C.S. Lewis on the Efficacy of Prayer

Can the efficacy of prayer be measured scientifically?

Personally, I would be a bit skeptical of any scientific study that claimed to have found a clear relationship between prayer and “desired outcome”. I’m of the opinion that this understanding of prayer (a mere tool for getting what we desire) is fundamentally flawed.

This is the same misunderstanding that Dawkins makes with his ”God Hypothesis” paradigm (i.e. “the existence of God is a scientific hypothesis like any other“). This viewpoint takes a very small view of God (and, by extension, of prayer). Rather than acknowledging God as the ultimate Source of all knowledge and human experience, it seeks to detect the existence of God as an entity within the physical universe - like one might detect dark matter or alpha particles. It regards God as a variable within a system rather than the Creator and Sustainer of the system itself.

In his book “Miracles” (buy it HERE, or check out my review HERE), C.S. Lewis offers the following commentary on free will, divine foreknowledge, and the efficacy of prayer. His model includes some important qualifiers and details that I’ve glossed over, but this excerpt conveys the basic idea:

“Suppose I find a piece of paper on which a black wavy line is already drawn, I can now sit down and draw other lines (say in red) so shaped as to combine with the black line into a pattern. Let us now suppose that the original black line is conscious. But it is not conscious along the whole length at once – only on each point on that length in turn.

Its consciousness in fact is travelling along that line from left to right retaining point A only as a memory when it reaches B and unable until it has left B to become conscious of C. Let us also give this black line free will. It chooses the direction it goes in. The particular wavy shape of it is the shape it wills to have. But whereas it is aware of its own chosen shape only moment by moment and does not know at point D which way it will decide to turn at point F, I can see its shape as a whole and all at once. At every moment it will find my red lines waiting for it and adapted to it. Of course: because I, in composing the total red-and-black design have the whole course of the black line in view and take it into account. It is a matter not of impossibility but merely of designer’s skill for me to devise red lines which at every point have a right relation not only to the black line but to one another so as to fill the whole paper with a satisfactory design…

It is never possible to prove empirically that a given, non-miraculous event was or was not an answer to prayer. Since it was non-miraculous the sceptic can always point to its natural causes and say, ‘Because of these it would have happened anyway,’ and the believer can always reply, ‘But because these were only links in a chain of events, hanging on other links, and the whole chain hanging upon God’s will, they may have occurred because someone prayed.’ The efficacy of prayer, therefore, cannot be either asserted or denied without an exercise of the will – the will choosing or rejecting faith in the light of a whole philosophy. Experimental evidence there can be none on either side. In the sequence M.N.O. event N, unless it is a miracle, is always caused by M and causes O; but the real question is whether the total series (say A-Z) does or does not originate in a will that can take human prayers into account.

This impossibility of empirical proof is a spiritual necessity. A man who knew empirically that an event had been caused by his prayer would feel like a magician. His head would turn and his heart would be corrupted. The Christian is not to ask whether this or that event happened because of a prayer. He is rather to believe that all events without exception are answers to prayer in the sense that whether they are grantings or refusals the prayers of all concerned and their needs have all been taken into account. All prayers are heard, though not all prayers are granted. We must not picture destiny as a film unrolling for the most part on its own, but in which our prayers are sometimes allowed to insert additional items. On the contrary; what the film displays to us as it unrolls already contains the results of our prayers and of all our other acts. There is no question whether an event has happened because of your prayer. When the event you prayed for occurs your prayer has always contributed to it. When the opposite event occurs your prayer has never been ignored; it has been considered and refused, for your ultimate good and the good of the whole universe. (For example, because it is better for you and for everyone else in the long run that other people, including wicked ones, should exercise free will than that you should be protected from cruelty or treachery by turning the human race into automata.) But this is, and must remain, a matter of faith. You will, I think, only deceive yourself by trying to find special evidence for it in some cases more than in others.”

About That Regnerus Study…

My initial reason for writing this post was to respond to an article that recently appeared on “Unofficial Prognosis”, a blog on Scientific American by second-year medical student Ilana Yurkiewicz. Since I’m a second-year medical student myself, I guess that sort of means we’re on a level playing-field (though she DOES attend Harvard).

First, the backstory:

Earlier this month, two papers – published in Social Science Research – caused a wave of controversy by challenging the American Psychological Association’s claim that “not a single study has found children of lesbian or gay parents to be disadvantaged in any significant respect relative to children of heterosexual parents”.

The first paper, by LSU’s Loren Marks, was essentially a review of the 59 studies cited by the APA as support for its claim about same-sex parenting. Marks found that 26 of these 59 studies included no heterosexual comparison groups, that single mothers were often used as the heterosexual comparison group, and that the studies frequently focused on “privileged, homogeneous, and non-representative samples of lesbian mothers”. Based on the currently available data, he concluded that “strong assertions, including those made by the APA, were not empirically warranted”.

The second paper, by sociologist Mark Regnerus, looked at an unprecedented national probability sample of 2,988 adults from various family backgrounds to compare outcomes in 40 different social, emotional, and relational areas. Outcomes were consistently and significantly poorer for those with a gay or lesbian parent, compared with those from intact biological families (outcomes were also poorer for divorced, single-parent, and other non-IBF categories). Although more research is obviously needed, this study casts serious doubt on the popular idea that “no notable differences exist” between children raised by their biological parents and those with same-sex parents.

One major criticism of the Regnerus paper is that it asks participants if their parents ever had a same-sex relationship, rather than asking if they had been raised by same-sex parents. It’s an important distinction, considering that many individuals in the “same-sex” category merely had a parent with a previous same-sex relationship, and might not have actually been RAISED by a same-sex couple. However, this fact dovetails into another important issue – namely, the well-documented instability of same-sex relationships.

This is summarized in an article from The Public Discourse:

“Only 2 out of the 15,000 screened spent a span of 18 years with the same two mothers. Among those who said their father had had a same-sex relationship, 1.1% of children reported spending at least three years together with both men. This strongly suggests that the parents’ same-sex relationships were often short-lived, a finding consistent with the broader research on elevated levels of instability among same-sex romantic partners. For example, a recent 2012 study of same-sex couples in Great Britain finds that gay and lesbian cohabiting couples are more likely to separate than heterosexual couples. A 2006 study of same sex marriages in Norway and Sweden found that “divorce risk levels are considerably higher in same-sex marriages” such that Swedish lesbian couples are more than three times as likely to divorce as heterosexual couples, and Swedish gay couples are 1.35 times more likely to divorce (net of controls). Timothy Biblarz and Judith Stacey, two of the most outspoken advocates for same-sex marriage in the U.S. academy, acknowledge that there is more instability among lesbian parents.”

Additional statistics on elevated levels of domestic violence and infidelity can be found here.

End of backstory; moving on:

In Yurkiewicz’s article, entitled, “Why Mark Regnerus’ study shouldn’t matter, even if it were the most scientifically robust study in the world,” she argues that raising children is a “basic right” – regardless of the individual’s sexual lifestyle:

“By saying empirical data on who rears more stable children is a factor in deciding who should be able to have children, you would be scientifically remiss in stopping at gay and lesbian couples. Rather, you would have to study all groups who want to have children, and compare and contrast outcomes. By race. By religion. By age. By political affiliation. By socioeconomic background. And the list goes on and on.”

From a legal perspective, this is a fairly convincing argument…PROVIDED we accept her premise that a person’s sexual lifestyle is comparable to factors like race, religion, age, etc. That’s a controversial idea, but it actually isn’t the point I want to argue.

I think we should look at this from a  societal perspective rather than a legal one. Even if Yurkiewicz doesn’t believe that Regnerus’ study should matter with regards to the legal status of same-sex parenting, she should at least concede that it matters in the way we, as a society, define the ideal standard for raising children. This cuts directly to the ongoing efforts of many progressives to portray same-sex marriage and same-sex parenting as “completely normal”…no different, really, than traditional marriage and parenting (see the APA’s claim, above).

This is a viewpoint that I cannot accept (particularly if Regnerus’ study were, as Yurkiewicz offered for the sake of argument, “the most scientifically robust study in the world”). Let me illustrate this with a couple examples:

- Divorce is legal, and many children are consequently raised by single parents or stepparents. Yet even though divorce is legal, it’s something we frown upon as a society – recognizing that it’s unhealthy for the children involved.

- Obesity is legal, and many children are fed unhealthy diets by uninformed or apathetic parents. Yet even though obesity is legal, it’s something we frown upon as a society, and discourage as future physicians. (And a person isn’t a “bigot” for pointing out the documented ill-effects of obesity…even though the trait is largely genetic, and many obese individuals can accurately say they were “born that way”.)

This is what it means to have an evidence-based outlook. Even if the Regnerus study doesn’t affect how a person views the legal issues of same-sex marriage and same-sex parenting, it should nonetheless contribute to how we define the ideal environment for raising children. I remain convinced that this “ideal environment” includes a mother and a father.

Alister McGrath on the Demand for Proof

I recently signed up for a trail marathon, so lately I’ve been spending quite a bit of time running. Many of these runs last several hours, so I’ve been really grateful to have discovered the free “DebateGod” podcast on iTunes – dozens of lengthy debates on religion, featuring the likes of Craig, McGrath, D’Souza, Dawkins, Hitchens, and Harris.

Running can be boring, and I like to tell people that there’s not nearly enough going on in this head of mine to keep myself entertained for more than about twenty minutes.

Of course, running can also be painful, and listening to arguments from Sam Harris isn’t exactly a soothing remedy.

Anyhow, one of these debates in particular really struck a chord with me. Or to be more specific, Alister McGrath’s statements in response to Susan Blackmore (Bristol University, 2007, on the motion: “belief in God is a dangerous delusion”) struck the chord. I’ve recently had a number of conversations with people over the nature of “evidence”, “belief”, and “proof”…and how all of these ideas relate to an individual’s religious faith (or lack thereof).

Alister McGrath

Among those who reject Christianity, there is often a desire to “claim the side of science” – to demand irrefutable empirical evidence as the only rational grounds for belief. In other words, “prove it, and I’ll believe it.” If you’ve followed this blog at all over the last few weeks, you’ve no doubt noticed my preoccupation with this issue (cough…cough…cough…cough).

Although I don’t always agree with everything McGrath says, his statements in this debate really cut to the heart of the “demand for proof” issue:

“I believe it absolutely clear that one cannot prove God as one can prove that two and two make four. I also need [to raise the issue] that there are many things that each of us here tonight believes to be important…yet when the chips are down, we know we simply cannot prove them with the certainty that two and two make four.

I believe passionately that democracy is better than fascism. If you were to say to me, “Can you prove that empirically? Can you prove that logically?” I would have to say, “I don’t believe I can.” But nevertheless I have every right to believe this as something that seems to me to be the best-justified approach, and therefore it makes a huge difference to me.

And I think all of you here tonight will be able to identify beliefs – moral, political, ethical – which you know to be vitally important, and yet you also are aware that you really can’t prove them. And that is just the way things are.

…In most areas of life, beliefs that really matter [cannot] be proved in that strict logical sense. They are justified – in a sense we may give reasons for them, GOOD reasons for them – but very often we know we can’t prove them.”

Deconstructing a Common Cause of Unbelief

In my interactions with friends who’ve turned away from Christianity, I sometimes notice patterns – certain arguments and narratives that are common among those who have “de-converted”. I realize this is purely anecdotal, but I wanted to take some time to address one such argument. The following quote is taken (with permission) from a friend of mine during one of our discussions on Facebook:

“Where I began to shift from religion to atheism occurred when I was comparing the competing claims of different religions with the evidence available to me. When there are multiple religions which all share the belief that they are reasonable, purposeful, and do not demand empirical or scientific proof — then it is awfully difficult, at least for me, to establish why I should believe one religion over another. When I watch all of these people in the world who have different beliefs but share the idea of “faith”, and when I heard about all of the people in history who had a multitude of different religions but shared the idea of “faith”, then it is very tough for me [to] just have “faith”. If many religions can have a reasonable, purposeful belief that doesn’t demand empirical or scientific proof, then what’s the point of believing in any of their claims? For me, I thought it was more likely that all religions, by believing based on “faith”, were equally likely to be wrong – once I examined the nature of “faith” and the way it operates in many different religious traditions and throughout history.” 

We can summarize this line of thinking as follows:

If 0 ≤ C ≤ 1

(where “C” is a person’s initial, subjectively-determined “probability of Christianity being true”)

And 0 ≤ C+W ≤ 1

(where “W” adjusts for the presence of other world religions, and “C+W” represents a person’s subjectively-determined “probability of Christianity being true” when considering the existence of these other religions)

Then C+W < C
And W < 0

In other words, this argument claims that the existence of numerous other world religions serves as net evidence AGAINST Christianity being true. Thus, “W” has some arbitrary but negative value.

The problem with this argument, as I see it, is that there is no compelling, objective reason why “W” should be negative. In fact, I believe one can make a convincing case for “W” being positive. That is, the existence of numerous other world religions actually serves as evidence FOR Christianity being true.

To understand this, we first have to recognize that each religion must be studied and evaluated on its own terms. The mere existence of 1.6 billion Muslims in the world doesn’t serve as evidence against Christianity any more than it serves as evidence against atheism, agnosticism, or any other belief system.

I would argue that the presence of so many religious traditions around the world actually points to the likelihood that there is something more to our existence than can be explained materialistically. It demonstrates mankind’s innate craving for something “more” – some kind of experience beyond the mere physical.

“If I find in myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.” -CS Lewis

“If you are an atheist you do have to believe that the main point in all the religions of the whole world is simply one huge mistake. If you are a Christian, you are free to think that all those religions, even the queerest ones, contain at least some hint of the truth. When I was an atheist I had to try to persuade myself that most of the human race have always been wrong about the question that mattered to them most; when I became a Christian I was able to take a more liberal view.” -CS Lewis

On Christianity, it makes perfect sense to find so many different religions and spiritual beliefs throughout the world. Man has been created with a spiritual craving which only God can fill, and absent a relationship with the One True God, he may well invent his own deity (or deities) to worship.

It makes no sense at all, however, to conclude that the existence of so many distinct (yet fundamentally similar) religions somehow serves as a logical argument against any one of them.

A Few Clarifications

The skeptic reading this blog might take issue with some of my starting premises (namely, the exclusive focus on Christianity). They might propose, for example, that an imaginary individual assigns values of 0.6 and 0.4 to the “probability of God existing” and the “probability of God not existing”, respectively. At this point, the competing claims of individual faiths and religions would divide that 0.6 probability into dozens of much smaller probabilities, leaving disbelief in God as the largest remaining value.

However, I want to reiterate that this post is addressed primarily to the former Christian who “de-converted” in part because of the competing claims of other religions, as well as to the current Christian who might be struggling with the same issue. Because from the Christian’s perspective, the mere existence of other religions should not give us any logical reason to doubt our own faith.

Finally, I want to emphatically dispel the idea that our faith should be based on nothing more than a numerical “probability of Christianity being true”. I use that terminology to illustrate a larger point, but our hope in Christ is predicated on a bold leap of faith. A faith supported by solid evidence, certainly…but not something that can be boiled down to mere numbers, either.

The Role of “Choice” in Faith: Puddleglum’s Speech

In my last post, I began a discussion on the role of “choice” in faith by addressing Bertrand Russell’s teapot analogy and the implicit idea that belief in God requires proof.

So for the duration of this post, I will be working off the assumption that a Christian’s faith entails a reasonable and purposeful belief that is supported by evidence. This kind of faith isn’t “blind” by any means, but neither does it demand empirical, scientific proof.

If one accepts this definition of faith and the premise that Christianity has a chance of being true, where does this leave us?

In a recent post, Max Andrews asked himself the question: “What would it take for me to be an atheist?” Some of his thoughts are given below:

“I was speaking with my professor over lunch a month or so back and we struck up a conversation on what it would take for us to be atheists.  Proving the resurrection false doesn’t disprove God, it just disproves Christianity.  The cosmological, fine-tuning, ontological, and moral arguments still work….I believe these arguments are sound.  If I were to become an atheist it wouldn’t be for intellectual reasons, it would be for emotional and existential reasons. What’s interesting is that I’m a Christian for existential reasons. My existentialism is what drove me to Christianity.  I recognized my life was utterly meaningless, valueless, and purposeless without God.” (read the full post here)

An atheist friend of mine once dismissed this idea as “believing in something because you want it to be true”. He then compared Christians to those who jump off tall buildings because they want to be able to fly…and actually believe they can. This comparison, however, suffers from the same problem as Russell’s teapot analogy. It equates a belief in human flight (something with no evidence at all) with a belief in Christianity (something with considerable philosophical and historical evidence, regardless of one’s ultimate conclusions).

The reality is that one of Christianity’s greatest draws is its “appeal to beauty”. It reveals the ultimate source of meaning, value, and purpose that we’re all searching for. All that remains is to make the choice to believe; a “leap of faith”, but not a blind one.

In my opinion, this “appeal to beauty” is most elegantly conveyed in – of all places – a children’s book. In C.S. Lewis‘s “The Silver Chair“, the main characters have entered the underground realm of the Green Lady, where they’ve been enchanted into losing their belief in the above-ground world. One of the characters, a marsh-wiggle named Puddleglum, makes the following speech:

“Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things–trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case, the made-up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing, when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentlemen and the young lady are ready, we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that’s small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say.” 

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