The Argument from the Origin of the Idea of God

[Ringtone]

1. We have ideas of many things.
2. These ideas must arise either from ourselves or from things outside us.
3. One of the ideas we have is the idea of God—an infinite, all-perfect being.
4. This idea could not have been caused by ourselves, because we know ourselves to be limited and imperfect, and no effect can be greater than its cause.
5. Therefore, the idea must have been caused by something outside us which has nothing less than the qualities contained in the idea of God.
6. But only God himself has those qualities.
7. Therefore God himself must be the cause of the idea we have of him.
8. Therefore God exists.

 

[Crepitus]

Same crap, slightly different words.

 

[Ringtone]

Same crap, slightly different words.



View attachment 458446

Presumably you're going to argue why that's so. . . .

 

[Hollie]

1. We have ideas of many things.
2. These ideas must arise either from ourselves or from things outside us.
3. One of the ideas we have is the idea of God—an infinite, all-perfect being.
4. This idea could not have been caused by ourselves, because we know ourselves to be limited and imperfect, and no effect can be greater than its cause.
5. Therefore, the idea must have been caused by something outside us which has nothing less than the qualities contained in the idea of God.
6. But only God himself has those qualities.
7. Therefore God himself must be the cause of the idea we have of him.
8. Therefore God exists.

It’s gettin’ old, Bunky.

Your type of street corner proselytizing in the form of screaming at strangers is, you know, gettin’ old.

 

[Ringtone]

1. We have ideas of many things.
2. These ideas must arise either from ourselves or from things outside us.
3. One of the ideas we have is the idea of God—an infinite, all-perfect being.
4. This idea could not have been caused by ourselves, because we know ourselves to be limited and imperfect, and no effect can be greater than its cause.
5. Therefore, the idea must have been caused by something outside us which has nothing less than the qualities contained in the idea of God.
6. But only God himself has those qualities.
7. Therefore God himself must be the cause of the idea we have of him.
8. Therefore God exists.

It’s gettin’ old, Bunky.

Your type of street corner proselytizing in the form of screaming at strangers is, you know, gettin’ old.

And again, after all the crowded halls, the Dread;
After all the passion and the romance and the mighty deeds are dead;
After the tantrums, the trials, the outstretched hands;
After all the woe that staggers stunned and broken hearts . . .

the girl with the big teeth;​

After the ashtrays, the crumbs, the bloodshot eyes . . .
After all the sweet and tender mercies in this world are scattered,

left to rot beneath the pall:​

What shall I do about the missing button on my vest?

 

[Crepitus]

Same crap, slightly different words.



View attachment 458446

Presumably you're going to argue why that's so. . . .

I even included a graphic.

 

[edthecynic]

We have ideas of many things.

The time has come,' the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'

 

[Ringtone]

I even included a graphic.

But, Crepitus, what shall I do about the missing button on my vest?

 

[Ringtone]

The time has come,' the Walrus said,
To talk of many things:
Of shoes — and ships — and sealing-wax —
Of cabbages — and kings —
And why the sea is boiling hot —
And whether pigs have wings.'

I have communed with fragile ghosts and willows—bent and lashed by storms.

 

[Ringtone]

Same crap, slightly different words.

“It’s as if atheists were lobotomized zombies or something,” Jane opined.

“That’s right,” said Spot. “The ramifications of their very own thought, if you can call it that, fly right over their heads.”

“But I thought atheists were free thinkers,” Dick said with a furrowed brow.

Jane looked confused.

Spot let out a barking stream of laughter that went on and on.

“Laugh, Spot, Laugh!” Jane giggled.

“See Spot laugh,” said Dick.

Spot couldn’t stop laughing. He rolled on his back and just laughed and laughed until his belly ached and tears streamed down his face.

“Oh, my goodness,” said Jane. “Are you okay, Spot?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” said Spot as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Whew! Oh, my … just let me catch my breath.”

Dick chuckled.

“You see, children, atheists are slogan spouters.”

“Slogan spouters?” Dick said.

“Yes, slogan spouters,” answered Spot.

 

[Crepitus]

Same crap, slightly different words.

“It’s as if atheists were lobotomized zombies or something,” Jane opined.

“That’s right,” said Spot. “The ramifications of their very own thought, if you can call it that, fly right over their heads.”

“But I thought atheists were free thinkers,” Dick said with a furrowed brow.

Jane looked confused.

Spot let out a barking stream of laughter that went on and on.

“Laugh, Spot, Laugh!” Jane giggled.

“See Spot laugh,” said Dick.

Spot couldn’t stop laughing. He rolled on his back and just laughed and laughed until his belly ached and tears streamed down his face.

“Oh, my goodness,” said Jane. “Are you okay, Spot?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” said Spot as he wiped the tears from his eyes.

“Whew! Oh, my … just let me catch my breath.”

Dick chuckled.

“You see, children, atheists are slogan spouters.”

“Slogan spouters?” Dick said.

“Yes, slogan spouters,” answered Spot.

Using that to brainwash children?

 

[Ringtone]

Using that to brainwash children?

The goosebumps on their hairy arms, Crepitus!

 

[Crepitus]

Using that to brainwash children?

The goosebumps on their hairy arms, Crepitus!

That makes just about as much sense as your OP.

 

[Ringtone]

That makes just about as much sense as your OP.

Shall I press the monumental question?
Smartly reinforce the crease?
I shall cast my lot with heaven . . .
The moldy mysterious on my fleece!
Should I butter my toast?
Insist on rye or wheat?
Let us dance a torrid tango
And display our nimble feet!

 

[Crepitus]

That makes just about as much sense as your OP.

View attachment 458796

Shall I press the monumental question?
Smartly reinforce the crease?
I shall cast my lot with heaven . . .
The moldy mysterious on my fleece!
Should I butter my toast?
Insist on rye or wheat?
Let us dance a torrid tango
And display our nimble feet!

I'm not much on obscure poetry

 

[Hollie]

1. We have ideas of many things.
2. These ideas must arise either from ourselves or from things outside us.
3. One of the ideas we have is the idea of God—an infinite, all-perfect being.
4. This idea could not have been caused by ourselves, because we know ourselves to be limited and imperfect, and no effect can be greater than its cause.
5. Therefore, the idea must have been caused by something outside us which has nothing less than the qualities contained in the idea of God.
6. But only God himself has those qualities.
7. Therefore God himself must be the cause of the idea we have of him.
8. Therefore God exists.

It’s comedy gold to watch your appeals to circular reasoning, bad analogies and false assumptions get tossed aside in favor of bad poetry as you abandon any pretense of a valid argument.

 

[Ringtone]

1. We have ideas of many things.
2. These ideas must arise either from ourselves or from things outside us.
3. One of the ideas we have is the idea of God—an infinite, all-perfect being.
4. This idea could not have been caused by ourselves, because we know ourselves to be limited and imperfect, and no effect can be greater than its cause.
5. Therefore, the idea must have been caused by something outside us which has nothing less than the qualities contained in the idea of God.
6. But only God himself has those qualities.
7. Therefore God himself must be the cause of the idea we have of him.
8. Therefore God exists.

It’s comedy gold to watch your appeals to circular reasoning, bad analogies and false assumptions get tossed aside in favor of bad poetry as you abandon any pretense of a valid argument.

A tiny brown moth, believing his heart above all else,
Battered himself against the window pane,
Thinking to embrace the morning air—wings aflutter.
A little gray sparrow, believing his hunger above all else,
Battered his sharp beak against the window pane,
Hoping to spear the tiny morsel—wings aflutter.
Eager, persistent, furiously tap, tap, tapping.
Bemused!
Frightened!
Angry!
“What is this?” the sparrow exclaimed.
“His soft belly bruises my beak!”
And still the tiny brown moth
Battered himself against the window pane,
Eager to embrace the morning air—wings aflutter.

 

[Hollie]

A tiny brown moth, believing his heart above all else,
Battered himself against the window pane,
Thinking to embrace the morning air—wings aflutter.
A little gray sparrow, believing his hunger above all else,
Battered his sharp beak against the window pane,
Hoping to spear the tiny morsel—wings aflutter.
Eager, persistent, furiously tap, tap, tapping.
Bemused!
Frightened!
Angry!
“What is this?” the sparrow exclaimed.
“His soft belly bruises my beak!”
And still the tiny brown moth
Battered himself against the window pane,
Eager to embrace the morning air—wings aflutter



That was terrible. I can understand why William Lane Craig rejects your advances.

 

[Ringtone]

A tiny brown moth, believing his heart above all else,
Battered himself against the window pane,
Thinking to embrace the morning air—wings aflutter.
A little gray sparrow, believing his hunger above all else,
Battered his sharp beak against the window pane,
Hoping to spear the tiny morsel—wings aflutter.
Eager, persistent, furiously tap, tap, tapping.
Bemused!
Frightened!
Angry!
“What is this?” the sparrow exclaimed.
“His soft belly bruises my beak!”
And still the tiny brown moth
Battered himself against the window pane,
Eager to embrace the morning air—wings aflutter



That was terrible. I can understand why William Lane Craig rejects your advances.

Oh, come on, Hollie. My poetry's pretty good.

 

[Hollie]

A tiny brown moth, believing his heart above all else,
Battered himself against the window pane,
Thinking to embrace the morning air—wings aflutter.
A little gray sparrow, believing his hunger above all else,
Battered his sharp beak against the window pane,
Hoping to spear the tiny morsel—wings aflutter.
Eager, persistent, furiously tap, tap, tapping.
Bemused!
Frightened!
Angry!
“What is this?” the sparrow exclaimed.
“His soft belly bruises my beak!”
And still the tiny brown moth
Battered himself against the window pane,
Eager to embrace the morning air—wings aflutter



That was terrible. I can understand why William Lane Craig rejects your advances.

Oh, come on, Hollie. My poetry's pretty good.

Didn't work so well with William Lane Craig, right?