The Simple Question isn't so Simple—"Do you believe in God?"
- Kris J. Simpson
- 1 day ago
- 8 min read
Our conversation was tense, and I could tell he was getting frustrated because I wasn’t letting him steer it in his preferred direction. He shifted, tugging at his sweater and scratching his head. I could tell he had an agenda, a final goal, and I kept changing the goalposts for him.
He appeared intelligent in that half-crazy, genius-like way. His messy hair looked like it hadn’t been cut in over a year, with no effort made to style it. He wore a pair of glasses smudged with marks, and his unruly beard was something he nervously kept stroking. He reminded me of the famous picture of Einstein, with his hair standing on end as if he had just touched a live wire — the only difference being that he wasn’t sticking his tongue out. But then again, we were just getting started. I must admit, if this was a tactic to intimidate his opponent, it was definitely working.
It was my inaugural debate as a newly self-proclaimed philosopher, a thrilling yet daunting milestone in my intellectual journey. With two books already published and a third in the pipeline, I felt a surge of confidence bubbling within me, urging me to engage with the esteemed minds gathered around me. Yet, as I stood there, the profound words of Socrates echoed in my mind:
“The more I know, the more I realize I know nothing.”
This concept, often termed the paradox of knowledge, served as a vital reminder, keeping my ego in check on brighter days. However, on that particular day, it enveloped me in a shroud of anxiety, gnawing at my certainty and leaving me questioning whether knowledge itself could truly be my salvation.
Socrates also taught us about the Daemon — our inner voice, or as modern philosophers might say, our conscience. That day, I obediently followed my Daemon, which had troubled me for years until it finally guided me away from my day job into a realm where nothing was clear, and everything was open to debate.
I moved from one form of suffering — ignoring the path my Daemon constantly pointed me towards — to surrendering and beginning a journey that felt meaningful most of the time. Still, there were days when, sitting at the computer, I endured the painful agony of writer’s block and felt like an imposter. This was just another syndrome to add to the long list of mental struggles I had faced while following my Daemon.
Though I wouldn’t call myself a philosopher of theology, I had enough spiritual training and knowledge of world religions to earn a place at the table. Still, I wasn’t sure if I would be staying for dinner or if my opponent would devour me.
Since his patience was wearing thin, he couldn’t hold back any longer. It was like watching an athlete feel the pressure and release the ball too early, just hoping it would hit the target.
Then, he decided to ask the big question. No, it wasn’t a marriage proposal; instead, he asked, “Do you believe in God?”
I anticipated his question; he was clearly trying to set me up with it. For someone with religious faith, it’s straightforward to answer — of course, the answer is yes: I believe in God. ‘For reference, the etymology of the word “religion” is an interesting one.
It comes from the Latin words “religare” — meaning “to bind” — and “relegare” — meaning “to go over again.”
If the aim of religious practices is union with God through repetitive acts, then there are different ways to achieve this.
I’d guess most religious people wouldn’t hesitate when asked that question. In fact, they might show enthusiasm, proudly calling themselves believers. They may be trying to assert moral superiority when speaking to a non-believer, or, if talking to another believer, to reaffirm the special bond they share.
On the other hand, there are those who firmly believe that God does not exist, often referred to as atheists. They openly express their disbelief and sometimes make clever remarks to emphasize their intellectual superiority. These comments may include dismissing beliefs in magic, fairy tales, or even Santa Claus.
Then there are the agnostics, the individuals who do not identify as either believers or non-believers. They may still be in the process of figuring things out or waiting for a supernatural event that could prove God’s existence, or for scientific evidence, such as a groundbreaking theory, that might demonstrate an intelligent creator designed the universe. They prefer to observe from the sidelines, allowing the situation to unfold. Once a more straightforward conclusion emerges, they may choose to take a side and pledge allegiance, but for now, they remain in a wait-and-see mode.
Some individuals believe in a power greater than themselves, not defined by ancient or modern stories, avoiding the anthropomorphizing of God and keeping Him ineffable and unrelatable. In contrast, others insist that to be part of their community, one must accept what they declare to be true, which often includes belief in supernatural events. If someone were to be the first to acknowledge such occurrences, they might risk being labelled as delusional. However, because there is strength — and unfortunately, delusion — in numbers, it feels safer to express these beliefs within a community of like-minded individuals.
While many may see the question, “Do you believe in God?” as a simple question, a closer examination reveals its complexity. We must consider whether the questioner assumes that God has a specific identity. If so, which identity are they referencing? For example, the God of Islam is different from the God of the Hebrews, and this, in turn, is distinct from the God of Christians. Although these are all Abrahamic religions, the portrayals of God vary significantly in the Torah, the Quran, and the Bible. While many assume that God is a universal concept, different religions often depict Him — or, in some cases, gods — as unique entities. Therefore, it is essential to clarify which God is being referred to in the discussion of belief or disbelief.
Another way to approach the topic is to define God as a concept rather than as a specific identity. God can be characterized as omnipresent, omniscient, and omnipotent — meaning that God is everywhere, all-knowing, and all-powerful. When asking someone if they believe in God, their response will likely depend on whether they feel that these criteria are met.
For example, regarding the concept of omnipresence: if a person who is not affiliated with any particular religion believes there is a kind of energy or power from which we, along with all material things in our reality, derive — essentially, the essence of creation itself — then they might respond affirmatively, “Yes, I believe in God.”
When it comes to omniscience, if God is the source and we are temporary manifestations of that source, questions arise about whether God knows our future or has predetermined it. It might be more accurate to say that creation unfolds in both orderly and chaotic ways, comprising probabilities and possibilities that surprise us. Ultimately, creation is a process through which God comes to know Himself through our human experiences. Much like a great story, as it unfolds, we cannot always predict the outcome, and it may even lead to a sequel, if your religious beliefs include reincarnation.
Finally, regarding the criterion of being all-powerful, I also affirm that belief. I see creation as the most potent force, alongside its opposite, annihilation. The beauty of a star forming in a nebula, its faint glow transforming into a massive ball of fusion energy, is mesmerizing. When that star dies, it creates an equally stunning spectacle: a supernova, the greatest fireworks display imaginable, leaving behind a breathtaking afterglow that can lead to the formation of new celestial bodies, perhaps even exoplanets like the beautiful pale blue dot called Earth.
Describing nature as both a creator and a destroyer may sound poetic, but experiencing it firsthand is nearly impossible for me. I feel awe when I see lion cubs cared for by their devoted mother. However, I feel deep discomfort when I watch a National Geographic video featuring predatory animals chasing their prey and potentially capturing and consuming it alive. For me, this is distressing to witness.
It’s just nature doing what it does, but my desire to relieve both myself and all living beings — well, nearly all — of suffering makes it hard to watch nature inflict pain, even if it serves a legitimate purpose. For example, to prevent one animal from starving, another must be sacrificed, and that is a difficult spectacle for me to endure.
This brings me to the biggest challenge for religions: morality. Many religions that believe in an afterlife think that living righteously should result in the rewards of one’s moral efforts in this life. This might lead some to believe they can eliminate unnecessary suffering — but there are conditions.
According to Protestant doctrine, simply proclaiming your belief in God guarantees immediate rewards in both this life and the next. This belief is rooted in the concept of “sola fide,” or “faith alone,” which holds that faith alone is the only prerequisite for salvation, since Christ has already atoned for humanity’s sins.
Protestants believe that good works naturally follow from genuine faith in Christ. This idea can be likened to putting the cart before the horse, and I can appreciate the validity of this distinction.
This doctrine differs from Catholicism, which teaches that “faith without works is dead” (James 2:14–26) and that true faith is demonstrated through good works. According to this view, good works are the necessary fruit and evidence of genuine faith, but they are not the cause or foundation of salvation.
What types of good works are emphasized? They include acts of penance or self-punishment aimed at atoning for one’s wrongs. Even after confession, practices such as prayer, fasting, and almsgiving (the act of giving money and food to the poor) in this life or in purgatory are considered necessary to achieve salvation.
For Catholics, it’s essential to be the “mule that drives the cart” or to bear their cross just as Jesus did. I see the value in good works according to this doctrine, as it could contribute to a just and fair society.
Other religions also have their specific conditions. For example, Islam requires the performance of the “Five Pillars” to balance the scales on Judgment Day, and it holds that faith necessitates action. Similarly, Hinduism demands temple worship, fasting, and pilgrimage to earn the grace of Krishna or Vishnu, or to achieve a better next life.
Still, what if we see God as creation itself — a vast sea of potential that generates new forms simply by existing? This view suggests that God does not foresee what will be created; instead, creation happens naturally, and once it does, God must keep a distance from it, ultimately losing control and not knowing the outcome.
This idea implies a form of free will for humans, meaning individuals play a role in shaping their own futures within natural limits. This perspective is known as a “Deistic” view, which claims that God is not actively involved after the initial act of creation. Or, in Hindu philosophy, there is the concept of Brahman, which goes beyond dualism of good and evil and is ultimately beyond description, beyond definition.
As I sat across from my intellectual opponent, I didn’t have time to contemplate the question: Do I believe in God? Fortunately, I had considered this question for many years and had prepared my response, which, in true philosophical fashion, I have just begun to outline for you. Knowing I couldn’t keep my opponent waiting, after a long, dramatic pause that left the onlookers captivated by the tension, I looked him directly in the eyes and calmly replied, “What do you mean by ‘God’?”
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