What Does it Mean to be Human?
Paul Coulter explores the nature of the human mind and considers the limitations of science.
Differences of Kind or Degree?
So far what we have considered in our comparison of the bodies and skills of human beings with other animals suggests that differences are in terms of degree rather than of kind. Homo sapiens is not in a category of its own but at an extreme end of a spectrum of ability. Could it be, however, that the mind is the sphere in which mankind is truly distinct? Not according to Charles Darwin in his 1871 book, The Descent of Man:
There can be no doubt that the difference between the mind of the lowest man and that of the highest animal is immense. An anthropomorphous ape, if he could take a dispassionate view of his own case, would admit that though he could form an artful plan to plunder a garden – though he could use stones for fighting or for breaking open nuts, yet that the thought of fashioning a stone into a tool was quite beyond his scope. Still less, as he would admit, could he follow out a train of metaphysical reasoning, or solve a mathematical problem, or reflect on God, or admire a grand natural scene…
Nevertheless the difference in mind between man and the higher animals, great as it is, is certainly one of degree and not of kind… If it could be proved that certain high mental powers, such as the formulation of general concepts, self-consciousness, &c., were absolutely peculiar to man, which seems extremely doubtful, it is not impossible that these qualities are merely the incidental results of other highly-advanced intellectual faculties; and these again are mainly the result of the continued use of a perfect language.
According to Darwin, differences in the human mind when compared with apes are no different than differences in body and skills – they are only differences of degree and not of kind. Was Darwin correct? What does modern science say?
It has been suggested that self-awareness or consciousness is a distinguishing feature of mankind, but we can hardly argue that animals are completely lacking in self-awareness. A number of animals pass the 'mirror test' which assesses their ability to recognise themselves in a mirror, including great apes, dolphins, elephants and even some bird species. Again the difference appears to be a matter of degree not kind. John Gray argues this point:
cats, dogs and horses display awareness of their surroundings; they experience themselves as acting or failing to act; they have thoughts and sensations. As primatologists have shown, our nearest evolutionary kin among the apes have many of the mental capacities we are accustomed to think belong only to ourselves. Despite an ancient tradition that tells us otherwise, there is nothing uniquely human in conscious awareness.
Gray does admit that there is a difference, in that humans are uniquely self-aware, although he argues that this has only served to complicate our lives:
Where other animals differ from humans is in lacking the sensation of selfhood. In this they are not altogether unfortunate. Self-awareness is as much a disability as a power. The most accomplished pianist is not the one who is most aware of her movements when she plays. The best craftsman may not know how he works. Very often we are at our most skilful when we are least self-aware.
Gray's illustration is interesting, as although it is generally true that a pianist plays best when she is least self-aware (my piano-playing wife, would undoubtedly agree), the ability to play well when unaware only arises through hours of conscious effort in practicing and learning music. Furthermore, being free from consciously focusing on the movements of fingers and keys releases the pianist to have conscious awareness at a higher level – to follow the score and consider how the music mixes with other instruments or voices she may be accompanying. If the music is known by heart it may also come instinctively, but this does not mean that the pianist is completely unaware – most likely her mind will be transported to another place as she plays familiar pieces. The human imagination is immensely powerful! Likewise with a craftsman. His skills come naturally to him when he is using them, but they hardly came so naturally when we was an apprentice. And if the pianist or craftsman becomes too 'unaware', he or she is likely to stray from the score or the plan and introduce either creativity (although if he or she is unaware how is this creativity to be repeated?) or error. The use of learnt skills is a fascinating mixture of instinct and coordination consciousness. Just think about riding a bike or driving a car! Gray is ultimately attacking the idea that we have a 'self' that can be distinguished from the body, but the limitations of his illustrations show just how difficult it is for us to conceive of ourselves as nothing more than the result of instincts. We must consider the different ways in which people have conceived of the relationship between mind and body.
Theories of Mind and Body
Steven Pinker's earlier quoted comment about the complexity of the human brain raises the question of how the brain relates to the mind. What is the basis of human nature? Is the mind separate from the brain? Is there a self that can be defined or can exist separate from the body? Are all aspects of human consciousness explicable simply on the basis of physical processes? The debate around these questions is complex and continues to rage. In his 2002 book, The Blank Slate, Pinker argues against three traditional views of human nature:
• Dualism – This is the belief that the human being is made up of two distinct aspects – the material physical body and a non-physical, immaterial entity that inhabits the body or exists in parallel to it, relating to it intimately but distinguishable from it. In Western philosophy there have been two dominant forms of dualism:
o Platonic dualism – classical Greek philosopher Plato (c.428-348 BC) proposed a dualism between physical matter and spirit that pervades the entire cosmos. At the human level this means that we are both physical and spiritual. It is a body/spirit dualism. Within Christian tradition the idea of body and soul has been dominant.
o Cartesian dualism – French philosopher Rene Descartes (1596-1650) argued for a dualism of mind and body (or we may say mind and brain). He was concerned to establish an unshakeable proof of his own existence, and he eventually came to the conclusion that because he was reasoning, and someone had to be doing the reasoning, he must exist (“I think, therefore I am”).
Pinker criticises dualism, which he describes as the idea of a "ghost in the machine". He is opposed to it because the “ghost”, whether mind or soul, cannot be seen or measured. Critics of dualism say that it seems to require a "homunculus" (or little man) who sits inside the brain observing the input from our physical senses and coordinating our physical responses. They mock the idea, asking whether this little man has an even tinier man inside his head, and so on ad infinitum. Like the “ghost”, this little man cannot be detected, therefore he cannot exist. Advocates of dualism, of course, reject the ghost and homunculus images as unfair. Just because something cannot be seen, measured or detected using physical methods, they argue, it does not follow that it cannot exist. If non-physical entities do exist it seems unlikely that they could be measured using a physical means. Both Platonic and Cartesian dualism set mankind apart from other animals in a unique category, as John Gray writes:
Plato and Descartes tell us that consciousness is what marks off humans from other animals. Plato believed that ultimate reality is spiritual, and that humans are alone among animals in being at least dimly conscious of it. Descartes saw humans as thinking beings. He declared he knew he existed only because he found himself thinking – 'Cogito, ergo sum' (I think, therefore I am) – and that animals were mere machines.
• Empiricism – Among European thinkers of the Enlightenment period who rejected the existence of the 'soul', an empiricist explanation of human nature developed, in which it was claimed that the mind has no innate traits and that an individual's nature is simply the result of his or her environment. Although the idea of human nature being a result of the environment alone can be traced back to Aristotle (384-322 BC), it is especially associated with English philosopher John Locke (1632-1704) and Scottish philosopher David Hume (1711-1776). Pinker calls this theory "The blank slate" (a translation of the Latin term tabula rasa used by Locke) and argues that it is incompatible with the findings of modern science.
• Romanticism – Some European thinkers, especially in the creative fields of music, art and literature, rejected empiricism. They argued that the human being is fundamentally good and that human instinct can lead to great creativity. We are born good, and subsequently corrupted by our environment, in particular the constraints of society. They drew inspiration from an idyllic view of the societies of native tribes in newly discovered lands, who seemed to live simple, uncomplicated lives in touch with nature. Pinker describes this view as "The noble savage".
In contrast to these three views, Pinker argues that human nature arises from our genetic make-up. He equates the mind with the brain, writing that, “our minds are composed of intricate neural circuits for thinking, feeling, and learning rather than blank slates, amorphous blobs, or inscrutable ghosts”. According to Pinker and other evolutionary biologists such as Richard Dawkins, the 'self' is only an illusion created by our genes to serve a coordinating function over the various parts of our brain. Although we feel like we have a mind that is somehow separate from the body, this is merely an illusion, and one that is not always helpful for us (as Gray suggested in the earlier passage about the pianist and craftsman). Modern science is revealing more and more evidence of how our nature arises from our genes and there is, they argue, no room left for the idea of a separate mind or soul.
Science versus Christianity?
In Pinker’s view of the mind, which he claims arises from modern science, and his attack upon dualism, which has been a dominant way of understanding human nature among Christians, have we hit upon an area of fundamental conflict between Christianity and science? I will argue that the answer is no, for three reasons:
1) The limitations of science
It is premature to say that science has eliminated any possibility that human beings are dualistic creatures. The debate about human nature is far from concluded, and although there is a greater and growing awareness of the influence of our genes, it is far from certain that the genes can explain everything. If cloning of human beings resulting in genetically identical adult human beings was performed, would these two individuals be identical – would they conceive of themselves as one and the same person? In nature we already have cases that are similar to this in identical twins. Clearly although identical twins have a unique kind of relationship to one another they do have different personalities and traits, whether they are raised in the same family (very similar environment) or separated at birth. Although they may grow up to look identical and may have many similarities in personality type, there are also differences. Clearly our environment shapes the way in which our genes express themselves – that much is beyond dispute (the link between tobacco smoke and various diseases provides ample proof). It may still be claimed that the effect of the environment is simply modifying the way in which our genes manifest themselves, but is it not also possible that even with exactly the same environment two genetically identical people may make different choices and so become different people? If we arise simply from our genes then the answer should be “No”. Of course it would be virtually impossible to test this question through scientific experiment as the mechanism of ensuring an absolutely identical environment would be so costly and complicated that it would almost certainly fail, not to mention the ethical questions surrounding this kind of manipulation of an individual’s life. It seems that there will always be a limitation to what research can prove around the question of the respective impact of nature and nurture on the people we become. Yet, I will argue that the ability of people to make choices that rise above their circumstances suggests a role for ourselves in deciding who we become. Our genes may set certain limits on what is possible for us, but we are not powerless to overcome them. Recent scientific evidence suggests that obesity in most cases is associated with certain genotypes (certain genes that give the individual a tendency to be overweight). Environment has an impact as well – the availability and affordability of high carbohydrate snacks and sedentary lifestyles make it more likely for those who have a genetic tendency to obesity to become obese. This much is certain, but surely there is also a third element in the equation – the choice of the individual. Does our experience not tell us that those who really decide to lose weight can do so and that until someone decides they are determined to make a change to their lifestyle no changes in environment will make them thin? Environmental changes (reduction of advertising of confectionery or free gym membership) can make it easier for them to make healthy lifestyle choices, but they must still reach a point of deciding to do something about their weight. Simple arguments from real life such as this tell us, almost instinctively, that we do have real choices that have real consequences.
At another level, there are ongoing debates about the ability of science to explain aspects of consciousness. For example, there is considerable debate about concepts like qualia, which are:
the ‘raw feels’ of conscious experience: the painfulness of pain, the redness of red. Qualia give human conscious experience the particular character that it has. For instance, imagine a red square; that conscious experience has (at least) two qualia: a colour quale, responsible for your sensation of redness, and a shape quale, responsible for the square appearance of the imagined object.
Some philosophers and neuroscientists deny the very existence of qualia, while others (like Ramachandran and Hirstein) argue that they are simply a result of neural processes, but many continue to see them as evidence that the mind cannot be reduced simply to physical processes of the brain. Probably the most influential thought experiment concerning qualia was proposed in 1982 by Australian philosopher Frank Jackson (b.1943). He wrote about “Mary’s Room”. Mary is a brilliant scientist who has researched everything it is possible to know about the colour red and the physical processes by which the eye detects it and the brain interprets these signals. Now assume that Mary (for whatever reason) has lived her entire life in a black and white room, so that she has never personally experienced the colour red. One day she is allowed to leave her room and see red for the first time. When she does so, has she learned anything new? Instinctively we answer “Yes!” This suggests that knowledge about a phenomenon is of a different order than experience of it. We may extend this line of reasoning to ask how we could measure and describe the experience of love or grief or how we would ever know what another individual’s experience of love or grief was like. We are capable of empathising – imagining ourselves in the other person’s shoes – but we can never say conclusively that we understand fully what they are going through. Even if we had exactly the same experience as they did this is true. There is much more to the subjective experience of humanity that science has not yet been able to explain. Neuroscience tends to examine emotion and thought in terms of the activity of different areas of the brain, but how the correlation between brain activity and subjective experience is described is a matter of conjecture. Is the brain activity the cause or a result of the experience? This 'chicken and egg' question is difficult to answer using scientific methodology, and it is difficult even to imagine what manner of scientific experiment could ever answer the question conclusively.
2) Variation of views among Christians
Questions of whether human beings are bipartite (body and soul) or tripartite (body, soul and spirit) creatures have long been the subject of discussion among Christians at both the popular and academic levels. Moreland and Rae summarise the debate within Christian theology in their book Body and Soul. Early Christian theologian Augustine of Hippo (354-430) and the most influential medieval theologian, Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274), both argued for a dualistic understanding of human nature, and in fact dualism has almost certainly been the predominant view amongst most Christians throughout most of Christian history. However, in recent decades the consensus among biblical scholars has shifted towards a monist or holistic view of human life, in which the spiritual and physical aspects of human life are inseparable. Proponents of a monist view of human nature argue that it is more in keeping with the Scriptures (especially the Old Testament Hebraic perspective) and that the dualistic view entered Christian theology from Platonic philosophy. It should be emphasised in this context that Platonic dualism is ontological dualism, meaning that it claims a fundamental duality running throughout everything that exists, so that, for example, good and evil must always have existed. In contrast, Christian dualists believe that dualism only applies to those things that God has created, not to the ultimate reality, which is found in God who is undivided and separate from His creation. The monistic view is represented by German theologian Wolfhart Pannenberg (b.1928): “the distinction between body and soul as two … different realms of reality can no longer be maintained… The separation between physical and spiritual is artificial”. Moreland and Rae continue to argue for a dualistic understanding of human nature, but it seems accurate to say that there is considerable diversity of opinion among Christians. Certainly in many places where the Bible uses words traditionally translated 'soul' or 'spirit' to speak of human beings the whole person seems to be in mind rather than simply one dimension of their being. Likewise, the word 'body' is often used to describe the person in their entirety. There are other passages that seem more difficult to explain in monist terms, where reference is made to the spirits of people returning to God, but these are relatively rare and monists may argue that they are figurative.
Concerns among Christians about the 'soul' often arise from two related questions. The first is about the origin of souls. If the dualistic view is correct and we have immaterial 'souls', are they pre-created (i.e. God created all human souls during the Creation of the Universe and they await the conception of a body to inhabit), specially created by God when an individual is conceived, or created through the normal processes of reproduction in the same way that human bodies are? I am unaware of an answer to this question in Scripture. Certainly the Bible speaks about the plans God had for individuals before they were conceived, but this may imply nothing more than fore-knowledge of them. Psalm 139 speaks about God knitting the body of the psalmist together in his mother’s womb (verse 13), which may imply an act of special creation by God in the case of every individual, but there is no mention in this psalm of the 'soul' as distinct from the body. The second question is about the 'intermediate state' – what happens to the human person (or their 'soul') after death and before they receive a new body at the resurrection of the dead? Some New Testament passages appear to imply that the individual is unconscious during this period (the word 'asleep' is used figuratively of death in 1 Corinthians 15 and 1 Thessalonians 4 and 5), whereas others (notably the story of the rich man and Lazarus in Luke 16, which is variously interpreted as a parable or as a literal story) imply consciousness, while others simply promise that the person will be with Christ (e.g. Jesus’ words to the dying thief on the cross or Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 5:8). The resurrection of the dead is, therefore, variously understood as a uniting of the conscious souls of the dead with a new body, the waking of sleeping souls to receive a new body or the 're-creation' of the individual from God’s perfect record of their identity. It seems to me that this may be an area where Christians must agree to disagree as Scripture is not sufficiently clear for us to be dogmatic. It is my contention that the Bible is perfectly clear on essential matters that God has chosen to reveal to us, but that it does not answer every question we may want to bring to it. There are some things that God has chosen not to reveal, either because this knowledge is unnecessary, or even harmful, for us or because we are incapable of comprehending it. This is not to belittle the authority of the Bible or its foundational role in our lives but to say that it does not answer every question we can ask. We need to learn to ask the right questions. In highlighting these differences of view there is always a danger that the large degree of unity among Christians is missed. Christians can be united in believing that God will raise the dead, and that He will make no errors in doing so, even if we have different ideas about how He will do it. We can also be united in our belief that every individual is created by and known by God even if we have different ideas about when and how directly or indirectly He creates us. In our present context the key point is that opinion among Christians, even those who have a high view of the authority of the Bible, is far from united on the question of whether humans are dualistic or monistic beings.
3) Questions of 'Why?', not 'What?'
We have already indicated that the debate over dualism and monism is not simply a disagreement between Christians and scientists, but is, rather, a debate that cuts a line through opinion amongst both groups (not forgetting as well that there are many people who belong in both camps – committed Christians who are scientists). Our third reason for rejecting the idea that this is a conflict between science and Christianity is broader than simply the issue of dualism. Some scientists do seem determined to set science up in conflict with Christianity and some Christians seem equally determined to set their faith in conflict with science. Such a conflict, however, arises from a misconception about science or the Bible or both. John Lennox, Professor of Mathematics in the University of Oxford, has written about the relationship between science and religion in his book, God’s Undertaker. He argues that the real conflict is not between science and religion at all:
There is a conflict, a very real one, but it is not really a conflict between science and religion at all… No, the real conflict is between two diametrically opposed worldviews: naturalism and theism.
Lennox’s observation is vital. Science is designed to answer certain types of questions, and it is very good at doing so. It observes what is the case or events that happen and formulates a theory (hypothesis) as to how they came to be that way or what caused a measurable change. This hypothesis is then tested either by continued observations or through experimentation, and is either rejected or adjusted depending on new findings. A theory is given increasing degrees of respect as its explanatory power increases – the more it is shown to explain what is observed the more likely it is to be true. Strictly speaking, science can never 'prove' anything, since there is always the theoretical possibility that some entity or phenomenon that has not yet been observed falls outside a theory’s explanatory power. In practice, however, some theories are so powerful that questioning them further is widely believed to be unnecessary. In these cases people often speak of science having 'proven' the theory, and if the weight of evidence is great enough and the idea can be reduced to a simple principle that has been repeatedly observed to be true then this may be called a scientific 'law'. Many theories in science can be tested by experimentation, but not all. Where an event is not repeatable then a different approach to formulating and testing a theory must be followed. This is obviously the case with events in the past such as the origins of the cosmos, of life, and of species. In these cases the evidence is observed and the theory that best explains the evidence is inferred from it. This is the process of inference to the best explanation. It is a legitimate approach to science, but one whose conclusions should be held to be less certain than theories that are tested by repeated experimentation.
The important point in either case is that the evidence only leads so far. It is interpreted as pointing in a certain direction, and the scientist then extrapolates towards a conclusion. There is what we might call a 'leap' from the evidence to the conclusion, and there is significant room for error in this 'leap'. It is at this point that we must realise that the scientist is not a dispassionate and entirely objective observer – he or she is a human individual who understands the world in certain terms. Every scientist has a 'worldview', as Lennox calls it, a set of presuppositions about what the world is like and how it functions. The worldview is undoubtedly influenced by his or her knowledge of science but it is also shaped by other factors such as personality, culture, upbringing and experience. The scientist’s worldview will determine the range of possible destinations for his or her 'leap' from the evidence and will also influence the direction of the leap (which of these possible destinations is chosen). Lennox highlights two worldviews as being at the centre of a current conflict: naturalism and theism. Naturalism is the belief that everything that exists is the result of natural processes and can be explained by them – there are no supernatural beings or causes. Since science by definition follows a naturalistic methodology, that is it is only capable of measuring and observing things within the realm of nature, naturalism may also be thought of as scientism, the idea that science is the only basis for authority about the nature of reality and that science will eventually be able to understood and describe everything that can be understood and described. This worldview is closely related to materialism and physicalism, which claim that all of reality consists solely of matter or physical properties respectively. Clearly dualism, whether spirit/body or mind/brain, is inconsistent with a materialist or physicalist worldview. The alternative worldview, according to Lennox, is theism, the belief in a personal God who exists outside of and independently from the cosmos. Christianity is a theistic belief system. A theist is open to the possibility that 'supernatural' powers are a cause of 'natural occurrences'. This is not to say that he or she will always tend to look for a supernatural explanation, but that he or she will not reject that conclusion without seriously considering it. For a committed naturalist, God is not within the range of possible destinations for the 'leap' from the evidence. For a committed theist, God is within the range of possible explanations.
It is important to distinguish at this point the implications of worldview for the range of possible explanations of observed phenomena and the reasons for which a worldview is held. I have spoken of 'committed' naturalists and theists, but there are other people who describe themselves as agnostic – they have not rejected the existence of God but are not yet convinced that He does exist. I would argue that no agnostic has become a theist or a naturalist based solely on the evidence of science. There are many respected scientists who are naturalists and many who are theists, even in the discipline of evolutionary biology. A theist may interpret the evidence as support for her belief in God, while a naturalist may interpret it as supportive of his atheistic view. The theist is unlikely to say that she is a theist solely because of science, in fact I have never met anyone who says they became a Christian because of scientific evidence alone, although I have met many Christians who know a great deal about science and do not see any contradiction with their faith and some who were initially led towards Christian faith because of the order and beauty they saw in nature. Strangely, however, there are some naturalists who claim that their naturalism is purely because of the scientific evidence, and that naturalism is the only worldview compatible with science. They make this claim despite the fact that it cannot possibly be substantiated by science itself. How could science ever 'disprove' the existence of God? What experiment would we devise? There will always be a 'gap' in our knowledge for God to hide in (to use the image of the 'God of the gaps' that naturalists often use disparagingly against theists). For further support of their belief in God, Christians will point to evidence from history (what people have believed about God in the past and how this has changed them), from personal experience, and most importantly of all to the concept of revelation, to which we will return later. These are all forms of evidence that are outside the normal realms of science. Scientists may describe the physical manifestations of people’s experience and how they speak about it, but they cannot discount that experience. We may investigate history using 'scientific' methods and come to a better understanding of what happened, but the interpretation of the significance of those events will depend on other factors. It is to these other lines of evidence that Christians will point agnostics who are genuinely concerned to ask whether God may exist and it is with these other kinds of evidence that a naturalist must engage if he is to genuinely engage with the question of God’s existence. Otherwise he is presenting little more than an 'atheism of the gaps'. If he tries to deny that any 'gaps' exist he is pre-empting the conclusions of future science (assuming that it will fill in any currently discernible 'gaps') and excluding large swathes of human experience and life that fall outside the scientific method. More importantly still, even if all the 'gaps' in our knowledge of what exists in the physical world and how it works were filled in, the issue of purpose would still not have been dealt with. Science is simply not suited to answering questions of 'Why?' It can answer many (perhaps all) 'What?' questions about the physical universe – describing what exists and how things work – but when it comes to the question of why the universe exists it is struck dumb. For this reason neither a naturalistic worldview (there is nothing but the natural processes we can observe) nor a theistic worldview (a Creator exists) can ever be based solely on science.
Lennox provides a simple but brilliant illustration of this limitation of science using the image of a cake made by his Aunt Matilda. Scientists could analyse the cake and say exactly what it is made of. That is a 'What?' question. They may even be able to infer a purpose for the cake from the fact that it is suitable for human consumption, that it will stimulate certain taste buds and that it has been carefully sculpted. I might add that they could guess at the purpose of the cake based on their own personal experience and cultural awareness, although this is a step into other kinds of evidence that are not strictly part of science. Ultimately, however, the only way to be certain of purpose of the cake is to ask Aunt Matilda herself. The 'Why?' question can only be answered by revelation from the creator. If Aunt Matilda had written “Happy Birthday John” on the cake we could have figured out what her purpose was, but in the absence of written revelation we must seek verbal revelation. Christians believe that the Creator of the cosmos has revealed Himself to mankind. We will return to this idea of revelation at a later point, but for now we must emphasise that the clash of ideas regarding the nature of humanity is not a conflict between Christianity and science but between Christianity and naturalism.
Go to 5. Volition and Morality
 Available online at: http://books.google.co.uk/books?id=SOiEo1tEnsoC&pg=PA150, accessed 01.12.10.
 See, for example, http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/sci/tech/8023295.stm, accessed 26.10.10.
 Gray, John 2002, Straw Dogs: thoughts on humans and other animals, Granta, p.61.
 Ibid., p.61.
 Gray, John 2002, Straw Dogs: thoughts on humans and other animals, Granta, p.61.
 Pinker, Steven 2002, The Blank Slate: the modern denial of human nature, Penguin, p.72.
 Ramachandran V. S. & Hirstein W. 1997, 'Three Laws of Qualia: what neurology tells us about the biological functions of consciousness, qualia and the self', Journal of Consciousness Studies, 4 [5-6]:429-58, p.430.
 Jackson, F. 1982, 'Epiphenomenal Qualia', Philosophical Quarterly 32:127-136.
 Wolfhart Pannenberg, quoted in Moreland, J.P. & Rae, Scott B. 2000, Body and Soul: human nature and the crisis in ethics, IVP, p.23.
 Lennox, John 2007, God’s Undertaker: has science buried God?, Lion, p.27.
 John Lennox lists a number of examples in God’s Undertaker, p.90.
 Lennox, John 2007, God’s Undertaker: has science buried God?, Lion, p.40ff.
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© 2010 Paul B Coulter
This article is reproduced here by the kind permission of the author.