Part 1
Christian philosophers often admire Plato, finding insights in his writings that seem compatible with Christian thought. Some go so far as to say he prepared pagans for the Gospel and that he didn’t sin and should be in Limbo, not Hell. However, the truth is that Plato expressed an anti-Christian philosophy. When pagans sought to replace Christianity they turned to Plato—for instance Julian the Apostate and Porphyry—as a substitute for Christianity itself. Augustine recognized the appeal of Platonism, acknowledging that it was closer to Christianity than other pagan systems. This should not be understood to mean that the Platonist is near the kingdom of heaven but rather read it as a warning: Christian philosophers should recognize the danger: Plato is a wolf in sheep’s clothing who can deceive by claiming to be similar. Plato fundamentally rejected clear general revelation about God and ignored the special revelation he could have accessed if he truly was seeking God.
A Christian philosopher who believes Plato is close to true philosophy must not only be shown Plato’s serious errors but must also undergo a deeper repentance—one that acknowledges their own failure to see what is clearly revealed about God and the moral law in general revelation. Without this repentance, the philosopher will remain blind to the foundational flaws in Plato’s thought. As Job confessed, “I had heard of You, but now my eye sees You”—so too must the Christian philosopher recognize his own failure to perceive the truth. Only through this deeper repentance will he come to see the immense harm Plato has inflicted—not just on humanity at large, but especially on the Christian church, by building up arguments against the knowledge of God.
The Christian philosopher’s job is to demolish all such arguments and, by doing that, defend the faith and teach what is clearly revealed about God in both general and special revelation. Let’s begin with Socrates.
The Appeal of Socrates
Distinguishing between Plato and Socrates is difficult, as Plato’s writings shape much of what we know about Socrates. Yet, despite their differences, it is often Socrates himself—his method, his presence, and his relentless pursuit of truth—that first draws young philosophers into Platonism.
But what makes Socrates so attractive? His attentiveness, his unshaken commitment to questioning assumptions, and his fearlessness in exposing ignorance create the image of a philosopher wholly devoted to truth. He is the man who stands against the crowd, challenging the complacency of his time. To a young thinker, Socrates appears as a model of intellectual courage—a figure who seeks wisdom no matter the cost.
Yet this appeal also carries a danger. The admiration of Socrates can lead one into Platonism without recognizing its errors. The Christian philosopher must carefully discern whether the Socratic pursuit of wisdom aligns with the true wisdom revealed by God or whether it subtly diverts the soul away from what is clearly known through general revelation. The truth is that Socrates was a hollow hero with appearance but no substance.
Socrates is sincere
Socrates is not a deceitful man, nor is he driven by the pursuit of money, power, or fame. Unlike so many who are entangled by these desires, he appears genuinely devoted to the pursuit of wisdom—a calling higher than most can attain. His honesty, however, has its limits. He is not free from self-deception, particularly about his own motives.
The truths of God’s eternal power and divine nature are clearly revealed, even to Socrates. Yet rather than acknowledging them, he is content to follow the idol Apollo, basing his life on the Oracle of Delphi. Whether consciously or unconsciously, Socrates is calling God a liar. Even at the age of 70, he is satisfied to claim wisdom on the grounds that he at least knows that he does not know. But the truths of God are not hidden—they are so clear that even a twelve-year-old can and should know them. Why, then, has Socrates not recognized them after a lifetime of inquiry? This tells us something crucial: Socrates is not truly seeking to know God.
Socrates is not given to lusts. He lives for the life of the mind, and in this, he can inspire both young and old to remember the joys of intellectual pursuit—joys that are far superior to the fleeting pleasures of the flesh. In his dialogues, he seeks deeper understanding through precise definitions, resisting the temptations that ensnare others. When young men invite him to drink and engage in immoral acts, he remains focused on the pursuit of wisdom.
His famous dictum—the unexamined life is not worth living—challenges us all to rise above mere existence, to be more than plants or animals, and to fulfill the uniquely human capacity for reason and reflection. Yet here lies Socrates’ great dilemma: either he has truly examined life and, even at 70, remains incapable of knowing God, or the truth of God is so clear that by 70, he should have known Him—meaning Socrates has deceived himself about what it means to live the examined life.
Socrates is willing to suffer. He has a goal greater than his own pleasures and is prepared to endure hardship for it. Such a person naturally inspires admiration, even from those who disagree with him. His willingness to sacrifice comfort for a higher cause sets him apart from those who live only for pleasure, demonstrating a kind of selflessness that seems noble.
Yet here again, Socrates faces a dilemma. He claims to seek the good of Athens above his own well-being. But general revelation teaches all who will listen that our highest good is to know God, our Creator. It also reveals our need for redemption and the expectation that God would provide redemptive revelation. The Greeks were not ignorant of this—they knew of the Jews and their Scriptures but chose instead to reject them, clinging to their polytheism and the so-called wisdom of Egypt.
If Socrates truly loved Athens, he would have called the city to turn to the true and living God and repent. Instead, he urged them to follow Apollo more closely and to embrace ignorance as if that were the highest wisdom a 70-year-old man could attain. His suffering became a kind of whitewashed tomb—giving him a false sense of nobility, deceiving his students into thinking he must be onto something profound, while inside lay only the death of sin.
The Immortal Soul
Socrates rightly understood that not all of reality is material—there is also spirit, and the soul is immortal, surviving the death of the body. In our modern age, where materialism dominates, this might seem like a remarkable achievement. But in Socrates’ time, this belief was fairly standard. What is more revealing is not that he affirmed the soul’s immortality, but what he believed about what comes after death.
Socrates followed the Egyptian teaching that the soul is judged based on its deeds in this life. He rejected Moses and the necessity of vicarious atonement, failing to recognize that even our best deeds are still tainted by evil. When he tells the Athenians that, should they execute him, he will continue on to the next life where he can have more dialogues, he presents only two possibilities: either death is the end of existence, or it is merely a continuation of his current state—an eternity of philosophical inquiry.
But he never considers the true reality: that he will stand before the Almighty God and give an account. He never acknowledges that he has rejected both general and special revelation. He does not seem to realize that the Athenian judges who condemn him are the least of his concerns. The true judgment awaits him, and yet, he never prepares for it.
Higher Justice
Socrates does appeal to a higher justice, but it is not the justice of the true and living God. Instead, he embraces the Egyptian model in which good and bad deeds are weighed by the gods, and ultimate justice consists in paying for what one has done. What he fails to acknowledge is the deeper dilemma he himself embodies: he does not truly seek wisdom, he does not understand what is plainly revealed, and he does not do what is right. Justice is not something he will merely face in the afterlife—it is already being administered to him in the present.
Romans 1:18-32 makes this clear: men like Socrates are under the wrath of God, and this is evident in their darkened minds, which fail to see what is clearly revealed about God right before them. Though Socrates may call the Athenians to a more refined form of idolatry than their popular religious practices, what he calls them to is still idolatry. He remains blind to the truth revealed to him in general revelation. This is culpable ignorance. A teacher/parent should be able to show this to the student/child about Socrates.
Socrates ultimately represents the wisdom of this world—an impressive but fallen wisdom that falls short of the truth. A Christian philosopher, even while recognizing what is admirable in Socrates, must also be mature in discernment able to distinguish good from evil. If he has not himself seen and understood the clarity of general revelation, he will be unable to hold Socrates accountable for the same failure.
The Failure
That so many Christian philosophers have failed to do this is a serious error. Instead of praising a Greek philosopher who was in self-deception—who, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, led others astray with sweet-sounding words about wisdom and the examined life—they should reflect on their own failure and repent before the Lord. Only then can they rightly critique Socrates and avoid falling into the same trap of admiring what is, at its core, a rejection of the clear truths about the eternal power and divine nature of God. Such philosophers show that they, like Socrates, have not understood general revelation and so are in no place to teach philosophy to others.
To the student, ask the Christian philosopher who is praising Socrates if he (the Christian philosopher) can show you it is clear that God exists. If he can’t, or he only has unsound arguments, find a new Christian philosopher.
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