Recently, I've run into a glut of people who are always learning and never able to come to the knowledge of the truth.* Somewhere along the line, they've traded the adage "One never stops learning" for a counterfiet: "One never starts learning."
I suppose it is sort of Zen to "learn by not learning," but, in effect, it is no different than good, old-fashioned "not learning."
These people are not heretical in their attitude towards one's ability to comprehend. I wish that they were. Heresy is an error in thought or expression that can, if unchecked, lead to problems in execution. But the "everlearner who never learns" is an apostate. They've educated themselves well on the ins and outs of any given instruction, and choose to fall into the shadow of that instruction instead of walking in its light.
Now, to be clear, the state of heresy or apostasy is only one that can be applied to those who would otherwise claim Christ. In other words, non-believers can't possibly qualify as apostates or heretics - this is a misunderstanding that many non-Christians have (that all Christians view them as heretics, or apostates. Don't worry, non-believer - you are simply a heathen!)
However, as far as these theological concepts can be translated and applied in a different fashion, you just know I'm going to do it.
One of my favorites is what I call the "Lovecraft Literary Error." I enjoy the strange, cosmic stories of H.P. Lovecraft very much, but I have no illusions that his beliefs (which run completely counter to my own) held a heavy influence upon his work. Atheists with a penchant for the weird honor Lovecraft as one of the forefathers of speculative atheism. What strikes me as counterintuitive, however, is that a devout atheist would see fit to create an entire cosmology of alien races, posing (unintentionally or otherwise) as uncaring gods in an indifferent universe in order to demonstrate that the indifferent universe was cold to humanity. Good ol' ld H.P. made up some might hot gods in order to demonstrate their icy non-existence, I must say. Fortunately for his fans, Lovecraft's object was not to write religious allegory, but to make up some awfully throttling yarns.
How exactly does the horrifying image of a slumbering, octopus-headed Cthulhu demonstrate a lifeless universe? How exactly does the sneering diabolic plots of a soul-crushing Nyarlathotep demonstrate that man is without soul?
They don't.
The creative, emotional pull of Lovecraft's horrors can only be described in religious terms. There is no "no-God" in the Lovecraft-created world, despite there being a "no-God" in Lovecraft's personal worldview. His argument, of course, would be that the mystical creatures are, at turns, a lampoon of the supernatural and/or evidence that the created beings populating his books are evidence that human creativity is our only solace in a loveless cosmos. But I never get the impression that Lovecraft is trying his hand at satire, and I don't buy that human creativity would serve as anything but a humiliating goad if, in fact, human creativity was, truly at heart, nothing but a rigged, emotional shell game.
The Lovecraft Error occurs when one attempts to discredit a thesis by evoking the tropes of that thesis to prove its opposite. It is when, for example, atheists are forced (by their own admission) to develop "proxy liturgies" in order to touch on matters of the (non-existent) spirit. Theoretically, it could also occur if a Christian were to attempt to implement (not exploit) nihilism in a story in order to demonstrate man's dependence on God, although I'm not even sure how such an attempt might function.
If you've ever seen the Christian ixthus "fish" sign on the back of a car with feet "evolving" on it and DARWIN filling its belly, then you've seen the Lovecraft Error in action. Any Darwinist with a modified religious symbol on the back of his car is unconsciously admitting that a) Christian symbols are worthy of co-option and that b) Darwinism should be adhered to in a religious manner.
The Lovecraft Error artfully, probably unintentionally, demonstrates reason's blind spot. And if there's one thing I've learned from you people of earth, it is that reason, most certainly, overlooks its own faults.
*Second letter to Timothy.
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