261007 – A 6th Dimension NDE


title: “The Light Without the Name: A Fellowship Reading of Van Ng Tran’s Near-Death Experience” author: “Thomas Lee Abshier, ND” date: 2026-10-07 module: CFE secondary_modules: [CAP, CWR] type: essay status: FIRST_DRAFT source: “Van Ng Tran, personal near-death-experience testimony, YouTube video (title as transcribed: ‘died and went to 6th Dimension’), viewed and transcribed 6 October 2026” source_url: “TODO — YouTube URL to be added; the transcript supplied did not carry it” engages: “Van Ng Tran’s account of a near-death experience during a severe COVID infection in Reims, France, in August 2022: the out-of-body moment, an ascent she numbers as the fourth, fifth, and sixth dimensions (a life review, a branching tree of choices, and a vision of all humanity as interconnected light under unconditional love without judgment), two visions of a future spacefaring humanity, her return, and the four years of ‘finishing her old life’ that followed.” topics: [near_death_experience, spirit_point_of_awareness, out_of_body_perception, dimensions_defined, numbered_heavens, life_review, book_of_remembrance, record_imprinted_on_space, branching_choices, foreknowledge_vs_causation, choose_yourself_vs_deny_yourself, light_in_every_man, evil_as_derivative_negation, no_condemnation_vs_no_judgment, love_that_pays, trying_the_spirits, experience_vs_revelation, isolation_and_fellowship, finish_your_old_life_vs_new_creation, captives_to_rescue, giving_the_name] scripture: [2 Corinthians 12:2-4, Ecclesiastes 12:7, Deuteronomy 10:14, 1 Kings 8:27, Revelation 20:12, Malachi 3:16, Psalm 139:16, Luke 12:2-3, 2 Corinthians 5:10, Genesis 2:9, Revelation 22:2, Ephesians 2:10, Jeremiah 10:23, Matthew 16:24-25, Deuteronomy 29:29, John 1:9, Genesis 1:27, Acts 17:28, Romans 14:7, 1 Corinthians 12:26, John 3:19, Romans 3:23, Romans 8:1-3, Romans 5:8, 1 John 4:10, Romans 2:4, 2 Corinthians 11:14, 1 John 4:1-3, Galatians 1:8, Isaiah 8:20, Acts 17:11, Deuteronomy 18:22, Revelation 21:2, Genesis 11:4, Revelation 22:1, Psalm 23:2, Ecclesiastes 4:9-10, Genesis 2:18, Hebrews 10:24-25, 2 Corinthians 5:17, John 3:3, Philippians 2:12-13, Matthew 7:16, 1 John 1:5, 1 John 1:7-8] prior_fellowship_essays_referenced:

  • “transcripts/260301-living-in-the-spirit.md (Becoming What We Behold, 1 March 2026 — Leonard on near-death love)”
  • “transcripts/260410-ai-consciousness-and-the-spirit-of-man.md (Is the Machine Awake?, 10 April 2026 — the spirit as a point of awareness)” changelog:
  • “2026-10-07 v1.0 FIRST_DRAFT. Thomas’s directive: write a fellowship essay on the supplied otter.ai transcript of Van Ng Tran’s NDE video. Posture chosen by Claude under the standing delegation: receive the testimony as genuine experience, sort it by what can be asserted, define ‘dimension,’ honor what agrees with Scripture and the physics, and name what the account leaves out — the Name. Advertisement segments in the transcript (bank consultancy, credit card, home-repair plan, a resort) were ignored as not part of the testimony. One verbatim quotation from the source (‘finish your old life’) per copyright discipline; all else paraphrased. Gloss rule applied (CPP glossed at first use; no internal level labels in reader-facing prose).”

The Light Without the Name: A Fellowship Reading of Van Ng Tran’s Near-Death Experience

This week the fellowship was handed a video in which a young woman named Van Ng Tran tells the story of the day she believes she died. She tells it plainly, without music swelling under it and without anything to sell except an invitation to read her writing on Substack. She was raised in the Czech Republic, spent six years in Singapore and seven in Asia altogether, came back to Europe in the summer of 2022 looking for answers at a large spiritual conference in Basel, left disappointed, and drove alone to Reims, a French city where she knew no one, to hide in a rented studio for a month. She arrived with COVID. Within hours she could not sit up. A friend texted to ask where she was; she answered in three or four words, switched off her phone, and slipped away. What follows in her telling is an ascent through what she numbers as the fourth, fifth, and sixth dimensions, a vision of the future, a sudden return to a dark room at five in the afternoon, and four years of quiet obedience to an inner instruction before she told anyone at all.

I recommend the video. It is worth the half hour, and she deserves the hearing. She is honest about her confusion before the event and modest about her conclusions after it, and she does not claim to have been made a prophet.

My reading of it can be stated in one sentence, and the rest of this essay is the argument for it: Van was shown real gifts of the Father — the record of her life, the weight of her choices, the light He placed in every person, and a love that healed her — and she came back without being told the Giver’s name. The vocabulary she uses to describe what she saw — dimensions, a life contract, the lesson of choosing herself — is not the experience. It is the vocabulary she carried into it from the conference she had just left. Our work is to receive her testimony honestly, to sort what can be said from what cannot, and then to do for her experience what she could not do for it: give it its Name.


I. What the Account Asserts, and What We May Assert After It

Before arguing from a testimony, we owe it the ordinary honesty of sorting its claims into three kinds: what anyone could check, what is a reasonable interpretation, and what rests on one witness alone — and of saying which is which.

What could be checked. Almost nothing, and that is not a criticism. She was alone by design. There was no monitor, no physician, no witness in the room. That she had a serious COVID infection in Reims in late summer 2022 is plausible and unremarkable. That she lost consciousness in daylight and woke after dark is her report. The title of her video says she died; her own account never claims a stopped heart, and nothing in it establishes one. As a physician I would call what she describes a severe upper- and lower-airway inflammatory illness in a person who was dangerously alone with it. Whether she crossed the line the cardiologists draw, no one can say.

What is reasonable interpretation. Her account matches, element for element, the pattern that the study of these experiences has documented for half a century: the sense of leaving the body, seeing it from above, a review of one’s life, an overwhelming love, a boundary or decision point, and a sudden return. Raymond Moody catalogued the pattern in 1975. In 2001 the Dutch cardiologist Pim van Lommel and his colleagues published in The Lancet a prospective study of 344 consecutive cardiac-arrest survivors in ten hospitals, of whom about one in five reported such an experience, and the experiences could not be explained by the drugs given, the duration of the arrest, or fear of death. Bruce Greyson, who has studied the phenomenon at the University of Virginia for decades, summarized the field in After (2021). Van’s experience is not exotic. It is typical. That is itself evidence: thousands of people of every culture, most of whom never compared notes, report the same architecture.

What rests on one witness. The numbering of the stages, the specific content of what she saw at each, the “they” who showed her things, and above all the two visions of the future — a one-person spherical spacecraft and a vast living city orbiting the Earth — rest on her word alone. That category means hold loosely and test, never dismiss. Single witnesses are sometimes right. But a single witness’s interpretation of her own experience is the weakest link in the chain, and she herself would say she did not understand for a long time what had been done to her.


II. The Bang and the Point of Awareness

Van says she was woken by a sound like a bomb, assumed it came from the neighbors or the street, and then realized it was her own departure. She rose, looked back, and saw her body unconscious on the bed — and not only its surface. She saw through it: the airway, nose, and mouth raw and red, the organs swollen with inflammation. She is careful to say she is not a doctor. What she describes is what a doctor would expect to find.

This is the part of the account that agrees most closely with what this ministry has argued about the nature of man. In our April essay on machine consciousness we described the human spirit as a single point of awareness given by God — not a brain, not a network, but the observer behind the eyes. In ordinary life that point watches the brain’s summary of the world, the picture assembled by the senses. That is why anesthesia removes consciousness: it does not destroy the observer; it switches off the picture he is watching. When the spirit is loosed from that arrangement, there is no reason its sight should be limited to the surfaces our eyes report. Van’s X-ray view of her own swollen tissues is exactly what we should expect of a seer no longer confined to the brain’s picture.

Scripture is not embarrassed by this. Paul describes a man — almost certainly himself — caught up to the third heaven, and twice says he cannot tell whether it happened in the body or out of it (2 Corinthians 12:2-4). The Preacher says that at death the dust returns to the earth and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it (Ecclesiastes 12:7). The Bible’s anthropology has always had room for a self that can stand outside its own body and look.


III. What a “Dimension” Is — and Is Not

Van numbers her ascent: she was in the third dimension, rose until she felt something like the fizz of a shaken bottle being opened, and crossed into the fourth; again into the fifth; again into the sixth. The word is doing heavy lifting, and it is worth stopping to define it, because it is a borrowed word and it has been twisted.

In geometry and physics a dimension is an independent direction — length, width, height — along which a thing can be measured. Popular spirituality has borrowed the word to mean something else: a level of existence, a plane, a frequency.

Listen closely to how Van herself uses it, and you find she means neither. She says that when the fourth opened, it was stacked upon the third; nothing was lost; she was still here, in this world, the entire time, and more information simply became available. That is not a description of entering another space. It is a description of the same space seen with more and more of it in view.

So, by her own account:

  • A dimension here does not mean a new geometric direction.
  • It does not mean a separate world she traveled to.
  • It does not mean a rung on a cosmic ladder of spiritual rank.
  • It means a widening of access — the same reality, perceived with ever greater bandwidth by a spirit no longer filtered through a failing brain.

This is the reading that fits both Scripture and the physics this ministry is developing. That physics — we call it Conscious Point Physics — holds that the substance of reality is conscious, the sustaining thought of God, so that in him we live, and move, and have our being (Acts 17:28) is description rather than metaphor. If that is so, the spirit does not need to leave space to see more of it. It needs only to stop being confined to the narrow summary the body provides. There is far more here than the senses report. The spirit set loose sees more of what was always here.

Nor is the numbering itself foreign to Scripture. Moses speaks of the heaven and the heaven of heavens (Deuteronomy 10:14); Solomon says even the heaven of heavens cannot contain God (1 Kings 8:27); Paul names a third heaven. The Hebrews counted heavens by ascent — the sky, the stars, the dwelling of God — as a way of speaking about increasing nearness, not as a surveyor’s map. Van’s six is her count, honestly given. It is not a cosmology, and no one should build one on it.


IV. The Book of Life

At the stage she calls the fourth, Van was handed what she describes as a book of her life. In a single second she knew all of it, from conception to her arrival in France; and yet she could also move through it at will, forward and back, drawn to certain memories that seemed to shine more than others. The ones that shone were the unresolved ones — the many times she had been the victim of whatever was happening. Her verdict on herself was blunt: she had failed. Her achievements had been a performance that looked good on paper while she was not well inside. She had not lived up to what she had agreed to do on Earth. She was sad.

Every element of this has a biblical name. The books were opened … and the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works (Revelation 20:12). A book of remembrance was written before him (Malachi 3:16). In thy book all my members were written (Psalm 139:16). There is nothing covered, that shall not be revealed (Luke 12:2). The life review is one of the most consistent features of these experiences across every culture, and the Bible described it long before anyone collected the reports.

The physics adds something here as well. If every event in a life leaves its imprint on the space in which it happened — the radiation of every act written into the fabric of the world — then the record is not a metaphor either. Nothing is lost. Total recall is not a miracle of memory; it is a reading of what is already written.

Notice what Van felt when she read it. She felt the weight. She judged herself and found herself wanting. I want to take that seriously, because in the next stage she will say there was no judgment at all, and her own testimony contradicts her. There was judgment. It came from the record itself, and it came from her own conscience reading it. We must all appear before the judgment seat of Christ; that every one may receive the things done in his body … whether it be good or bad (2 Corinthians 5:10). What she tasted in the fourth stage was a shadow of that seat. Her sadness was the most honest moment in her account.

Her diagnosis of what had gone wrong, though, is incomplete. She located her failure in being a victim and in performing for appearances. Those are real, and they are often the wounds of what others did to us. But a life review that finds only wounds received and none given has not finished reading the book.


V. The Tree of Branches

At the fifth stage the book became a tree. From any moment of her life she could see the choice she made, the choice she should have made, and every branching possibility between. She went straight to 2016: she was about to complete her naturalization in the Czech Republic and ask her company for a transfer to its Palo Alto office — the path she wanted — when her partner of six years was transferred to Singapore on short notice, and she went with him. In the tree she saw that she had chosen the branch farthest from her own. She stayed six years. The lesson she drew was that however far a person strays from his path, he can come back to it, and that all it takes is to choose himself.

That lesson needs the same definitional care as the word dimension, because it can mean two opposite things.

If choosing yourself means being faithful to the person God made you to be and to the work He prepared for you — we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus unto good works, which God hath before ordained that we should walk in them (Ephesians 2:10) — then the lesson is sound, and it is a rebuke many of us need. It is possible to abandon a calling for the sake of a man’s career, or a woman’s comfort, or the approval of a crowd, and the abandonment is real loss.

If it means that the self is the north star — and Van does use that very image — then it is the oldest error there is. O LORD, I know that the way of man is not in himself: it is not in man that walketh to direct his steps (Jeremiah 10:23). If any man will come after me, let him deny himself, and take up his cross, and follow me. For whosoever will save his life shall lose it (Matthew 16:24-25). The cure for following a man instead of God is not following yourself instead of God. It is following God.

Here is the practical test. Ask of 2016 not “which branch did I want?” but “did I ask?” Her account of the decision has two parties in it: what she wanted and what he needed. It does not mention a third. The fork she saw was real, but the deeper deviation was not choosing his path over hers. It was choosing without consulting the One whose path both of theirs were meant to be.

Two things in this stage deserve credit. First, the picture of branching possibility is consistent with how this ministry understands God’s knowledge of the future: He knows every branch and the one that will be taken, but His knowing does not cause the taking. Foreknowledge is not compulsion. Second, Van declined to look at the fruit of the tree — at herself at seventy, eighty, ninety. She sensed the future was being made now and was hers to answer for, and she let it be. That was wisdom. The secret things belong unto the LORD our God: but those things which are revealed belong unto us (Deuteronomy 29:29).

The Bible has two trees in the garden (Genesis 2:9). Van’s tree, the one that shows what might have been, is closer kin to the second than to the first. The tree of life in Scripture is not a diagram of our possibilities. It is a gift whose leaves were for the healing of the nations (Revelation 22:2). She will touch that healing in the next stage — but not by the tree she was shown.


VI. The Mesh of Light

The sixth stage is the heart of her testimony, and she calls it the grand finale. She was, in her words, swimming in the minds and hearts of all eight billion people on Earth. She saw herself without the dense body, made of light and of qualities of consciousness, and she saw every human soul the same way: light, each with its own signature, no one tainted, no darkness anywhere. She could focus on any person and find herself inside the fingerprint of who he was. Everyone was connected to everyone in a single mesh; the smallest act anywhere touched the whole. And she was held in a love without condition and without an ounce of judgment — not about what she was, what she had done, or what she would do. Without being given any answers, she was healed. Pieces of herself she had felt were shattered came back together. She had no more questions. She no longer needed the conference in Basel.

Let me state the strongest case for receiving this exactly as she tells it, because it is a strong case.

The Gospel of John says Christ is the true Light, which lighteth every man that cometh into the world (John 1:9). Every person is made in the image of God (Genesis 1:27). God is not distant from any of us, for in him we live, and move, and have our being (Acts 17:28). None of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself (Romans 14:7). Whether one member suffer, all the members suffer with it (1 Corinthians 12:26). And if the substance of the world is God’s own sustaining thought — if He is looking out through every person as through a window — then the interconnection she saw is not poetry. It is the plain structure of reality, seen for once without the walls the body puts up. The love she felt is the love that holds every point of the world in being. Leonard said at our fellowship in March that virtually everyone who leaves the body reports being overwhelmed first by love, and that this love permeates reality and is available to us. Van is one more witness that he is right.

All of that I affirm. And yet two of her claims, taken as she states them, are false — and the falsehood is not in what she saw, but in the conclusion she drew from it.

“No darkness, no one tainted.” Scripture says all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God (Romans 3:23), and her own book of life said so a few moments earlier. How can both be true? The resolution is that she was seeing at one level and drawing a conclusion about another. What she saw was what God gave: the light He placed in each person, the image He stamped, the spirit He breathed. That light is not tainted, because it is His. Evil does not exist as a second substance alongside the good; it is a refusal, a turning away from the light, a negation that has no being of its own. A vision of what is will therefore show no dark substance anywhere, because darkness is not a substance. It is a direction. The same Gospel that says the Light lights every man says in the next breath that men loved darkness rather than light, because their deeds were evil (John 3:19). Van saw the first half of that sentence. She was not shown, or did not see, the second. Her vision was true about creation and silent about the Fall.

“No judgment.” Here the comparison that matters is not between doctrines but between what each account does with the moral debt — the weight Van herself felt at the fourth stage. Her journey has a clear structure. The fourth stage revealed the debt: she had failed. The fifth prescribed a remedy: return to yourself. The sixth dissolved the debt in love, with no payment, and with the assurance that nothing was being held against her. The debt simply ceased to matter.

Christianity tells the same story with one difference, and the difference is everything. There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus (Romans 8:1). No condemnation — not because there was nothing to condemn, but because God condemned sin in the flesh of His own Son (Romans 8:3). God commendeth his love toward us, in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:8). Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins (1 John 4:10). The love without condemnation that Van felt is real. It is exactly what the gospel offers. But it was purchased, and it was purchased at a price. A love that simply waived the debt would not be the love of a holy God; it would be indifference wearing love’s clothing. God cannot pretend the book was not written. He did something better: He paid what was written in it.

So I do not read her sixth stage as a counterfeit. I read it as a foretaste given before the explanation — the goodness of God leadeth thee to repentance (Romans 2:4). The kindness comes first so that the turning can follow. It is an invitation, not a verdict.

But an honest reading has to add the warning Scripture adds. Satan himself is transformed into an angel of light (2 Corinthians 11:14). Believe not every spirit, but try the spirits whether they are of God (1 John 4:1). The test John gives is specific: every spirit that confesseth that Jesus Christ is come in the flesh is of God (1 John 4:2). Van’s account names no one. The things she was shown were shown by an unnamed “they.” Something or someone sent her back. The test is not whether the experience felt loving. Many lies feel loving. The test is whether it leads to Christ. Her experience, as she reports it, did not deny Him; it simply never named Him. That silence is not proof of deception. It is a gap — and gaps get filled with whatever vocabulary is nearest to hand. For Van, the nearest vocabulary was the language of the Basel conference: life contracts, dimensions, choosing yourself. Paul said that even if an angel from heaven preached another gospel, it should not be received (Galatians 1:8). The safeguard is not to distrust every experience. It is to let Scripture judge the experience, and never to let the experience judge Scripture (Isaiah 8:20; Acts 17:11).


VII. The Spaceship and the Green Field

From the sixth stage a portal opened, and Van stepped into the future as into a virtual-reality scene. She was in a small spherical craft built for one — a bed, a shower, a workstation, a tall window — and through the window she saw a vast organic city orbiting the Earth, skyscrapers grown through with jungle, a living thing in orbit. She felt entirely at home and felt it would happen soon, within her own lifetime. Then she was back on Earth in a spring meadow somewhere like Europe, a river to her left, the greenest grass she had ever seen, birds singing, the spherical craft hovering half-open at the corner of her vision. She closed her eyes and felt the deepest peace of her existence — and in that instant she was thrown back into her body.

These visions are the weakest-attested part of her account and the part that should be held most loosely. Scripture’s test for a prediction is simple and patient: if it does not come to pass, it was not from the Lord (Deuteronomy 18:22). She says soon. Time will tell, and there is no need to mock what time will settle.

Two observations, offered gently. First, the meadow is familiar: He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters (Psalm 23:2); a pure river of water of life, clear as crystal (Revelation 22:1). The deepest peace she found was not in the city in the sky but on the restored earth, by the water. Second, the city in the sky runs the opposite direction from the city Scripture promises. The biblical hope is not a city men raise into the heavens — let us build us a city and a tower, whose top may reach unto heaven (Genesis 11:4) — but a city that comes down from God out of heaven (Revelation 21:2). I do not know what Van saw. I know which city I am waiting for.


VIII. “Finish Your Old Life”

When she woke, sick and in pain, two thoughts came to her. One was that the worst was over and she would recover quickly. The other became an inner voice that repeated itself for four years: “finish your old life.” She obeyed it. She told no one until, this year, she felt the old chapter was closed and a new one had begun. She says that spiritually she was reborn the moment she opened her eyes, but that as a person she still had to live, grow, choose, and move.

Without knowing it, she has described the gospel’s own shape. Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God (John 3:3) — that is the moment of opening the eyes. Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling. For it is God which worketh in you both to will and to do of his good pleasure (Philippians 2:12-13) — that is the four years. The difference is that Scripture does not ask us to finish the old life. It announces that the old life can be ended and a new one given: if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new (2 Corinthians 5:17). The new creation is not completed by effort. It is received, and then lived.

And there is one more thing in her story that every one of us should take home, because she learned it twice. She went to Reims believing that if she cut herself off and no one knew where she was, things would sort themselves out. She switched off her phone. The thread that held her physical life was a single friend who texted to ask where she was — and on the fifth day she called that friend, and on the sixth she went back to Basel to be cared for. The great lesson of her sixth stage was that no soul sits alone in a corner, that everything anyone does touches everyone. The vision and the friend taught her the same thing. Two are better than one … for if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth (Ecclesiastes 4:9-10). It is not good that the man should be alone (Genesis 2:18). This is why we gather.


IX. Judgments, and What We Do With Such Testimonies

Testimonies like Van’s are multiplying, and many of us will hear one from a neighbor, a patient, or a relative. Here is where I come down, held provisionally and stated anyway, open to a better argument.

First: these experiences are evidence, and we should treat them as evidence. They are consistent with Scripture’s teaching that man is more than his body, and with the physics this ministry is developing, in which awareness is the substance of the world and not a by-product of the brain. The skeptic’s reflex to dismiss them as hallucination does not fit the data — the consistency across cultures, the clarity of perception during unconsciousness, the lasting change in the people who have them. We should not be embarrassed by them.

Second: an experience is not a revelation. The content of a near-death experience comes to us through one person’s perception and is reported in one person’s vocabulary. It can be true and misinterpreted, beautiful and incomplete. Scripture judges the experience; the experience does not judge Scripture.

Third: the love is real, and it is God’s — but universal love without the Cross is half the testimony. What these experiencers almost all report is the love of the Father. What almost none of them can report, unless someone tells them, is what that love cost. Van felt the absence of condemnation. The gospel explains why there is none, and on what terms.

Fourth: her lesson about isolation is right, and it is ours too. The one thread that held her was a friend who reached out. Be that friend.

What the fellowship can do:

  • When someone tells you of such an experience, listen to the end. Believe what can be believed. Do not argue about the dimensions.
  • Then ask one question: “Who was the love?” Most experiencers have never been asked. The question opens the door to the Name without forcing anyone through it. The person is not an opponent to be corrected; he is someone who has been shown the Father’s house and not yet introduced to the Son who opened it.
  • Pray for Van Ng Tran by name — that the healing she received would find its source, and that the four years of finishing her old life would end in the life that does not need finishing.
  • Bring your own stories on Sunday. Several of us have heard or lived such accounts. We should compare them openly, and test them the way John told us to.

X. The Bet I Am Making

I believe Van saw real things. I believe her spirit left a sick body in a rented room in Reims and saw it, inside and out, more clearly than any physician could. I believe she read the record of her life and felt its weight honestly. I believe she saw the light that the Word places in every man, and the web of connection by which none of us lives to himself. And I believe the love she swam in was the love of God, because there is no other love of that kind.

But I do not believe that the love is nameless, or that it waived her debt by pretending it was never written. That love has a face, and nail prints in His hands. It cancelled the debt by paying it. The no-condemnation she felt was bought, and it is offered to her and to every one of us on the same terms: come to the One who paid it. The light she saw in everyone is His light. The darkness she did not see is real, but it is not a thing — it is a turning away, and it can be turned back.

Van was right that there is no darkness in that light. John said so first, and then said what she was not told:

This then is the message which we have heard of him, and declare unto you, that God is light, and in him is no darkness at all. … If we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have fellowship one with another, and the blood of Jesus Christ his Son cleanseth us from all sin. — 1 John 1:5, 7

— Thomas


Sources

  • Van Ng Tran, near-death-experience testimony (titled in transcript as “died and went to 6th Dimension”), YouTube. Van also writes on Substack; her links are in the video description. [Link to be added.]
  • Raymond A. Moody, Jr., Life After Life (Mockingbird Books, 1975).
  • Pim van Lommel, Ruud van Wees, Vincent Meyers, and Ingrid Elfferich, “Near-death experience in survivors of cardiac arrest: a prospective study in the Netherlands,” The Lancet 358 (2001): 2039–2045.
  • Bruce Greyson, After: A Doctor Explores What Near-Death Experiences Reveal about Life and Beyond (St. Martin’s Essentials, 2021).
  • Renaissance Ministries, “Becoming What We Behold: The True Imitation of Christ” (fellowship discussion of 1 March 2026), and “Is the Machine Awake? AI Consciousness and the Spirit of Man” (10 April 2026), both in the RM repository, https://github.com/Renaissance-Ministries/RM.
  • Conscious Point Physics, Hyperphysics Institute, https://github.com/Hyperphysics-Institute/CPP.

Renaissance Ministries | Hyperphysics Institute

Of one heart to make Christ King – 1 Chronicles 12:38

261006 – Dawkins and The God Delusion


title: “Twenty Years After The God Delusion: Taking Dawkins at His Word” author: “Dr. Thomas Lee Abshier, ND” date: 2026-10-06 module: CFE type: engagement essay (pre-meeting reading) status: draft v0.1 — for Thomas’s edit register: academic, conversational occasion: “Richard Dawkins’ twentieth-anniversary reflection on The God Delusion (syndicated on MSN, early October 2026; the book was first published 2 October 2006)” source: “https://www.msn.com/en-us/news/other/twenty-years-since-i-wrote-the-book-the-god-delusion-won-t-die/ar-AA2dp2rU” topics: [New Atheism, argument from design, fine-tuning, natural theology, theodicy, divine simplicity, evolutionary epistemology, Conscious Point Physics, cultural Christianity] editorial_notes:

  • “Organized by the order of Dawkins’ own argument, with concessions placed first.”
  • “Quotations from the source article kept to a few short phrases; the rest is paraphrase.”
  • “Factual corrections to the article are set off as clearly marked notes.”
  • “In-house terms (Conscious Point Physics, conscious points) defined in plain words at first use.” changelog:
  • “v0.1 (2026-10-06): first draft by Claude for Thomas’s review.”

Twenty Years After The God Delusion: Taking Dawkins at His Word

1. The Occasion

Richard Dawkins has marked the twentieth anniversary of The God Delusion with a short essay that restates the book’s case and declares that he stands by it. He notes that the “New Atheism” label was applied from outside, that he, Sam Harris, Daniel Dennett, and Christopher Hitchens wrote independently, and that he regrets the old arguments still need restating. He then runs through the core of his position: belief in God as consolation rather than conclusion; the invalidity of arguing from Stalin’s atheism to God’s existence; the death of the biological design argument at Darwin’s hand; the cruelty and waste of natural selection; the fine-tuning of physical constants answered by multiverse and anthropic reasoning; the “God of the gaps” fallacy; and, at the center, the claim that a designing God would be at least as improbable as anything he was invoked to explain. He closes by calling himself a “cultural Christian” who nonetheless rejects the resurrection, and by granting that the existence of God, if verified, would be the most exciting hypothesis in the history of science.

That last sentence is the right place for a Christian reader to stand. Dawkins pays God what he calls the compliment of treating his existence as a hypothesis. We should return the compliment: treat Dawkins’ argument as an argument, concede what it gets right, and answer what it gets wrong, in that order.

2. What Dawkins Gets Right

A fair reply begins with concessions, because several of his points are correct, and a Christian who cannot say so has already lost the argument about honesty.

Religion is not exempt from criticism. Dawkins, following Douglas Adams, objects to the cultural habit of treating religious claims as untouchable. Scripture agrees with him. The Bereans were commended for checking Paul’s preaching against the Scriptures daily (Acts 17:11). Paul told the Thessalonians to test all things and hold fast what is good (1 Thessalonians 5:21). Peter told believers to be ready to give a reason for the hope that is in them (1 Peter 3:15). A faith that claims to be true has no business asking for a cocoon. The Fellowship exists precisely as a place where claims are tested.

Comfort is not proof. The inference “life would be intolerable without X, therefore X exists” is invalid, and no Christian argument should rest on it. The desire for God may be evidence of something (C. S. Lewis made a careful argument along those lines), but the bare fact that a belief comforts proves nothing either way. The same rule cuts in both directions: that a belief is uncomfortable does not make it true either.

The Stalin syllogism is a bad argument. “Stalin was an atheist; Stalin was evil; therefore God exists” does not follow, and anyone who argues that way deserves the correction.

The God of the gaps is a fallacy. “I cannot explain X, therefore God did it” is an argument from ignorance, and every advance that fills a gap shrinks the God who was placed in it. Theologians have warned against this for a century and more.

Cosmology alone does not reach the cross. Dawkins is right that a fine-tuned universe, even if granted, does not establish that Jesus died for our sins. The case for Christ is a historical case, resting on the testimony to his death and resurrection (1 Corinthians 15:3–8). Natural theology can, at most, show that the universe is the kind of place in which such a claim is not absurd.

Christianity means belief in the resurrection. Here Dawkins is clearer than many churchmen. He says that knowing the hymns and admiring the ethic does not make a man a Christian; a Christian believes Jesus rose from the dead. Paul said the same: if Christ has not been raised, our faith is futile and we are still in our sins (1 Corinthians 15:14, 17). Dawkins has defined the faith correctly and declined it honestly. That is more respectable than redefining it until it can be accepted without cost.

The multiplication of intercessors. His jab at the many titles of Mary, each apparently assigned to separate errands, is mockery, and mockery is not argument. But many Protestant readers will recognize the underlying objection, since they hold that there is one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus (1 Timothy 2:5). The point to take from it is not to join the laughter but to notice that a practice which can be caricatured this easily invites the question of whether it rests on Scripture at all.

3. The Borrowed Ledger: Moral Language Without a Moral Ground

Notice the vocabulary Dawkins uses. Stalin was a “horrible man.” A God who designs predator and prey would be a “sadist.” Natural selection exhibits “hideous cruelty.” Some religions are “greater evils” than others.

These are moral judgments, and they are delivered with confidence. But in Dawkins’ own account, the universe has no designer, no purpose, and no standard outside the evolved preferences of a particular primate. On that account, “horrible” can only mean “something many of us, for evolutionary reasons, dislike.” That is a report about the speaker, not a verdict about Stalin.

This is the serious form of the argument Dawkins caricatures as the Stalin syllogism. The argument is not “Stalin was an atheist, therefore God exists.” It is this: when we say Stalin was really evil, not merely disliked, we are appealing to a standard that binds Stalin whether he agreed with it or not. Where does such a standard come from in a universe of matter in motion? Dawkins writes as though the moral law is real and binding, which is what the Christian believes, while denying the only foundation on which its reality and binding force can rest. He is spending from an account he has closed.

The Christian answer is that the moral law is real because it expresses the character of a real Person. The command to love God and neighbor (Matthew 22:37–40) is not an arbitrary rule laid on us; it describes how beings made in his image actually flourish. When Dawkins condemns cruelty, he is right to condemn it, and he is, without intending to, testifying to the law written on the heart (Romans 2:14–15).

4. The Cheetah and the Gazelle: Whose Side Is God On?

Dawkins asks: if God designed the cheetah to catch the gazelle and the gazelle to escape the cheetah, whose side is he on? Is he a spectator enjoying the sport?

First, a logical point. This is not an argument against design; it is an argument against a certain kind of designer. A cruel designer would still be a designer. The objection belongs to the problem of evil, not to the question of whether the world shows evidence of mind.

Second, Scripture does not hide the predator. It boasts of him. God asks Job whether Job can hunt prey for the lioness or provide food for the raven’s young (Job 38:39–41). The psalmist says the young lions roar after their prey and seek their food from God (Psalm 104:21). God is on the side of the whole: a living system of balance, beauty, strength, and speed, in which each creature is fitted to its place. The cheetah’s sprint and the gazelle’s leap are both his work, and both glorify him.

Third, Scripture also says that this order is not final. The creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, and groans as in childbirth, waiting for its liberation (Romans 8:20–22). The prophets foresee a day when the wolf lives with the lamb and the lion eats straw like the ox (Isaiah 11:6–9). The Christian claim is not that the present order of death is what God ultimately intends, but that he works within it, and through it, toward a restoration in which death itself is undone (Revelation 21:4).

Whether one finds that answer satisfying is a fair question for discussion. But it is an answer, and it is far older than Darwin.

5. Has the Biological Argument Really Disappeared?

Dawkins says the biological design argument now persuades only those whose thinking predates 1859. This claim needs to be stated in proportion.

What Darwin explained is how populations of self-replicating organisms change and adapt over time through variation and selection. That is a real achievement, and the Christian has no reason to fear it. Many believers, from Asa Gray in Darwin’s own day onward, have accepted descent with modification as the means God used.

What Darwin’s mechanism does not explain is the origin of the first self-replicating system. Natural selection requires a replicator with heritable information before it can begin. How the first living cell, with its coded information, its machinery for reading the code, and its membrane, arose from non-living chemistry remains an open problem in origin-of-life research. This is not a claim that it can never be solved. It is a claim that it has not been solved, and that Dawkins’ “mortally wounded” covers more ground than the evidence currently supports.

To keep this argument honest, it must not be a God-of-the-gaps argument. The point is not “we cannot explain the first cell, therefore God.” The point is positive: in every case where we know the origin of coded, functional information (language, software, blueprints), it comes from a mind. To infer a mind from such information is an argument from what we know, not from what we do not know. One may dispute the inference, but it is not the fallacy Dawkins names.

6. The Savanna Brain and the Self-Undermining Step

In the middle of his discussion of cosmology, Dawkins makes a striking concession. Common sense, he says, evolved only to think as deeply as survival and reproduction required; we have no right to assume our brains, schooled on the African savanna, can understand everything about the universe.

This cuts deeper than he intends. If our cognitive faculties were shaped only for survival, and not for truth, what grounds our confidence that they deliver truth when we use them to build theories, including the theory of natural selection, and including the argument that God does not exist? Darwin himself felt this. In a letter to William Graham in 1881, he confessed a “horrid doubt” whether the convictions of a mind developed from lower animals are of any value or trustworthy at all. The philosopher Alvin Plantinga has developed the point into a formal argument: naturalism combined with unguided evolution gives us reason to doubt the reliability of our own reasoning, and so undercuts belief in naturalism itself.

Theism has no such problem. If the universe was made by a rational God, and man was made in his image (Genesis 1:27), then the fit between our minds and the order of nature is expected. The Word, the Logos, through whom all things were made, is also the light that gives light to every man (John 1:1–9). The physicist Eugene Wigner wrote of the “unreasonable effectiveness of mathematics” in describing the physical world. On theism it is not unreasonable at all. It is what one would expect if the world and the mind that studies it have the same Author.

7. Fine-Tuning: Knobs, Multiverses, and What Remains

Dawkins describes the fine-tuning argument fairly: a handful of physical constants (Martin Rees lists six) appear set within narrow ranges that permit stars, chemistry, and life. He offers three replies. Some physicists, such as Victor Stenger, argue that if many knobs are turned together, life-permitting combinations may be common. Inflationary cosmology may predict a multiverse in which some fraction of universes happen to be life-permitting, and we necessarily find ourselves in one of them. And in any case, invoking God here is the God-of-the-gaps fallacy.

Each reply deserves an answer.

On Stenger: his book was reviewed in detail by the astrophysicist Luke Barnes, whose 2012 paper in Publications of the Astronomical Society of Australia surveyed the technical literature and concluded that fine-tuning is a real feature of our physical theories, not an artifact of turning one knob at a time. The debate among physicists continues, but the claim that fine-tuning has been dissolved is not the consensus position.

On the multiverse: it has three difficulties. First, other universes are, by construction, unobservable, so the hypothesis is at best an inference, not an observation. Second, a mechanism that generates universes is itself governed by laws, and those laws must have just the right form to produce varied universes, so the fine-tuning question moves up a level rather than disappearing. Third, not all fine-tuning is of the “constants” kind. Roger Penrose calculated that the low-entropy initial condition of our universe was special to a degree of roughly one part in ten raised to the power of ten to the 123rd. The anthropic principle explains why we observe a universe compatible with our existence; it does not explain why there should be a life-permitting universe to observe.

On the gaps: the fine-tuning argument, rightly made, is not “we do not know why the constants have these values, therefore God.” It is an inference to the best explanation: a universe with these features is more expected if it was intended than if it was not. Dawkins may judge the multiverse the better explanation. That is a legitimate position. But it is a weighing of explanations, not the refutation of a fallacy.

8. The Central Argument: Who Designed the Designer?

Dawkins’ main argument, here and in the book, is this. Design arguments appeal to statistical improbability. But a God capable of setting the knobs must be at least as improbable as the settings themselves. Explaining improbability by postulating a greater improbability explains nothing. Darwin’s genius was to build complexity from simplicity, step by step; invoking a complex God at the start reverses the direction of explanation. And when theologians reply that God is “simple,” Dawkins scoffs: a being who hears a billion prayers at once, judges every sin, numbers every hair, and notices every sparrow is not simple by any reasonable definition.

This is his strongest point, and it should be stated at full strength before it is answered. If God is a very large and complicated thing, assembled from parts, then asking how such a thing came to exist is a fair question, and “he just did” sounds like special pleading.

Here are four responses.

First, improbability applies to things that could have been otherwise. Statistical improbability is a measure of how unlikely an outcome is, given a range of possible outcomes and a process that selects among them. A cell is improbable because its parts could have been arranged in countless other ways by an undirected process. But classical theism does not claim that God is one outcome drawn from a distribution of possible gods. It claims that God is the necessary ground of all contingent things: the one who exists of himself, “I AM WHO I AM” (Exodus 3:14). One may reject that claim, but one cannot refute it by calculating his improbability, because the calculation assumes he is the sort of thing the claim says he is not.

Second, simplicity is not the same as limited capability. When theologians call God simple, they mean he is not composed of parts, not that he can do only a few things. Dawkins himself admires how simple rules generate vast complexity: a few lines of code can produce a fractal of unlimited detail; a short set of equations governs every electromagnetic phenomenon. The breadth of what something can do does not measure how many parts it has. A single unified Mind whose knowledge is not assembled piece by piece is not refuted by pointing at how much that Mind knows.

Third, the regress objection proves too much. If an explanation must itself be explained before it can count, nothing could ever be explained. An archaeologist who finds arrowheads may infer a human maker without first explaining where the humans came from. The inference to a designer stands or falls on the evidence of design, not on whether we can also give an account of the designer.

Fourth, Dawkins’ alternative does not escape the problem. He recommends Lawrence Krauss’s A Universe from Nothing as being on the right track. But Krauss’s “nothing” is a quantum vacuum governed by the laws of quantum field theory, which is not nothing at all. The philosopher of physics David Albert made this point sharply in his 2012 review of the book in The New York Times. Dawkins himself retreats to “primeval simplicity,” which still requires laws, a substrate, and the capacity to unfold. Every account must begin somewhere. The question is whether it begins with mindless law or with Mind.

An ontological picture. At the deepest level of this question, the Hyperphysics Institute’s work offers a picture that bears directly on Dawkins’ “bandwidth” objection. Conscious Point Physics (CPP) is a research program that models the physical universe as built from a vast number of elementary units called conscious points: the smallest units of reality, each of which perceives its immediate surroundings and responds according to a few fixed rules. On this picture, God is not an engineer standing outside the universe, monitoring it through some immense processing channel. Every point of reality is held in being by his awareness and acts according to his rules. The hairs of your head are numbered (Matthew 10:30) not because God tallies them from a distance, but because they are made of what he sustains moment by moment. This is the sense of Paul’s statement that in him we live and move and have our being (Acts 17:28), and of the claim that he upholds all things by the word of his power (Hebrews 1:3; Colossians 1:17). Dawkins’ image of a celestial switchboard straining to receive a billion prayers assumes a God who is one more object in the universe. The biblical God, and the CPP model of him, is the ground of the whole.

This is offered as a model, not a proof. But it shows that “too complex to exist” is an objection to a picture of God that informed theists do not hold.

9. The Cultural Christian and the Fruit Test

Dawkins acknowledges that he is a cultural Christian: baptized, confirmed, fond of the hymns, at home in the liturgy. He regards some versions of Christianity as relatively harmless and even as a bulwark against what he considers worse alternatives. And he laments that ignorance of the Bible impoverishes the understanding of English literature.

Jesus gave a test for judging a tree: by its fruit (Matthew 7:16–20). Dawkins has, in effect, applied that test and found the fruit of Christianity preferable to many alternatives. The natural next question is why this tree bears this fruit. Christians would answer that the ethic he admires (love of neighbor, the dignity of the weak, forgiveness, the equal worth of every person before God) grew from the belief he rejects. It was because they believed God had become man and died for every man that Christians founded hospitals, ransomed captives, and insisted that slave and free were one in Christ (Galatians 3:28). Whether the fruit can be kept long once the root is cut is a question the West is now testing.

10. Accepting the Challenge

Dawkins closes with his most interesting sentence. A universe conceived by a superhuman intelligence, he says, would be a totally different kind of universe from the one he believes we inhabit, and the whole of science would have to be rewritten from the bottom up.

The Christian should accept that challenge rather than deflect it. If God made the world, the world should bear his signature, not only in gaps we cannot yet explain but in the structure of what we can.

This is the wager of the CPP program. Its claim is that a universe built from conscious points, operating under a few rules set by God, reproduces the established results of physics and predicts things the standard models do not. The program has proposed over one hundred predictions that do not depend on adjustable parameters, and a specific, falsifiable prediction about faint “echoes” following black-hole mergers that can be checked against existing gravitational-wave data from LIGO. These claims await independent review, and they may fail. But they are the right kind of answer to Dawkins: not an appeal to what science cannot explain, but a proposal that a God-made universe is testably different, offered for testing.

By faith we understand that the worlds were framed by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made from things that are visible (Hebrews 11:3). Faith in that sense is not a substitute for evidence. It is trust in the Author, which then sends us to study his work. That is how the founders of modern science (Kepler, Boyle, Newton, Faraday, Maxwell) understood their calling.

11. Answering a Neighbor

Dawkins is not our enemy. He is our neighbor, and he has given us twenty years of honest, if sometimes cutting, objections. The right response is the one Peter commanded: a reason for our hope, given with gentleness and respect (1 Peter 3:15). That means conceding where he is right, refusing to answer mockery with mockery, and pressing the points where his argument fails: the moral law he presupposes but cannot ground, the reliability of a reason he believes was not built for truth, the improbability argument that mistakes a necessary God for a contingent object, and the “nothing” that is not nothing.

He says he stands by what he wrote. We stand by what we believe: that the universe is the work of a Mind, that this Mind has made himself known in Jesus of Nazareth, and that the evidence of his work is open to anyone who will look. Dawkins has been looking for fifty years. We may pray that he keeps looking.


Notes and Corrections

Note 1 — The timing of the first atoms. The article places the formation of the first neutral atoms about a quarter of a million years after the Big Bang. The standard figure for this event (recombination, which released the cosmic microwave background) is about 380,000 years. The point he makes from it is unaffected.

Note 2 — Hitler’s religion. The article says Hitler was not an atheist. That is defensible but contested. Hitler publicly invoked “Providence” and spoke favorably of a “positive Christianity” aligned with Nazi ideology, while private remarks attributed to him (in the Table Talk, whose reliability historians dispute) are hostile to Christianity. The fairest summary is that he was neither an orthodox Christian nor a declared atheist.

Note 3 — “Walked three days later.” In describing Christian belief, the article says Jesus “walked three days later.” The Christian claim is that he rose from the dead on the third day (1 Corinthians 15:4). The wording appears to be a slip, not a misrepresentation; elsewhere Dawkins states the belief accurately.

Note 4 — Recent counter-arguments. Readers wanting a sustained response to the cosmological side of Dawkins’ case may consult Stephen Meyer, Return of the God Hypothesis (2021), and Luke Barnes and Geraint Lewis, A Fortunate Universe (2016), which presents the physics of fine-tuning for a general audience.


Questions for Discussion

  1. Dawkins condemns cruelty and calls Stalin “horrible.” Can an atheist ground those judgments, or is he relying on a standard he cannot account for? How would you put this to him without sounding like the Stalin syllogism he rightly rejects?
  2. Is the cheetah-and-gazelle question an argument against God, or only against a certain picture of God? How do Job 38–39, Psalm 104, and Romans 8 together shape your answer?
  3. Dawkins says a God who hears a billion prayers cannot be simple. Does the picture of God as the ground of every point of reality, rather than an observer outside it, answer him? What does it leave unanswered?
  4. Dawkins grants that a universe made by God would be a different kind of universe. What would you expect to be different? Is that difference something science could, in principle, detect?
  5. Dawkins values the fruit of Christianity while rejecting its root. Can a culture keep the fruit for long once the root is cut? What evidence do you see either way?

261005 – Why are Christians Leaving for Islam

Judgment Begins at the House of God

Christians Who Leave for Islam, and the Church They Leave Behind

Fellowship Discussion Essay | 6 October 2026

For the time is come that judgment must begin at the house of God: and if it first begin at us, what shall the end be of them that obey not the gospel of God? — 1 Peter 4:17

Occasion. This week an article titled “Why Are Christians Leaving for Islam?” circulated on MSN. Its author is a former Muslim who has spent much of his adult life speaking against Islam. He had posted a short clip about Christians who convert to Islam, and he was disturbed by the response more than by the conversions. Most commenters, he reports, said in effect “good riddance”: if those people had truly been Christians, they would never have left.

His argument, in my paraphrase, runs this way. The commenters state a real theological truth about the new birth, but they use it to excuse the Church from looking at itself. America’s crisis is spiritual before it is political; the state can restrain evil, but it cannot regenerate a heart. Israel lost its obedience before it lost its security. Sophronius, Patriarch of Jerusalem during the Arab conquest, saw Christian sin as part of why the conquest succeeded, and he called his people to repentance. Judgment begins with the household of God. Our love for Christ must be greater than our anger at Islam, and the goal must be more disciples of Jesus, not merely fewer Muslims. Revival must begin with “my people” (2 Chronicles 7:14), and the West needs to remember the God it abandoned.

I agree with nearly all of it. This essay sets the article beside what this fellowship has already written about Islam — chiefly The Revolutionary and the Devotee (12 September), The Sharper Stick and the Liberty in Christ (21 September), the recaps of 20 and 27 September, and To the Fellowship and Our Muslim Friends (15 May) — and asks what we should do with it. Where the article stops at the Church’s door, I go a step further into the civil order; where it speaks of revival in general, I try to name what revival would look like on a Sunday afternoon in our own houses.

I. Good Riddance? The Verse and the Shepherd

The commenters have a verse: They went out from us, but they were not of us; for if they had been of us, they would no doubt have continued with us: but they went out, that they might be made manifest that they were not all of us (1 John 2:19). A man who has been born again has received a new heart, and a new heart does not trade the indwelling Christ for a recitation. I hold that. When a professing Christian bows toward Mecca, something was missing before he left.

But John wrote that verse about antichrists who had left the church to deny the Son, to steady those who remained. He did not write it so those who remained could stop asking what was missing. The same Scripture that says the departed were not of us also says this:

  • The diseased have ye not strengthened, neither have ye healed that which was sick, neither have ye bound up that which was broken, neither have ye brought again that which was driven away, neither have ye sought that which was lost (Ezekiel 34:4). God did not indict the scattered sheep. He indicted the shepherds.
  • What man of you, having an hundred sheep, if he lose one of them, doth not leave the ninety and nine in the wilderness, and go after that which is lost, until he find it? (Luke 15:4). The shepherd does not say good riddance; he goes looking.
  • Brethren, if any of you do err from the truth, and one convert him; let him know, that he which converteth the sinner from the error of his way shall save a soul from death (James 5:19–20).
  • And of some have compassion, making a difference: and others save with fear, pulling them out of the fire (Jude 22–23).

So two things are true at once. The one who left is responsible for leaving; no one apostatizes on another man’s behalf. And the community he left is responsible for what he found there before he left — or failed to find. The first truth belongs to God’s judgment of him. The second belongs to our judgment of ourselves, which is the only judgment we are commanded to make first (Matthew 7:3–5). The “good riddance” response takes the first truth and uses it to cancel the second. That is the self-exoneration the author warns against, and he is right to call it a temptation rather than a doctrine.

There is also a plain pastoral fact. We do not know which of the departed were never regenerate and which are prodigals who will come home. Peter denied the Lord three times and was restored on a beach at breakfast. A man who writes off the departed in advance has decided not to be the one waiting at the end of the road when the prodigal turns around.

II. Proportion: What the Numbers Say

The movement is real, but it runs in both directions, and it is not a flood. I have said before that hyperbole is lying by proportion, so the size of the thing matters before we draw lessons from it.

The best American data remain Pew Research Center’s 2017 survey of U.S. Muslims. Roughly a quarter of Muslim adults in America (23%) are converts, and among converts about half (53%) were Protestant before converting and another fifth (20%) Catholic. So the article’s premise holds: most American converts to Islam come out of Christian homes. But the same survey found that about a quarter of those raised Muslim (24%) no longer identify as Muslim. Pew’s summary is that Islam gains roughly as many converts as it loses. Muslims remain about one percent of the American population.

Worldwide, the flow the other way is significant and often hidden. Iran’s underground church, North African house churches, and the former Muslims now sitting in Western congregations — Danny Burmawi, whose interview we examined on 12 September, among them — are evidence that Christ is still drawing Muslims out of Islam, often at great cost.

So the honest frame is not “Christianity is losing to Islam.” It is this: in a nation that is shedding its Christian identity in every direction — into the “nones,” into vague spirituality, and in a smaller stream into Islam — some of those leaving are going somewhere that offers what they did not find with us. The Islam stream is small, but it is the most instructive, because Islam is the one destination that demands more of a man than the church he left. That is the subject of the next section.

Note (sources and limits). Pew Research Center, “The share of Americans who leave Islam is offset by those who become Muslim” (26 January 2018), reporting its 2017 survey. The figures are American only and now nine years old; European patterns differ and are not addressed here.

III. Why They Go: The Hunger for Discipline

A man who leaves a church of soft expectations for a faith that wakes him before dawn to pray is not fleeing holiness. He is looking for it. In The Revolutionary and the Devotee I wrote that the lack of moral advocacy and practice in modern Christianity has driven some to find stability in the strict discipline of Islam, and that the fact that some Westerners are leaving Christianity for Islam shows a hunger for discipline and for a holistic embrace of God in every part of life. The article reaches the same diagnosis from the other side: when “Christian” civilization looks like broken families, pornography, consumerism, and spiritual indifference, Christianity stops looking like an alternative to anything.

Consider what the convert to Islam actually receives:

  • A rhythm. Five appointed prayers a day, a month of fasting, a calendar that orders the year.
  • A standard stated out loud. Clear rules on drink, dress, sexual conduct, and food, held by a community that expects them to be kept.
  • Men with a job. A role for the father and husband that is named, demanding, and honored.
  • A community that notices. Absence from the mosque is seen; conduct is supervised.
  • Seriousness. A faith that claims the whole of life, public as well as private, and does not apologize for it.

Every item on that list belonged to the Church first. Daniel prayed three times a day with his windows open toward Jerusalem (Daniel 6:10); David prayed evening, morning, and noon (Psalm 55:17); Peter and John went up to the temple at the hour of prayer (Acts 3:1); and the Didache, one of the earliest Christian manuals, told believers to pray the Lord’s Prayer three times daily. Fasting, Sabbath, catechism, church discipline, fathers who led family worship — the Church did not lack these. It let them lapse. The convert is buying from Mecca what he could not find at home, though it was always in our storehouse.

But the discipline rests on something different, and that is the whole difference. In The Sharper Stick and the Liberty in Christ I summarized Islam as Old Testament Christianity with a sharper stick and more supervision. It supplies an enforcement team for people who admire the Christian virtues but cannot govern themselves. What it cannot supply is the liberty in Christ — that is not sold at the Islamic kiosk; it is sold next door. Islam offers discipline as the price of standing before God. The gospel offers standing before God as a gift, and then a discipline that grows from the gift as fruit grows from a tree: For the grace of God that bringeth salvation hath appeared to all men, teaching us that, denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, we should live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world (Titus 2:11–12). Grace is the teacher; holiness is the lesson.

The Church’s error was not that it preached grace. It preached a grace that taught nothing — a free gift with no change in the life of the one who received it. The answer to the departing convert is not to copy the stick. It is to recover the holiness grace was always meant to produce, so the hungry man finds the discipline he wants along with the Father he did not know he needed.

IV. Sophronius and the Road to Bethlehem

The article’s photograph shows a cross in Bethlehem with a minaret rising behind it, and its central historical witness is a patriarch who could not get to Bethlehem. On Christmas Day of 634, Sophronius of Jerusalem preached to a congregation that could not make the five-mile journey to the Church of the Nativity, because Arab raiders held the roads. He compared his people to Adam shut out of Paradise by the flaming sword. He did not soften what the invaders were; he called them godless. But he told his flock that the enemy’s success was bound up with the Christians’ own sins, and that the remedy was repentance. Three years later he surrendered Jerusalem to the Caliph Umar, and he died soon after.

That is exactly the posture the article recommends, and it is the posture of Scripture. Remember therefore from whence thou art fallen, and repent, and do the first works; or else I will come unto thee quickly, and will remove thy candlestick out of his place (Revelation 2:5). As I noted in September, all seven churches of Revelation 2–3 stood in what is now Turkey, a Muslim-majority nation. Islam was the instrument; the cause was churches that had stopped doing the first works. Conquest does not happen to a church on fire. It happens to a church that has become a museum of its own past.

The picture I used then still fits. In Hagia Sophia the Christian mosaics were not chiseled off; they are curtained during prayers. The West’s Christian inheritance — its law, its hospitals, its universities, the imago Dei (the teaching that every man bears God’s image) beneath its doctrine of human rights — is still on the ceiling. We simply stopped looking up, and another worship moved into the room beneath it. The Christian who leaves for Islam is often a man who looked around the room and saw no one worshipping.

Sophronius held two things together, and so must we. He named the external threat plainly; he did not call conquest a cultural exchange. And he turned the hardest scrutiny on his own house. Those who want only the first half end in rage; those who want only the second end in surrender. The patriarch’s instinct was neither. It was repentance with open eyes.

Note (the Sophronius quotation). The substance of the Christmas sermon of 634 — the blocked road to Bethlehem, the Adam-and-Eden comparison, and the attribution of the invaders’ success to Christian sin with a call to repentance — is well attested in the scholarship on the conquest (e.g., Robert Hoyland, Seeing Islam as Others Saw It, 1997). The article’s exact English wording (that God gave the Muslims power not because He loved them but because of Christian lawlessness) should be checked against a published translation before it is quoted on the site; I have paraphrased rather than quoted it here.

V. Judgment Begins at the House of God

The article asks a set of questions that are more painful than blaming Washington, Hollywood, or Islam: Where are the fathers discipling their children? Where are the marriages that show covenant faithfulness? Where is sexual holiness? How did a nation full of churches produce generations that cannot explain what Christianity teaches, much less why it is true? I take these as the right questions, and I would add one: how many of us could sit across a table from a thoughtful young man weighing Islam and tell him, from Scripture and from our own lives, why Christ is better?

The author is careful not to assign a specific act of divine judgment to each national calamity, and I share that caution. But the principle is not obscure. Be not deceived; God is not mocked: for whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap (Galatians 6:7). Romans 1 describes judgment in its quietest form: God gave them up to what they wanted (Romans 1:24, 26, 28). Judges closes with the diagnosis of a nation coming apart: every man did that which was right in his own eyes (Judges 21:25). Sometimes judgment is not fire from heaven. It is God letting a people have the autonomy they demanded, and letting them feel its weight. A Christian drifting into Islam may be one of the ways that weight is felt.

In the 21 September conversation with Isak, I answered whether Christianity could become the thing it opposes by drawing a distinction I want to repeat here. Christianity done wrong is not Christianity; it is a counterfeit wearing the cross. A coercive “Christianity” has no power to transform anything, and an indifferent “Christianity” has no power to keep anyone. The young man who leaves a church of consumer comfort for the mosque has not left Christianity done right. He has left a soft counterfeit and found a hard counterfeit. Neither one has the power of the real thing.

The real thing, as I have said before, is a one-trick pony: the changed heart. God puts a new heart in a man, oriented toward the highest morality, which is the person of Christ, and the governing rule becomes to love others as we were loved. A new heart also will I give you, and a new spirit will I put within you: and I will take away the stony heart out of your flesh, and I will give you an heart of flesh (Ezekiel 36:26). The article says the same: legislation can constrain behavior, but only regeneration changes desire. Judgment beginning at the house of God means asking whether our houses show that change — whether a visitor could tell, from how we speak to our wives, raise our sons, spend our money, and use our evenings, that something has been done to us that was not done to our neighbors.

VI. The Lock and the Empty House

The article holds a balance I want to keep: political disengagement is not a biblical virtue, and political idolatry is not one either. Romans 13 gives government the task of restraining wrongdoing, so Christians should care who governs, what laws pass, and whether constitutional freedoms survive. But no statute gives a man a new heart.

This fellowship has said the same in its own words. At the end of The Revolutionary and the Devotee I wrote that the Church has not been losing a legal battle these fifty years; it has been losing a persuasive one. A lock on the door is worth having; it is not worth much on a house where no one is living. The article and this ministry agree that the house must be lived in again, and that only the Spirit of God can do that.

Where I go further than the article is on the lock itself. The author names sharia, immigration, and Islamist movements as matters for serious public debate, and leaves it there. I have argued, following Danny Burmawi, that Islam is not only a religion but a civilizational order that has a religion: its prayers, fasts, and creed are worship, which the First Amendment rightly protects, but its program to replace the civil order with Islamic law is a political program, and the state may judge a man’s allegiance even though it may not judge his worship. The instruments already exist. The naturalization oath requires an applicant to renounce foreign allegiance and support the Constitution, and federal law (8 U.S.C. §1424) already bars naturalizing those who advocate establishing a totalitarian form of government in the United States. I have asked that these laws be applied honestly to the Islamist political program, and that the nation say out loud what it stands for.

I also acknowledged the weakness of that gate: an oath is made of words, and words cost nothing to speak. And in the 27 September discussion we noted the form in which such a test is most likely to stand in court and most fair in principle — a set of constitutional commitments asked of every applicant of every faith, judged by conduct and advocacy rather than by creed. I hold the position as advocacy with reasons, open to a better argument. But the point of this section is the one the article makes, and I endorse: even a perfect gate would not save a nation whose own people no longer believe what the gate protects. Sophronius did not abandon the walls of Jerusalem, but he knew the walls were not what had failed.

Note (law). The naturalization oath is at 8 C.F.R. §337.1; the bar on advocates of totalitarian government is 8 U.S.C. §1424(a); the courts’ deference to the political branches on admission is stated in Kleindienst v. Mandel (1972). Article VI forbids religious tests for federal office, which is why the allegiance question must be framed as allegiance, not creed. I am not a lawyer; these citations are given for further reading, not as legal advice.

VII. Love Greater Than Anger

The author writes that our love for Christ must be greater than our anger at Islam, and that the Christian objective cannot be fewer Muslims but more disciples of Jesus. He speaks from experience: there was a time when someone could have looked at him and seen only a piece of an ideological problem, and Christ saw a man He meant to redeem. This is the rule we adopted in September: love the Muslim and hate Islam, as we love any sinner and hate the sin. Abhor that which is evil; cleave to that which is good (Romans 12:9) applies to a system of ideas. Love your enemies (Matthew 5:44) applies to the man.

The same rule applies to the Christian who left. He is not an enemy to be dismissed; he is a brother who has wandered, or a neighbor who was never home. Either way, he is someone to pursue.

In May I wrote a set of questions to ask a Muslim friend before trying to witness to him. They work just as well as questions for a Christian who has gone over to Islam, and — harder still — as questions for ourselves:

  1. What did Islam give you that you most value? The rhythm of prayer? A clear standard? A community that noticed you? Asked of the convert, this tells us what he was hungry for. Asked of ourselves, it tells us what our church did not feed him.
  2. What did it ask you to give up, and is the cost worth it? The assurance of salvation, which classical Islamic theology withholds until the Day of Judgment; the freedom to leave without penalty; a Father who comes to dwell in you rather than a distant sovereign.
  3. Does your faith call you to the kind of person you most want to become? This is the decisive question for him and for us. If our Christianity does not visibly call people toward holiness, joy, and courage, we should not be surprised when they look for it elsewhere.

The author asks what kind of Christianity Muslims see when they look at the West. The departing convert is the man who looked and did not like what he saw. His leaving is a report on us. We can throw the report away, or we can read it.

What we offer him when we read it is not a better law. It is what I tried to describe in May as the liberty in Christ: all that is not prohibited is allowed; all that is allowed has its perfect time; and the Holy Spirit, living in the believer, leads him into the next moment of greatest joy, meaning, and service to God, to his neighbor, and to his own becoming. That is a discipline — the most demanding one there is — but it is the discipline of a son in his Father’s house, not of a servant under a master’s eye. For ye have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but ye have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father (Romans 8:15).

VIII. “If My People”: What We Can Do

The article observes that 2 Chronicles 7:14 is often quoted as a slogan for national restoration, but it opens with a demanding phrase: If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land. The call is first to the people who bear God’s name. We have reversed the order — cultural renewal before personal repentance, political victory before spiritual discipline. Our rule in this fellowship is that an essay which ends at understanding is not finished, so here is what the order looks like when it is put right in our own houses.

  1. Pursue the one who left. If you know someone who has left the faith — for Islam or for anything else — call him this week. Do not argue. Ask the three questions of Section VII and listen to the answers. You may learn more about your church than about him.
  2. Restore the rhythm. Islam did not invent fixed hours of prayer; it borrowed them. Choose set times — morning, midday, evening — and pray the Lord’s Prayer at each, as the early Church did. Add one day of fasting each week. Keep the Lord’s Day as a day apart. Discipline that grows from grace is still discipline, and the hungry will recognize it.
  3. Fathers, lead at home. Read Scripture and pray with your wife and children at a regular time. A son who has watched his father kneel is less likely to look for a man who kneels somewhere else.
  4. Be able to give the reason. Be ready always to give an answer to every man that asketh you a reason of the hope that is in you with meekness and fear (1 Peter 3:15). Each of us should be able to explain, in five minutes, who Jesus is, why He died, why we believe He rose, and how the Jesus of the Gospels differs from the Jesus of the Qur’an — the Jesus who said of His life, No man taketh it from me, but I lay it down of myself (John 10:18), set against the Islamic account in which another man dies in His place. The reading list we posted in May is the place to start.
  5. Pray by name. For the author of this article and for every former Muslim who now speaks for Christ at real cost. For Christians we know who have gone over to Islam. For the Muslim families in our own towns, that they may meet the Jesus who did not run from the cross.
  6. Open the table. The Muslim neighbor and the departed Christian need the same thing first: to be known and welcomed by someone who loves Christ and lives like it. Invite one of them to dinner before you invite him to an argument.

None of this is a program to make the nation Christian by Thursday. It is the leaven of Matthew 13:33, worked into the dough one household at a time. That has always been how the Kingdom spreads; the conversion of a nation is the sum of the conversion of its homes.

IX. Back on the Road to Bethlehem

Sophronius preached on Christmas Day to people who could see Bethlehem from the hills and could not get there. That is a fair picture of the Western Church. The place where God became flesh is still on the map; the mosaics are still on the ceiling; the Bible is still on the shelf. The road is blocked, and the enemy on the road is real. But the patriarch’s counsel was that the road would open by repentance before it opened by arms.

The article ends by saying that the West does not merely need better management of its decline; it needs to remember the God it abandoned. I agree, and I would make only one pronoun change. Before the West remembers, we must remember — the fathers in this fellowship, the households represented on Sunday mornings, the man writing this essay. The Christian who left for Islam was looking for a faith that claimed his whole life. If he had found one among us, he might have stayed. If we become one now, some who left may come home, and some Muslims who are watching may come with them.

Stand fast therefore in the liberty wherewith Christ hath made us free, and be not entangled again with the yoke of bondage (Galatians 5:1) — not the bondage of the stick, and not the bondage of a comfort that asks nothing.

— Thomas


Notes

Note (the author). MSN republished the article without a readable byline, and I could not confirm the author’s name or the original publisher. He describes himself as a former Muslim who has spoken against Islam for most of his adult life. His name and original venue should be added before this essay is posted.

Note (photograph). The article’s photograph, dated 6 January 2022 (Orthodox Christmas), shows a cross at the Church of the Nativity with a mosque’s minaret behind it — almost certainly the Mosque of Omar across Manger Square. The caption misspells “minaret.”

Sources


Renaissance Ministries | Hyperphysics Institute

 

261004 – Recap – Can Capitalism Be Made Moral

Can Capitalism Be Made Moral?

· @Thomas Abshier

Christos Fellowship discussion, Sunday, 4 October 2026

The Fellowship met to discuss Chapters 3 and 4 of Transforming America and the companion chapter addition, “The Desire for Monopoly.” Thomas framed the meeting with one question: can capitalism be made moral? Michael, Leonard, Charlie, Susan, and Isak took part. Armond was absent.

The discussion moved from definitions, to the history of capitalist and communist states, to the commons, force, and rights, and finally to the human heart. By the end, the group had reached a working agreement: capitalism is a neutral mechanism, and its morality depends on the people operating it. The open question was what moral people would actually do differently in the marketplace.

This document has two parts. Part 1 is a synthesis essay, organized by topic, with points of fact and commentary. Notes marked Note add references or corrections where the discussion missed or misstated something. Part 2 is the full discussion, edited for clarity and organized by topic. Claude edited both parts; false starts and repetitions were removed, and no content was added to what the speakers said.

The readings: Transforming America, Chapters 3–4 (“The Perversion of Centralization” and “Good Roads”) and The Desire for Monopoly.

Part 1: Synthesis — Can Capitalism Be Made Moral?

1. The question and where it came from

Thomas opened by asking whether capitalism can be made moral, and said he expected Michael to have the most to say. Charlie challenged the premise: the title assumes capitalism is immoral. Leonard asked the same thing in other words: what is immoral about it?

Thomas explained the question’s origin. He and Michael grew up in the 1960s and went to People’s Park in Berkeley. The mood of that era held that the system was unfair, that people were being abused, and that something better had to be found. Young people built communes and tried alternatives. Thomas said that sense never fully left him: capitalism is either impersonal and self-serving, structurally flawed, or simply has not been done right.

He then laid out the problems he had in view. People treat “inequality” as though it were self-evidently evil. There is the government–industry alliance, sometimes called captured capitalism. And, as Michael would argue, every capitalist wants a monopoly, because a monopolist can charge far more than a competitive market allows. If capitalism has something wrong with it, the question is how to make it moral.

Commentary. This is the same tension The Desire for Monopoly names: the free market contains, inside every participant, the wish to end the free market. The group’s discussion stayed close to that tension throughout, even when it wandered.

2. Defining the terms

Leonard asked the group to define capitalism before going further. Michael read a common definition: private ownership of the means of production, operation for profit, and prices set by competition in a free market rather than by central planning. He said the definition breaks down because monopoly is part of capitalism. If a few owners control all the water, they can charge until the people’s money is gone.

Leonard compared two definitions. The International Monetary Fund says private actors own property according to their interests, and freely set prices “in a way that can serve the best interests of society.” The Cambridge Dictionary says the goal is the greatest possible profit for the owners. Michael noted the difference: the IMF has an interest in describing capitalism favorably, while the Cambridge version names who profits. Leonard summarized: capitalism is private ownership of property and business, and the owners may hold, share, sell, or use it as they choose, always with profit in view.

Isak read a definition of communism: a classless society with common ownership of the means of production and no private property. Leonard read another: a theoretical system of collective ownership with labor organized for the common advantage of all. He argued that it has never happened. It remains theoretical because collective ownership has never actually existed under any regime that called itself communist. Charlie added the reality: communism produced 150 to 200 million deaths in the last hundred years. Leonard asked why, if everyone owned property collectively, such regimes killed so many people. Were people property too? Charlie answered with the old line: you have to break a few eggs to make an omelet.

Leonard then drew the contrast. Capitalism has flaws, especially the profit motive, but it rests on someone selling and someone choosing to buy. That is basic economics. Communism does not work that way.

Note — communist death tolls. The most-cited scholarly estimates run roughly 65 to 100 million deaths under communist regimes in the twentieth century. The Black Book of Communism (1997) put the total near 100 million; the political scientist R. J. Rummel’s estimates ran somewhat higher. Charlie’s figure of 150 to 200 million is above the standard estimates. The point he made, that the toll was immense, stands at the lower figures.

3. Michael’s case: it depends on who decides

Michael said the morality of capitalism depends on who judges; every capitalist would say it is moral. He gave its advantage: it lets someone build better and better versions of something, especially where no one else is making it. He gave its disadvantage: in much of the world, one or a few families rule and own nearly everything, while most people live in desperate poverty. He named the Gulf states, Latin American oligarchies, and the legacy of the Spanish conquistadors, and said nearly every impoverished nation is poor because of capitalism’s concentration of wealth in the hands of rulers.

Thomas asked whether that disproportion is necessary to capitalism, or only something that happens. Michael answered with mixed economies. The United States, he said, is about one-third “communist”: roughly a third of GDP goes to things held in common, such as defense, roads, and bridges. Europe has similar programs. Those non-capitalist programs keep the poorest from falling as far as they do in places where capitalism is unbounded and people can starve. China, he said, is the reverse of the U.S.: about one-third capitalist.

His central argument was about Stalin. Stalin inherited a desperately poor country in 1924. By his death in 1953, it was one of the world’s two superpowers. Anti-capitalists cite this as proof that communism works. Michael said it proves something else. Stalin succeeded because he industrialized, turning a nation of horse-drawn plows into a nation of tractors. What makes a country succeed is not its economic label but the decisions of those who control the macroeconomy. A capitalist country whose wealth goes into the king’s castles will stagnate. One whose wealth goes into infrastructure and production can prosper, whether it is capitalist or communist.

Commentary. Michael’s “decisions, not labels” argument parallels the book’s claim in Chapter 3 that every system without nuance takes one true thing and makes it the only thing. Where they part is the remedy. Michael located the cause in the competence of decision-makers; the book and, by the end, the group located it in the character of the people making decisions.

Note — Stalin’s industrialization. Michael’s dates are right: Stalin consolidated power after Lenin’s death in 1924 and died in 1953. The industrialization he described was real. It was paired with forced collectivization of agriculture, which produced the famine of 1932–33 that killed several million people, most of them in Ukraine. Any account of what Stalin’s decisions achieved has to include what they cost.

Note — “one-third communist.” Government spending at all levels in the United States does run about a third of GDP. But much of that is transfer payments and public services, not collective ownership of the means of production, which is what defines communism. “Public” or “common provision” is the more accurate term. For China, Chinese officials themselves report that the private sector produces about 60 percent of GDP, so China is more capitalist than Michael’s one-third figure suggests.

Note — capitalism and poor nations. Economists dispute the claim that poor nations are poor because of capitalism. A widely cited view (Daron Acemoglu and James Robinson, Why Nations Fail, 2012) holds that nations stay poor when a small elite controls “extractive” institutions that protect its own wealth, and grow rich when institutions are “inclusive”: secure property, impartial courts, and open markets for everyone. That view actually agrees with part of Michael’s point (it is the rulers’ choices that matter) and with Thomas’s (concentration of power is the perversion). It disagrees that the free market itself is the cause. Gulf states such as the UAE are also an imperfect example: their citizens are wealthy and heavily subsidized, though the large migrant labor force is not.

4. Monopoly, the commons, and the first government

Michael’s example of damming a river became the thread for the next exchange. If you own the land upstream, capitalism lets you dam the river and charge everyone downstream whatever they will pay.

Charlie answered that law already addresses this. A body of law called riparian rights protects people’s right to common sources of water, and under a just legal system people can sue to undo such a wrong. Michael called that “the communist infusion into capitalism”: the community saying everyone needs water and deserves it without spending all his money on one owner. He applied the same reasoning to fire departments, police, roads, railroads, and national parks. Who owns Yosemite? The beach no one is allowed to fence off? A boat bought by several friends? He said the communist claim that “we all own it” and the capitalist claim that “no one owns it” become a semantic distinction.

Later, Michael offered the parent’s rule for fairness: one child cuts the pizza, and the other chooses. The cutter makes the halves as equal as he can. He also offered a picture of the first government. Oog rules the tribe because he is the biggest. The next two biggest men realize that together they can stop him. Government begins when people band together to keep one man from running the coop. With 300 million people instead of eight, he said, the idea is the same.

Commentary. Michael’s water example is the second kind of monopoly in The Desire for Monopoly: a market held by exclusion, not service. Charlie’s answer, legal recourse against exclusion, is the book’s “immune system” remedy from Chapter 3, a distributed check rather than central planning. Calling common provision “communism” blurs the line the book draws in Chapter 4: everybody wants good roads, and government’s legitimate job is the common good. A common road is not the abolition of private property.

Note — riparian rights. The riparian doctrine does not come from the Bible. It developed in English common law, with roots in Roman and later French civil law. Scripture does record disputes over water rights, as when Abraham’s and Isaac’s servants quarreled with neighbors over wells (Genesis 21:25–30; 26:18–22). Most of the western United States, including Montana and Utah, does not use riparian rights at all. It uses the doctrine of prior appropriation: “first in time, first in right.”

Note — cut and choose. Michael’s pizza rule is a standard method in the mathematics of fair division. Scripture has an early version of it: Abraham let Lot choose first which land he wanted (Genesis 13:8–11).

5. Is the system neutral? Three regulators

Charlie asked whether capitalism, which he also called free enterprise, might be neutral, operated by some people who are good and some who are evil. Thomas agreed and said that was the core of what he had written. Granting that some people are moral and some are not, how do you consciously move capitalism toward morality? Adam Smith’s invisible hand does not do it on its own. Calling in the government brings corruption and cartels between government and business.

Later in the meeting, Thomas developed this into a framework. Capitalism is an unthinking principle of how people interact. It has no morals of its own. It can be regulated in three ways:

  1. Internally, by the person who decides he will not do the wrong thing.
  2. By the local environment, the people around the person.
  3. By government, which can take away money and freedom.

If there is an absolute moral standard, the solution is that all three operate according to it: the government, the community, and the individual. Thomas said he took as given that the goal is a moral capitalism. Pure communal ownership has failed, as at Jamestown. Unregulated capitalism lets powerful nations exploit poorer ones, taking minerals from places like Uganda, Liberia, and Zimbabwe for pennies, and produces inequality that does not make people happy. So capitalism is workable, but it must be regulated by an absolute standard. The open questions are how to judge by that standard and how to enforce it.

Michael said that brings it back to government. Capitalism by itself is “rulelessness”: killing a competitor and taking his machinery is, in that sense, a capitalist tool. Charlie asked whether Michael was calling plunder the ultimate capitalism. Michael said it is one tool among many, and historically a common one, unless a government forbids it. Thomas agreed it is a tool, and said we rule it out by moral principle.

Thomas also identified where capitalism is most obviously corrupted: the government–industry cartel. “We’ll slip you a few bucks if you give us this law.” That intersection is where morality is bought.

Commentary. Thomas’s three regulators correspond to the book’s levels of self-government in Chapter 4: the man who governs himself, the community small enough to know him, and the representative government above them, all bound by one law. The government–industry cartel is the “tumor that captures the blood supply” in Chapter 3. Michael’s “capitalism is rulelessness” treats capitalism as the absence of law; Thomas’s position, and the book’s, is that the market is a structure that operates within a law above it.

Note — Jamestown. Thomas’s example is accurate. Jamestown began with a common store; Governor Thomas Dale later assigned private plots (around 1614), and production improved. The book’s Chapter 2 cites the parallel case at Plymouth in 1623, from William Bradford’s own account.

6. History and force: the 1960s, fascism, and arms

Michael described the injustices the 1960s addressed: the assassination of Martin Luther King, the denial of equal treatment for Black Americans, women earning 59 cents to a man’s dollar, the Vietnam War, and lead pollution. He said the U.S. lost about 58,000 men in Vietnam and killed about a million Vietnamese. He called Hitler the ultimate anti-communist and said Nazi Germany was capitalist: factory owners and workers, job mobility, as with Schindler. Charlie objected that forced labor is not capitalism. Michael replied that South Africa was capitalist and used forced labor too, enforced by economics and race.

Michael then distinguished economic systems from violence. Sweden, which he called Europe’s biggest communist country, governed by socialists since 1932, has stayed neutral and fought no wars. Capitalist states, he said, have done much of the recent killing. Neither violence nor success follows from the economic label; it follows from the leader’s decisions. He argued that King’s killing was capitalist in the sense that keeping Black Americans down kept money in white pockets. Communal efforts, such as riparian rights and civil rights, are how a people says “no.”

The conversation turned to arms. Charlie said that when every man is armed, plunder rarely happens. Michael said more guns make killing easier. Leonard cited John Lott’s book More Guns, Less Crime and said no one has refuted it. He argued that disarmed populations become victims: Rwanda, the Jews under the Nazis, and Venezuela under Hugo Chávez. More guns on both sides, he said, make a polite society. Michael cited a friend at the UN who has seen the aftermath of armed conflict, and asked what weapons could have let the Jews overcome Nazi Germany. Leonard answered: anything that could put a bullet in a head.

Isak extended the question to nations. If we say Iran cannot have a nuclear weapon, isn’t that the same as saying “we have the guns and you don’t”? Leonard said weapons of mass destruction are a different matter from personal self-defense, especially for a regime that repeatedly says it wants to destroy another country. Michael said the U.S. president had twice threatened to wipe out Iran’s civilization, and that Iran was applying Lott’s logic. Leonard said that misapplies Lott.

After Michael left, Isak clarified that he leaned toward Leonard’s view. His underlying question was who holds the power. He would not trust Iran with a bomb, just as he does not trust pharmaceutical companies with outsized power over Congress. He compared it to Israel asking Samuel for a king, and asked whether any centralized system works if the right person is in charge. Thomas answered that nuclear weapons work like guns: we do not invade North Korea because it has them. The real issue is not having weapons but being a moral owner of them. When force meets equal force, no one moves. The more debatable question is what rules two moral parties agree to operate by. Perhaps, he said, what is missing is granular law for the marketplace, since general morality is not specific enough.

Commentary. This section ranged widest from the readings. Its link back to the topic was Michael’s claim that violence is a leader’s choice, not a system’s product, and Thomas’s conclusion that force deters but cannot make anyone moral. The question “are you a moral gun owner?” is the same question as “are you a moral capitalist?”

Note — Martin Luther King. King was not shot for sitting at a whites-only counter. The lunch-counter sit-ins were led largely by students (Greensboro, 1960). King was assassinated on 4 April 1968 in Memphis, where he had gone to support striking sanitation workers.

Note — Vietnam. U.S. deaths were about 58,000. Estimates of Vietnamese deaths vary widely; the Vietnamese government’s 1995 figure was about 3 million, including some 2 million civilians. Michael’s “about a million” is at the low end.

Note — Nazi economics. Historians still debate how to classify the Nazi economy. Private ownership remained, but the state directed production, set prices and wages, abolished independent unions, and ran massive slave and forced labor programs. Neither “capitalist” nor “socialist” fits cleanly. Charlie’s objection about forced labor is well grounded.

Note — Sweden. Sweden is not communist. It is a market economy with a large welfare state. The Social Democrats governed continuously from 1932 to 1976. Sweden was neutral in World War II, though it sold iron ore to Germany. Michael’s mention of mass killings in Malaysia may refer to Indonesia, where some 500,000 to 1,000,000 people were killed in the anti-communist purges of 1965–66.

Note — Lott and disarmament. The economist is John R. Lott Jr., not John Locke. More Guns, Less Crime (1998) argued that right-to-carry laws reduce violent crime. It has been seriously disputed. A 2004 National Research Council review found the evidence did not support either conclusion, and a 2019 study (Donohue, Aneja, and Weber) found right-to-carry laws associated with higher violent crime. Lott’s book analyzes U.S. county crime data; the historical cases Leonard raised come from other writers, such as Stephen Halbrook’s Gun Control in the Third Reich (2013). On the facts: German Jews did not disarm themselves; the Nazi regime ordered them disarmed in November 1938, right after Kristallnacht. The figure of about six million Jewish dead is well documented from Nazi records, census data, and postwar research. In Rwanda in 1994, roughly 500,000 to 800,000 people were killed in about 100 days, largely with machetes and clubs, against civilians who were mostly unarmed. Venezuela’s 2012 law under Chávez banned the commercial sale of guns and ammunition to private citizens; it was followed by disarmament campaigns rather than a single confiscation.

Note — Samuel and the king. When Israel asked for a king (1 Samuel 8), the complaint was that Samuel’s own sons were corrupt judges (8:3). God told Samuel the people had rejected Him, not Samuel, and Samuel warned them what a king would take. The first king anointed was Saul (1 Samuel 10). David was anointed later, after Saul was rejected (1 Samuel 16). Chapter 4 of Transforming America discusses this passage.

7. Voluntaryism and rights

Leonard said he and Charlie had discussed voluntaryism long ago: contributing voluntarily, not under compulsion. Isak described a children’s book the family had read, Princess Navina Visits Voluntaria, about a land where everything is done by voluntary participation, and where crime is punished partly by public exposure. He said the crime-and-punishment part was the piece he understood least.

Leonard recalled that Charlie had compiled about 95 rights from the Bible. He asked where one person’s rights end and another’s begin. Charlie answered: at the tip of the other man’s nose. If I infringe your right to exist or act, we have a problem. Leonard asked which economic or government system protects that boundary best. Michael raised the classic test: may you yell “fire” in a crowded theater? Leonard and Charlie both said that if there is a real fire, yes; if there is not, a false alarm infringes on others’ rights and is not free speech. Charlie added that freedom and rights are very different things. Leonard asked who preserves rights. Michael said that takes a government, or a very nice .45, as Leonard put it.

Note — fire in a theater. The phrase comes from Justice Oliver Wendell Holmes in Schenck v. United States (1919), and his wording was “falsely shouting fire in a theatre and causing a panic.” Leonard and Charlie’s distinction is Holmes’s own. Schenck upheld the conviction of a man who distributed anti-draft leaflets; its test was replaced in Brandenburg v. Ohio (1969), which protects speech unless it is directed to inciting imminent lawless action and likely to produce it.

Note — the Voluntaria book. Princess Navina Visits Voluntaria is the fourth in the Princess Navina series (Lytton Publishing), in which a princess tours lands with different systems of government; Isak was unsure of the author’s name in the meeting.

8. Self and other: the oxygen mask

Isak asked whether “love your neighbor as yourself” puts self first. On an airplane you put on your own oxygen mask before your child’s. Is capitalism’s problem that we feel we must take care of ourselves and our families first, in a dog-eat-dog world? Or, if we share the same morality, would we each treat the other as more important? Politicians say they serve the people, but in practice they serve whoever gives them the most money.

Thomas answered from the Great Commandment: it makes no distinction between self and neighbor, and neither ranks above the other. The parent puts on the mask first not out of selfishness but because the adult is the competent party. If the parent passes out, the child cannot take over. Isak summarized: it is a matter of responsibility, not of who has more value. Everyone has equal value before God, but that does not mean everyone has the same income, or that the state must care for everyone the same way.

9. Contracts and common law

Charlie described what keeps the world functioning: the law of contracts, inherited through the common law, which he called what sensible people do in the absence of a governing authority. A valid contract requires mutual assent (an offer and an acceptance), consideration (something of value exchanged), capacity (an adult of sound mind), and a legal purpose. A minor’s contract is voidable, and a court will not enforce an unfair bargain with a person of feeble mind. Even plunderers who think clearly realize they must eventually incorporate the conquered and exchange taxes for real protection. People can bear a great deal of tyranny if they get something of value for their payment. Charlie mentioned that he rejects the Social Security number on the ground that a child cannot make a binding contract.

Thomas picked up the requirement that a contract be legal, and said it should be translated: a contract must be moral. Charlie agreed. Thomas connected it to the government–industry cartel: politicians and businesses trading money and laws for mutual protection. That is a contract between competent parties, for consideration, and it is immoral.

Note — Social Security and contracts. Charlie’s summary of contract elements is accurate. His argument about the Social Security number rests on treating enrollment as a contract. The Supreme Court held in Flemming v. Nestor (1960) that Social Security is a statutory program, not a contract, and that participants have no contractual right to benefits. Courts have consistently rejected arguments that a minor’s enrollment is a voidable contract.

10. Fairness is not equality

Leonard said the group was conflating morality with fairness. Nothing in this world is fair; he taught his children that when they complained. You pick yourself up and do what you can. Anything controlled by government is controlled by men with their own agendas. He said there has never been a true capitalist society. A true capitalist would be market-driven, making goods available at a market rate that yields a profit while letting others thrive. The same is true of communism: it has never been tried truly, and every failure is answered with “we didn’t do it right.” Michael supplied the saying that repeating something and expecting a different result is insanity. Leonard asked whether it is insane even to consider that capitalism can be moral. Only a moral people can make any society fair. In communism, morality is thrown out because communism is imposed by government force.

Thomas disagreed that the world cannot be fair. He proposed distinguishing fair from equal. One person is born to royalty, wealth, intelligence, or open land; another is not. The Prince of Wales and Tiny Tim are not equal. But equality of ability and wealth is, he said, simply not real; he would take that as an axiom. He recalled a film from his childhood in which a constitutional amendment made everyone equal, and the able were weighed down with handicaps to level them. That is the absurdity of forced equality.

What can be made fair is rights. Gathering Charlie’s 95 rights into one, Thomas said everyone has the right to try from where he is, and no one has the right to push him down from trying. Each person has a starting point and a track from that starting point. When two people meet, born in the Bowery and in Windsor Castle, the aim is not to make both spend equal time in each. It is a fair exchange in which both act with the morality they want to experience.

He then said that fairness and morality are being conflated. “That’s not fair” often really means “God is not happy with that.” He returned to the picture from his essay on marriage: we treat each other well because God is experiencing the other person’s experience through him. Each of us is God experiencing the world through us. The question becomes how both of us can have the greatest satisfaction, given where we started.

Note — the “insanity” saying. The definition of insanity as doing the same thing and expecting different results is commonly attributed to Einstein, but there is no evidence he said it. Its earliest known appearance in print is in Narcotics Anonymous literature from 1981.

Note — the equality film. The story Thomas recalled is Kurt Vonnegut’s short story “Harrison Bergeron” (1961), adapted for television in 1972 and 1995. In it, the 211th, 212th, and 213th Amendments make everyone equal, and a Handicapper General enforces it: the strong wear weights, the graceful wear bags of birdshot, and the intelligent wear earpieces that blast noise to scatter their thoughts.

11. It all comes down to the heart

Susan said God sends each of us into unequal situations, but gives each of us something to contribute: some light, truth, and understanding, some at birth and some as we seek Him. We can seek Him and receive a new heart, and live benefiting others while God blesses us. Every system, including capitalism, produces drastically different results among people with new hearts. A capitalism of people with new hearts would look nothing like a capitalism of people with bad hearts. Even under communism, if the people all came to Christ, their experience would be beautiful. Charlie agreed it would change everything.

Isak added that the first shall be last and the last first. Wealth, power, and celebrity carry little weight in God’s eyes compared with what is in the heart. We do not know the hearts of the people we look up to or down on. What changes any system is what happens in the hearts of those who lead it and take part in it. Thomas said this confirmed his own direction: sanctifying capitalism. The question it begs is how to build a system in which everyone has a good heart.

Leonard answered sarcastically with the communist version: take away their guns, pass harsh laws, jail the disobedient, and ration bread and milk. His point was that the isms do not solve it. Capitalism is about capital. He described two modern schools, Keynes’s and Hayek’s, and said the West chose the Keynesian path, where debt is the capital. Either way, any system can be run with bad intent. It comes down to whether the people are moral and look out for each other.

Charlie told about one of his heroes, Jonas Salk. Salk realized the value of the polio vaccine and could have profited enormously, but he gave it to the world to reproduce freely. Charlie called that a solution to the dark side of capitalism: voluntary renunciation of personal gain. Michael offered a quote from James Talarico: “Show me how you treat other people, and I’ll tell you what you believe.” Charlie said it would make a good campaign ad. Michael added Nelson Mandela, who after thirty years in a brutal prison became president and said, “We must have forgiveness.” Michael connected both to the idea that we are all connected: if I am made happy at another’s expense, it does not count as happiness.

Commentary. This is the convergence point of the meeting, and it matches the center of the book: the problem is not the system but men’s failure to know and live God’s law. Susan, Isak, Leonard, and Charlie reached it from different directions. Michael’s examples of Salk-like generosity and Mandela’s forgiveness are illustrations of the same principle from outside a religious framing.

Note — Keynes and Hayek. Leonard’s contrast is right in outline but needs correction on Hayek. John Maynard Keynes argued that government should spend, borrowing if necessary, to sustain demand in downturns; modern deficit finance descends from that view. Friedrich Hayek argued the opposite: that no central authority can know enough to direct an economy, and that prices set in free markets carry the dispersed knowledge planners lack. Hayek did not favor using a nation’s resources collectively; he warned against it in The Road to Serfdom (1944).

Note — Salk. Salk did not hold and then renounce a patent. Asked by Edward R. Murrow in 1955 who owned the patent, he answered, “Could you patent the sun?” Lawyers for the National Foundation for Infantile Paralysis had reviewed the question and concluded the vaccine was probably not patentable because of prior work. Charlie’s point holds: Salk sought no personal profit from it and was publicly content that it belonged to everyone.

Note — Mandela. Mandela was imprisoned for 27 years (1962–1990) and served as president from 1994 to 1999. Black South Africans made up about three-quarters of the population at the time, not ninety percent.

12. Scripture’s models: the early church and Zion

Leonard asked for scriptural examples of a system or a people, positive or negative. Isak asked what the early church did after Jesus ascended. Thomas said they pooled everything, and none among them lacked; “pure communism.” Leonard and Isak corrected him: it was not forced. It was freely given and received. Isak called it voluntaryism. Leonard said there must be a third option beyond communism and capitalism.

Leonard described a city before the Flood so righteous it was taken up to heaven. Thomas guessed “Salem” and asked whether it was in the Bible. Leonard said it was in his Bible. Susan said she found it hard to separate what is in the Bible from what is not; she knew Enoch was taken up. Thomas read a search result: the Old Testament does not describe a city taken up; the idea comes from the Latter-day Saint Book of Moses. Leonard objected to the word “providence”; Thomas clarified he had said “provenance,” the origin of the idea, and was not calling it false. Charlie read Genesis 4:17 (Cain’s son Enoch and the city named for him) and 5:24 (Enoch walked with God, and God took him), and noted that many scholars value the Book of Enoch.

Leonard explained why he raised it. A new kind of civilization is needed, rooted in changed hearts, a people of one heart and one mind, living in righteousness, with no poor among them. Scripture’s name for that is Zion, where heaven and earth are coupled and Christ can visit His people. He asked whether the group believed Christ will come again. Thomas said that is what Scripture says. Leonard said there must be a people prepared to receive Him, or, as he read Malachi, the earth would be utterly wasted at His coming.

Note — Enoch and Zion. Two Enochs appear in Genesis: Cain’s son, after whom Cain named a city (4:17), and Enoch of Seth’s line, who “walked with God” and was taken (5:24; Hebrews 11:5). The city taken into heaven is in the Latter-day Saint Book of Moses (Pearl of Great Price), chapter 7, which describes Zion as “of one heart and one mind,” dwelling “in righteousness,” with “no poor among them” (Moses 7:18), and later says Zion was “taken up into heaven” (7:21). Leonard’s three marks of Zion are quoted from that verse. The biblical parallels for “no poor” are Deuteronomy 15:4 and Acts 4:34. The Book of Enoch (1 Enoch) is quoted in Jude 14–15 but is canonical only in the Ethiopian Orthodox Church; it does not contain the account of a city taken up.

Note — Salem. Thomas’s guess was apt. Salem (from Hebrew shalem, “peace”) was Melchizedek’s city (Genesis 14:18), and Hebrews 7:2 interprets the name as “King of peace.”

Note — Malachi. Malachi 4:6 ends: “lest I come and smite the earth with a curse.” The wording “utterly wasted at his coming” is from the Latter-day Saint Doctrine and Covenants (2:3), which renders the same passage.

Note — the early church. Thomas called the early church “pure communism” and was corrected. His own book makes the same correction in Chapter 2: Peter’s words to Ananias, “While it remained, was it not thine own?” (Acts 5:4), show that the sharing was voluntary.

13. Can hearts change, and what may we promise?

Leonard said the essay asks whether we can change people’s hearts. Thomas disagreed: the question is whether hearts can change, not whether someone can change another’s. Leonard agreed. You cannot change another’s heart, but you can teach, and the Lord teaches those willing to open their hearts. Charlie restated the point: a city of Christ is possible through teaching and repentance. Thomas said that without that, there is no point to the discussion. Leonard said it has to happen, and we must turn to Him to make it happen. Susan agreed: we can change our hearts only to a limited degree; we must choose the Lord, and He changes us.

Leonard located the method in the Sermon on the Mount: living it toward our neighbors, not by force but by teaching and example. He gave the example of weeding a widowed neighbor’s garden unasked, with no committee. He mentioned small communities in Denmark and Australia that try to live that way, everyone caring for everyone. Isak called it beautiful.

Susan cautioned that the Sermon on the Mount, like the old covenant law, does not by itself change hearts. We can desire to live it and make some changes on our own power, but we need what John 1:12 describes: Christ gives the power to become sons of God. He waits for our willingness, and the new heart may come gradually as He sanctifies us.

Thomas raised the hard part, which he said is the subject of next week’s essay. How much can we count on a felt change of heart? He told of a couple who threw their marijuana into a fireplace; the room lit up with something supernatural. The wife never desired it again. The husband struggled with it from then on. Both were present and both wanted the change. So we do not get to wait for the feeling. We must do right even while desiring wrong. And when we witness, we cannot honestly promise that giving your heart to Jesus will remove every desire. We can promise that this is the right way, that you may be rewarded only in heaven, that some things may change and some may not, and that you will know the standard and help build a better world by acting rightly.

Susan agreed that people differ and that everyone struggles with something. But even those who still struggle report something new: a desire to obey God, His love, joy, and peace. She believes joy is promised, and where it is absent, something may be in the way, including evil spirits that need to be cast out. Thomas said that is a qualification, so the promise cannot be printed as an unconditional banner at a booth. Charlie asked what the banner could say. Susan said you can count on some change, recognizable to yourself and others. Charlie offered: “Get Jesus, you’ll be different.”

Leonard returned to the Sermon on the Mount. Every beatitude is relational: you must be merciful to someone, a peacemaker for someone. Christ was expanding the law of Moses, which the people had made into an idol even as its Giver stood before them. If people revile you, you pray for them. If everyone lived this, it would change the world. He noted that in the Book of Mormon Christ gave nearly the same sermon at Bountiful after His resurrection. He asked what comes after confessing Christ as Lord: there must be action. Susan said God then works in the heart and guides what comes next. Leonard said that knowing God sees our hearts would change our motives, and asked whether “the pure in heart shall see God” means literally seeing Him. His conclusion: let Christ change you; change means repentance and living the gospel.

Note — references. The beatitudes and “pray for them which despitefully use you” are Matthew 5:3–12 and 5:44. “The first shall be last” is Matthew 20:16. The Book of Mormon parallel Leonard described is 3 Nephi 12–14. Cohousing communities, in which neighbors share common facilities and care, began in Denmark in the late 1960s and early 1970s.

14. An aside: parents and children

Leonard raised recent cases of mothers killing their children and asked whether this is new or only more visible. Charlie mentioned the Clancy trial. Isak read figures: roughly 450 to 500 children are killed by their parents each year in the U.S., and roughly 300 to 500 parents by their children. Leonard called it demonic and evidence that we are not helping people see a better way.

Note — filicide data. Isak’s numbers are consistent with published research. A study of U.S. data from 1976 to 2007 (Mariano, Chan, and Myers, 2014) found an average of about 500 filicides a year. Because the level has been documented for decades, the evidence points more to greater awareness than to a new phenomenon.

15. What would moral capitalists actually do?

Thomas brought the group back to the practical question. Granting that morality must be put into the people who practice capitalism, what would they do differently? Leonard answered with Zion: one heart and one mind with the Lord, living in righteousness, and no poor among them. Those who have share with those who don’t, until all are, in a sense, equal. He then asked whether “equal” means equal in everything, or equal opportunity, and noted Scripture’s word “iniquity.” Charlie asked whether it shares a root with inequality. Leonard said it does. Thomas asked whether that is its real meaning, recalling the absurd amendment, and said iniquity usually means a dark heart. Isak read the etymology: Latin iniquitas, “not equal,” or “not just.”

Susan then told a story about Charlie. A woman taking care of her disabled daughter asked to see a lift walker. Charlie noticed ceiling tracks for a lift system she had bought but could not get to work. He figured it out, showed her how to use it, and told her she did not need the walker. It saved her money and cost him a sale. Charlie said he had no memory of it.

Thomas offered the other side of that transaction. The woman, having been served, could have paid Charlie for the service he did give. Time spent explaining and fixing is compensable. He gave two examples from his own life. He once offered money to door-to-door callers who had spent time explaining something he did not want; they refused. More recently, a circuit-board vendor John recommended did an exceptional, professional estimate for Ideomotion’s flexible circuits, but the price was far above what China could offer. Thomas told them he wanted to pay for their work. They declined: it was part of the business. Susan said both sides were acting in a Christ-like way. Leonard said they would go back to that vendor for production. He added that the welder he is working with in Springville is doing the same: reviewing the whole package and telling Leonard what information to add. Leonard suggested he might replace Victory Circle. Thomas raised the obligation to Victory Circle, which has sacrificed for them for decades. Charlie suggested that Leonard and a colleague might develop a product made entirely in Utah.

Commentary. The last half hour produced the most concrete answers to Thomas’s question: serving the customer even at the cost of a sale; compensating service received even without a purchase; repaying good work with future business; and weighing loyalty to a long-time supplier. These match the test in The Desire for Monopoly: would the neighbor feel loved by what we are doing in the market? They also show the two-sided character of a moral exchange. A just market needs moral sellers and moral buyers.

Note — iniquity. The English etymology Isak read is correct: Latin iniquitas, from in- (“not”) and aequus (“even, equal, fair”). But the biblical words translated “iniquity” do not mean economic inequality. The Hebrew avon means crookedness, perversity, or guilt; the Greek anomia means lawlessness. Thomas’s sense, a heart bent away from God’s law, is closer to Scripture’s meaning.

16. Where the discussion leaves the question

The group began by asking whether capitalism can be made moral and ended with a shared answer in three parts. First, capitalism is a mechanism, not a morality: it serves or exploits depending on who runs it. Second, every external remedy, from riparian law to antitrust to a government of good men, is necessary in its place but corruptible, because those who enforce it have the same hearts as those they restrain. Third, the lasting remedy is changed hearts, which no one can force on another, and which God gives unevenly in feeling but offers to everyone in choice.

What remained open was Thomas’s closing question: what, specifically, does a moral person do in the marketplace? The meeting produced the first entries on that list: serve the customer’s real need over the sale; pay for service received; reward good work with loyalty; refuse the government–industry bargain; and do right even while still wanting the wrong thing. The next essay takes up how much we can rely on a felt change of heart.

Part 2: The Discussion, Edited for Clarity

Claude edited this transcript for clarity: false starts, repetitions, and crosstalk were removed, sentences were completed, and passages were grouped by topic. Nothing was added to what the speakers said. Pre-meeting conversation is omitted.

Opening prayer

Thomas: Heavenly Father, we thank You for giving us another day to live, and for the opportunity to examine Your world, Your way, and Your word. We pray You give us insight and bless our time together. All these things we ask in Jesus’ name.

Did anybody read the essays?

Charlie: That girl over there did. [Susan] I worked late last night and just got up five minutes ago, if you can’t tell. I did see it.

The question: can capitalism be made moral?

Thomas: The real question the essay was asking is this: can capitalism be made moral? I figured this would be one where Michael would shine, so I’m really interested to hear Michael’s perspective on capitalism.

Michael: First, can it be made moral? That depends on what you define as moral. Every capitalist would say, “Of course it’s moral.” So it depends on who’s making the judgment.

What do I think of capitalism? It’s not a yes-or-no thing. There are serious advantages and serious disadvantages. The advantage is that it innately offers someone the opportunity to create. It’s billed as a big competition, but if you’re making something no one else is making, it lets you make better and better versions of it, and make money on it.

The disadvantage: look at most capitalist countries in the world today. In the Emirates, in Arabia, among the rulers in Latin America, one or a few families rule and own everything, and most of the people are desperately impoverished. I think of the Spanish conquistadors. Almost every impoverished nation in the world is that way because of capitalism: the disproportionate concentration of wealth in the hands of the people who rule. Is that moral? To the people who rule, sure.

Thomas: I know that’s true. I’m wondering whether it’s necessary. Does capitalism require that big disproportion, or is it just how things evolved?

Michael: The European nations, and in some ways the U.S. and China, demonstrate the answer. The U.S. is about one-third communist. A third of our GDP goes to things we support communally: the army, government, bridges, roads, national defense. So it’s not really capitalism. Two-thirds of the GDP runs that way. And if you look at the statistics, the vast majority of the country’s money is concentrated in the hands of the super-wealthy. But the social network we’ve created puts a limit on how poor our poorest people get. It’s the same in Europe, though it varies from country to country. They have government programs, non-capitalist programs, that prevent capitalism from doing what it does. You don’t see the levels of poverty that exist in much of Africa, Asia, and Latin America, where capitalism is unbounded by government help. There, people can starve to death. It happens.

Compare our capitalism with China’s. Ours is maybe two-thirds of the economy. China’s is the other way around, about one-third. You look at their cities and they have that whole capitalist thing going on. How much has varied over time, under Mao and his successors, going back and forth the way Democrats and Republicans do.

Now here’s an awkward question capitalists get, about Stalin. Stalin was one of the most vicious humans in history, though he has great competition for that title. Yes, he stopped Hitler, who was even worse; a heck of a choice. But the real question is this. In 1924 he inherits a country that was abysmally poor, Third World poor. By the time he dies thirty years later, in 1953, it’s one of the two superpowers of the world.

The temptation for anti-capitalists is to say, “See, communism took a nothing nation and made it one of the two great nations. Doesn’t that prove communism is right?” I say no. In my opinion, the real issue isn’t capitalism or communism or anything in between, or socialism, or Republicans or Democrats or libertarians. What makes a country succeed is the decisions made by those who have the power to operate the macroeconomy.

Stalin succeeded not because communism is good, but because he realized Russia had to stop being a plow-and-horse country and become a tractor country. He industrialized a highly populous country. That’s why they grew. He turned farmers pulling plows, not just into horses pulling them, but into tractors and a zillion other things.

Likewise, why do some capitalist countries succeed while others fail financially? It depends on what those who have the money do with it. If the money goes into more and more castles for the king, that won’t help the country much. If it goes into infrastructure and productive enterprises, a country can do well, whether it’s capitalist or communist. That’s my thought.

Thomas: Thank you. Anybody have comments or thoughts on what Michael said?

Defining terms

Leonard: Can we define terms? Capitalism.

Michael: Sure. I’ll take it straight off the web, so I don’t get into my own definition. Capitalism is an economic system characterized by private ownership of the means of production and the operation of business for profit. In this system, prices, production, and the distribution of goods are determined mainly by competition in a free market, rather than by central government planning.

That definition breaks down once you realize that capitalism also involves monopolies. They’re part of the capitalist method. You want to maximize profits. If you and two others own all the water, and people need water, you can make big capitalistic bucks by charging right up to the point where all their money is going to you, because you have private ownership of the water.

Thomas: What do you think of that, Leonard?

Leonard: I wish I could see where you got that.

Michael: I’ll paste it in the chat. It’s just one sentence anyway. Or Google your own; that’s just the first one that came up.

Leonard: Here’s another: “An economic system in which private actors own and control property in accord with their interests, and demand and supply freely set prices in markets in a way that can serve the best interests of society.” That’s the International Monetary Fund.

Michael: The IMF says that because they make money off it. The IMF has a vested interest.

Leonard: Did you use Wikipedia for yours?

Michael: No, I just Googled it, and that came up first.

Leonard: Here’s the Cambridge Dictionary: “An economic system based on private ownership of property and business, with the goal of making the greatest possible profits for the owners.”

Michael: “For the owners.” Good. That one differs from the IMF, which said “for the greatest good.” No, it’s for the owner. If you own the territory upstream on a river and want to make a profit, capitalism lets you dam the river and charge big prices to everyone downstream, because you own it and they need it. That’s capitalism, and it’s not for the betterment of everyone. That’s the IMF’s version, but your second definition, and mine, say it’s for profit.

Leonard: So we understand capitalism to be private ownership of the means of production, and also of property and business.

Michael: That’s part of it.

Leonard: It’s not owned by anything other than private owners, and those owners can do whatever they like with that property. They can sit on it, share it, sell it, do whatever they want. It’s always about profits. Okay. Now, communism. What’s communism?

Isak: Communism is a political and economic ideology that aims to create a classless society with common ownership of the means of production and the elimination of private property. That’s from Google.

Leonard: I have one that says communism is “a theoretical economic system characterized by the collective ownership of property and the organization of labor for the common advantage of all members.” That’s not true. That has never happened under anything called communism. Never. That’s why it’s still theoretical. There has never been collective ownership of property.

Michael: That depends on your interpretation.

Leonard: How would you interpret it?

Charlie: The reality of communism is that 150 to 200 million deaths resulted from it in the last hundred years. That’s a big reality.

Leonard: Why? Why did they cause so much destruction and death? If everyone collectively owned the property, why would they kill people? Are people considered property too?

Charlie: You have to break a few eggs if you want to make an omelet.

Leonard: So who owns you?

Michael: Hold on. You’re asking a lot of questions very rapid-fire.

Leonard: Well, you brought it up. When you compare capitalism historically with what’s called communism, it’s night and day. Capitalism has its flaws, especially the profit motive. But there’s always going to be some kind of motive. Under capitalism, people are selling something and people are buying it. If you’re going to sell something, you want a buyer. That’s basic economics. That doesn’t apply to communism. Communism is the opposite of that.

Why the question assumes capitalism is immoral

Charlie: I have a question, Dr. T. The title of your essay, “Can capitalism be made moral?”, assumes that it’s immoral. I’m curious about that.

Leonard: What’s immoral about capitalism? Why begin there?

Thomas: I grew up in the sixties alongside Michael Sherman. We went to People’s Park. In that era there was an aroma in the air, obvious among the sixties radicals, that the system wasn’t working: that it’s immoral, that people are being abused, that it’s simply unfair. In a way, the sixties were a rebellion against that unfairness. We were trying to find a utopia. We went out and made communes, and tried all kinds of alternatives to find something that worked better than capitalism.

Today we passed over it with a comment like, “Capitalism has deficiencies, like the profit motive.” But we didn’t really examine all the downsides. Michael mentioned poor countries and rich countries. I asked whether that’s necessary, and we haven’t determined whether it is, or whether some other factor causes it.

People use the word “inequality” as though it’s obviously immoral, as though if people aren’t equal, that’s evil, simply wrong. Then we have the capitalist–government alliance; we have captured capitalism. We have various perversions. We have the definition: capitalism is private ownership of property. What could be wrong with that? Then Michael says the problem is that it goes to monopoly, and monopolists charge exorbitant prices for things that would be cheaper in a competitive market. And the goal of every capitalist is to have a monopoly, because you want to charge as much as possible, which means overcoming your competition.

So all these forces act together. My sense, as a child of the sixties, is that something about capitalism is impersonal and just goes for its own, or there’s a structural problem with it, or it simply hasn’t been done right. Something is wrong with it. If so, the question is how it can be made moral. That’s where it came from.

Charlie: Could it also be that capitalism, also known as free enterprise, is neutral, and that it’s operated by people, some of whom are good and some evil? Could that be?

Thomas: That’s certainly the case, and it was the essence of what I wrote. Having acknowledged that some people are moral and some are not, and that you can practice capitalism evilly or well, how do you actually create a moral capitalism? What is the way of implementing capitalism that consciously moves it toward morality, as opposed to Adam Smith’s invisible hand just doing it? Or we say we need government, and then we have corruption in government and cartels between government and business, so that doesn’t work. What can we do to create a capitalist system, even one regulated by government, that consciously chooses morality?

Water, the commons, and “the communist infusion”

Charlie: Can I offer two suggestions? I’m sure you all have a big list. Michael brought up people upstream who dam the river and charge exorbitantly for water. There is a body of law, going back to the Bible, called riparian rights: the right of the people to common sources of water. Under a just legal system, which ours often is, there is recourse for injustice. People can sue and use the power of government to undo wrongs like damming the common source of water. That’s riparian, R-I-P-A-R-I-A-N. I forgot the other suggestion, but it’s on the same theme.

Michael: These things you’ve both described are the communist infusion into capitalism. We communally respect everyone’s need for water. Or land: some rich guy buys up all the beaches of California and doesn’t let anyone visit them. He says, “I’ve got the money; capitalism wins the day.” Then the community says, “We need the water. We know you’re maximizing your profits, which is the concept. But we’re going to do a little communism here. Everyone needs water and deserves to have it without spending all their money on you.”

We do that with our military and our fire departments. The rich guy says, “I can afford a fire department for my property; if you have a fire, figure it out yourself.” Our version of communism includes fire departments, police departments, roads, bridges, the railroad system. As I said, about a third of our GDP goes into that.

Who owns it? Who owns Yosemite, or any national park? No individual. The government might say we all own it, as U.S. territory reserved for people to visit. Or you could say no one really owns it. It depends on how you look at it. It’s the same with communism. Communists say you can’t own property; they’d also say we all own it. It’s like a beach that can’t be privately owned: anyone can play there. Are they co-owners? Call it what you want. If you and friends chip in to buy a boat, who owns it? None of you? All of you? Each of you a share? So when communists say “we all own it,” you can say, “No, you don’t own the beach,” or they can believe they do, the way a beachgoer says, “I can go there any time, as if I own it.” It becomes a semantic distinction. Either way, it’s a communal approach.

The 1960s, Hitler, and whether systems kill

Michael: About the right and wrong that Tom started with in the sixties: I think of Martin Luther King being shot for trying to sit at a whites-only counter, for trying to have equality for Black people. A lot of injustice was addressed. Women’s rights: there was the old line about 59 cents on the dollar, same job, the woman gets 59 cents and the man gets a dollar. The Vietnam War was a big thing. We lost 58,000, but we killed about a million of them. So I guess the capitalists won by killing a million when they lost only 58,000, and then we left Vietnam to the Vietnamese. Imagine that.

Is that capitalist? If you’re capitalist internationally, I guess it is. Hitler was the ultimate anti-communist. He really wanted to kill all communists. During the invasion of Russia, unlike in his European conquests, they would just burn down towns, because communism is evil.

Charlie: Michael, are you saying Hitler was the ultimate capitalist?

Michael: I’m saying he was the ultimate anti-communist, and his government was capitalist. It was the National Socialist party, which means people contributed to the national fund, just like in the U.S. But it was capitalism. They didn’t attempt equal distribution of wealth the way the Soviets did. There were factory owners and factory workers, capitalist-style, like Schindler in Schindler’s List. Not some central communal party.

Charlie: Forced labor. Forced labor.

Michael: I think of the capitalist Union of South Africa, which not only had forced labor but kept it on a racial basis. There it was forced by economic circumstance. In Germany, yes, there was forced labor against the Jews and the others they targeted, the Russians, anyone not white. There was that racial element. But who works in industry? There was job mobility: you work in one factory and get a job in another. That’s capitalism. It’s called National Socialist because a bigger portion of GDP than the U.S.’s 30 percent went into national expenditures. That’s true of every country in Europe. The truly capitalist countries, mostly, are where it all goes to the king and occasionally a little goes to the people.

As for deaths: that’s the premise I started with about what makes a country succeed. Stalin’s communism didn’t make Russia succeed; he correctly saw that they needed to industrialize. Economic decisions are a separate issue from whether you’re communist or capitalist. Capitalist countries can make good or bad decisions, usually not by a central government but by whoever runs the economy. That’s why some capitalist countries have done great and others haven’t, depending on what they build and the decisions they make.

The same goes for deaths. The biggest communist country in Europe is probably Sweden. It has been socialist since 1932, with elections where the parties are a little more or a little less socialist. They haven’t done any killing. They haven’t fought any wars; they’re traditionally neutral. Killing is an option for either communism or capitalism. Who are the biggest killers in the capitalist world recently? The Nazis come to mind. There were horrifying slaughters in Malaysia, mainly of people rioting because they were starving. The African countries are total capitalism. Most killings these days are in capitalist countries, but I’m not saying it’s because they’re capitalist. As I said, it’s the decision of the leader, regardless of the underlying economic philosophy. Totally separate issues.

The U.S. didn’t have to kill Martin Luther King. That wasn’t a capitalist decision. Well, in one sense it was: the white people in power who had the money knew that keeping Black people down kept money in their pockets. Using race to keep more money for yourself could be viewed as capitalist.

To bring in Tom’s question of morals: Charlie, you mentioned riparian rights. Quite a move, conceptually. We need water. We’d like to not be killing people because they’re Black. That’s the communal effort, where people get together and say no. I visited some communes when I traveled around, and they had that idea that we all own this, everybody chips in. There’s the Woody Allen film where the dad finally gets some land and holds up a handful of dirt. Not everybody needs to hold up dirt and say it’s mine. I feel the same way you do at the beach: I won’t be kicked off the beach, whether or not you think I own it or co-own it. I’m okay to be there.

Fairness, voluntaryism, and rights

Thomas: So, having examined the edges of it, do we have any ideas of how to make capitalism moral?

Leonard: Can you describe a scenario where capitalism is moral? I’m asking. I think we’re conflating morality with fairness. Nothing’s fair. Nothing in this world is fair. When my kids came to me saying, “It’s not fair,” I told them the world isn’t fair. You have to pick yourself up and do what you can to get what you can. That’s really what it comes down to, and it’s probably the best approach to economics out there, because anything controlled by government is controlled by men. That’s just the way it is. They have their own agendas and their own methods, and that’s what we’ve always had.

We’ve never had a true capitalist society. In my opinion, true capitalists would be market-driven. They would strive to make what they have available to others at a market rate. Sure, they make a profit, but it also provides for people so they can thrive. So this whole debate comparing communism and capitalism historically isn’t fair or real, because there’s never been a real communist group. Whenever it’s tried, it’s always failed. Always. And the communists say, “It’s because they didn’t do it right. We’ll do it right this time.” There was a man who said that doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome is—

Michael: Einstein’s definition.

Leonard: —of insanity. So are we insane even to consider that capitalism can be moral? Only a moral people can live in a capitalist society, or any society, and make it fair. In a communist society, morality is thrown out the window because of how it’s implemented: by force of government. That’s it.

Charlie and I talked about this a long time ago: voluntaryism. That’s really where we need to head: to volunteer and contribute voluntarily. Not the IRS’s style of “voluntary.”

Charlie: That website still exists, you know.

Isak: We were just talking about this. There was a kids’ book we read, Princess Navina Visits Voluntaria. I can’t remember which author; not Tom Paine. Princess Navina visits a land where everything is voluntary, where everybody participates at a volunteer level. If somebody commits a crime, he’s punished, and part of it is that his name is put in the newspapers, like the DUI rules in Australia where they put it on the front page. Crime and punishment is very different there. That’s actually the part I didn’t fully get. But yes, voluntaryism. Where do your thoughts go, Leonard?

Leonard: Charlie came up with a huge list of rights.

Charlie: From the Bible.

Leonard: Just from the Bible. How many was it? Over 90?

Charlie: Yes, 95 or so, last I counted.

Leonard: So where do your rights end and mine begin?

Charlie: Right here.

Leonard: Right at the tip of my nose. You cannot mess with this. I know it’s kind of prominent, but that’s as far as you can go, and as far as I can go with you. If I infringe on your right to exist or to do anything, then we have a problem. Which economic system, which government system, applies that best? I don’t know if any is perfect, but which is better?

Michael: That’s like asking whether you can yell “fire” in a crowded theater. I have the right to free speech. On the other hand, these people are trying to watch the show without panicking.

Leonard: If there was a fire, sure.

Charlie: If there’s not, sit down.

Leonard: If you’re lying, not good. That’s not free speech.

Michael: That is free speech.

Leonard: It’s not, because you’re infringing on other people’s rights.

Charlie: Freedom and rights are very different things.

Leonard: Very different.

Cut and choose, and the first government

Michael: Leonard asked a question that Charlie and Tom answered, about how you make a government moral. Charlie said the riparian principle may impinge on the capitalist idea if everyone is dying of thirst. Tom said that in the sixties there was an upsurge against a lot of unfairness: not just Martin Luther King, but the assassinations and the Vietnam War. Pollution finally got addressed: lead in the air. We passed laws against lead in gasoline, just in time. When there’s a communal need that won’t be addressed by, say, lead-producing gas companies, the whole community gets up and says, “No, not a thing.”

Then there’s how you make things fair. There’s a traditional parent’s answer. You have one piece of pizza and two kids, and of course both want the whole piece, or want to decide how it’s divided. The trick is: one of you cuts it in two, and the other picks which half he gets. That’s a pretty fair system, because the one cutting knows the other will take whichever is bigger, so he’ll make them exactly equal, to the millimeter if possible. That’s one version of fair. We can’t do that with whole governments, but the idea is that you find a way.

Now, what’s moral? Riparian rights are a stark example. Killing Black people in the South is stark. But each moral question is a whole topic worthy of debate.

The force of a government on someone in a non-capitalist system is very much like the force of an individual on someone in a capitalist system. Either way, there will be forceful people trying to pin things on you. That’s written into the human community. The question is whether it’s an individual, a mafia boss who says, “I make all the rules and kill whom I want, because it’s capitalism and no government stops me; I have superior weapons; game over,” like Sicily, or whether people band together.

I picture the first government in some tribe of humans. Oog rules the roost because he’s the biggest. The next two biggest say, “That guy is such a brute. He takes everything from everyone. If we work together, we can stop him.” First government ever. For the sake of the tribe, two of them can do it, though neither can alone. That was when there were eight people in the tribe. Now we have 300 million. Same idea, though: people gather together to keep one person from running the coop.

Leonard: Is there anything in Scripture that helps us?

Michael: There are all those rights Charlie mentioned, 95 of them. That’s a lot.

Leonard: Those are rights. But what about the preservation of those rights?

Michael: That would take a government. Or—

Leonard: Or a really nice .45.

Salk, Talarico, and Mandela

Charlie: I remember the other thing I forgot to tell you. One of my heroes is Jonas Salk, the scientist who created the polio vaccine. He realized its incredible value. He also realized he could have become owner of the world by producing and selling it. But he renounced the patents. He gave it freely to the whole world to reproduce, to cure this terrible disease. As Leonard said before about voluntaryism, Salk voluntarily renounced personal gain to benefit his fellow humans. I love that. That’s one solution to the dark side of the practice of capitalism.

Michael: That’s like a quote I wrote down this week to tell you: “Show me how you treat other people, and I’ll tell you what you believe.” That was James Talarico. That’s the Christian idea.

Charlie: That’s a nice campaign ad.

Michael: But he said it in a conversation about morals, a long forum where people at a roundtable shared different ideas. Sometimes politicians say things with philosophical reverberations.

Charlie: Yes, but what do they do?

Michael: Exactly. Do they follow it with action, or is it just fluff? Take Mandela. I think it’s one of the most powerful sentences I’ve heard a politician utter. He spent thirty years in an unspeakably horrible prison, and then, as South Africa loosens apartheid, he’s made president, with 90 percent of the people Black. After those thirty years, what’s he going to say? He says, “We must have forgiveness.” That’s not just turning the other cheek; it’s next level. I hold forgiveness for everything, because a grudge is dead weight you carry. But I don’t know if I could say it after thirty years. He did.

Leonard: Whom was he referring to?

Michael: All of us in the nation. It’s like what you were saying about Salk. I care about the whole. They are not just my brethren; they are of me. If I’m made happy at his expense, I’m not happy about it. It doesn’t even rank as happiness if it came because someone else didn’t get it. It’s the whole idea that we’re all connected. I feel my fellow humans as part of me. I feel their pain in tragedy and their joy at something great. It’s a beautiful thing.

Three regulators and an absolute standard

Thomas: Perhaps what we’re talking about is a general rule-based principle. We have capitalism, which is an unthinking principle of how people interact. And we say, you can do some bad things in the name of this unthinking thing we do to create profits, so we need to regulate ourselves.

There are two possible regulators. One is the person himself: we regulate internally and say, “We’re not going to do that bad thing.” The other is the big thumb: the government says, “If you don’t do this, we’ll take your money and your freedom away.” So capitalism, which has no morals, which isn’t moral or immoral but is just a way of interacting, can be regulated in two ways: individuals internally, or the government. There’s also a third way: the local environment around the person.

So if we have a sense of what is actually moral, the solution is this: the government operating according to a sense of morals that is absolute; the people around the person operating according to absolute morals; and the person internally operating according to absolute morals. That’s abstract, not specific enough to implement. But it’s the only real direction we have if the mandate is a moral capitalism, which I take as a given.

We have enough data. Purely letting everybody own everything in common doesn’t work. Look at Jamestown, or any purely communist society: there’s no motivation to do anything. And capitalism says, “We want to own everything, and we’ll do whatever we can to get it.” We’ll subject Uganda, Liberia, and Zimbabwe to get their minerals and pay them pennies, bring all the resources here, and do great. That kind of unregulated capitalism produces significant inequality that doesn’t produce happiness for the greatest number. We have people who are not enjoying life because of the situation they’re in.

So I see capitalism as a workable system. It just needs to be regulated by an absolute standard. The question is how to do that: first, the judgment, and second, the regulation. That’s my proposal for how to make it work.

Michael: So it comes down to government. When you say “Thou shalt not kill,” capitalism says anything goes. It’s very capitalistic to kill your competitor: you get to keep his products and machinery, because he’s dead. Utter capitalism is basically rulelessness.

Thomas: You’re muted, Charlie.

Charlie: Michael, are you saying plunder is the ultimate capitalism?

Michael: Not the ultimate. One of many tools, unless we have a government to say it’s illegal. What’s to stop one from just killing the other guy? It’s historically been used a lot.

Thomas: You’re correct. It is one of the tools, and we rule it out because of what I called moral principles.

Arms, deterrence, and who holds the power

Charlie: If every man is armed, plunder doesn’t happen very much.

Michael: I think it happens more with people armed. It’s easier to kill you. If people weren’t armed, killing would take a long time, don’t you think?

Leonard: Read John Lott’s book.

Michael: Lot? Give me the theme.

Leonard: More Guns, Less Crime. No one has been able to refute what he wrote in that book.

Michael: I have a friend who works for the UN. He goes around the world to places with horrifying warfare. The rivers of bodies that went down in Rwanda—

Leonard: They were disarmed. The people were disarmed. They were sitting ducks. They just went in and massacred them; it was like shooting ducks in a barrel. Even the Jews under the Nazis disarmed themselves. That’s why they were so easily controlled, put into a ghetto, and then systematically gathered up and exterminated. Six million of them; that’s the figure they say, but I don’t know if that’s true. If they hadn’t given up their arms—

Venezuela is a good, recent example. When Hugo Chávez got in, they took the private firearms away from the people and made it illegal to have one. So most people gave up their means to defend themselves against bad people, and against a government that ended up being the bad people.

Michael: What kind of weapons would the Jews have needed to overcome Nazi Germany?

Leonard: Anything. Anything that could put a bullet in a head. It’s really that simple. Lott makes the point. He goes through all those scenarios and says that if they hadn’t done this, the outcome would have been different, because more guns on both sides make a polite society. You don’t mess around with people, because you know what happens if you do.

Isak: What does this mean when America, or a group, says—and there’s a lot of complexity with Iran—that Iran can’t have the big gun because they’re going to destroy someone with it? Not politically, just as an example: that’s the bigger version of a group saying, “We have the guns and you don’t.”

Leonard: There’s a pretty good reason for that one. Are you saying they should have it?

Isak: No. I’m saying—

Leonard: Nuclear weapons, weapons of mass destruction, are a whole different thing. I’m talking about personal rights, our ability to defend ourselves and our rights. Not some rogue country that wants a nuclear weapon so it can destroy a country it has always hated, and keeps saying so over and over.

Michael: The U.S. says it too. Trump has now twice said he’s going to annihilate them, wipe out the civilization. According to Lott’s theory, the only defense is weapons. Before, they were on a kind of peace-treaty track; now the U.S. has effectively told them they need new weapons because we’re threatening them. I think Iran is using Lott’s theory. Weapons are the way. Thank you, Lott. Thank you, U.S.

Leonard: That’s misapplying what John Lott was stating in his book.

Michael: It’s a way to survive.

Leonard: You’ve got to read his book.

Michael: Well, I haven’t. Okay, I have to go. It’s always a joy.

Thomas: Thanks for coming, Michael. Always good to see you.

[Michael left the meeting.]

Isak: My point at the end of that was this. Whether it’s a bomb or a gun, a country or two individuals, do we do better when we have to outsource defense to another army or country, or is it better to have the weapons to defend yourself? I was actually leaning toward Leonard’s side. But it’s a big question.

Going back to capitalism and communism, it’s really about who holds the gun, who holds the power. If Iran weren’t the way it is and weren’t saying the things it says, at least the things I’m told it says in this country—I don’t feel comfortable with them having a nuke or a gun, in the same way that I look at pharmaceutical companies and say, “I don’t like that you have the most money and the most power over Congress.”

I think of Samuel going out and finding David because the people said, “We want a king, like all the other nations have.” I’m paraphrasing. God had given them judges, and they said, “These judges are corrupt; we want a king.” God said okay, and had Samuel go find David. That’s kind of what we’re doing with communism. We want a centralized thing to take care of us. How is capitalism different? It also seems to land there. It’s still a government. It’s not voluntaryism. It’s capitalist taxation or socialist taxation to take care of the roads.

Functionally, is that okay if we have the right people in charge? If the person you trust most in the world were leader of a socialist democratic United States, or a capitalist democratic United States, would that be enough, if it were actually somebody good, chosen by God or by the people? Or is there too much confusion in between? That was very convoluted. I’m sorry.

Thomas: On the question of nukes: it’s the same as having a gun. We’re not invading North Korea because they have them. If we thought Iran had one, we wouldn’t invade Iran. So it’s very much true. The real question is whether you’re a moral gun owner. It’s not an issue of having guns.

I’m not sure John Lott is the one saying it, but it sounds like he is. If he’s saying peace comes because everybody is armed, I think that’s absolutely true. If you know that the house full of Jews you’re going to break into is armed, you’ll bring an entire militia to take it. And when you do, the whole neighborhood knows you’re coming, and they get their guns, and now an army is coming against your militia. So the militia says, “We’re not going into the ghetto. We’re not taking any Jews to any camps. We’ll just let them be.” To ignore that concept is simply to ignore that force meets force. Nobody does anything if force is equal. So that’s not a point of debate.

What’s more debatable is this: given that both of us are moral, which is a large assumption, how do we operate? What rules do we agree to operate by? Morality may not be granular enough in this particular arena. Maybe what we’re missing is granular law in the arena of capitalism.

The place where capitalism seems most obviously flawed is the government–industry cartel, when the two team up: “We’ll slip you a few bucks if you give us this law.” That’s where morality is corrupted. It seems to be bought at that intersection.

Self and neighbor: the oxygen mask

Isak: I have a question. I think that’s right. But is there an earlier stage where the morality is? I don’t know where I stand on this yet. The Christ-like morality of loving others as yourself: does that mean self comes first? In a capitalist nation, you put on your own oxygen mask before your child’s. You take care of yourself before the other. Is the problem with capitalism that it’s a dog-eat-dog world and we feel we have to take care of ourselves and our families first? Or, assuming we share the same morality, which is a big assumption, would we each treat the other as more important? Would we do this economy, this government, for the sake of people other than ourselves? That doesn’t seem to be the mindset. Politicians say it aloud, but it’s not really about serving the people. It’s about serving their people, whoever gives them the most money. So that fits with where you said it breaks. But I’m wondering.

The law of contracts

Charlie: There’s a very natural aspect that keeps the world going. There are still people; we’re producing things and making exchanges. By 2026, from the days of Adam and Eve until now, it has become clearly defined in what we generally call the law of contracts. We make exchanges. If an exchange isn’t fair, if one person refuses to make a fair contract, people don’t deal with him, and he has to rethink the terms of his offer.

I happened to study this a day or two ago. I don’t know if I’ve told you, but my legal rejection of the Social Security number is based on the fact that a child is incompetent to make a contract. That’s one of the basics. If a child does make a contract, it’s voidable because he’s a minor.

The essentials of a contract are mutual assent, that is, an offer and an acceptance; consideration, something of value gained and exchanged; and capacity. Capacity is what I was talking about: it has to be an adult of sound mind. A minor’s contract is iffy and very voidable. If you try to make a bargain with a person of feeble mind, the court probably won’t enforce it if it’s unfair to him. Corporations and other entities must act through agents. And the purpose has to be legal. You can’t make a contract on another person’s life.

This comes down to us most recently from the common law, which is just what sensible people do in the absence of a governing authority. Something like the law of contracts is what makes the world function. Even plunderers, when they think most clearly, realize it will only work long term if they make the conquered part of their nation and exact taxes in a reasonable exchange for protection. People can take a lot of tyranny if they’re paying for something of value. That’s my two cents on one way capitalism works in the world, and still works.

Thomas: Interesting that one of the last points you made was that a contract has to be legal. That should actually be translated: it has to be moral.

Charlie: That’s true. I agree.

Thomas: That’s really what we’re talking about: having people act in a way that’s moral. The example I used was the government–industry cartel. The two form an alliance to protect each other: “We’ll give you money and keep you elected. I’ll give you laws that keep you making lots of money, so you can send it to me.” That’s a cartel of mutual benefit.

Isak, your point was: who’s more important, the other person or me? If we look at the Great Commandment, there was no distinction. Neither was better than the other. The only reason the adult gets the oxygen mask first is that if the adult passes out, the child can’t say, “Good, I’ve got it now; I’ll handle the situation, since Mommy didn’t take care of herself first.” It had nothing to do with being selfish. It had to do with being the more competent party, the one able to do what needed to be done.

Isak: In that example, it’s a mother who cares for her child so much that she’ll do the right thing and take care of him. In another situation, the mother doesn’t care about the other passengers, or is concerned only about herself. As soon as her mask is on, she’s thinking about whom she’s going to call, not about anybody around her. Those are the comparative examples. Yes, because you love the people around you, you take care of yourself so you can take care of the tribe. That makes absolute sense.

So the difference is a matter of responsibility, not of who has more value. Who has more value? Everyone, equally. Maybe that’s where you find fairness in the universe: we’re created equal. I don’t know if that continues after birth. I think God sees everybody as equal. But we can’t treat that as meaning everybody makes the same amount of money, or that some should be cared for by the state and some shouldn’t.

Fair is not equal

Thomas: You brought up an important point. Leonard made the absolute declaration that the world isn’t fair, that there’s no fairness. I don’t think that’s an accurate characterization, as though the world can’t be fair. A more reasonable approach is to look at one person’s environment compared with another’s.

You can say, “It’s not fair that Mom got the oxygen mask first,” but we just looked at that differently. Or: “It’s not fair. This person was born with a silver spoon. He was born to royalty, to rich parents, with more intelligence, with lots of open land.” Whatever the reason, it’s definitely not equal. The question is what the word “fair” means. We should look it up, but I’ll make up a definition: in some way, you got taken care of, and we got taken care of.

Take the Prince of Wales and Tiny Tim. Is it fair that one has a castle with turkeys and servants, while Tiny Tim, on a crutch, is starving, with no turkey? It’s certainly not equal. We need to distinguish “equal” from “fair.”

There was a movie I saw as a kid. They had just passed some numbered amendment to the Constitution saying everybody is equal. So they put handicaps on the police, large sandbags, so that when they tried to shoot criminals, the bags moved around and they couldn’t shoot straight. That gave the criminals a fair chance, because everybody was equal. So equality of ability and wealth is simply not reality; I’ll put that as an axiom.

The real question is what can be made fair in terms of rights. Charlie mentioned 95 different rights. Let’s put them all in one realm: we have the right to try from where we are. We have what we have, and we have a right to try. Nobody has a right to come along and push you down from trying. I think something in this realm of fairness is actually the solution.

We can look at the government–industry cartel and say, “That’s not fair,” or we can say, “That’s immoral.” Immoral is another layer on top of unfair. Not only is it unfair; God has given a command, such as not bearing false witness. I don’t know if there’s a commandment that fits exactly, but there’s case law. We can look at the Bible’s many examples of how we should behave, a little more and a little more, until we can see it.

The question is how we make a truly moral society. I think fairness and morality are the two things we’re conflating. We say, “That’s not fair,” but what we’re really saying is, “That’s not moral. God is not happy.”

My idea of how we treat each other, the marriage example, is the perfect picture. We treat each other well because God is experiencing, through the other person, what we do to him. So it’s moral in the sense that both people are experiencing God. That may be the final word on this, and I think it’s where we’re going. Each of us is saying, “You are God experiencing the world through you, and I am God experiencing the world through me. How can both of us get the maximum satisfaction, given our histories?”

Say I was born in the Bowery and you were born in Windsor Castle. We don’t say, “That’s not fair, so to make it fair we’ll both spend equal time in the Bowery and equal time in Windsor Castle.” I don’t think that’s the kind of solution we’re after. We’re going toward a solution where each says, “I was born here; that’s my starting point, and I develop from there.” We do the best we can on the track from where we started. Each of us has an initiation point and a track. We meet at a certain place, and each says, “I am who I am, starting from this; you are who you are, starting from that. We’ll make a fair exchange in which both of us have the morality we want to experience in that situation.”

Isak: I think of the scene with Jesus—what does He say? It escaped me. It’ll come back.

The heart decides

Thomas: Did you have a thought, Susan?

Susan: My only thought so far is this. My perspective is that God has sent us into this world in situations that are not equal. But He has given each of us a contribution to make. We all have some light, some truth, some understanding that He gives us, some that we seem to be born with and some as we seek it. And we can seek Him and get a new heart, and take that new heart and live a life that benefits other people, and at the same time benefits ourselves, because God blesses us when we act morally.

I feel that all these systems, including capitalism, bring drastically different results when you have people who have received a new heart from God. It wouldn’t even look the same. If you had a society of people with new hearts, their capitalism would be very different from the capitalism of people who still have bad hearts. You made that point in your essay: it all comes down to the person’s heart. I think it does. If you had a people living under communism, and they all came to Christ and experienced new hearts, their experience there would be beautiful.

Charlie: It would change everything.

Susan: It would change everything. The deciding factor is the human heart: have people received a changed heart from God?

Isak: What I was going to say before also comes to mind: the first shall be last, and the last shall be first. The things we spend our time on in this world—”I’m going to be the greatest, the best”—maybe affect the people around you, but they don’t carry as much weight as what’s actually happening inside you. In God’s eyes, it’s about your heart. You might not be the wealthiest or most powerful; you might be considered a fool. That has no weight in God’s eyes, in who you are to Him. In today’s culture we look up to celebrities, rich people, and politicians, or in some cases we look down on them for what they are. The reality is that we have no idea. It’s about what’s in the heart. To what you’re saying, Mom, that’s what will change whatever political or economic system we have: what’s happening in the hearts of the people leading it and taking part in it.

Thomas: That confirms my suspicion that this is the direction we need to go to sanctify capitalism. The question it begs is: everybody should have a good heart, so how do we actually implement a system where everybody has a good heart?

Leonard: I know. Let’s take away their guns. Make really stringent laws, throw a bunch of people in jail for disobeying them, and allow everybody a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk a week. How’s that?

See, it has nothing to do with capitalism, communism, blah, blah, blah. That’s what communism does; that’s what they wanted to do. Capitalism is about providing capital. That’s why it’s called capitalism. Right now there are two main philosophies of it. One is Hayek’s—

Thomas: Von Mises? Friedman? Adam Smith?

Leonard: No. There are two philosophies of capitalism. Hayek, and the modern one—

Thomas: Keynes.

Leonard: Keynes. We’ve decided to go with the Keynesian approach, the whole debt approach. Debt is the capital right now. Hayek would use the resources of the society, of the country, to leverage. So there were different philosophies of how to do it. But it doesn’t matter. Either one can be run with ill intent. It comes down to this: any economic system, whether capitalism, communism, or socialism, is just an ism. It’s the people. The people have to be moral. If they’re not moral, if they’re not looking out for each other, the system can be corrupted, and that’s what happens. That’s what Michael was talking about. He always looks at the corruption.

Isak: The corruptibility.

Scripture’s models: the early church and the city of Enoch

Leonard: Do we have any examples in Scripture of a system and a people, positive or negative, and their outcome?

Isak: What did the early church do after Jesus went away?

Thomas: They put everything together, and there was none among them who was hungry. So we had a pure communist system then.

Leonard: It wasn’t communism. It wasn’t forced.

Isak: Voluntaryism.

Leonard: It was freely given and received. It wasn’t communism in the way Marx defines it. So there must be a third option, right?

Thomas: Voluntaryism.

Leonard: There was a city in Old Testament times, before the Flood, that became so righteous it was taken up into heaven.

Thomas: Salem?

Leonard: It was the city of Enoch.

Thomas: This must be a Mormon thing. I don’t remember it in the Bible. Is it a Bible thing, Susan?

Leonard: Yes.

Susan: It’s hard for me to separate what’s in the Bible from what’s not on this one. I know Enoch was taken up.

Thomas: I’ve never heard of a city being taken up.

Susan: Where in the Bible is that?

Leonard: In the Old Testament, somewhere in Genesis. If you want to look it up, you can. But that’s what happened. Enoch convinced a whole city to live morally and righteously, where they were of one heart and one mind. They lived in righteousness, and there were no poor among them, because they shared everything. It’s the antithesis of what we expect in a communist, socialist, or capitalist society.

Thomas: I have an answer here. Let me finish; it’s only a sentence. “No, the Old Testament does not describe an entire city being taken up into heaven. That idea comes from Latter-day Saint scripture, specifically the Book of Moses in the Pearl of Great Price, where the city of Zion is said to have been taken up into heaven.”

Leonard: My Bible has that.

Thomas: Okay. I was just getting the provenance of it. Where did the idea come from?

Leonard: See, that’s where it comes down to: providence.

Thomas: I didn’t say providence. I said provenance: the origin of the concept. I’m not saying it’s false. I was unfamiliar with it; I didn’t even know the concept existed, so I asked where it came from.

Leonard: Where did you come up with Salem?

Thomas: I just made it up because you said it happened.

Leonard: You actually said Salem, though.

Thomas: I did, because it means a city of peace.

Leonard: There you go. Perfect. I like that.

Charlie: Let me add something. Among Bible scholars, the Book of Enoch is a big thing; many of them think it’s very valid and true. In Genesis 4:17 we have: “And Cain knew his wife; and she conceived, and bare Enoch: and he builded a city, and called the name of the city, after the name of his son, Enoch.” Then in Genesis 5:24: “And Enoch walked with God: and he was not; for God took him.” That’s all we have in the King James Bible. But a lot of people out there, not just Mormons, talk about this idea and expand on it.

Leonard: The reason I brought it up is that it has to be a new type of civilization, something that comes from the heart, just as Susan and everyone has been saying. We have to change our hearts as a people, as a civilization, to be able to live in peace, have no poor among us, and be of one heart and one mind. There’s a word in Scripture for that: Zion. Zion is when what comes down from heaven is like heaven, a coupling between heaven and earth, where Christ Himself can come and visit His people. That’s what He’s striving for, and hopefully what He’s attempting in these last days before He comes again. Do we all believe He’s coming again?

Thomas: That’s what Scripture says, so we go with Scripture.

Leonard: Great. Then there has to be preparation for that. There has to be a people to receive Him. If not, as Malachi says, the earth will be utterly wasted at His coming. So that’s what we need to try to do. And I think that’s what you’re asking in this essay: can we change people’s hearts?

Can hearts change?

Thomas: No, I don’t think that’s the question. The question is whether hearts can change, not whether somebody can do it to you. They can’t.

Leonard: I’m glad you clarified that. That’s absolutely true. You cannot change other people’s hearts. But you can help them understand, and teach. The Lord can teach us if we are willing to open our hearts and not have hard hearts. There’s a lot in the Book of Mormon about hard hearts, hardened hearts, and some in the New Testament, though not a lot.

Charlie: The point was that a city of Christ is possible through teaching and repentance.

Thomas: That was the point. Otherwise there’s no point in this discussion, no point in pursuing it, if it can’t be done.

Leonard: It has to happen. And we have to turn to Him to make it happen. We can’t do it ourselves.

Thomas: Susan.

Susan: That’s the point I wanted to make, what Leonard just said. We can change our hearts to a limited degree, but not enough. We really have to turn to the Lord and choose Him. Leonard likes to point out that we have to make a choice, and I agree. He can change us. He can change our hearts.

Leonard: You have to be willing.

Susan: You have to be willing, exactly.

Living the Sermon on the Mount

Leonard: You know where He talks about all of this? The Sermon on the Mount. That’s how we can change ourselves, and eventually how a people can change itself.

Thomas: Explain the Sermon on the Mount connection.

Leonard: By living the Sermon on the Mount. By applying it to ourselves and our neighbors and everyone. It wouldn’t be forced; it would just be taught and lived. If I’m willing to go over my fence and weed my neighbor’s garden, that’s part of it. That’s a new civilization: giving your time and effort to help someone else, like my widowed neighbor. I weed her garden without being asked. There’s no committee saying, “We’re going to go do this.” I just do it.

I know there are a few micro-communities, one in Denmark, I think, and another in Australia, that have tried to create this kind of community, where you just do things for each other without asking, without petitioning. You see it, and you do it. How amazing would it be to live in a community where you take care of everybody and everybody takes care of you, and you can rely on it? It’s so far beyond our understanding, I don’t think we can really conceive of it.

Isak: It’s beautiful, though. Your responsibility to God and the people around you, just out of the desire to make their lives better and easier, to make their young lives better.

Leonard: Don’t you think God would see those actions? What do you think He would do with those people?

Thomas: Susan.

Susan: Instead of answering Leonard’s question right now, I want to address what he said about living the Sermon on the Mount. I think that’s a lovely idea. I just want to point out that it’s like the old covenant. What was wrong with the old covenant? We had the law, but the law itself didn’t change the hearts of the people whose hearts were already wrong. I’d say the Sermon on the Mount is the same. It doesn’t change people’s hearts by itself. That’s something Christ can do.

We can look at the Sermon on the Mount and desire to live that way. But if we don’t say, “I can’t do this on my own power,” if we stay cut off from God in Christ—”Jesus was a good teacher,” but we don’t take Him as Lord and say, “I’m going to follow You”—we won’t have the power to live the Sermon on the Mount fully. We can make some changes in our lives, to a limited extent. But we really need what John chapter 1 says: He gives us the power to become the sons of God. We need that gift from Him.

He’s waiting for us to be willing, to say, “This is what I want; I choose You as Lord.” And He gives us a new heart. That might be gradual. I don’t know exactly how it works. It doesn’t seem that all of a sudden you have a perfect heart. It seems gradual, as He sanctifies us. But it’s a distinction we need to consider carefully. It’s not something we can completely do by our own power. We can ask God for it and desire it, but He changes us.

What we can honestly promise

Thomas: This is for next week, and I was actually writing about this exact concept. The question for me is how much we can depend on that actually happening. I know we’re pursuing it, trying for it, doing all we can. But how much can we count on our hearts actually changing on a felt level? I think that’s where we live: “I just want to do this,” and the desire, the wind at your back. Some people seem to get it; they have that gift.

I’ve told the story of the couple who threw their marijuana into the fireplace. The whole room lit up. It wasn’t just a fire or a flash; something supernatural happened. When it happened, the wife’s desire was completely gone. It was never an issue again. The husband struggled with it from then on. Both of them had the same experience, being present, desiring the change, wanting it. One was changed, and one struggled.

That’s not prototypical, but it’s an example of the level of grace we’re given in the felt experience. What it means to me is that we don’t get to do the thing we want just because we haven’t stopped wanting it. We have to do the right thing even though we desire the wrong thing. Some people just don’t desire it anymore, and other people do.

Susan: I’d add something. I realize some people no longer have the desire and some still struggle. And within the same person, there are some desires he no longer has and others he still struggles with. My point was going to be— I lost it.

Thomas: To me, this is the big one, because it comes down to the promise we advertise when we witness. We like to say, “Just give your heart to Jesus, and that will change you.” The fact is, we can’t promise that. I think we need to state that very clearly up front. This is the right way. You may be rewarded for it only in heaven. You might have a complete change of heart, or some things might change and some might not. At least you will know what the standard is, and you will be able to participate in creating a better world, because you are now acting rightly, whether or not you feel it. You’re choosing to act rightly.

Susan: Even when people still struggle and still desire wrong things, often—I don’t know if it’s every time—there’s something new in them. They want to obey God now. They feel the love of God and treasure it. So they still want the bad thing, but they also have this new thing: they feel God’s love and don’t want to disobey Him. Even for those who struggle, I often hear this report. There’s something like joy, love for God, and peace. You might still struggle with some things. In fact, I think everyone struggles with something.

Thomas: You can struggle with peace. You can struggle with joy: “Lord, I’m joyful; Lord, help my lack of joy.” You experience this clearly. But it’s not a banner we can hang up: “Join our club and you’ll have joy and peace.” We can’t say that. We can say what you said a moment ago: we now have a desire for peace. We know there is joy to be had. It isn’t just a world of grayness. We can have the color of God’s love. We may not feel it right now, but we know it’s there, and we have that hope, where before we may not have.

Susan: I would say we are promised that joy.

Thomas: So everybody gets it?

Susan: But I do know there are stories of people who gave their lives to Christ and don’t feel it.

Thomas: That’s what I’m referring to.

Susan: So I feel that if you don’t feel it, something must be in the way. There can be evil spirits that still need to be cast out; that happens. Or there may be many different obstacles.

Thomas: So you’re saying there are qualifications, reasons why you might not. So again, we can’t put up a banner at the Christian booth saying, “If you say these words, you get it.”

Susan: Maybe not immediately.

Charlie: What could you say? What could go on the banner?

Thomas: That’s the issue.

Charlie: Is there an answer yet?

Thomas: What Susan just said: having the desire for it, recognizing it, knowing it’s a possibility. This is something we go for. This is good. I have a desire for it.

Susan: One thing you can count on is some change. When you truly say, “I’m choosing the Lord,” there’s some change you recognize inside, and other people recognize it too. What people experience seems to differ from person to person, but you should see a change.

Charlie: How about this, from a New York ad agency: “Get Jesus. You’ll be different.”

The Sermon on the Mount is about community

Thomas: Leonard.

Isak: Leonard, were you raising your hand?

Leonard: There was a movie back in the seventies called Tunnel Vision. They showed ads from a new network, and in one, a priest walks up to the camera and starts taking off his clothes. The last thing he drops is the robe, and it’s a woman. She turns, walks off, and says, “Join the church—it’s changing.” Great movie. Anyway.

I wanted to go back to the Sermon on the Mount. There was a purpose for that sermon. If you parse it, it’s all about community, what a person can do for the community. The poor in spirit; those who mourn will be comforted; the meek inherit the earth; those who hunger and thirst after righteousness; the merciful. You have to do all these things to somebody else. You have to be merciful to somebody else. You have to be pure in heart toward somebody else. You have to be a peacemaker for someone else.

He was trying to expand the law of Moses beyond the basic, nitty-gritty laws He had to give the Israelites to bring them around at all. They turned the law into an idol. They worshiped it. Even with the Giver of the law standing in front of them, they said, “We are of Moses. It’s the law.”

Everything here: the pure in heart, the peacemaker, the persecuted for righteousness’ sake. If people revile you, what do you do?

Susan: Pray for them.

Leonard: Exactly. “For my sake,” He says, “blessed are ye; rejoice.” Everything in this would change the world if everybody lived by it. In my belief, it was so important for the Lord to give this sermon that He gave it again, to the people in the Book of Mormon. It’s almost the same sermon, a little different. They call it the Sermon at Bountiful. After His resurrection, He came and appeared to His other sheep, the people who had gathered and survived all the destruction that happened at the crucifixion, and He gave them this sermon along with much else.

We discount it. If we used it as a true guide for our conduct as a people, it would change everything. These are His words. So to say, “I take Jesus as my Lord and Savior in my heart”—okay, then what do you do? What comes after that? I’m just asking.

Susan: I think God then works in your heart. He guides you and leads you to what’s next.

Leonard: There’s action involved. Something has to be done after that.

Susan: Absolutely. Maybe it’s confessing your sins after. Maybe it’s confessing your sins before, and then giving your life to Christ. I think people do it in different orders.

Leonard: Personally, I think the Lord already knows your heart. He knows whether you’re being honest. He knows us better than we know ourselves. Let’s see where that leads. It would change many people’s motivations if they really knew that the God who gives them everything—their breath, their life, their existence—knows what they’re thinking in their hearts.

Susan: That’s kind of scary to contemplate.

Leonard: It is. But it would change your heart, your motivation, and your actions. That’s what the Sermon on the Mount is talking about. If you are pure in heart, you shall see God. Is that a metaphor? Will I see God in creation, in a leaf? Or will I actually see God? These are things we really need to understand if we’re going to change anything.

So I would suggest change for Christ. Let Him change you, and He will, if you let Him. That’s what we should all be doing. Change means repentance. It means living the gospel and the precepts He taught, both while He was living and as a resurrected being. That’s just me. If you don’t believe it, that’s okay, but I believe it. If we can say, “We’re trying to get people to change, to repent, to come to Christ; He’ll change you, make you better, and make everything better,” that’s where I am. Are we willing to change?

Isak: I’d like to. I’d like to keep advancing and developing in morality, in awareness of God, and in communication with Him.

Leonard: I think most people do, right, Isak? Most people want a better life. They want to align themselves with good. Evil can be really bad for a person. It eats you up, and then it eats up the people around you.

An aside: parents and children

Leonard: We’re starting to see that in what’s happening with these women. It’s almost demonic what they do to their children. Is it new, or have we just become more aware of it?

Thomas: What are you talking about?

Leonard: Killing their children. Women aren’t supposed to do that. Something else is going on.

Susan: I know of a woman ten or twenty years ago who killed her children, and someone recently. Is there more than one?

Charlie: There was the Clancy trial.

Leonard: And a woman in Texas who killed her two sons.

Isak: About 300 to 500 parents are killed by their children, and roughly 450 to 500 children are killed by their parents, each year. So the war is pretty balanced.

Leonard: That’s insane. It’s demonic. It shows we’re not doing a very good job of helping people understand that there’s a better way.

What would moral capitalists do?

Thomas: I brought up the topic of how to make capitalism moral, and we’ve established that what we actually need to do is insert morality into capitalism.

Leonard: Morality has to be inserted into the people who practice capitalism.

Thomas: I agree. So the question is, in specific terms, what would you do, beyond accepting Christ? We’re putting morality into the people, and they’ll be capitalists. What would we expect of the people in the capitalist utopia we’ve now created, where everybody is moral? What are they doing that’s actually moral, that we could present to God? What are a few things people would do in a moral capitalist society?

Leonard: For me, it comes back to the definition of Zion, because that’s what we’re talking about. You need to be of one heart and one mind, and that means one heart and one mind with the Lord. The Lord is part of it, not just the people. They need to live in righteousness and pursue it. That’s in the sermon: “Blessed are they which are persecuted for righteousness’ sake: for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” In a sense, that’s what we’re trying to do: bring the kingdom of heaven back to earth by establishing Zion. The last item is to have no poor among them. What does that mean? Those who have share with those who don’t, and those who receive share with those around them, until everyone is wealthy, equal in a sense.

Another thing has come up in my mind: this whole concept of “equal.” Is it equal in everything? Can we actually do that in this life? Or is it equal opportunity in a capitalist society? I don’t know. The Lord uses a different but similar word: iniquity.

Charlie: Doesn’t it have the root of inequality?

Leonard: Yes, it does.

Thomas: But is that specifically what it means? Everybody will be equal; we’ve passed the 234th amendment and everybody is equal? That’s the absurdity of it, and the answer is no. So what does it mean? Iniquity is often used another way, for a kind of black heart, the iniquity in a person. I know “iniquity” contains “inequality,” but there’s that other meaning that’s actually different.

Isak: My Google search says the word comes from the Latin iniquitas, from in- and aequus, meaning “not equal” or “not just.” It literally translates as “not just”: injustice. So it’s valid both ways, and it can be used as a broader term for iniquity in whatever form.

Guys, I have to run. Thanks for coming. It was really great.

Thomas: Thanks for coming, Isak. Good seeing you.

[Isak left the meeting.]

Thomas: This was one of the hardest essays I’ve ever done. I still feel like I’m going around the edges of it, because it’s where the rubber meets the road. How are you going to act when you go out in the marketplace, making walkers and selling them and making money? You’re just a tiny cog, so it doesn’t seem to matter. But we want more. What do we do?

Serving the customer, and paying for service

Susan: I have a story for you. Charlie, you’ll recognize it. I think it’s a good example. Charlie went to an appointment with a woman who wanted to see the lift walker and was thinking of buying it. He showed it to her, but he noticed tracks all over the ceiling of her home. She was taking care of her disabled daughter. He asked, “What is this?” She said, “It’s a system I bought, but I can’t get it to work.” So he started working with it, figured out how to use it, and showed her how. He said, “Honestly, I don’t think you need a lift walker. This will do what you need, at least in the house.” She was so thankful, because it saved her the money of buying a lift walker when she already had what she needed.

It wasn’t in his interest to look at that at all. He could have ignored it and said, “This is what you need.” To me, that’s an example of trying to serve the needs of this woman, and serving her meant not making a sale. That’s what he chose.

Charlie: That’s a very nice story about me, which I have no recollection of. So I can’t guarantee it’s true.

Thomas: If we look at that story, Susan, here’s what she could have done. She could have said, “You came out here and showed me this, and you fixed my system. I don’t need the walker, but I’m going to pay you something, because you’ve done me a great service.” Instead of treating it as no sale, she would have recognized that she had been served and paid for the service she received. I think there was an inequity there, in that she didn’t have the heart to compensate him for his work.

Susan: That’s true in a way. He did what was just and served her, and she had the choice to serve him back, and she didn’t. But he has had other situations where the customer decided not to buy but paid him something for his time.

Thomas: It really does illustrate it. When you spend time with somebody explaining things to him, that should be a compensable transaction. Walking away with “Thanks for your time; I’m not going to pay you anything” isn’t right.

People once came to my door, a total cold call. I don’t remember what they were telling me about. I said, “I don’t want it, but here’s some money for your time.”

Leonard: Little name tags?

Thomas: White shirts and name tags, but they weren’t selling God. I offered to pay them, and they wouldn’t take it.

And recently, with the project we’re doing with Leonard, John recommended a company for the flexible circuit boards. They did an incredible job on the estimate, but it was so far above what we could get from China that I said we couldn’t do it. But I told them I wanted to pay them for the effort they put into it. She said, “Thanks, but there’s no need.”

Leonard: “It’s just part of the business.”

Thomas: But I felt it was really important to compensate them for the magnificent job they did.

Leonard: They really rounded out the whole package. They got it ready to be quoted. They were just too expensive.

Susan: That’s an example of you doing the Christ-like thing, and so were they.

Leonard: Yes, they were. We’ll always go back to them for production.

Thomas: I’d love to go back to them, after what they put out for us: their communication and professionalism.

Leonard: It’s the same with the welder I’ve found. He’s going through the whole package, telling me which parts he can make, which we need to provide, and what information I need to give him. He’s rounding out my package for me. He’s a great guy, and I think he can really help us. I think we have a substitute now.

Thomas: For Victory Circle. That raises the issue of Victory Circle, which has sacrificed for us for decades.

Leonard: Yes, they have.

Charlie: This morning I actually had the idea that maybe Leonard and Dell should develop an ideal product they can make entirely in Utah. They have a lot of resources, a lot of talent, a lot of energy. It’s something we should talk about.

Leonard: That’d be great. I have to get ready for a crowd of people coming here.

Closing prayer

Susan: Dear Father, thank You for the meeting we just had, for this fellowship, and for this opportunity to share ideas and talk about You and Your word. We were able to edify each other, and it’s beautiful. We thank You for each other. Please help us learn how to serve You better and obey You better. Help us do something in this world; help us contribute in a way You see fit. Heavenly Father, we love You and praise You. Please be with Armond, who wasn’t here today. In the name of Jesus we pray. Amen.

 

261004 – Scientist and Christian Paradox


Paradox Is Not Contradiction: What Quantum Physics Can and Cannot Tell Us About Christ

A physicist has written a short and moving testimony that is making its way around the internet this week under the title “I was an atheist. Quantum physics set me on the path to Jesus.” [AUTHOR], who was trained in physics and spent his early years as a convinced atheist, tells how the strangeness of quantum mechanics broke the machine-picture of the world he had inherited, how he then opened the New Testament and found that Jesus spoke with the same unsettling strangeness, and how decades of study, honest science, and personal experience finally brought him to confess Jesus as Lord. Read it here. It is worth your five minutes.

I rejoice in his testimony. He came to the right Person by a road I know well. I have spent some forty years working at the junction of physics and faith, and I agree with his destination, with his diagnosis of the skeptic, and with his conviction that a man can be fully a scientist and fully a Christian without dishonesty in either direction.

But I think he takes one wrong turn on the way, and it is a turn many Christians are tempted to take, so it is worth slowing down to look at it. He argues that the central doctrines of the faith — that Jesus is fully God and fully man, that God is both the Creator of all and the One who walks with Adam in the garden, that God is one and also three — do not make sense, and that this is acceptable because quantum physics does not make sense either. Then he offers quantum superposition as the scientific explanation of all three.

I want to show why that move gives away too much, why superposition is the wrong picture of Christ and of the Trinity, and where quantum physics really does point toward God. The short version: Christianity is paradoxical, but it is not contradictory. And the bridge between physics and faith is not that reality is illogical. It is that reality is conscious.


Where he is right

Start with what he gets exactly right. The skeptic he describes is real, and he steelmans him fairly. The classical worldview — named after Newton’s classical physics — holds that the universe is a machine, matter is all there is, the body is meat, the mind is the brain’s electrical weather, and the cosmos is a colossal accident. Stephen Hawking gave the view its most famous expression when he told an interviewer that he regarded the brain as a computer that stops when its parts fail, and that heaven is a story for people who are afraid of the dark.

That is a coherent position. It is not stupid, and the men who hold it are not stupid. It is what a thoughtful person concludes if he believes that the deepest layer of reality is dead stuff obeying blind rules.

And it is precisely that belief which twentieth-century physics damaged beyond repair. Matter, examined closely, did not turn out to be little hard marbles. It turned out to be something stranger: entities whose behavior is governed by probabilities, which can be correlated across distances with no signal passing between them, and whose properties are not fully settled until they interact. Our author is right that this broke his mechanistic picture. It should break anyone’s.

So far, we agree completely.


Paradox is not contradiction

Here is the turn. When the skeptic objects that “fully God and fully man” makes no sense, our author concedes the point — the skeptic is right, he says, these beliefs make no sense — and then answers that quantum physics makes no sense either. He enlists Richard Feynman’s famous remark that nobody really understands quantum mechanics.

I cannot make that concession, and I do not think any Christian should.

Words matter here, so let me be precise. A contradiction is a claim that something is and is not the same thing, in the same sense, at the same time. “This triangle has four sides” is a contradiction. No amount of mystery rescues it; it is simply false.

A paradox is something else. The word comes from the Greek para (“beside” or “against”) and doxa (“opinion” or “expectation”). A paradox is a truth that runs against our expectation — a statement that seems contradictory until we see the distinction that makes both halves true.

  • A paradox does not mean the claim is irrational.
  • It does not mean logic has been suspended.
  • It does not mean we must believe it in spite of our minds.
  • It means our first expectation was too small for the thing in front of us.

When Jesus says, “whosoever will save his life shall lose it: and whosoever will lose his life for my sake shall find it” (Matthew 16:25), He is not abandoning logic. He is using the word life at two levels — the life of the self-protecting ego, and the life that is eternal fellowship with God — and telling us that clinging to the first costs us the second. The saying startles us, but it is perfectly coherent once the two levels are seen. The same is true of loving our enemies, of the first being last, and of dying in order to live. These are not violations of reason. They are reason operating at a depth we did not expect.

This matters because the God of the Bible does not ask us to abandon our minds. “Come now, and let us reason together, saith the LORD” (Isaiah 1:18). “God is not the author of confusion” (1 Corinthians 14:33). And the Gospel of John opens by naming the Son as the Logos — the Word, the Reason, the ordering principle by which all things were made (John 1:1–3). Logic is not an enemy Christ had to overcome. It is one of the things He made.

So when the skeptic says “your doctrines don’t make sense,” the right answer is not “you’re right, but neither does physics.” The right answer is: “They make more sense than you have been told. Let me show you the distinction.”


What superposition is, and what it isn’t

Now to the physics. I want to be careful here, because I do not want to correct one overstatement with another.

Superposition is real. In my own June 2025 essay “Is Quantum Superposition Real?” I argued that the superposition of states within a quantum of energy is a genuine physical fact and not merely bookkeeping — and that the instantaneous correlations of entangled particles point to an underlying operating system beneath the visible world, one that keeps energy and momentum perfectly conserved across any distance.

But notice what superposition actually describes. A system in superposition is not two finished things at once. It is one system whose outcome is not yet settled, described as a weighted combination of possible outcomes. When it interacts — when it is measured — it does not show up as both. It shows up as one. The electron is found here, not there. The detector clicks or it does not.

Schrödinger’s famous cat, dead and alive at once, was never offered as a description of how cats are. Erwin Schrödinger proposed it as a reductio ad absurdum — an argument meant to show how absurd it would be to carry the quantum description up to the scale of living things without asking what is actually happening underneath.

And light is not “fully solid as a rock and fully supple as water.” Light is one thing — the photon — which shows particle-like behavior when it is absorbed or emitted, and wave-like behavior as it travels. Einstein’s point was that neither the particle picture nor the wave picture captures it alone; together they describe it. In the physics this ministry has been developing, called Conscious Point Physics — which holds that the substance of reality is conscious, God’s sustaining thought, so that in him we live, and move, and have our being is a description rather than a metaphor — the photon is one real entity whose wave-like behavior comes from the medium it passes through. Space is densely filled with bound pairs of opposite-charged points, which we call Dipole Particles, and the photon’s passage through that sea is what produces the interference patterns we call wave-like. One thing, one nature, two kinds of behavior depending on what it is doing.

In other words, wave-particle duality is not a contradiction either. It is a paradox — a surprise that dissolves when the underlying mechanism is understood.


Why superposition is the wrong picture of Christ

Here is my central concern, and it is not a quibble about physics. If we take superposition seriously as a model of the Incarnation and the Trinity, it leads us into the very heresies the early Church fought hardest to exclude.

Consider what the model would say.

On Christ’s two natures. In a superposition, each possible state is present only as a weighted share — a fraction of the whole — and when the system is observed, one state appears and the other is gone. Applied to Jesus, that would mean He is partly God and partly man, and that whenever anyone actually encountered Him, He was found to be either the man or God. That is the opposite of the faith. The Council of Chalcedon in AD 451 confessed one Christ “in two natures, without confusion, without change, without division, without separation.” Not a mixture. Not one nature showing up at a time. Both, wholly, always.

And the Gospels show Him being observed as both at once. Thomas the doubter — a man after a scientist’s own heart, who refused to believe without evidence he could touch — put his hand into the wounds of a crucified human body and in the same breath said, “My Lord and my God” (John 20:28). The observation did not collapse Christ into one nature. It revealed both.

On the Trinity. If Father, Son, and Holy Spirit were three possible states of the one God, waiting to resolve into one of them depending on how we encounter Him, we would have reinvented modalism — the third-century teaching associated with Sabellius, that the one God merely appears as Father in one mode, as Son in another, as Spirit in a third. The Church rejected it because Scripture will not allow it. At the baptism of Jesus the Son stands in the water, the Spirit descends like a dove, and the Father speaks from heaven — all three, present and distinct, in the same moment (Matthew 3:16–17). Jesus prays to the Father. The Father sends the Spirit in the Son’s name. These are not states of one person taking turns. They are three persons in one Being.

So the structure of superposition is exactly wrong for the claim Christianity makes. Superposition says one of these, not yet determined. Christianity says all of these, fully, and determinately so. Our author’s instinct that the Christian claims are strong and surprising is right. But the Christian claim is stronger than superposition, not a case of it.


Elohim and YHWH are not two natures

A smaller point, but a telling one. Our author reads Genesis 1, where God is called Elohim, and Genesis 2, where God is called YHWH, as presenting two opposing natures: the universal Creator and the personal God who walks with Adam.

It is true that the two names carry different emphases — Elohim the Mighty One who creates by His word, YHWH the covenant name, “I AM,” the One who binds Himself to a people. But Scripture does not set them against each other. From Genesis 2:4 onward the text deliberately joins them: the LORD God — YHWH Elohim — formed man of the dust, planted the garden, walked in it in the cool of the day. The one who made the galaxies is the one who calls out “Where art thou?” (Genesis 3:9). And the great confession of Israel binds both names into a single sentence: “Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God is one LORD” (Deuteronomy 6:4) — YHWH Eloheinu, YHWH echad.

The universal God is personal not in spite of being universal but because of it. Paul told the philosophers in Athens that God “be not far from every one of us: For in him we live, and move, and have our being” (Acts 17:27–28). A God who is present to every point of His creation is not distant from any of it. His universality is the ground of His nearness.


A practical test

Someone might say this is all just a matter of emphasis — that our author’s analogy is helpful even if it is imperfect. Here is a practical test of whether the difference matters: what happens in the next exchange with the skeptic?

If we say, “Our doctrines are nonsense, but so is quantum physics,” the skeptic has an easy reply: “Quantum physics comes with equations that predict experiments to many decimal places. Your nonsense comes with none. And if physicists someday find a deeper theory that makes the quantum world intelligible — as many are trying to do — your defense of the faith collapses with it.” He is right on both counts. We would have tied the Creed, which is two thousand years old, to one interpretation of a physics that is one hundred years old.

If instead we say, “Our doctrines are paradoxes, not contradictions — here is the distinction that makes each coherent, and here is the evidence of history and experience that they are true,” the conversation keeps going. We have not asked him to give up reason in order to come to Christ. We have invited him to use it more fully.


Where quantum physics really points

So what does quantum physics tell us about God? Here I think our author’s intuition is right, even though his model is not.

What broke the classical worldview was not that nature turned out to be illogical. It was that nature turned out not to be dead. At the bottom of things, physicists did not find inert stuff pushed around by blind forces. They found something that behaves as though it perceives its surroundings and responds to them by rule — that keeps perfect accounts of energy and momentum across any distance, instantaneously — that is ordered, lawful, and yet not mechanical in the old sense.

The physics I have spent forty years developing takes that observation at face value. It proposes that the smallest constituents of the universe are not bits of matter but points of consciousness — Conscious Points — each one perceiving its neighbors, computing its response, and moving, moment by moment, under laws God has given them. On this view the universe is not a machine that happens to contain minds. It is the ongoing thought of a Mind, which has made room within itself for other minds.

That is not pantheism. A wave is of the ocean but is not the ocean; the creation is of God — sustained by Him, existing within His upholding thought — but it is not God. Only the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit are God. But it means that Hawking’s broken-down computer was never the right picture of a human being, because there was never any dead matter to build a mere computer out of. The materialist’s foundation is not there.

This is where science and Scripture genuinely meet. Not in the claim that both are absurd, but in the claim that both describe a reality held together, moment by moment, by a living Word — “upholding all things by the word of his power” (Hebrews 1:3).


My stake

I am grateful for our author’s witness. He found the Lord, and he is telling the world about it at some cost; the hostility he describes is real, and I have felt it too. The skeptics who mock him are not our enemies. They are captives to rescue — men held by a picture of reality that is too small, and that their own physics has already cracked.

But we will not rescue them by agreeing that our faith is nonsense. I do not believe it is. I believe the Incarnation is the most coherent fact in the universe — that the Mind whose thought constitutes every particle took on flesh made of those very particles, without ceasing to be the Mind that sustains them. I believe the Trinity is not a riddle that physics excuses but the shape of a God who is love before there was anyone else to love. And I believe that when the skeptic finally looks beneath the matter he trusts, he will find not chaos and not absurdity, but the Word.

“For by him were all things created, that are in heaven, and that are in earth, visible and invisible … all things were created by him, and for him: And he is before all things, and by him all things consist.” — Colossians 1:16–17