It is often said that people tend to follow the religious belief or traditions of their parents. If this is true then I am not typical of a religious believer. My parents were not Christian and so I wasn’t baptised into any church as a child. My first contact with the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints came through the missionaries proselytising along our street. I can remember well that the only reason I let them into my home was because it was pouring with rain outside and I felt sorry for them. I had no intention of joining the “Mormon” faith or any other religion, but on listening to them their message struck a chord with me. I cannot really explain what it was, other than it seemed familiar to me. I had never really heard anything about the Mormons so this was not the sort of familiarity that occurs as a result of having heard something on the radio or TV, but, rather, something much deeper.
The missionaries taught the first discussion to my wife and me that evening and, as we were moving home that very week, we lost contact with them soon after. After we settled in our new home we decided to see if we could find the address of the local LDS church so that we might resume our lessons. Unable to find anything, I settled with reading a book from the local library written by a non-LDS author. The book was fair to the Church and by chance a few days later I met some missionaries in the street and, after invitation, we received the lessons and were baptised. That was over thirty years ago and my life has changed dramatically as a result of my church membership.
I left high school with very little in the way of qualifications. There was never any real expectation placed upon me and as a result I never had a profession or career to speak of. Joining the church helped me to appreciate my potential in ways that I would never have imagined. This, coupled with the LDS view on education, made me realise that I could do much better with my life. When the opportunity arose, I went to university and now find myself teaching philosophy here in New Zealand. This may not seem very remarkable, but when I consider that my grandfather was a gypsy and that no one in my family ever received any tertiary education, it is, in the least, very humbling.
Occasionally I am asked if my religious belief conflicts in any way with the discipline of philosophy. I can honestly say that philosophy has never raised something that is a serious issue to my religious beliefs. Sometimes I may not have an answer, but in those instances I am content to leave the matter in suspension. In most instances I find that my belief in the church is strengthened. For example, one of the courses that I teach at university is an introductory course on the Philosophy of Religion. Aside from looking at the traditional proofs of God we also discuss arguments against the existence of God. What I find interesting is that the arguments against God’s existence, which are often difficult for mainstream Christianity to answer, are not a problem for The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. I have come to realise that through the ages religious truth has been distorted and, as a result, many denominations of Christianity now find it difficult to defend themselves against their critics. So much so that some of the basic tenets of Christianity are now being questioned, even by the leaders of these denominations. This is not the case with LDS theology. Because of this apostasy there needed to be a restoration of the gospel. The Church’s doctrine remains constant because it is the restoration of truth here upon the earth. I know that there is a God in Heaven, and that He sent his Son, Jesus Christ, to atone for our sins. I know that the gospel has been restored through a young man named Joseph Smith. And as remarkable as that story seems, I know it to be true, not through any academic exercise but by the witness of the Holy Ghost.
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Stephen Duffin teaches philosophy at Massey University, in Palmerston North, New Zealand. He has published in the fields of environmental ethics and Christian apology, and has a book published on thinking critically. He lives in New Zealand with his wife, Carole. They are parents of four children.
Posted September 2010
“I am a happy seeker.” This is the final thought I leave with my students after discussing how science issues (like organic or biological evolution) and other ways of knowing (like religion or spiritual communication) can co-exist. Seek is defined as: to try to locate or discover; search for; to endeavor to obtain or reach. So what I really mean is that I am happy to look for truth, good ideas, well supported theories, etc., wherever they may be found. I understand that in this search I may come across untruth, bad ideas, insufficiently supported theories, etc. As a seeker, I simply accept the good ideas and I discard the bad ones. This idea isn’t mine; Dr. Henry Eyring proposed that all we really need to do is “find out what the truth is,” and that is what I seek to do.
I believe in God and in His son Jesus Christ as Lord and Creator, Redeemer of the living and the dead, and personal Savior, and that God continues to care for and interact with us, His children. I believe in grace through Jesus Christ. I believe in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints as a divinely sanctioned and directed church. I believe that Joseph Smith was a man called of God to a work of restoration, and that the Book of Mormon was translated by Joseph Smith from ancient documents and contains the word of God.
I have a colleague who once asked me how I could believe in God when the scientific method has provided so much evidence against the existence of a higher power. I was rather surprised by his comment. My response, which I thought should be obvious to any scientist, was that if we follow the scientific method of hypothesis formulation and testing, the most absurd hypothesis that a scientist could make is that the Earth and the universe just happened by chance. It has too much order and detail to have come about without the guidance of some force that science has yet to identify. I also mentioned that science overlooks a vast array of evidence by denying or ignoring spiritual evidences.
I love to read and, over the past thirty-five years, have likely read in excess of two thousand books. In addition, I have had the privilege of writing three books so far (and plan to write several more) that are attempts to define my scientific field of forensic DNA analysis. Continual learning has always been a way of life since I was raised in a home with parents who were both educators. I am grateful to live in the information age when knowledge covers the earth and is now easily available with a few keystrokes. I hope that I can always put the knowledge I gain to good use.
It was never intended that we should prove scientifically the existence of our Savior and our Father in Heaven. Nevertheless, there are numerous observations that certainly proclaim a divine creator. Many have observed and marveled at the amazing ORDER and complexity of living things, especially man, and have taken this to be a strong indicator of a divine, all-powerful creator. The beginning and the sustaining of life certainly could not have been via spontaneous, self-initiated events.
Finding Balance
The proposition of putting one’s religious convictions out on the Internet for everyone to read may seem ill-advised to some, particularly to those in the humanities where one’s politics and ideological commitments, it is fairly argued, are inseparable from one’s research and academic output. I recognize that there are some departments where to be an avowed believer in any faith system will bring one’s intellectual bonafides into question. I also recognize that I work at an institution where almost the opposite is the case. At BYU we are expected to be examples of the believers to the students who attend here and to our colleagues everywhere. To a cynic, this means that the sincerity of a BYU academic cannot be vouched for; there are other motives—addiction to a monthly income not least among them—that might be adduced to account for my orthodoxy and -praxy, such as they are. To the secularist, if I bear my testimony I am confessing that I have a profoundly irrational world-view; to the cynic, if I bear my testimony I am just trying to keep my job at BYU.
I hesitate to advance my testimony as a “scholar” as if it should have more authority than that of someone who wouldn’t claim to be a scholar—say, my sister or my neighbor, faithful and thoughtful people whose testimonies certainly weigh at least as much as mine. But I suppose that, just as soldiers or healthcare-givers or basketball players or any others who share some significant range of experience might benefit from communing on the relation of their work to their religious grounding, so there is no reason why “we scholars” (as Nietzsche refers to us) should not help each other get clearer on the relation of our profession to our confession.
My graduate training as a scientist began in 1954. Since that time I have been a frequent contributor to more than a dozen scientific disciplines. As a scientist, I am bound by procedural truth-seeking systems and research designs that include basic assumptions similar to those made in the pursuit of religious truths. These include: