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Flaws in Religious Arguments

Tools for Change: A Response to June 6th

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “Work Out What God Works In”, claims that after salvation, believers must align every aspect of life with divine will through the Holy Spirit’s supernatural power, making obedience to God “as natural as breathing” because God becomes the source of the believer’s will.

Here’s a different approach:

After years of struggling with alcohol addiction, Marcus finally achieved six months of sobriety. His AA sponsor, a devout Christian, told him this was God working through him—that he needed to “work out” what God had “worked in” and align every aspect of his life with divine will.

But Marcus found this framework unhelpful and even dangerous. It suggested his sobriety was divinely guaranteed rather than requiring daily, deliberate choices. It implied that his will was now automatically aligned with God’s, making continued vigilance unnecessary.

Instead, Marcus embraced a different understanding. His sobriety wasn’t the result of supernatural transformation but of evidence-based treatment, community support, and his own hard work developing new habits and coping mechanisms. His therapist Dr. Kim helped him recognize triggers and develop healthier responses. His AA group provided accountability and understanding from people who’d walked the same path.

The “working out” Marcus did wasn’t mystical—it was practical. He had to restructure his social life, avoiding bars and drinking buddies. He had to learn new ways to handle stress, anxiety, and boredom. He had to rebuild relationships damaged by years of addiction, making amends where possible and accepting that some bridges couldn’t be repaired.

Marcus discovered that his will wasn’t aligned with any divine purpose—it was still very much his own, capable of both good and destructive choices. Some days he desperately wanted to drink. The difference was that he’d developed tools to navigate those moments: calling his sponsor, attending a meeting, going for a run, reminding himself of what he’d lose if he drank.

A year into sobriety, Marcus didn’t credit divine intervention for his progress. He thanked his treatment team, his AA community, his family’s patience, and his own commitment to recovery. His will hadn’t been supernaturally transformed—he’d simply learned to make better choices through education, support, and practice.

The “dynamite” that had blown up his destructive patterns wasn’t spiritual obedience but professional addiction treatment combined with peer support and personal determination to build a healthier life.

Reflection Question: When have you made positive changes through practical tools and community support rather than spiritual transformation?

This story is part of my upcoming book “The Undevoted: Daily Departures from Divine Dependence,” which offers 365 human-centered alternatives to the spiritual certainties in Chambers’ devotional. Each day explores how reason, community, and human resilience can address life’s challenges without requiring divine intervention.

Why Atheism Is Rising Globally

Active Courage: A Response to June 5th

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “God’s Promise”, claims that God’s personal guarantee to “never leave or forsake” believers eliminates fear and provides supernatural courage in the face of any dread or challenge, transforming weakness into strength as long as believers properly listen to God’s words.

Here’s a different approach:

When Keisha’s fifteen-year-old daughter Aisha started showing signs of severe depression—sleeping sixteen hours a day, refusing to eat, talking about wanting to disappear—Keisha felt a dread so deep it made her physically sick. Her pastor reminded her that God promised never to forsake her, that she should trust and not be afraid.

But Keisha’s dread wasn’t about divine abandonment—it was about losing her child. And platitudes about God’s promises felt useless when Aisha locked herself in the bathroom with a bottle of pills.

Instead of building on spiritual promises, Keisha built on practical knowledge. She called the crisis helpline and learned the warning signs to watch for. She researched therapists who specialized in adolescent depression and made appointments with three different ones so Aisha could choose. She removed potential means of self-harm from their home and arranged for someone to be with Aisha at all times.

The courage Keisha found didn’t come from believing God would protect them—it came from taking concrete action. She learned to ask Aisha direct questions about suicidal thoughts, even though the conversations terrified her. She attended family therapy sessions where she had to confront her own role in Aisha’s struggles. She joined a support group for parents of depressed teens.

When Aisha was hospitalized after a suicide attempt, Keisha didn’t sing hymns about God’s promises. She sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair for three days, advocating with doctors, coordinating with insurance, and learning about medication options. Her strength came not from divine assistance but from the fierce protective love that made her willing to do whatever it took to help her daughter survive.

Six months later, with proper medication and ongoing therapy, Aisha was laughing again. Keisha’s dread had lifted not because God had kept his promise, but because human expertise—psychiatrists, therapists, counselors—had provided effective treatment. The helpers who mattered most weren’t supernatural but trained professionals who understood mental illness.

Keisha’s courage hadn’t come from remembering God’s words but from refusing to let fear paralyze her into inaction when her daughter’s life was at stake.

Reflection Question: When have you found courage through taking practical action rather than relying on spiritual promises?

Why People Die for False Beliefs

Present and Reliable: A Response to June 4th

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “The Never-Failing God”, promises that God personally guarantees never to leave or forsake believers, providing constant divine presence and strength even in mundane circumstances, giving them “amazing strength” and the ability to “sing in the ordinary days.”

Here’s a different approach:

When Luis was diagnosed with early-onset dementia at 58, his wife Carmen felt abandoned by everything she’d believed about divine protection. The man who’d been her constant companion for thirty years was slowly disappearing, and no amount of prayer seemed to slow the progression.

Her pastor reminded her that God promised never to leave or forsake her. But Carmen found that promise increasingly hollow as she watched Luis struggle to remember their children’s names, then her name, then how to use a fork.

What sustained Carmen wasn’t divine presence but human presence. Her sister Maria moved in to help with daily care. Their neighbor Mrs. Rodriguez brought dinner twice a week. The adult day program gave Carmen respite while providing Luis with structured activities that kept him engaged.

The strength Carmen discovered wasn’t supernatural—it was practical. She learned to break tasks into smaller steps, to redirect Luis’s confusion rather than correct it, to find moments of connection in his remaining abilities. When he could no longer speak, they listened to music together. When he couldn’t remember her face, she focused on making him comfortable.

Carmen found meaning not in believing God was working through their suffering but in the tangible ways their community showed up. The dementia support group where other caregivers shared strategies and understanding. The home health aide who treated Luis with dignity even when he was agitated. Their daughter who video-called every evening from across the country.

As Luis’s condition worsened, Carmen didn’t sing because of divine strength. She hummed because music still reached him when words couldn’t. She found peace not in promises of never being forsaken but in the reliable presence of people who chose to stay, who showed love through practical action rather than spiritual platitudes.

When Luis died, Carmen’s grief was profound. But it wasn’t the abandonment by God that she’d feared—it was the natural sorrow of losing someone deeply loved, held and witnessed by a community that had never promised divine intervention but had consistently offered human care.

Reflection Question: When have you found strength through reliable human support rather than promises of divine presence?

Earned Confidence: A Response to June 3rd

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “The Secret Of The Lord”, claims that God reveals intimate secrets to believers and provides automatic spiritual guidance for all decisions, instructing mature Christians to obey mysterious “checks” without rational examination.

Here’s a different approach:

Julia had always made decisions by “gut feeling.” When something felt wrong, she avoided it. When something felt right, she pursued it. Her friends called it intuition; her pastor called it the Holy Spirit guiding her choices.

This approach worked fine until she became a financial advisor. Suddenly, her gut feelings were managing other people’s retirement savings, college funds, and emergency reserves. A nagging doubt began to grow: what if her “spiritual guidance” was just unconscious bias, wishful thinking, or incomplete information?

The turning point came when her instincts told her to recommend a tech startup investment to the elderly Martinez couple. It “felt right”—innovative company, charismatic CEO, promising projections. But her colleague David pushed back.

“Have you researched their fundamentals? Looked at their debt-to-equity ratio? Checked the CEO’s track record with previous companies?”

Julia bristled. “Sometimes you have to trust more than spreadsheets, David.”

But his questions bothered her. She spent the weekend digging deeper. The startup’s books showed concerning patterns. The CEO had led two previous companies into bankruptcy. Industry experts were predicting a market correction that would hit tech stocks hard.

Julia’s “spiritual check” had been wrong. Dangerously wrong.

She began developing a new decision-making process. Instead of relying on feelings, she created checklists for evaluating investments. She sought multiple expert opinions. She required herself to articulate logical reasons for every recommendation. When doubt arose, instead of automatically avoiding something, she investigated further.

Over time, Julia discovered that her most reliable guidance came not from mysterious inner promptings but from thorough research combined with honest consultation with knowledgeable colleagues. Her “secret joys” weren’t divine revelations but the satisfaction of making well-informed decisions that genuinely served her clients’ best interests.

The Martinez couple thanked her for the careful analysis that led them to choose conservative bonds over risky tech stocks. Their gratitude felt more meaningful than any mystical confirmation ever had.

Reflection Question: When have you found that careful research and expert consultation led to better decisions than following your initial instincts?

Haunted by Purpose: A Response to June 2nd

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “What Are You Haunted By?”, claims that being completely absorbed in God’s presence eliminates all worries and troubles, providing perfect divine shelter.

Here’s a different approach:

Rachel had always been haunted by something. As a child, it was her mother’s unpredictable moods. As a teenager, it was her father’s drinking. As an adult, it was the constant anxiety that she wasn’t doing enough, being enough, achieving enough.

When her therapist Dr. Williams asked what haunted her now, Rachel laughed bitterly. “Everything. Work deadlines, my relationship with Tom, whether I’m saving enough for retirement, climate change, my aging parents—take your pick.”

“What if we worked on changing what haunts you?” Dr. Williams suggested. But not in the way Rachel expected.

Instead of trying to replace her worries with thoughts of God or positive affirmations, they practiced identifying which concerns were actionable and which weren’t. Rachel learned to distinguish between productive problem-solving and anxious rumination. She developed a system: fifteen minutes each morning to review real concerns and create concrete plans, then redirecting her attention when worry spirals began.

Gradually, Rachel became haunted by different things—curiosity about her photography hobby, excitement about weekend plans with Tom, satisfaction from mentoring junior colleagues. These weren’t divine obsessions but human interests that emerged when anxiety no longer consumed her mental space.

The change wasn’t mystical. Dr. Williams taught her cognitive behavioral techniques. Rachel practiced mindfulness meditation. She joined a hiking group that got her outdoors and moving. She set boundaries at work and learned to say no to commitments that drained her energy without providing meaning.

Six months later, Rachel realized she was haunted by purpose rather than panic. Not God’s presence, but her own values—creativity, connection, learning, contributing. When crises arose, she instinctively turned not to divine refuge but to her support network: Tom, her hiking friends, her mentor Sarah, her therapist.

Her soul dwelt at ease not because she was sheltered from life’s difficulties, but because she’d developed practical tools for managing them and meaningful relationships that sustained her through challenges.

Reflection Question: What healthy interests or purposes could replace the worries that currently occupy your mental space?

Human Resilience: A Response to June 1st

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “The Staggering Question”, claims that human transformation requires divine intervention—that sinners cannot become saints through human effort, that people are fundamentally corrupt apart from God’s grace, and that recognizing your own spiritual depravity is essential for helping others.

Here’s a different approach:

Maya had been a social worker for fifteen years when she met Devon, a teenager aging out of foster care with a long history of theft, violence, and self-harm. His case file read like a catalog of human damage—abuse, neglect, multiple failed placements, and a diagnosis of conduct disorder.

Her supervisor, a devout Christian, shook his head. “Some kids are just too broken, Maya. You can’t save everyone. Sometimes you have to trust that God has a plan.”

But Maya didn’t see a broken soul needing divine rescue. She saw trauma responses that made perfect sense given Devon’s history. His stealing was survival behavior learned in homes where food was scarce. His violence was self-protection in environments where adults had failed him. His self-harm was the only control he’d ever had over his own pain.

Maya connected Devon with Dr. Chen, a trauma therapist who specialized in attachment disorders. She helped him enroll in a program that taught practical skills—budgeting, job applications, conflict resolution. She introduced him to Marcus, a former foster kid who now ran a mentorship program.

The transformation wasn’t miraculous—it was methodical. Devon learned to recognize his triggers and develop healthier responses. He discovered he was good with his hands and enrolled in a welding program. Through consistent relationships with adults who didn’t give up on him, he began to trust that people could be reliable.

Two years later, Devon had his own apartment, a steady job, and was volunteering with younger foster kids. Maya knew his success wasn’t due to divine intervention but to a combination of evidence-based therapy, practical support, stable relationships, and Devon’s own hard work in healing.

When people asked about the “miracle” of Devon’s turnaround, Maya corrected them. It wasn’t supernatural—it was what happened when damaged people received the specific help they needed from trained professionals and caring communities. Human nature wasn’t fundamentally corrupt; it was remarkably resilient when given the right conditions to heal.

Reflection Question: When have you seen someone make positive changes through human support and practical help rather than spiritual transformation?

Sustainable Service: A Response to May 31st

This is part of my year-long series exploring human-centered alternatives to the spiritual promises in Oswald Chambers’ classic devotional My Utmost for His Highest. Today’s entry, “God First”, demands that believers prioritize God’s will over human needs and relationships, claiming that trusting people leads to bitterness and despair, and that responding to human needs without divine direction is disobedience.

Here’s a different approach:

Dr. Amara Okafor had always been driven by need. As an emergency physician, she’d built her career responding to whatever crisis walked through the hospital doors. But when the refugee crisis hit their city, she felt torn between competing demands.

Her hospital needed her for overtime shifts. The refugee clinic desperately needed volunteer doctors. Her own family needed her present for her daughter’s senior year. Her elderly parents needed more support as their health declined. Everyone seemed to have a legitimate claim on her time.

Her colleague Dr. Martinez suggested she pray about it, seek divine guidance about which need God wanted her to address. But Amara took a different approach. She sat down with her family and had honest conversations about everyone’s actual needs versus their wants.

Her daughter admitted she mostly needed emotional support during college applications, not physical presence at every event. Her parents needed help coordinating care, which her brother could share. The refugee clinic needed her surgical skills specifically on weekends. The hospital could manage her reduced overtime if she gave adequate notice.

Instead of choosing one need over others or waiting for divine direction, Amara created a system. She committed to weekend shifts at the refugee clinic, stepped back from hospital overtime, and established regular family check-ins. When new needs arose, she evaluated them against her existing commitments and her own capacity.

A year later, she’d helped establish a permanent medical program for refugees while maintaining her family relationships and her own well-being. She hadn’t put God first, or even herself first—she’d put careful assessment of real needs first, trusting her own judgment and the people around her to communicate honestly about what they actually required.

Her decisions weren’t guided by divine will but by human wisdom: the recognition that sustainable service comes from realistic commitments, not from trying to meet every need or surrendering decision-making to external authority.

Reflection Question: How do you balance competing demands on your time and energy without sacrificing your own well-being or important relationships?