The Humility Inversion
Where exactly is the moral high ground?
There’s a common assumption in conversations between atheists and Christians about who holds the humble position. The atheist, we’re told, is the modest one: “I just follow the evidence. I don’t claim access to absolute truth. I’m open to being wrong.” The Christian, by contrast, is arrogant: “I have the truth. I know what God thinks. I can tell you what’s objectively right and wrong.”
It sounds plausible until you watch what actually happens when morality comes up.
The atheist says God is immoral. The genocide in the Old Testament. The doctrine of hell. The exclusivity of salvation. Whatever the specific charge, the structure is the same: God fails to meet the standard, and the atheist is the one holding the measuring stick.
But where did the measuring stick come from?
Press this question and you’ll usually get some combination of empathy, human flourishing, evolved moral intuitions, or “basic decency that any reasonable person would recognize.” What you won’t get is a ground. You’ll get descriptions of what the atheist values, not an explanation of why those values obligate anyone else, least of all the Creator of the universe.
And here’s what’s strange: this is offered as the humble position.
Think about what’s actually being claimed. The atheist looks at the being who (hypothetically, for the sake of argument) designed the cosmos, established the laws of logic, and grounds existence itself, and says: “I’ve evaluated your behavior, and you don’t pass.” The standard being applied is the atheist’s own moral sense. The judge is the atheist. The verdict is guilty.
That’s not skepticism toward authority. That’s the assertion of it. The atheist has appointed themselves as the court of final appeal on questions of good and evil, and they’ve done it so quietly that they don’t even notice the coronation.
When you point this out, the response is often some version of: “I’m not claiming my opinion is ultimate. I’m just saying that any reasonable person can see this is wrong.” But that’s the same claim in different clothes. “Any reasonable person” means “anyone who shares my moral intuitions.” It’s universalizing the self while pretending to be neutral.
Now consider the Christian position. The Christian says: “I don’t trust my own moral intuitions as final.”
This sounds arrogant to modern ears because we hear “I have access to something better.” But listen to what’s actually being confessed: I know I’m compromised. My moral sense is shaped by self-interest, cultural pressure, personal history, and (if Christianity is true) the noetic effects of sin. I cannot be my own reference point. I need correction from outside myself.
That’s why the Christian points to Christ. Not because the Christian’s moral judgment is superior, but because it isn’t. Jesus functions as the external standard precisely because the Christian has admitted they can’t generate one.
The Christian says: “I’m not the measure. He is. And I’m measured by Him too.” The atheist says: “I’m not the measure,” and then proceeds to measure everything, including God, by their own intuitions.
One of these is the humble position. It’s not the one that’s usually advertised.
This inversion matters because it reshapes how the conversation should go.
When an atheist charges God with immorality, the Christian doesn’t need to immediately defend every difficult passage. The prior question is: “By what standard are you making this judgment, and why should that standard carry any weight?”
If the answer is “my own moral sense,” then we’ve identified the real issue. The atheist isn’t evaluating God from neutral ground. They’re evaluating God from a throne they built for themselves. And the question becomes: why should anyone (including the atheist) trust that throne?
The Christian, by contrast, has explicitly stepped off the throne. They’ve said: “I can’t adjudicate these questions on my own authority. I need revelation. I need an exemplar. I need someone whose character I can trust even when I don’t fully understand His actions.”
That’s not a conversation-stopper. It’s an invitation: “I’ve shown you my foundation. Now show me yours.”
None of this proves Christianity is true. It doesn’t resolve the hard questions about suffering or judgment. What it does is level the playing field.
The atheist doesn’t get to assume the moral high ground while standing on nothing. The Christian doesn’t have to accept the framing that says faith is arrogant and skepticism is humble. Both positions involve trust. Both involve commitments that go beyond what can be proven from neutral ground. The question is whether those commitments are examined or hidden.
The Christian who submits to Christ as the moral exemplar has at least named their authority and subjected themselves to it. The atheist who judges God by their own lights has claimed an authority they haven’t justified and may not even realize they’re wielding.
So the next time someone tells you that faith is arrogant and freethinking is humble, ask a simple question: “When you judge God, what are you standing on?”
The answer usually reveals who’s really claiming the throne.