- Self-revelation - The Christian, Transcendent God could only be known through a decision on his part to reveal himself to us, since he exists outside of our material world. Also, his self-revelation would not be subject to the demands of his creation to "show himself" since it would be self-revelation, not external coercion.
- Authoritative - Such self-revelation would necessarily be authoritative in that what the Transcendent God would reveal about himself would be true, right, good, absolute, etc., and would be based on his transcendent nature. Furthermore, his self-revelation would not be self-contradictory, nor would it be the subject of human approval for its validity since this would be subjecting the transcendent to the non-transcendent which is a category mistake.
- Miraculous - Any self-revelation of the Christian Theistic, Transcendent God would be miraculous by definition and could not be explained by merely materialistic based hypothesis.
Intelligent Design Science is the means by which testable, repeatable scientific experiments and real time observation has concluded that organisms are designed, among other things. This means intelligence outside the realm of living creatures had to design them. Also, we have overwhelming evidence that the Earth and the Solar System and the placement of the Solar System within an "arm" of our spiral galaxy and all the laws of nature are very precisely fine-tuned to accommodate this designed set of organisms and especially mankind.
Naturalism is not science, it is philosophy. But it has rung headlong into DNA and other indications that information is part and parcel to life. There is no natural source for information. Naturalism cannot be a successful worldview anymore.
I'll remind you of a famous championship bout for the World Heavyweight title, between massive George Foreman and slightly smaller and quicker Muhammed Ali. From an reporter who watched the Zaire fight and was famed for his sports reporting, George Plimpton:
...For one sickening moment it looked as if a fix were on, that since the challenger was to succumb in the first round it would be best if he went quickly and mutely to a corner so the champion could go to work on him. It was either that or Ali was going through the odd penitential rite he seems to insist on for each fight, letting himself suffer the best his opponent has to offer. In either case, the consequences were appalling to consider. Ali's cornermen rose as one and, in the shrieks reserved for warning someone walking blindly toward the edge of a cliff, they urged their man to stop what he was doing and start dancing.
Far from obliging, Ali moved from the corner to the ropes—traditionally a sort of halfway house to the canvas for the exhausted fighter who hopes perhaps the referee will take pity on him and stop things. Here was Ali in the same spot, his feet square to his opponent, leaning far back out over the seats, his eyes popping wide as if at the temerity of what he was doing, while Foreman stood in front of him and began to punch—huge heavy blows thrown from down around the hips, street-fighter style, telegraphed so that Ali was able to slip and block many of them. Then, with the bell coming up for the end of the round, Ali came off the ropes. While Foreman's arms were down in punching position Ali hit him with a series of quick, smart punches in the face, the best of them a right hand lead that knocked the sweat flying in a halo. The vast crowd roared, and perhaps there were a few who began to sense that they were not in for a night of lunacy after all. Angelo Dundee noticed that almost immediately Foreman's face began to puff up.
"What you doin'?"
"Why don't you dance?"
"You got to dance!"
"Stay off the ropes...."
Ali, looking across the ring, told them to shut up. "Don't talk. I know what I'm doing," he said.
The second and third rounds were carbon copies of the first exciting round though, as Dick Sadler pointed out later, very few of the ingredients of scientific boxing were involved. No countering, no feinting, no moving; simply the hugely terrifying and unique process of seeing a man slowly drained of his energy and resources by an opponent swaying on the ropes, giving him—as Angelo Dundee was to say later—"a lot of nothing."
In the third round, in the midst of continued tremendous pressure from Foreman, Ali hit him some concussive shots, staggering him, and suddenly everybody except Foreman seemed to understand not only the plan but that it was working almost inevitably. Ali's cornermen looked at him as if they were a trio of Professor Higginses looking at their Eliza for the first time.
The notion of fighting Foreman out of a defensive position, blocking and making his opponent slug and miss to the point of weariness, was an idea Ali had only toyed with back in his Deer Lake, Pa. training period earlier in the summer. Then in Africa, spying on the Foreman training sessions, he watched the dogged-ness with which the champion pursued his sparring partners, cutting the ring on them and perfecting this practice to such a degree that Ali realized far too great a percentage of his own strength and resources would have to be devoted to the simple process of escape. The Deer Lake tactics began to make more sense. Indeed, the only weakness attributed to Foreman was that he tended to get flustered and wild if things were not going exactly his way. Perhaps the surprise of Ali's defensive tactics would have this result. It seemed worth trying. If it did not work, if the Foreman punches seemed too devastating, Ali could always (if he survived) go back to the dancing techniques everyone expected.
Later, amidst the storm of excitement in his corner after the third round, he told Angelo Dundee that it seemed to be working, that Foreman's punches were acceptable ("They're not that bad") and he told his astonished trainer that he was going out to continue to let Foreman pound at him.
In the fourth round Ali began to talk to Foreman. It is not easy to speak through a boxer's mouthpiece but Ali began doing a lot of it, more as the rounds progressed, as if it would quicken the matter of Foreman's destruction—"Is that the best you can do? You can't punch. Show me something. That's a sissy punch"—until he finally turned it around to what must have been a devastating thing for Foreman to hear: "Now it's my turn."
Still there was no change in Foreman's tactics. He kept it up, this useless exhaustion of energy, what Bundini Brown called the "emptying of the bank," the punches coming slower and more ponderously, until rising off his stool after the bell and coming across the ring at Ali, he seemed as pathetic in the single-mindedness of his attack plan as the mummies of Ali's beloved horror films, as programmed as the stiff-moving figure lurching through the mists after the life-giving draughts of tana leaves. Indeed, "The Mummy" had been Ali's name for Foreman, one of the inspired appellatives Ali finds for his opponents ("The Washerwoman" for George Chuvalo, "The Bear" for Liston) and nothing could have been more descriptive of Foreman's groping for him in the last rounds. "I am going to be the Mummy's Curse," Ali had said a few days before the fight.
By the eighth round nothing was left. Foreman was helpless. But here was another ugly possibility, that Ali would choose to toy with his opponent and physically tease him as he had Floyd Patterson in Las Vegas. Herbert Muhammad, the son of the Black Muslim leader, sent up word from his ringside seat that his father would not want Ali to play around. Bundini passed it on in the corner, that Herbert did not want his daddy, Elijah, disgraced.
But Ali was not toying with Foreman any more than a circling mongoose fools with a prey exhausted from striking. In the sad business of dispatching a hulk, he did it quickly and crisply with a combination of lefts and rights that sent Foreman flying to the canvas on his back..."
Foreman could not quite comprehend what had happened, laying on a trainer's table after the fight and being checked for concussion symptoms. He'd been knocked out but could not admit to it. He'd been beaten but could not absorb the concept. He'd done what he'd always done before but this time it had not worked. The Hunter had cornered the Game and the Game had put the Hunter's head on the wall!
That is the plight of the Darwinist commenters. For years I have let them give me every answer and non-answer in the book and for years they have failed to connect with an answer. Darwinists are used to everyone agreeing with them. They are used to being able to avalanche the opposition with a series of "facts" that they pretend "prove" evolution. For years I have counter-punched with evidence that disproves evolution. In some cases the fight will be a long one.
But the fight over Information is a different animal indeed. Darwinists were not prepared to discover that "junk DNA" had purposes, that DNA itself would turn out to be a three-dimensional digital coding system that is far more sophisticated than anything mankind can produce. They were not prepared for a question that pulls the rug out from under everything they believe. They were asked to provide the natural source for information.
Patiently over time I presented the case for information only coming from intelligence and presented examples and dissertations and abstracts and the opinions of experts in the information field. After a great deal of preliminary discussion I set up the ring and squared off with them. They pummeled me with a barrage of misinformation and wrong answers. They tried to get out of the question by changing it. They tried to ask questions to get away from answering THE QUESTION. So after a few years of "rope-a-dope" I came out swinging by calling their bluff and presenting THE question:
What is the material source of information? BANG
What is the material source of information? BOOM
What is the material source of information? BASH
What is the material source of information? KNOCKOUT
Ali konks Foreman
We have been in an intellectual fight. Left jabs, right crosses, combinations to head and abdomen, uppercuts...When the time came to finally end all the blather and provide an answer the Darwinists just kept pointing to rabbit trails because they had nothing left. All of their bad answers had been refuted and they had no good answer. So they figuratively yelled things at me over their shoulders as they ran away. Once cornered and with nothing to offer they instead tried to engage me in conversations about quantities of information instead of answering the question.
But it was the final exam. The question was on the exam paper. Answering the question with questions would be an automatic 'F' for failure. Darwinists now have an 'F' and that is that.
The fight is over. You see, there is no natural source for information. I invite you to read every blogpost I have made with "Information" in the title and please check out the !Ultimate Information Post at the top of my links list. You can search them all and find not one answer. I really mean it. Not one Darwinist had an answer for this question.
Information is vital for life. Your body has an amazing amount of information in every cell, information that not only monitors all the processes that keep you alive, but also information passed down from your parents and information that you can pass down to your descendents. The information in DNA is not simply code that is used in reproduction, it is actively involved in keeping you alive every second of your life. The DNA coding system is amazing, far more sophisticated than mankind's digital storage codes and it includes error-checking and repair mechanisms to weed out mutations.
Darwinists have it backwards. Organisms are devolving from the original created kinds. Designed systems for contingencies and redundancies are included and have helped most kinds to survive. But mutations will continue to have negative effects on all living things and eventually mutations will pile up until life is no longer viable, should the Universe continue to exist.
If you look at the comments thread for this post, I can predict what will be said - anything and everything except the answer to the question. They will make accusations, they will resort to ad hominem attacks, they will ask pointless questions, they will complain but they will never answer that question. Never.
Go ahead. Make my day. ANSWER THE QUESTION. Anything else is blather. End of story!!!
Make my day!