Thank God for Atheists
Marshall Davis wrote Thank God for Atheists as a startlingly honest, self-reflective challenge to Christian readers: listen to your critics. Published in 2017 as an independent title, the book takes the claims and complaints of the so-called “New Atheists” seriously rather than dismissing them reflexively, not in order to surrender faith, but to sharpen and purify what Christianity might yet become. Davis approaches his subject not as an armchair apologist mounting counterattacks, but as a pastor-scholar disturbed and invigorated by the skeptical spirit he encounters. The book reads less like a defensive tract and more like a call to internal reform: what if atheists are performing a prophetic role, forcing Christians to face weaknesses we prefer to ignore?
The book’s rhetorical stance is its first move: instead of setting up straw-men and reasserting creeds, Davis sits with the arguments of prominent atheist writers and movements — their critiques of biblical literalism, their alarm at religious privilege, their insistence on intellectual rigor and moral clarity, and asks where the church has failed to meet those standards. He argues that many contemporary Christian institutions have become comfortable, reactionary, or morally compromised, and that the blunt critique of atheists can serve as a disinfectant. This isn’t an invitation to capitulate; it is an invitation to a painful and honest self-examination. A local press piece summarized a similar point bluntly: Davis suggests atheists are “on the right side” on several issues and that they can function as “God’s prophets” who speak hard truths to the Church.
Structurally, the book moves through careful engagements with a range of atheist claims, epistemological, ethical, historical, and social, and then turns those critiques back on Christian communities. Davis treats arguments about reason and evidence seriously: he acknowledges where the intellectual case for skepticism exposes sloppy theology or wishful thinking. He also concedes cultural and moral critiques: when atheists point to abuses of power, hypocrisy, or the damage wrought by sectarian certainty, Davis refuses to paper over those wounds with pious slogans. At the same time, he insists that Christianity retains resources, spiritual practices, moral imagination, community disciplines, that can respond creatively to the problems atheists diagnose.
Davis’s tone is unusual for books in this conversation: part confessional, part pastoral, part cultural critique. He neither demonizes atheists nor reduces Christianity to argument alone. Instead, he invites Christians to re-imagine what a robust faith would look like if it took intellectual integrity, moral accountability, and welcoming honesty as central virtues. That means rethinking apologetics that prioritize victory over truth, reconsidering religious practices that exclude or silence reasonable doubt, and tending to theological humility that can coexist with conviction. The author’s wider interests, including explorations of Christian nonduality and spiritual reflections evident in his other writings, help him frame these changes not only as intellectual corrections but as spiritual reforms.
One of the book’s most persuasive moves is its insistence that conversation, not confrontation, should be the default posture. Davis recommends listening carefully to the atheist critique, taking pains to understand it, and then responding in ways that demonstrate intellectual seriousness and moral probity. He suggests that when Christians answer honestly (admitting past abuses, refining claims, confessing failures), the conversation becomes less about win/lose and more about mutual transformation. He pushes for congregations that are welcoming to genuine questions, leaders who model intellectual curiosity, and a Christianity that can stand up to skeptical scrutiny without losing its heart.
Reception of the book has been mixed but notable among niche readers: reviewers and listings (Goodreads, Amazon, independent booksellers) show appreciation from readers who want their faith tested and honed rather than shielded. Some readers warn prospective believers that the book is challenging, even “dangerous” to comfortable faith, because its aim is reformation, not reassurance. Others praise Davis for a courageous posture: to treat critics as possible catalysts for renewal rather than enemies to be silenced.
At its best, Thank God for Atheists functions as a rigorous mirror. It asks Christians to accept discomfort in service of integrity, to transform apologetics into authentic witness, and to see that the pressure atheists apply might force necessary theological and ethical pruning. At its most provocative, it suggests that faith that cannot survive skeptical testing is faith that needs re-rooting. Whether one agrees fully with Davis’s assessments or not, the book’s overarching contribution is to move the conversation away from caricatured polemics and toward disciplined, honest engagement.
If you want to use this book in a study group or classroom, it’s best approached with two commitments: willingness to be challenged, and willingness to respond constructively. Davis doesn’t hand out tidy formulas for rebuttal; he offers an ethic for engagement — listen, confess, reform, and then speak — that is as practical as it is prophetic.
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