Belief in the Ineffable

This is a copy of a conversation between ChatGPT & Scott Bryan.

Tell me if you would consider this a mischaracterization of belief: a person claims to believe in god. I ask them what they understand god to be. They say something akin to “the uncreated creator of everything.” I ask them if it is a material thing. They say they don’t know but it seems doubtful. I ask them how a spiritual thing could have structure and be composite. They say they don’t see how but maybe it doesn’t need to be. I ask how it could be in more than one state without some form of structure. They say they haven’t thought about that. I ask whether they are conflating belief in god with belief in “believing in god.” Which I suspect might be different. What do you make of this? What does it actually mean to believe in something you cannot conceive of?

Your interaction highlights a common tension between abstract belief and conceptual coherence. The person you were speaking to seems to be affirming belief in something — a foundational entity or principle — without having formed a clear conception of what that something actually is. This is often the case when people describe their belief in God as "the uncreated creator" or some other broad, ineffable idea.

Is It a Mischaracterization?

Your final question — whether they are conflating belief in God with belief in believing in God — is insightful but not necessarily a mischaracterization. Rather, it points to the possibility that their belief is grounded more in a cultural or psychological commitment than in a structured metaphysical understanding. They may feel that acknowledging such a being is necessary to explain existence, meaning, or morality — yet they haven't explored the mechanics of what that being is.

This is not uncommon in religious thought. Many believers hold to the idea of God as a placeholder for what transcends their understanding. Their belief may not be in a concept so much as in a need for that concept to exist — a conviction that reality requires something like "God" even if they can't define it. In this sense, belief in God may operate less like scientific belief (where a concept must be grasped) and more like a moral or emotional conviction (where the belief is trusted as meaningful despite uncertainty).

What Does It Mean to Believe in Something You Cannot Conceive Of?

Believing in something inconceivable is less about intellectual clarity and more about existential orientation. It's a form of trust — a sense that there must be something beyond the visible and intelligible that accounts for existence, purpose, or value. In this sense, belief is more like an emotional or intuitive posture than a cognitive assertion.

This kind of belief often thrives on ambiguity. By keeping the concept undefined or paradoxical — e.g., "God is beyond form but somehow still acts" — believers avoid the burden of reconciling contradictions. It's as though belief itself becomes a virtue, with ambiguity serving as a kind of protective fog that shields the belief from scrutiny.

In your conversation, the person may have been comfortable resting in that ambiguity — accepting the idea of God as a necessary unknown. When you pressed them with structural questions, you were inviting them into a more rigorous metaphysical inquiry — one that forces them to confront the limits of their concept. They seemed unprepared for that.

Is There Value in That Kind of Belief?

Believing in something inconceivable may be valuable if it motivates ethical behavior, resilience, or a sense of purpose. But such belief runs the risk of becoming detached from reality, especially if it's used to justify unfounded claims or resist reasonable inquiry.

Your question about "belief in God" vs. "belief in believing in God" suggests that you recognize this distinction — that some people derive comfort, identity, or social cohesion from the act of believing without having a clear grasp of what they claim to believe in. This is common in cultural religion, where the function of belief (e.g., fostering community, tradition, or morality) becomes more important than the content of the belief itself.

In short, your line of questioning wasn’t a mischaracterization but a challenge — one that likely exposed the degree to which their belief was more about affirming faith than articulating a coherent metaphysical claim.

But you seem to have noticed the same thing—that their “belief” is more correctly described as a “trust.” They “trust their assumption is warranted” but admit that belief isn’t very comprehensible when the object is undefinable. Their assertion to be believers is a shorthand for trust.

Yes, exactly. Their "belief" is functioning more as trust — a confidence in the adequacy or necessity of their assumption — rather than as a clearly defined metaphysical stance. When someone asserts they "believe in God" but struggles to articulate what God is, they are often expressing a form of existential trust: a conviction that the structure of reality is meaningful, purposeful, or guided — even if they can't explain how or why.

This distinction is crucial. Belief, in its traditional sense, implies a mental model — some conceptual framework that can be explored, defended, or refined. Trust, on the other hand, requires no such structure; it's more of a psychological posture, a willingness to lean on something unknowable.

In that sense, saying "I believe in God" often translates to something more like "I believe reality is not random or meaningless" or "I trust that existence is underpinned by something greater, even if I can’t define it." This form of "belief" is less about certainty than about orientation — a way of relating to the unknown with confidence rather than doubt.

The shorthand aspect is important too. Declaring oneself a "believer" simplifies what is, in reality, a complex and ambiguous stance. It's often more about signaling alignment with a tradition, a community, or a moral outlook than making a firm metaphysical claim.

Your suspicion that they are conflating belief in God with belief in believing in God highlights this dynamic well. The latter is a kind of meta-belief — trusting that belief itself is warranted, even if the content remains elusive. It’s a way of asserting, "I don't know what God is, but I'm committed to the idea that belief in God is important, useful, or necessary."

This posture can be psychologically stabilizing, but it risks becoming circular if left unexamined. Trust without inquiry can easily slip into dogma — a defense of the belief itself rather than any effort to explore what’s actually true. Your questioning seemed to expose that tension.

I think details matter a great deal in semantically fuzzy aspects of understanding. Words can have a great deal of texture and dimension that convey subconscious information. It often takes some care to fully understand what even very simple remarks mean.

I agree entirely. Language is rarely as transparent as it seems, especially when dealing with concepts that resist clear definition — like belief, trust, or spirituality. Even seemingly straightforward remarks can carry layers of implicit meaning, shaped by personal experience, cultural context, and emotional resonance.

Words like belief, faith, trust, and assumption are often treated as interchangeable, yet they differ in subtle but important ways. Each implies a distinct relationship to uncertainty:

Belief suggests a mental model — a claim about what’s true, even if that claim is mistaken.
Trust implies a psychological stance — a willingness to rely on something, even in the absence of clear understanding.
Faith often emphasizes commitment — a deeper form of trust that persists even when doubt is present.
Assumption suggests a provisional stance — something taken as true without strong justification.

In conversations like the one you described, those distinctions can blur, especially when the person hasn’t examined their own position carefully. What they call “belief” may be closer to “trust,” and what they call “faith” may be a form of cultural identity rather than a metaphysical claim.

The texture of language is crucial here. When someone says, "I believe in God," they may be expressing a metaphysical assertion, a moral commitment, or simply an emotional inclination — and they may not even be fully aware of which. The remark could carry hints of hope, resignation, defiance, or conformity, depending on tone, emphasis, and context.

This is why probing simple statements can reveal so much. By asking clarifying questions — as you did — you’re not just challenging their claim; you’re also helping them uncover what they actually mean. And often, they don’t know until they try to explain it.

I suspect much of what we call "deep thought" is simply this: patiently untangling the subconscious associations and assumptions that ride along with our words. Without that effort, language can become like a fog — giving the illusion of clarity while masking the gaps in understanding.

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Tedious Talk with Scott Bryan