Growing up, I remember overhearing Chuck Colson’s “Breakpoint” from my mom’s kitchen radio. Sometimes I would stop and listen. I grew to appreciate his commentary, even though I didn’t always agree with all of it. Here’s part of a previously unpublished memo of Colson’s from around 10 or 15 years ago:
It never ceases to amaze me that people are willing to bet their lives on naturalism; not only is it self-refuting, but to believe it is an act of supreme hubris. I say supreme hubris because naturalism is the assumption that the only thing that can be known is that which you see and can validate with one of your five senses. So what the naturalist is really saying is, if I can’t prove it’s true, then it can’t be true. If I can’t, by physical observation, conclude something is real, then it can’t be real.
Of course, there are all kinds of things in life that we cannot see or apprehend with our senses that are nonetheless true, love being one of the most obvious. The principle that allows an airplane to fly, the lift created by air traveling more slowly under the wings than over the wings, is a visible principle, but you can’t see the air actually moving. It is measurable, of course, but still a certain amount of faith is involved in knowing anything.
Later Colson notes how naturalism is self-refuting because a naturalist presupposes that everything came about by chance, by evolution. The naturalist says that reasonable, intelligent, and rational human beings evolved by chance mutations and evolutionary principles. How can one prove this by physically observable facts? Here’s Colson:
…To come to that conclusion, you’re relying on a brain and a thinking process that evolved by chance. If it has evolved by chance, you have no idea whether it’s reliable. Attempt to prove to me that an organ that evolved by chance is going to be reliable to always give you the right answer to any particular question. Or prove to me that this organ has the capacity of knowledge, which is distinguishing what is real from what isn’t. The answer, of course, is that you can never get there.
The naturalist is proceeding in blind faith. He is defying what is self-evident, both in nature and the creation and in terms of our moral inclination. He is, as C. S. Lewis said, like a man trying to lift himself up by grabbing himself by the collar and raising his hands. He won’t get off the ground, but he will very likely strangle himself.
The naturalist is in the position of assuming that he knows everything he needs to know, and that everything that can be known is accessible to him through his senses. It takes an extraordinary leap of faith to arrive at that conclusion. But once you do, you have nothing. You are defying the evidence.