Author: Dr. Jay Forrest

Deism is “belief in the existence of a supreme being, specifically of a creator who does not intervene in the universe” (Oxford English Dictionary).

Theism is “belief in the existence of a god or gods, especially belief in one god as creator of the universe, intervening in it and sustaining a personal relation to his creatures” (Oxford English Dictionary).

World Union of Deists

Jayson X, writing on behalf of the World Union of Deists, agrees with the first part of the definition of Deism but says, “I disagree with the part that states, ‘specifically of a creator who does not intervene in the universe.’”¹

Look at the definitions. Deism describes a God “who does not intervene,” while Theism describes a God “who intervenes” in the universe. The single defining difference between Deism and Theism is whether God intervenes or does not intervene.

It is philosophically naïve to assume that Theism automatically means Christian Theism—it doesn’t. If it did, there would be no need to add the qualifier “Christian.” What Jayson X is describing is best understood as rational Theism, not Deism.

He seems not to grasp that a God who intervenes is, by definition, theistic. If you believe in a God who intervenes, you are a Theist. If you believe that God does not intervene, you are a Deist. It’s really that simple. One would hope the World Union of Deists would get that right.

Deists: God Does Not Intervene

Benjamin Franklin viewed God as the creator whose “perfect design allows [the universe] to run without intervention.”²

Thomas Paine viewed God as a creator who established universal laws, arguing that such a creator would have no need to continually alter those very laws.

Matthew Tindal (“Father of English Deism”), argued: God “has given us Reason as the only rule whereby we are to judge of revealed religion,” and divine laws are “imprinted on our nature,” with no need for intervention since “the world operates by natural and self-sustaining laws of the Creator.”³

John Toland said, “God does not work by extraordinary means or suspend his laws; all is by necessary causes in the ordinary course of nature.”⁴

Belief in an interventionist God requires belief in the possibility—or even likelihood—of miracles. It also opens the door to the possibility of divine revelation. That is a very different worldview. Switching from Deism to Theism, therefore, opens a philosophical “can of worms.”

While some people who called themselves Deists did believe in divine intervention, such individuals are more accurately described as deistic rather than Deist. They were influenced by true Deists but continued to believe that God occasionally interferes with the natural order.

Definition Confirmation

Dr. Michael Armheim defines Deism as “belief in an impersonal creator God who does not get involved in the day-to-day affairs of the world.”⁵

Robert Griffiths writes in Philosophy Now: “Deism is belief in the existence of a creator God who does not intervene in the universe, and in particular, in the lives of people.”⁶

Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines Deism as “a system of thought advocating natural religion… rejecting divine intervention in the universe’s laws.”

The American Heritage Dictionary states: “A religious belief holding that God created the universe and established rationally comprehensible moral and natural laws but does not intervene in human affairs through miracles or supernatural revelation.”

StudySmarter captures the standard textbook distinction: Deism features a God who “does not interfere with the natural world,” listing it as “a non-intervening creator.” By contrast, Theism is “an involved and personal deity,” with a worldview “based on divine revelation and intervention.”⁷

A comparative theology analysis puts it even more directly: “Deism is the belief in a God who made the world but who never interrupts its operations with non-natural events. It is a theism minus miracles. God does not interfere with his creation.”⁸

Deism vs Theism

The Encyclopædia Britannica explains that “the word Deism was used by some theologians in contradistinction to Theism, the belief in an immanent God who actively intervenes in the affairs of men.”

Once again, it’s clear: if you believe in “an immanent God who actively intervenes in the affairs of men,” you are a Theist, not a Deist. You may be a rational Theist who rejects revelation, but you remain a Theist nonetheless. Calling yourself a Deist doesn’t make you one.

If Theism and Deism meant the same thing, one of the terms would be redundant. The defining mark of Deism is precisely its rejection of divine intervention. Remove that distinction, and Deism loses its entire reason to exist.

References

1. The True and False Definitions of Deism. https://www.deism.com/post/the-true-and-false-definitions-of-deism
2. Pamela Hernandez Chavez, “Benjamin Franklin: Deist or not?,” research paper, Texas Woman’s University, Department of History and Government, n.d., https://twu.edu/media/documents/history-government/Pamela-Chavez-Revised-Final-18.pdf. Note that Franklin’s views on divine intervention were not entirely consistent.
3. Matthew Tindal, Christianity as Old as the Creation (London, 1730).
4. John Toland, Christianity Not Mysterious: or, a Treatise Shewing, That There is Nothing in the Gospel Contrary to Reason, Nor Above It (London, 1696).
5. Michael Arnheim, Is Christianity True? (Buffalo, NY: Prometheus Books, 1984), 20.
6. Deism: Traditional and Contemporary – Philosophy Now. https://philosophynow.org/issues/152/Deism_Traditional_and_Contemporary
7. StudySmarter: https://www.studysmarter.co.uk/explanations/religious-studies/belief-systems/deism/
8. Comparative Theology: https://chab123.wordpress.com/2011/02/16/a-comparison-between-theism-deism-pantheism-and-polytheism-which-god-or-gods-shall-we-p/

Paul Kurtz said, “Briefly stated, a skeptic is one who is willing to question any claim to truth, asking for clarity in definition, consistency in logic, and adequacy of evidence.”¹ I am a skeptic; I do not believe what I lack good reasons to believe. Because I am willing to question any belief I hold, I have changed my mind a number of times.

Clarity of definition is the first sign of clarity of thought. If you cannot define your terms, you probably do not know what you are talking about.²

I found this problem common in Bible college. I would ask a fellow student what “being born again” meant, and they would answer, “Accepting Jesus as your Lord and Savior.” When I then asked what it means to accept Jesus as your Lord and Savior, some would reply, “It means being born again.” You can imagine the responses when I asked about sanctification, justification, or regeneration; many were confused, and some professors were little better.

Consistency in logic does not prove that something is true, but inconsistency does show that something is false. A contradiction is a sure sign of error somewhere in the belief system.³ Skepticism thrives on this point, testing ideas for coherence and exposing doctrines that collapse under their own contradictions.

Adequacy of evidence is vital. People often mistake mere assertion for evidence, or they appeal to a holy book as if citation alone settled the matter. Just because something is written in a book does not make it true. There must be evidence—verifiable and objective information that adequately supports the claim.⁴

A skeptic will not accept any claim without clarity in definition, consistency in logic, and adequacy of evidence. This stance nurtures intellectual honesty and allows beliefs to be shaped by reality rather than wishful thinking.

Endnotes

¹ Paul Kurtz, “The New Skepticism,” in The New Skepticism: Inquiry and Reliable Knowledge (Buffalo, NY: Prometheus Books, 1992), 9.
² Susan Haack, Evidence and Inquiry: Towards Reconstruction in Epistemology (Oxford: Blackwell, 1993), 7.
³ Graham Priest, Logic: A Very Short Introduction (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 2–3.
⁴ David Hume, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (London: A. Millar, 1748), Section IV.

It is important to know what counts as evidence. Evidence is objective and verifiable information that supports the probability of a claim being true or false.

What is the difference between evidence and proof? Proof is that degree of evidence that warrants belief—that is, when the evidence shows that a claim is probably true. Not every degree of evidence qualifies as proof; it becomes proof only when it justifies accepting the claim.

W. K. Clifford asserts a vital principle: “Religious beliefs must be founded on evidence; if they are not so founded, it is wrong to hold them.”¹ If mistaken beliefs can be a source of unhappiness, then how do we correct them? By looking carefully at the evidence for and against them. Living this way grounds us in reality, though truth can carry a bitter edge.

Evidence consists of facts that support or refute a claim—a statement that is either true or false. After a fair evaluation of the evidence, if it shows that a claim is probably true, you should accept the claim and adjust your actions accordingly. This method clears the fog from conviction, fostering clarity over illusion.

Confirmation bias tempts us to search for, interpret, and favor information that supports what we already believe, while we unconsciously ignore information that does not.² It warps our judgment and entrenches error. To counter it, we must actively look for disconfirming evidence and give it a genuinely open hearing.

When there is little or no evidence for a claim, you should reject the claim as probably false. That means no longer believing it and no longer acting as if it were true. When there is not enough evidence either way, you should suspend judgment about the claim. This also means withholding belief until the evidence improves.³

I am happier and more grounded in reality by living an evidence-based life. This approach offers greater freedom from illusion and a firmer footing in the real. It demands courage, because truth sometimes has a bitter taste, but it also brings the quiet integrity of facing things as they are.

How do you know that what you believe is true? That question belongs to the field of epistemology—the theory of knowledge.

I don’t think we can know very much for certain, and we must give up that impossible search. Yet we can still discover how probable a truth claim is.

We can make this complex issue simple. You can tell whether a claim is probably true by applying the three C’s: correspondence, consistency, and consequences.

– Correspondence means the claim aligns with reality. If what you claim matches reality, it is true; if it doesn’t, it is false. The key question is how to tell whether your belief matches reality. The answer lies in objective and verifiable evidence for or against the belief—so correspondence is about the belief’s accord with available evidence.
– Consistency refers to the harmony of the belief with your wider worldview. Contradiction signals that something is wrong—either the belief is false or an element of your worldview needs correction.
– Consequences are the practical fruits of accepting a claim as true. If living the belief produces good results, it is likely sound; if it produces harm or distortion, it is probably false.

This is a very simple epistemology—only an outline for a larger exploration of how we determine truth, test belief, and live faithfully to what reason and evidence reveal.

Endnotes

¹ W. K. Clifford, “The Ethics of Belief,” in Lectures and Essays (London: Macmillan, 1879), 177.
² Raymond Nickerson, “Confirmation Bias: A Ubiquitous Phenomenon in Many Guises,” Review of General Psychology 2, no. 2 (1998): 175–220.
³ David Hume, An Enquiry Concerning Human Understanding (London: A. Millar, 1748), Section X.

Philosophy is the pursuit of wisdom, and a philosopher is one in pursuit of wisdom. This is why I call myself a philosopher.

The word philosophy comes from the Greek philosophia. The first part, philo, means “friendship” or “love.” The second part, sophia, means “wisdom.” So philosophy literally means “the love of wisdom.”

Today, philosophy means something quite different. It has become an academic discipline concerned with analysis and argument, a profession detached from daily life. It has drifted far from what Pierre Hadot called “philosophy as a way of life.”¹ Epicurus expressed it perfectly: “Empty is the word of a philosopher which does not heal any suffering of humanity.”²

For the lover of wisdom, philosophy lives again when it returns to direct experience. It is not enough to think clearly; one must perceive clearly. Philosophy begins in observation—of the world, the mind, and the relationship between them. When the intellect bows to evidence and the heart to wonder, love of wisdom becomes reverence without ritual.

The Philosopher Defined

Before I offer any guidance, I must first clarify what I mean by philosopher. There are two kinds: the academic professor and the lover of wisdom.

The first teaches the ideas of others; the second tests truth through practice. Only recently has the second kind—the lovers of wisdom—been allowed again to claim the ancient name. And some academics resist, as if wisdom were their possession. But philosophy cannot be owned any more than light can be licensed. It belongs to anyone who seeks to understand reality through reason and mindful awareness.

The lover of wisdom sees no wall between reason and reverence. To observe a sunrise patiently is to study evidence of order; to feel humble before it is to accept one’s smallness within that order. Both ways lead to wisdom. The academic may study the concept of beauty, but the philosopher sees beauty itself and learns from it.

So when universities insist that one must hold a degree to be a philosopher, they confuse knowledge with realization. If that were true, Socrates, Confucius, and the Buddha would not qualify. A credential may serve employment, but not enlightenment. The only requirement to be a philosopher is the will to seek truth through reason, observation, and compassionate living.

Socrates as Example

Socrates of Athens (470–399 BCE) is remembered as the father of Western philosophy, not because of what he wrote but because of how he lived. He questioned without arrogance, taught without textbooks, and guided others not to believe but to examine. His wisdom was not theoretical—it was embodied practice.

Socrates learned his father’s trade as a stonemason, served his city in war, and spent his remaining days walking barefoot through Athens, engaging others in dialogue. By asking them to define virtue, justice, and truth, he revealed that genuine wisdom began with not-knowing. The paradox of his life remains our lesson: ignorance honestly confessed becomes insight.

In my thinking, Socrates’ method is nearly meditation, for it is the disciplined observation of thought until illusion falls away. Just as Zen masters strip away attachment to concepts, Socrates stripped away false certainty through questioning. His simple life embodied the Deist respect for natural order and the Zen humility of constant awareness.⁴

Philosophy once meant this—living inquiry. Today it too often means professional commentary. Once it sought the good life; now it seeks the next appointment. The light has not gone out, but it trembles under the noise of its own language.

Returning to the Love of Wisdom

Philosophy has lost its way, but it can still find home. The way back is not through institutions but through stillness, reason, and direct encounter with reality.

To philosophize is to live awake—to look at the stars and trace their lawful dance, to listen within and sense the quiet presence of Mind that orders all things. This insight is not supernatural—it is natural revelation, accessible through attentive reason and experience.³ The lover of wisdom calls this awareness divine because it unites the mind that questions with the cosmos that answers.

You do not need permission to think, or a title to care about truth. To test your thoughts against experience, to question without cynicism, to act justly and walk humbly—that is philosophy reborn.

When philosophy becomes once more a daily practice of mindfulness and moral clarity, it no longer serves the ego but the cosmos itself. Truth becomes light you live by, not a theory you defend. And in that quiet return—the mind alert, the heart kind—you rediscover what the earliest lovers of wisdom knew:

To love wisdom is to love the order of nature.
To live that love is to walk lighter in the world.

Endnotes

¹ Pierre Hadot, Philosophy as a Way of Life: Spiritual Exercises from Socrates to Foucault, trans. Michael Chase (Oxford: Blackwell, 1995).
² Epicurus, fragment cited in Hermann Usener, Epicurea (Leipzig: Teubner, 1887), fragment 221. Commonly translated, “Vain is the word of a philosopher which does not heal any suffering of humanity.”
³ Antony Flew, There Is a God: How the World’s Most Notorious Atheist Changed His Mind, with Roy Abraham Varghese (New York: HarperOne, 2007).
⁴ Plato, Apology, Crito, and Phaedo; Xenophon, Memorabilia; Diogenes Laërtius, Lives of Eminent Philosophers, Book 2. Sources for biographical accounts and Socratic practices.

Deism, as defined by Dr. Michael Arnheim, is the “Belief in an impersonal creator God who does not get involved in the day-to-day affairs of the world” (1).

I describe my spiritual path as spiritual Deism. For me, it’s a natural blending of contemplative practice with the Deist commitment to reason, observation, and a non-personal understanding of the divine. Instead of following a revealed deity or a fixed religious system, I orient myself toward what I call the Transpersonal Rational Ground of Being. This is not a god who speaks through scriptures or institutions.

I am not drawn to rigid dogma or religious authority. I know how much I don’t know. Spiritual Deism gives me room to breathe. It lets me explore spirituality without surrendering my intellect or my direct experience. My practice centers on personal transformation, ethical living, and a mindful connection to God—not on creeds or rituals.

Guiding Principles

At the heart of my path are a few guiding principles:

• Rational Spirituality: My authority is reason, science, and personal experience.
• No Bible: I don’t accept any scripture as exclusive truth. I treat them as human books by human authors, containing truth, error, and ignorance – like all other human works.
• Contemplative Practice: I daily practice mindfulness meditation, cultivating mindfulness and a direct sense of connection with God.
• The Ground of Being: I experience the divine not as a person but as the Impersonal Rational Ground of Being. I don’t worship it; I encounter it within.
• Ethical Living: Benevolence, compassion, and integrity are my ethical goals. Living mindfully is how I awaken to deeper wisdom.
• Spiritual but Not Religious: I draw inspiration from many traditions – Buddhism, Stoicism, Daoism, and certain mystics, as well as philosophy and psychology – without belonging to any institution. My spirituality is lived, not inherited.

Learn, Don’t Cling

Spiritual Deism also helps me understand what my path is not. It isn’t traditional religion; there’s no clergy, no temple, no dogma. My personal motto is: Learn from all, but cling to none.

Spiritual Deism isn’t pure Deism, because I don’t stop at intellectual belief. I also cultivate a spirituality that includes a sense of cosmic consciousness, a feeling of awe in nature, and a deep connection to the present moment. I freely acknowledge the Divine in the various religious traditions.

In the end, spiritual Deism feels like a form of rational mysticism. It’s a way for me to explore who I am, what reality is, and how I relate to God and the universe. Through disciplined awareness and mindful presence, I walk a contemplative path that feels honest, grounded, and deeply alive.

Albert Einstein Quote

“I am not an atheist. I do not know if I can define myself as a pantheist. The problem involved is too vast for our limited minds. We are in the position of a little child entering a huge library whose walls are covered to the ceiling with books in many different tongues. The child knows that someone must have written those books. It does not know who or how. It does not understand the languages in which they are written. The child notes a definite plan in the arrangement of the books—a mysterious order, which it does not comprehend, but only dimly suspects. That, it seems to me, is the attitude of even the most intelligent human being toward God. We see a universe marvelously arranged, obeying certain laws, but only dimly understand these laws. Our limited minds grasp the mysterious force that sways the constellations” (2).

Charles Darwin Quote

“There seems to me too much misery in the world. I cannot persuade myself that a beneficent and omnipotent God would have designedly created the Ichneumonidae with the express intention of their feeding within the living bodies of Caterpillars, or that a cat should play with mice. Not believing this, I see no necessity in the belief that the eye was expressly designed. On the other hand, I cannot anyhow be contented to view this wonderful universe, and especially the state of man, and to conclude that everything is the result of brute force. I am inclined to look at everything as resulting from designed laws, with the details, whether good or bad, left to the working out of what we may call Chance. Not that this notion at all satisfies me. I feel most deeply that the whole subject is too profound for the human intellect. A dog might as well speculate on the mind of Newton” (3).

Endnotes

1. Michael Arnheim, Is Christianity True? (Buffalo, NY: Prometheus Books, 1984), 20.
2. Albert Einstein, interview with George Sylvester Viereck, Glimpses of the Great (New York: Macaulay, 1930). Emphasis added.
3. Charles Darwin, letter to Asa Gray, May 22, 1860, in The Life and Letters of Charles Darwin, ed. Francis Darwin (London: John Murray, 1887), 312. Emphasis added.