exist in a state of relation, and that everything you perceive as objective exists only relatively, in relation to your own consciousness and so on; besides, 😉 Matrix + tells you something very similar. We've all heard about various "phenomena"—altered states of consciousness, levitation, telekinesis, astral projection—is it all a hoax? I have no idea, most likely just tricks and illusions, but if someone truly, realistically moves objects with their mind, then we're dealing with a different kind of reality than the one we're used to.

But look, I don't mean to go that extreme; simply being immersed in symbolic reality (as we all are) means your life is already dependent on the thoughts of others.

ps — Fountainhead is an excellent film, and it serves as a perfect example of how a man (Cooper) alters reality through sheer force of will.
[Still, whether it's the absolute best film ever made is up for debate, and that was the whole point: you were claiming that it's absolutely possible to know the world with certainty.]

It seems pretty obvious to me that I, like everyone else, live within a context (the society I'm part of, etc...).
If my perception of reality meant thinking I was the only person on Earth and that no one else could possibly impact my life—that wouldn't actually line up with reality.

I'm the one observing, thinking, and acting.
And every other living, breathing person is doing the same within a context that's different from mine. I'm not arguing against that; I'm accepting it. People are a part of reality. 🙂

Reality is everything that exists (rocks, water, astral travel, telekinesis, etc.) and the only way to explain any of it is as a part of reality itself, not as some other reality. I think by labeling phenomena as belonging to some different reality, we're just making them harder to explain.

p.s. I'm not saying I can actually explain those phenomena! 😉

Look, I drop in on these discussions uninvited every once in a while, but let’s be real—hardly anyone ever pays attention to what I have to say.

I’m jumping in this time to tell you all that you’re using the word “reality” completely wrong. Reality splits into two parts: absolute and relative. Absolute reality is what actually exists, period. Relative reality is nothing more than the physical or mental action of that absolute existence.

Understanding this split between absolute and relative is vital if you actually want to grasp the truth about anything. There’s no other way to get there—you have to divide reality into these two pieces and then look at them together to make sense of things. But you guys aren't doing that. You’re just chasing the "relative" side of things. You're obsessed with the physical universe, your bodies, and your minds, which are just the relative manifestations—the mere actions—of the absolute. So when you inevitably hit a wall where you can't make sense of this relative world—why it exists or how it works—you freak out. You panic about your own survival because you mistakenly think *you* are just this fleeting, relative thing. In your desperation, you start inventing religions and gods living in some far-off heaven just to feel better. If you ask me, you’re just making fools of yourselves.

Here’s the deal: Absolute reality is *you*. It’s your invisible, unknowable SELF. Your physical and mental actions are just what your SELF does to create your body and mind. Beyond that SELF, there is no other god for you. Based on that SELF, you are indestructible. Everything that exists relatively—which is the entire material universe down to the smallest atom—has its own indestructible SELF sitting right at the center of its activity. When that SELF is exerting force, moving, or acting, it appears as material stuff that we can perceive. Once that movement stops, the SELF is still there, but it doesn't show up physically anymore.

That is the WHOLE TRUTH about REALITY. Period. All the human beliefs, the world religions, the temples, the priests, the wars fought in the name of God, the fear of death, divine punishment, heaven, hell—it’s all just stupid and senseless.