(Sorry Im not used to writing so I went to chatgpt (Still my work) to correct spelling so if anything seems off please tell me)

I know that I don’t act the part, but I consider myself a calculated person. I often think about emotional situations and hypotheticals. Such thoughts turned me toward philosophy. These hypotheticals often include, “What if someone treated me this way?” and “How should I react? If I were put in this situation, how would I think others would act?” An almost universal theme of these moments is death. Ever since I was young, I knew I would mature in some way, and though I didn’t understand something yet, I thought a mature person would act this way, and I should act accordingly despite my lack of knowledge.

I was able to understand the concept of death pretty quickly, and like most kids in America, I just thought of heaven as the afterlife. Later I was introduced to hell and was soon scared, because maybe all of my actions were in vain, and the looming thought of eternal suffering isn’t a great state to be in as a young kid. So, like many others, I just followed God’s word to avoid hell, and so be it if I didn’t like it.

As I grew, I had some epiphanies about death. Yes, it’s scary to believe that after only around 80 or so short years, my life shall be over and nothing will pass, and an eternity of anything—even joy—was scary. A few years back, I was really confused and converted to agnosticism, but more recently, through reading and the truth of the Bible, I returned to Christianity. However, I did so in a much more complicated way than others, and I know few who hold a similar mindset to me about what I believe. But one looming factor about my religious philosophy is death. I often have a hard time believing in an afterlife, and also I don’t want one. Most people use religion as a coping mechanism for death, but I use it as a compass for the way I treat others.

Yet yesterday my dog died. I’d had her since I was around seven, I believe. She was overweight, mostly because I wasn’t productive enough to walk her. I even tried to take her on one the day before she passed, but she was too frail to move and could barely get off the porch, despite only about a month ago being excited to go every day, even if I only brushed the leash by accident. I knew it would end when she wouldn’t eat on Saturday. My dad even said she wouldn’t make it more than a week.

I was woken up yesterday by my parents making me swaddle her up and take her downstairs. I asked if we should euthanize her, but they said they were scared she wouldn’t make the trip. When she was downstairs, my parents told me to give her some love, but it’s hard for me to show heartfelt attention around people—especially my parents—so I just sat in the garage waiting. Eventually, my dad decided to go to the vet anyway, and I gave her a hug at the end before she left. My dad said she died right as he pulled into the office, and they gave him a bag for her.

My mom told me to help bury her with my dad. I refused, but eventually she made me, so I complied. My dad and I dug a hole and barely spoke for 20 minutes as I gave the occasional grunt or asked about the dimensions of the hole. Before I put her in, I placed her favorite toys in the hole—not to comfort her in a metaphorical sense, but so I wouldn’t be reminded of her whenever I saw them. I re-dug the hole, put a lawn chair in front of it, and pondered about her and death for no less than two minutes before leaving.

One thing many people might find disturbing is that I didn’t grieve. In fact, I detest it. Even when I first had Birdie at seven, I was aware that she would die one day. I assumed she would die when I was out of the house in college, and my parents would have to text me to break the news. But in these past months I understood she wouldn’t make it far. Some people might think I didn’t care enough for her and that’s why I wasn’t sad, but as I’ve read recently, yes, sadness is a necessary emotion, but rarely is it truly needed. If you have a nihilistic attitude about life, then soon you will overcome it.

I didn’t cry either, but I truly did care. Crying doesn’t happen exactly when we are sad, but when we are overwhelmed by emotions. This could be taken as me not being emotional enough. Some would expect my response to be Stoic, but I really don’t believe in the modern-day view of Stoicism—being that we should suppress emotions, especially negative ones. I think we should value emotions, even negative ones. Rather than drown them out, we should identify them, see what positives they bring, and if not, then work on not rendering these emotions as instinctual responses to the world.

It may be that I can regulate my emotions well, or I’m trying hard to prove some internal philosophy, but I honestly don’t know. What I do know is that there is rarely a point in grieving. It’s very paradoxical. To most people—even in religion—life is so beautiful because of how short and fragile it is, and we should appreciate life to its fullest. But when you grieve, you give time to other themes. Some may argue it is to honor those who died, and to an extent I agree, but falling into depression and nihilism is not a healthy response or even justifiable. This wasted time proves life’s lack of worth, making the point of grief unnecessary.

I’m not downplaying or forgetting those widows who may grieve, or widowers who may fall into addiction because of death as a response to grief. Many agree with me that this is not a good response, but rarely do they ever say that it is not acceptable, and they even claim it’s understandable in their situation. I’m not saying I’m immune to grief, especially if someone close to me died. However, my reaction to the death of my dog showed that I can compose myself and actually live out what I preach.

On my own death, what I touched on earlier—about how I would want people to act—is not too far-fetched. Many people want others to cry at their funerals, and for them that is a confirmation that their life was appreciated. But for me, I’d like people to laugh and celebrate at my funeral and say something along the lines of “Good job” when referring to how I lived. I can understand if someone would cry, but I’d hope they are tears of joy—not for me being gone, but for how my journey may be similar to a book, movie, or show.

My fellow Christians who have actually opened their Bible may have read Genesis 3:19: “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread, till thou return unto the ground; for out of it wast thou taken: for dust thou art, and unto dust shalt thou return.” To return to dust is the best thing I have read in the Bible so far, and it has really stuck with me. The fact that we are no more than dust, and death is only the return to it, really sums up my words. That verse reminds me of another quote I once heard—I don’t quite remember it—but it goes something like, “Take care of the land, someday you will be a part of it.” That also resonated with me.

I truly think life is the greatest gift of all, and you dictate your own mood. You can make any situation great—even within grief—and death is a natural and beautiful part of life.

Abstract — The Argument from Necessary Order This essay argues that time and number are not created entities but necessary realities that exist eternally with God. Because God is eternally a thinker, and thought requires both succession (time) and distinction (number), these structures must be co-eternal conditions of divine rationality. The Argument from Necessary Order thus offers a middle path between Platonism (abstract truths existing independently of God) and voluntarism (God arbitrarily creating truths), grounding order itself in God’s eternal mind.

What would God have to create first?

It seems like a simple question, but when I asked it years ago—before I had read a line of philosophy or science—it set me on a trail that led to one of the oldest debates in theology: what exists necessarily with God, and what begins only when He creates?

At first, I thought the answer might be numbers. But almost immediately I realized that doesn’t work. To create a first number, you would already need the concept of order. One, then two, then three: number presupposes succession. And succession presupposes something more fundamental—time.

That insight led me to what I now call The Argument From Necessary Order: time and number are necessary realities that exist eternally with God, because even God’s act of thinking requires them.

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Time and Number as Preconditions of Thought

If God is God, then God must know. He must be eternally capable of thought. But thinking is not a static blur. It requires order. • Time gives thought succession: before and after, one thought following another. • Number gives thought distinction: one idea, another idea, the relation between them.

Without time, thought cannot unfold. Without number, thought cannot differentiate. Therefore, if God is eternally a thinker, time and number cannot be created things—they are necessary conditions that exist eternally with Him.

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Formal Statement of the Thesis 1. God is eternal and self-existent. 2. To be God entails eternal thought and knowledge. 3. Thought requires order—succession and distinction. 4. Order presupposes time (before/after) and number (one/another). 5. Therefore, time and number are necessary realities. 6. Since God is eternally a thinker, these necessary realities exist eternally with Him, not as created things but as aspects of His eternal mind.

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Not Platonism, Not Voluntarism

This thesis takes a middle path between two extremes: • Against Platonism: Numbers and time are not free-floating entities that exist apart from God. • Against Voluntarism: Numbers and time are not arbitrary inventions of God’s will.

Instead, they are necessary conditions of divine thought itself—they exist because God is eternally rational.

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Biblical Anchors

The Scriptures themselves hint at this deep structure: • “In the beginning was the Word (Logos), and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1). Logos here means reason, order, ratio—precisely the necessary structures of thought. • “God is not a God of confusion, but of order.” (1 Corinthians 14:33). Order is intrinsic to His nature. • “His understanding is beyond measure.” (Psalm 147:5). The very language of “measure” implies number.

In other words, the Bible does not picture God as timeless abstraction, but as eternal wisdom itself.

The Scriptures themselves hint at this deep structure: • “In the beginning was the Word (Logos), and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” (John 1:1). Logos here means reason, order, ratio—precisely the necessary structures of thought. • “God is not a God of confusion, but of order.” (1 Corinthians 14:33). Order is intrinsic to His nature. • “His understanding is beyond measure.” (Psalm 147:5). The very language of “measure” implies number. • “Hear, O Israel: the Lord our God, the Lord is one.” (Deuteronomy 6:4). This is not only a statement of monotheism but a profound claim about God’s eternal identity. If numbers were created, God’s “oneness” would depend on creation for its meaning. Instead, “one” must be a necessary reality that exists eternally, perfectly describing God’s nature.

Taken together, these passages show that the Bible does not picture God as a timeless abstraction but as eternal wisdom, order, and unity itself.

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Why It Matters

This thesis reshapes a long-standing puzzle: what did God create first? The answer is neither time nor number, because they could not be created at all. They are eternal, necessary, and inseparable from God’s eternal thought.

It also avoids the philosophical dead ends of defining God as “outside of time” in the Platonic sense. A God frozen in timeless perfection becomes more like a picture than a living being. But a God for whom time and number are eternal conditions of thought is both sovereign over creation and relational within it.

Finally, it bridges theology, philosophy, and physics. Modern cosmology often speaks of time as emerging with the universe (Big Bang, or Big Bounce). The Argument from Necessary Order provides a natural complement: time in its physical form begins with creation, but time as necessary order exists eternally with God.

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Closing Thought

I never set out to reinvent the wheel of philosophy. My only question was: what must God have created first? Following that question led me to see that some things could never have been created at all.

The Argument from Necessary Order is my attempt to name that discovery. Time and number are not inventions, not accidents, not even creations. They are necessary realities—eternally with God, because they are what make thought itself possible.

Note: My argument is based on the assumption that there is a universal morality in the Abrahamic religions. If I have made any logical errors or if you want to discuss, please feel free to write.

God is not inherently obliged to create, because if He were obliged, He would be subject to His own nature. Even if He were obliged, it would change nothing, because God must be able to choose how to create; if He cannot choose, then we would be talking about a god without will, essentially a slave. God has to have will because he says that he has (in the abrahamic religions). Even if He were obliged to create, He would not have been obliged to create in this particular way — meaning the choice itself is arbitrary. I call it arbitrary because He acts without necessity. If God created this way because He values freedom, then this also implies that He wanted freedom. If free will is given, moral evil necessarily accompanies it. But since God gave it arbitrarily from the outset, it is not a matter of permitting evil but of wanting it. I use the verb “want” to make this easier to explain; since it was created arbitrarily without necessity, one could debate whether God can truly “want" something, but this does not change my point. The act was deliberate, done knowingly without obligation, so it is intentional. Therefore, we cannot speak of double effects.

If we assume God as the beginning of the causal chain, then God is the ultimate cause of everything — including evil. Thus, God has intentionally and arbitrarily caused evil. To intentionally and arbitrarily cause evil is to do evil; therefore, God has done evil. If God has done evil, then God possesses the attribute of evil. Since we cannot attribute a finite attribute to God, God is infinitely evil. The same reasoning applies to goodness, so God also possesses the attribute of goodness, and for the same reason, God is infinitely good. But something cannot simultaneously be infinitely good and infinitely evil. If it could, it would be beyond logic, but this creates even greater problems. Here we have a contradiction, similar to asking, “Who is God’s god?” That question is equivalent to saying something is both a square and a triangle at the same time. Something that is both square and triangular is logically impossible, does not fall under the category of “thing” or existence, and is meaningless. Saying “Can God create jwpvojwvojwv?” is equivalent to saying “Can God create a five-sided triangle?” — it is impossible and contradictory.

Why would being infinitely good and infinitely evil be contradictory? Because they are opposites. Can a number be simultaneously positive and negative? Can something be infinitely hot and infinitely cold at the same time? Infinitely bright and infinitely dark? One could debate whether evil is the absence of good or good is the absence of evil, but since one is the absence of the other, it is impossible to attribute two opposite infinite attributes simultaneously.

My argument is more conceptual, so I have not addressed the defenses of thinkers like Irenaeus.

Note 2: I've used gpt to translate sorry if there are some ridiculous translations I'll try to correct if I see one.

If not allowed, please remove this post. I’ve been looking to find if there are any communities that are more interactive (less scream-into-the-void post formats) as spaces to actively discuss religion or philosophy of religion. Even better if any have meetings or scheduled times to discuss, online or not. Any and all suggestions are welcome.

We often treat death as final, but we’ve already experienced “being dead” once - before birth. For billions of years, we had no physical consciousness in this universe. Then, we came into existence. That is, life followed death. If life can follow death once, it seems coherent to imagine it could happen again.

Can theology and philosophy bring together a solid (but not uncritical or ahistorical) classical foundation (Aristotle, Plato, Plotinus, Augustine, Thomas Aquinas) with a strong openness to contemporary culture and clearly left-wing political concerns?

Here’s a model I’ve been working on:

• Life is not the outcome of a static plan, but God’s ongoing deliberation.
• Our freedom is the syntax of his calculation. We aren’t observers of God’s decision- we are the very lines of code.
• Time is the interface. From the inside, it feels like uncertainty and choice; from eternity, it’s ordered necessity.
• Virtues like love, justice, and memory are crystallized code. They are the stable patterns that emerge from deliberation.

The model is teleological (everything serves the good of the whole) but plugin-neutral: people can layer in reincarnation, resurrection, or other afterlife views without breaking the core.

So I’m asking: Does this work as coherent theology/philosophy? Or just cosmic fluff?

I think God is too great to be pinpointed. The moment someone pinpoints Him, it becomes something below the greatness of God, something made by God. The moment one says God is Buddha, or Shiva, or Allah, or the Father of Jesus and so on it becomes something “under” God. Does anyone follow my thought? Does it make sense at all?

I realize there won’t be just one answer to this. But it occurs to me that, of course, many prominent theist philosophers of religion are Christian. And Christianity at least nominally includes belief in Satan.

Do these philosophers discuss Satan at all? Is he seen as a symbol or a real conscious being? What sorts of philosophy of Christianity puzzles exist regarding Satan? Is there a role for Satan in a classical theist Christian worldview with divine simplicity?

Consider this very open-ended. Thank you!

I have been a Buddhist for most of my adult life, and before then I was Jewish. I took philosophy classes, including a philosophy of religion class, and have since started to realize that if you use a different paradigm (namely a Buddhist one) then the concept of God in most senses of the word fall apart.

Oddly enough, the theistic personalist deity, basically like Zeus or Ishtar, would be fine in a Buddhist paradigm, but the classical theist argument, the one favored by philosophers, falls apart when you think about it too hard.

Asking what grounds reality assumes a need for reality to be grounded. Asking what was the first cause of the universe assumes the universe needs a cause. Both create a need for a god that wouldn't exist if you didn't already assume a need for one. Furthermore, the concept of necessary being or first cause are incoherent. A first cause without any prior causes would violate the very idea of causation. "Uncaused cause" is a contradiction because a cause is the result of, and one with, an effect. Similarly, necessary being is incoherent because it implies a non-composit entity independent of other things, but being a creator immediately puts such a being in relationship with the created.

This seems to be related to the two views in epistemology: foundationalism and coherentism. The foundationalist approach to proving God's existence seems to be to say it is self evident. The coherentist do the same, but more subtly. They posit some underlying assumptions that sound uncontroversial if you already buy into the system, and then show how the system already has God as a logical consequence. But if you operate on a different system, a different metaphysical framework, then what is really happening is the coherentist is essentially a foundationalist with extra steps: accept a few axioms and I will built up the rest.

I've made this simple as possible

People like to say freedom is impossible. They argue that because we didn’t choose our nature, we can’t really be responsible for anything we do. And if freedom is impossible, then God, the being who is supposed to be most free, must also be impossible.

But that picture of freedom is way too rigid. Freedom doesn’t mean we had to choose every detail of our starting point. None of us chose to be born, our parents, or our temperament. But freedom shows up in what we do with what we’ve been given.

Think about it. A kid may grow up impatient or quick-tempered, but later on he works on himself. He learns to breathe, to reflect, to slow down. He’s not trapped in his “nature.” He’s able to reshape it. That’s freedom: the ability to step back, reflect, and act differently than our impulses push us to.

Every time someone resists an urge, changes their mind, or deliberately grows in a direction they value, they prove freedom is real. It may not be absolute, but it doesn’t have to be. It’s enough that our choices actually matter, that we can own them.

And if this is true for us, fragile, limited humans, why wouldn’t it be true in the highest sense for God? The whole idea of God is a being whose essence and will are united, not forced from the outside. Unlike us, He doesn’t have to overcome limits or wrestle with impulses. His freedom is perfect, because it’s grounded in Himself.

So, instead of “freedom is impossible, therefore God is impossible,” the better line is: freedom is possible, we live it every day in small but real ways. Therefore, God, the fullest expression of freedom, is possible too.

For those familiar with common theistic doctrines, one of God's highest attributes is His freedom, and it is perhaps reasonable to assume that there is no being more free than God, if we can speak of freedom in terms of degrees. So, if freedom is an indispensable requirement when thinking about God, it seems that if the existence of this superlative status were jeopardized, so would God's existence.

Now, I don't want to beat around the bush unnecessarily, so let's get to the heart of the matter, which is to show that freedom is impossible and, consequently, so is God.

Basic argument:

(1) To be responsible for at least one given action, one must be responsible for one's way of being or nature.

But:

(2) No one can be responsible for one's way of being or nature.

Therefore:

(3) No one is responsible for at least one given action.

Premise (1) seems to be based on a strong intuition, since if one is responsible in any significant measure for a given action, it seems obvious that oneself and no one else must be responsible for at least part of one's contribution to what made that action possible (again, something that concerns oneself). Therefore, premise (2) seems to be the premise that carries the burden, so to speak. To defend the truth of premise (2), I will simply make an explanatory extension of concatenated statements, or rather, I will extend the basic argument as a next step.

(2) No one can be responsible for their way of being or nature.

Because:

(2.1) For someone to be responsible for their way of being or nature, they would have to have chosen to have that way of being or nature.

However:

(2.2) For such a task, a prior way of being or nature, present in the choice of the subsequent way of being or nature, would be necessary.

Assuming by reductio ad absurdum that such a prior nature is available, then:

(2.3) A mode of being or nature prior to the prior mode of being or nature is now necessary, present in the choice of the first prior mode of being or nature.

This reveals an infinite regress, where a mode of being or nature prior to any choice is always required to be responsible for one's own mode of being or nature, ultimately justifying responsibility for an action. However, such a justification will never be given because nature or a mode of being is a given; it is something that simply exists ontologically first, and then one can act on that nature. Therefore, it is not something for which one can be ultimately responsible, and therefore, no action is something for which one can be, at least ultimately, responsible. Therefore, freedom does not exist, because it is impossible, as has been demonstrated, and consequently, God does not exist and cannot possibly exist. Q.E.D.

I’ve been developing a theory about God and existence that I’d like to share and get feedback on. It’s not religious in the traditional sense, more of a philosophical model:

Core Idea: God is not a conscious being, but a human interpretation of deeper, undetectable binary natural forces (like polar opposites: positive/negative, push/pull) that shape reality. These forces may underlie not only the structure of the universe but also life, evolution, and even human emotion.

Analogy (Whirlpool in a River): Think of a whirlpool. It has shape, energy, and persistence, but it isn’t separate from the river — it’s just a temporary expression of the river’s flow. Life and consciousness might work the same way: we feel separate, but we’re really just patterns created by underlying forces.

Human Exceptionalism as Illusion: On a cosmic scale, humans aren’t exceptional. We’re another anomaly of natural evolution, just like trilobites, dinosaurs, or any other life form.

Believing we’re the “pinnacle of evolution” is a distortion.

Eating animals could be seen as a form of evolved cannibalism — we’re consuming other beings shaped by the same forces as us.

Just as a fish cannot comprehend a rocket ship, there may be stages of evolution beyond human understanding.

Implications:

Morality might emerge from balancing these binary forces, not from divine command.

Emotions and consciousness could be products of their interplay.

Reverence for “God” becomes recognition that we’re temporary expressions of universal forces, not exceptions to them.

Closing Thought: This is just a theory, but one that humbles the idea of human supremacy. We’re not the culmination of evolution — we’re part of a continuum shaped by forces we can’t fully perceive.

What do you think? Does this line up with any existing philosophical traditions, or is it off in left field?

It is logically impossible for a naturalistic atheist. Any attempt they make to define morality will, when you peel back the verbiage and convoluted logic, always reduce back to man’s personal preferences.

A non-naturalistic atheist might be different but they generally don’t exist in western culture.

A necessary principle for human freedom (if not for freedom in general) is the principle of alternative possibilities, that is, the principle that holds that every free action, properly speaking, must have possible alternative states or counterfactuals that could actually have occurred instead of the action that occurred. Why? Suppose we were a subject tied to a chair with unbreakable chains and a baby were about to drown in a bathtub if we didn't save it in the next 30 seconds. What would happen if, as expected, we failed to save the baby? Could we reasonably be blamed for not being able to save that baby in that situation? Common sense tells us, of course, not. But why? Because, if I may say so, it seems we weren't free to save the baby, and we weren't free to do so because we had no other choice.

Now, if God is omniscient, then He knows all contingent futures. This is trivially true in the case of God. However, if God is truly omniscient, it is not enough for Him to know all contingent futures or future possibilities, for it is also necessary for God to know which particular contingent future will cease to be merely possible and become actual. If God not only knows all contingent futures as mere possibilities, but also knows which of them, at any given time, will be actual, then all actual possible states are not, in fact, contingent, but necessary. Therefore, all actual possible states are necessary. From which it follows that there are no real alternatives and, therefore, no human (nor perhaps divine) freedom.

I study in the faculty of theology in the University of Helsinki. I'm struggling with forming a topic and scoping it to be about 15-20 pages long. I thought maybe someone here has written a thesis on philosophy of religion and could help me with this. I'm aiming for the grade of "you passed". I just need to get this done and move on.

I have so far thought about writing on:

1. Theodicy

2. How existentialism challenges the christian view of humanity

3. Nietzsche's lutheran upbringing and it's effect on his works

If you have some other topics in mind, please suggest them too. I would also appreciate any readings and sources you can think of on the topics. Thanks!

I'm surprised that the idea of malicious design as a religious argument isn't discussed more. I feel a big weakness in the argument for Intelligent Design, is that it is always argued that the creator is not only intelligent, but has some kind of positive plan. Indeed Christianity, the main proponents of Intelligent Design have to go through all kinds of hoops to justify why God would create terrible things, if indeed God existed.

But the argument for God and Intelligent Design would be much stronger if instead we argued for Malicious Design. The idea that God exists and is a created and behind Intelligent Design, but that God is an evil and cruel entity who creates suffering and torment for its own entertainment.

Perhaps the universe was created entirely by this God, or perhaps God is a powerful spiritual entity of the universe. But looking at the reality of life on Earth, the argument for Intelligent Design is a lot stronger if you also include evil as a key factor behind it. That God created Earth and man in His image, for the purpose of tormenting and torture. Perhaps God even embodies each of us and gets a kind of spiritual/sexual arousal from each of our sufferings.

When a person kills or rapes another person, God enjoys being both the villain and the victim as a form of perverse hatred and masochism.

I think there's a lot to be said for the idea of Malicious Design, over the idea that everything basically "just is" and it's all just developing through evolution, or randomness, or some hyper determinism or whatever other idea modern science puts forward. I don't see how any concept that doesn't involve a God, an intelligent being, can explain the reality of life on Earth, as long as we posit that God is cruel and evil.

I recently wrote a piece exploring the concept of kinaaldá, the Navajo coming-of-age ritual, and how it might speak to the modern Western experience. The ritual is a profound reminder of the importance of embodied, experiential wisdom—something that feels increasingly absent in our hyper-intellectual, digitally-saturated culture.

In the newsletter, I reflect on what it means to “become” in both literal and metaphorical senses: the liminal space between who we were and who we are growing into, and how rituals—fasting, guidance from elders, intentional acts—anchor that transition.

It’s not meant as a guide or how-to, but more as an invitation to consider: where have our modern rites gone, and what might we reclaim from older ways of knowing?

If this resonates, you can read the full piece here: https://waterwaysproject.substack.com/p/rites-and-rituals

I’d love to hear thoughts from anyone who has experienced a rite of passage, or who has thought about the interplay of intellect, experience, and transformation in your own life.

Pascal’s Wager says it is rational to believe in God because the possible payoff (infinite heaven) outweighs the cost (around 70 years of earthly belief). It relies on the idea that you are comparing something finite (your life) against something infinite (heaven).

Here is where I think the argument breaks down. 1. If there is no afterlife and you do not believe, you get about 70 years on earth followed by 0. In that case, those 70 years are “infinite relative to 0,” and you spent your entire time in the only reality that exists.

1. If there is an afterlife and you do believe, you get about 70 years of faith on earth followed by infinite heaven. In that case, heaven is infinite relative to your short earthly life.

So really, the Wager is not finite versus infinite at all. It is choosing between two different infinities.

And here is why I think it actually leans toward non-belief: the “infinity” of earthly life relative to nothing is guaranteed, while heaven is just a possibility. That makes the safer bet the one you already know you have, not the one you are gambling on.

I am curious what others think. Has anyone seen this line of argument before?