Wednesday, February 17, 2016

The Gospel Coalition's Claim that Due to Human Sinfulness Truth Is Not Truly Knowable at All (Part 2)


    
     In my last post I said that the Christian/Reformed mixture with philosophy I’ve been addressing inverts the order of knowing assumed in Scripture and does so in a way more consistent with Descartes’ own method of structuring the edifice of knowledge. You may recall that in his Meditations Descartes sought a foundation for knowledge which is conceptually clear, certain, and indubitable. And, of course, one of the first things Descartes rejects as such a foundation for knowledge is knowledge that comes by the senses (or what I am calling “physical seeing”). This just means that Descartes rejects at the outset what both the Bible assumes and our common experience teaches us, namely, that there is an important sense in which “seeing is knowing.”[1] Importantly, if what Descartes sets out to prove succeeds, then it changes everything about how we conceive of truth and how it is known.



     Let's follow Descartes’ line of thought for a moment. “I have learned by experience,” he says, “that those senses sometimes mislead me, and it is prudent never to trust wholly those things which have once deceived us.” In expressing his doubt in the senses as he does, Descartes seems to project on the use of the senses the kind of problem one finds with humans in their sinfulness. That is, once a person deceives us, we regard this not merely as a single, discrete transgression but as a broader problem of character. One who lies to us is a liar. Hence, it takes much time and an established record of honesty on the part of such a one for us to slowly regain our trust in them. We certainly cannot “trust wholly” what they say before then.



     Does human behavior, however, serve as a fit analogy to the senses when, seemingly, they “deceive” us? For instance, when we see the sun moving across the sky, we now know what was not known prior to Copernicus and Galileo and that is that the sun does not revolve around the earth but the earth rotates and is itself revolving around the sun. But were our eyes “deceiving” us all along? Do the eyes (or human senses in general) actually have a volitional or moral agency, similar to humans, such that they could “deceive” or lie to us? Is it not more accurate to say that the eyes are doing what the eyes do but that, being as small as we are as humans (and situated as we are on the planet), it only appears that the sun is moving across the sky? Don’t the same eyes convey to astronauts in outer space that it is in fact the earth rotating which causes the appearance that the sun is moving across the sky? Did the eyes suddenly decide to come clean and tell us the truth about whether it was the sun or earth which does the moving or are they doing the same thing they have always been doing but under different external conditions? My point is that Descartes enlists a false analogy[2] to persuade us that our senses (my first level: physical seeing) cannot be trusted for knowing truth. With these and other—what I consider—dubious doubts,[3] Descartes intends to move us away from the biblical and common sense notion that physical seeing is and may be foundationally important in a veridical quest.



     Once Descartes destroys this reality check of direct, physical seeing for truth, he turns inward for his indubitable foundation of knowing. It is important to notice, however, that in arriving at the latter, he still places his confidence in direct seeing, although, it is a confidence of a subjective kind, one that is directed toward his own internal ideas and thinking. What I mean is that while Descartes rejects that kind of knowing by direct seeing which is physical, he still relies on the idea (derived from such seeing) that knowing comes by direct seeing. There would, indeed, be no such frame of reference for Descartes as a possibility for knowing if in our human experience we had not learned to associate physical seeing with knowing. More to the point, if there had been no significant success rate in our experience for knowing by direct, physical seeing, such seeing could not have served as an analogy for the indubitable, foundational certainty Descartes believes he has discovered for knowledge based on a direct, mental seeing of his own ideas or thinking. Seeing would not be associated with clarity or “knowing for certain.”



     And, again, when Descartes arrives at this foundation—his “I think, therefore, I am”—we must keep in mind that he has no God, no world, no other persons but himself, and no physical body. He believes he has found something self-evidently true, namely, that as long as he is thinking, he exists. Later, philosophers like Hume and Nietzsche will marshal formidable, destructive doubts against every word in that statement: the “I,” the “think,” the “therefore,” and the “am.” Postmodernism (relying on such philosophers and pushing epistemological idealism to its logical conclusion—with the world wars of the twentieth century in the background) will deconstruct Descartes’ foundation for knowledge right out of existence.[4] 



     As stated earlier, the Christian/Reformed mixture with philosophy I’ve been addressing follows Descartes in this inversion of the relationship between the body and mind for knowing. That is, it keeps Descartes’ proposal that subjectivity of an internal sort is more foundational as truth—more real—than knowledge gained by the senses. It defends this position by pointing to supernatural knowledge from God which comes to the heart internally through regeneration by the Spirit in Christ and by the understanding imparted thereby as one reads the Bible. Put differently, Descartes’ modern theory as appropriated by (or mixed with)  Christian/Reformed theology (as I’ve been considering it) means that what is foundational for knowledge or truth is entirely supernatural in nature and does not have, therefore, a natural and rational component essential to (or inseparable from) it, since because of finitude and/or sin that component is put out of commission. Consequently, this mixture will appeal to its knowledge of God’s self-disclosure in Scripture as its foundational truth but it does so in what I consider an unscriptural manner—that is (and again), by following not the direct realism of Scripture but the epistemological idealism of Descartes in its reliance on internal (even if a spiritual knowledge based on Scripture) over external, physically and rationally, knowable reality.



      The Bible’s concept of truth is different. On the one hand, it is true that the apostle John says to the saints: “you have been anointed by the Holy One, and you have all knowledge” (1 Jn. 2:20). Again, he says, “But the anointing that you have received from him abides in you, and you have no need that anyone should teach you. But as his anointing teaches you about everything, and is true, and is no lie—just as it has taught you, abide in him” (1 Jn. 2:27). And Paul says, “The Spirit himself bears witness with our spirit that we are children of God” (Rom. 8:16). In his gospel, again, the apostle John says, “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth” (Jn. 16:13).[5] Scriptures like this truly teach (as Christian/Reformed theology emphasizes) that knowledge of the truth comes to the heart of believers by the Spirit in a special way. It is, indeed, appropriate when a Christian speaks with a certainty that comes from God internally as spiritual confirmation of one’s status as a child of God and all that Scripture says as God’s Word. This is, indeed, foundational as truth even subjectively so.



     But it is not the whole story for how, according to Scripture, we are to understand truth. Notice that in the apostle John’s dealing with the error of Gnosticism and in order to establish the public nature of the truth of the gospel, he does not point to what Christians believe or a Christian way of knowing confirmed to the heart of a believer by the Spirit and the teaching of Scripture but to physical seeing (that is, sensory perception) and mental seeing (basic apprehension) as a critical aspect of knowing: “That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we looked upon and have touched with our hands, concerning the word of life...that which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you, so that you too may have fellowship with us, and indeed our fellowship is with the Father and with his Son Jesus Christ” (1 Jn. 1:1-3). What do I mean? If there is a question of true knowledge, of reality, with respect to the public truth of the gospel, the apostles appeal to every day knowing or what I’ve been calling court room epistemology. That is, when people in general ask: “How do you know that what you claim about Jesus as the Messiah, the Son of God, is true?” The apostles in response ground this claim in an ordinarily and universally knowable reality. In other words, they were saying to the whole world concerning Jesus’ life on earth—things like his miracles, teachings, and resurrection from the dead: “We saw. We heard. We touched. We connected with reality the way people normally do. If you had been here, you would have seen and heard the same things. This is how we know our message is true and why we commend it to you for your belief.” In doing this, they implicitly recognized that neither finitude nor sin prevents the basic human ability to know things requisite for their testimony to be meaningful and carry weight as confirmation of the truth for all people, places, and times that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah.



     That is, physical and mental seeing which I have classified as the first two levels of knowing are critically important for establishing the truth of the gospel which the apostles preached. On the other hand, the apostles never said to people in general: “We have had this experience of regeneration. We have embraced certain Christian beliefs or presuppositions based on Scripture. We commend our Christian worldview to you for your consideration. Please consider how coherent our beliefs are and how incoherent your beliefs are by comparison. Consider what the Bible says. Here, take these scrolls. Read them. See for yourselves. Consider how Jesus is presented within our Christian perspective as the Messiah, as I go my way and pray that the Lord will open your eyes.” Such an appeal is, as I’ve been claiming, indirect and subjective in nature. The apostles never spoke that way. They were objective in their appeal. They pointed away from themselves to things that were objective and knowable by every one. That is, they didn’t point indirectly to their presuppositions but directly to the person and reality of Jesus Christ. They knew that when people are persuaded (see Acts 17:1-4) that Jesus is Lord, the power and implications of that foundational truth alters their unbelieving presuppositions and begins the process of establishing in them the full range of biblical and Christian presuppositions about God.



     One may find many places in Scripture where we see this appeal to what is ordinarily knowable by our natural and rational faculties as confirmation that Jesus of Nazareth is the Messiah. For example, when John the Baptist is in prison (Matt. 11:2-5) and has doubts whether or not Jesus is the Son of God, he sends his disciples to ask Jesus if he truly is “the one who is to come.” Notice what Jesus doesn’t say. He doesn’t say, “Ask John what the Spirit is saying in his heart about me.” He could have said this, and it would have been true. It would even have been a significant, non-negotiable part of settling John’s internal doubts. But what does Jesus say to these disciples? “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight and the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed and the deaf hear, and the dead are raised up, and the poor have good news preached to them.” Notice, Jesus doesn’t say, “What I hear and see,” but “what you hear and see.” The implication is that everyone could see these things and that human knowing in general is not defective for perceiving and apprehending the miracles Jesus worked. In other words, these disciples were no different from other humans. It wasn’t their special perspective or presuppositions based on being John the Baptist’s disciplies that made their testimony to what they saw and heard of Jesus’ ministry compelling as a confirmation that Jesus truly is “the one who is to come.” This is, again, what I’m calling “court room epistemology.” It is ordinary knowing, and it is foundational in an important sense as a confirmation—in the face of doubts—that in reality Jesus truly is the Messiah, the Son of God.



     I will have more to say about this later, but TGC’s and Phillips’ belief that because of human finitude truth is subjective and because of sin truth is unknowable—and that the remedy to this problem is a supernatural knowledge which comes by the Spirit without a basis in physical and mental seeing (due to the problems just mentioned)—implies that, had John been thinking appropriately, what Jesus told John’s disciples would not at all have alleviated John’s doubts. The reason is that though Jesus appealed to something other than his perspective or presuppositions — that is, to the works themselves he was doing — John could have thought to himself: “My disciples could have come under the bias, slant, or coloring of Jesus’ presuppositions.” My point is that there is a reality that is reliably knowable by physical and mental seeing, and it is critically important precisely because it transcends presuppositions. It is what forms presuppositions in the first place as well as has the power to alter them.   



     In Scripture, when it comes to confirming the truth of the gospel, we see this appeal to the first two levels of knowing repeatedly. For instance, when Peter says that the apostles were not following cleverly devised myths when they preached the gospel of Christ, Peter appeals to his eyewitness testimony pertaining to the transfiguration of Jesus on the mountain, when Elijah and Moses suddenly showed up. That is, when the questions arise, “Are these things real? Is this message of the gospel true to reality? Or just fiction?,” the apostles reply, “We saw. We heard.” As in a court room, the implication is: we saw and heard what anyone would have seen and heard had they been there.



     Because of this eyewitness testimony, Peter continues: “We have the prophetic word more fully confirmed” (2 Pe. 1:19). Notably, this wording comes from the ESV text edition of 2011. In the 2007 edition, the ESV translated the same passage: “And we have something more sure, the prophetic word.” In this earlier translation, then, Peter is understood as appealing to his eyewitness testimony but then contrasting that with “something more sure”—God’s Word. The idea is that biblical truth is more real or reliable than truth based on what has been seen and heard. Without being privy to the thinking of the translators behind this way of translating 2 Peter 1:19, this translation seems to fit the way presuppositionalism understands the relationship between God’s Word and attesting miracles with eyewitness testimony, etc. I mean that presuppositionalism regards Scripture as conveying reality to us in a way that is superior to anything knowable in ordinary reality (even if it is the miracles of Jesus) as known by physical and mental seeing. However, the ESV’s 2011 change in translation of this verse is not only, in my opinion, the correct rendering of the text but also consistent with the relationship Scripture presents between God’s Word and miracles as conveyed by the eyewitness testimony of the apostles. The latter view miracles as confirmation that God’s Word is true (not the other way around; see John 20:30-31 and Hebrews 2:3-4) and do so, implying (1) that there is an integrity in human knowing at the first two levels of seeing (physical and seeing) such that eyewitness testimony can serve in such a confirming role; (2) that there is knowable, universal, and objective truth with which biblical truth itself is consistent. In sum, God is not giving us fairytales and imparting the Spirit to our hearts to confirm such. He gave us his Son in fulfillment of prophecies and provided miracles attested to by the eyewitness testimony of the apostles as a confirmation in a universally knowable reality that what God had revealed in his Word concerning his Son had truly come to pass.  







[1] I intend this expression, “seeing is knowing,” in a simple, qualified, yet important sense. I will elaborate on this more when I explore in future posts the biblical assumptions for knowing but here I am not making any grand or unreasonable demands for seeing as knowing. I only mean that under normal conditions we generally and regularly do have successful knowing based on physical seeing. For instance, I am presently seeing the screen of my laptop as I type and not a tree or dog or the clouds; moreover, this knowledge that my laptop is here in front of me is reliable or true knowledge.
[2] I understand the fallacy of false analogy as an appeal to the similarity of two different things for the sake of reaching a certain conclusion, without noting a significant dissimilarity which causes the argument to fail.
[3] Descartes also doubts whether he is awake or dreaming because there have been times when he thought, for example, he was sitting in front of his fireplace, when in fact he was only dreaming. But, unless we are inclined, for some reason, to cultivate or give place to such doubt, is it not a fairly simple and routine matter to determine whether we are dreaming or awake? Can we not clear that up in a matter of seconds? Additionally, Descartes entertains the thought that we may be part of a demon’s imagined world, like characters in a video game. Again, unless we are motivated by some inclination to chase unwarranted conclusions, what evidence is there for such a supposition?  
[4] Regrettably, postmodernism will also think that the villain is foundationalism itself—that belief in absolute reality as knowable accounts for why there are wars in the world and if we could all see that there are no metanarratives, we would not take our beliefs so seriously and just peacefully celebrate the differences in our various religions and worldviews. But there is no avoiding of foundations behind what we believe or claim to know. The Bible certainly presents (and common sense requires, in certain respects) truth as foundational in nature.
[5] This has, of course, primary application to the apostolic role for establishing the canonical truth of Scripture (what we call the “New Testament” Scriptures). There is, I believe, a secondary and important sense in which the Spirit leads all believers through Scripture into all truth.

The Gospel Coalition's Claim that Due to Human Sinfulness Truth Is Not Truly Knowable at All (Part 1)



      In this post, I examine Phillips' claim that “humans may not be able to know the truth truly” because of the effects of sin on the mind (pp. 14-15). About this, Phillips says: “When we add the problem of sin [to that of finitude—jnp], humans are no longer able to know truth truly at all.” Again, the answer at least in part to this problem, according to Phillips, is that Jesus Christ “sends the Holy Spirit to animate the spirits of sinful men and women to know and believe the truth.” He then adds, “Thus, in the same passage where Paul directly states that sinful humans cannot know truth, he reveals that God’s Holy Spirit solves this problem by giving new life to undeserving sinners: ‘Now we have received not the spirit of the world,’ Paul explains, ‘but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God’ (1 Cor. 2:12).”[1] As indicated already, Phillips’ point seems to be that even before sin humans (as finite) had a problem with knowing truth and after sin things are much, much worse.


     Again, we are faced with the self-contradictory nature of such claims. What are we to make of a statement that sinful humans do not know truth truly at all? Aren’t we all sinful humans? Then, can we know the truth truly that we cannot know truth truly at all? And, if we can know it to be true—we, though finite and sinful—then, it isn’t true, because we—though finite and sinful—know at least one truth, namely, that sinful humans cannot know truth truly at all. Besides this, do we not commonly observe that unregenerate people can know truth generally (scientists, farmers, physicians, teachers, business executives, engineers, architects, builders and construction workers, etc.)?
     
     Consequently, again, the question which serves as title to Phillips' booklet, Can We Know the Truth?, is answered, but this time there is more than skepticism expressed about the innate quality of human knowing or capacity for truth; it is a categorical statement that humans cannot know truth (implication: cannot know anything reliably or verifiably). Or, as Phillips says elsewhere, “With the postmoderns we are skeptical that finite, fallible humans are the agents of truth, though we insist that truth is real and that we can know it.”[2] What it means to be skeptical that humans are “the agents of truth” would seem to entail, at a minimum, serious doubts that humans can either have truth or convey it to others.


     Admittedly, in this quotation Phillips also adds, “though we insist that truth is real and that we can know it.” Frankly, I am not sure what Phillips means by his qualification here. Whatever he means, to avoid contradiction, he must mean something different from the proposition which precedes it. If he is contradicting himself, he would seem to be saying something like this: “With the postmoderns we don’t believe humans can know and be carriers for truth, though we insist that truth is real and knowable such that humans indeed can know and be carriers for truth.” So, to avoid such a blatant contradiction, I offer an alternative. Phillips may mean by his qualification something like this: “though we insist that truth is real [that is, truth exists or is actually there—jnp] and that we can know it” [that is, we can know it in some imperfect, non-verifiable, and yet coherent or meaningful sense—jnp]. (This is how many of the modern philosophers think about truth.) I offer this possible reading because skepticism about humans as agents of truth (what Phillips says before the “though”) is, of course, inseparable from skepticism about the ability of humans to have or know truth.  
 

     What is the origin of Phillips’ skepticism about truth, particularly, for finite, fallen humans? Though Scripture is enlisted for its support, again, I don’t believe that it derives from or has any firm grounding in a faithful exegesis of Scripture. I will make a case for this last statement in a moment but for now I wish to point out that as far as I can tell (and as I’ve been saying) Phillips’ account of knowing originates with modern philosophy (Descartes and his successors), in spite of the fact that on certain points (such as, its reliance on autonomous reason) he is so critical of the same.


     Moreover, what Phillips’ adoption of certain skeptical tenets of modern philosophy accomplishes is not without a certain appeal, especially for Reformed theology. For instance, it seems to provide the doctrine of original sin greater depth, even as making us as humans bereft of knowledge or truth in general. Consequently, when God’s regenerating Spirit in Christ meets that need, it seems that greater glory is given to God. That is, the grace of God makes possible, in this case, not just an internal and subjective principle of righteousness (Rom. 8:2, 11) but also, of knowledge itself.

     However, with this philosophical “enhancement” of biblical doctrine, what Scripture portrays as a hamartological problem (that is, a problem of sin—which requires a certain level of knowledge as Romans 1-3 explicitly makes clear) tends to become an epistemological problem. Whereas the Law of God as truth (what is not presented in Scripture as a problem for knowledge—indeed works only successfully as reliable knowledge) closes every mouth, imprisons or shuts everyone up under sin (Rom. 3:19; Gal. 3:22), this new or different law put into place with the aid of philosophy, on the other hand, closes every mouth, etc., under a state of unknowing. Consequently, there is, understandably and commensurate with this change, an alteration in approach to evangelizing the lost: what comes to the foreground to meet mankind’s greatest need becomes not so much (or primarily) the Savior as a way of knowing (a Christian view of truth) which includes the Savior. This means as Christians we are, in effect, saying to the world: “Yes, we agree with you that truth is relative; however, it is relative only to our more coherent view of things as Christians, since our view of things comes from the Holy Spirit who regenerates us to know truth, generally, and the truth of the gospel, particularly.”


     There are also other significant problems. If what we presuppose radically conditions knowledge such that those with unbelieving presuppositions basically don’t know anything and if it is only through accepting Christian presuppositions through regeneration by the Holy Spirit that one can in this life know things (including Jesus as Lord), then why is it that Christians are not markedly smarter and more successful in the various fields of learning and vocation than the unregenerate? Furthermore, how is it (as Scripture tells us) that unbelievers in their unregenerate state will at the coming of Christ know things sufficiently well to mourn, bow the knee to Jesus, and confess him as Lord? And, again, how do the demons—certainly not regenerate—know and confess Jesus as the Son of God? In sum, neither the unregenerate nor demons are regenerate such that they can, on Phillips’ account, have “a Christian view of truth,” and yet both categories of beings in the end seem to know, non-savingly and eternally, a lot of things including the truth of all truths, namely, that Jesus is Lord.


     Then there is also this problem: if everyone because of finitude is “subjective,” “partial,” and selective in what they know of truth (with all the problems already noted with that proposal) and, because of sin’s effect on the mind, unable to know truth truly at all, then how would someone so errant in their ability to know be able to reliably read and understand the Bible to learn of Jesus?[3] If the answer to that is, what was just stated, namely, that the Holy Spirit supernaturally animates and imparts to them such understanding, are there no natural aspects or requirements to that process—such as, people who are physically alive (able to see and hear), dealing with physical words on the page, mentally understanding the words themselves?[4]


     What is, admittedly, confusing about this syncretism of Christian or Reformed theology with modern epistemology is that it sounds critical (as it does in Phillips) of the very philosophy it has adopted. And, indeed, the Christian or Reformed view of sin and regeneration by the Spirit in Christ serves as a strong rebuke to that philosophy, particularly, as rational, God-denying, independent, and autonomous. However, in this case, it does not reject modern philosophy’s basic theory of knowledge itself, specifically, that truth is subjective or relative in nature. This has, apparently, been adopted or imported (with little to no fanfare) as an important insight from philosophy.


     Returning now to the Scriptural support Phillips employs for his view that sinful humans cannot know truth, what does Paul mean when he says “The natural man does not accept the things of the Spirit of God, for they are folly to him, and he is not able to understand them” (1 Cor. 2:14)? Or, again, “Now we have received not the spirit of the world, but the Spirit who is from God, that we might understand the things freely given us by God” (1 Cor. 2:12)? It is clear that in the context of 1 Corinthians chapters one and two, Paul is contrasting the wisdom of this age with the wisdom of God in Christ which he and the other apostles by the Spirit were making known to others. He is also saying something about the spiritual nature of the apostolic instruction and how the sinful nature of man (whether regenerate or unregenerate) does not “accept” or “understand” these things. He says in 1 Cor. 2:13, “And we impart this in words not taught by human wisdom but taught by the Spirit, interpreting spiritual truths to those who are spiritual.” A bit later, Paul will say to the saints at Corinth (those he is addressing), “But I, brothers, could not address you as spiritual people, but as people of the flesh, as infants in Christ” (1 Cor. 3:1). Putting all this together, if what Paul meant by 1 Cor. 2:14’s “natural” (non-spiritual) man—his non-acceptance or understanding of the things of the Spirit, his counting such as “folly”—is that such a one, generally, does not or cannot know truth in general, as Phillips maintains, then when Paul says to the Corinthian saints, “I could not address you as spiritual people” but as “infants,” does that mean he is saying to them, “Generally, you have not known—or do not, cannot know truth”? Is that Paul’s point? Is he not rather teaching these Corinthian saints that the wisdom of God in Christ is not something relished or spiritually understood by the flesh (again, whether in unbelievers or believers) but only by the Spirit? I suggest that Paul is not saying that sinful humans are unable to have knowledge (things like: at what temperature water boils, the law of gravity, 2+2=4, etc.); rather, he intends a spiritual knowledge, acceptance, and understanding of things revealed to us by God in Christ through the apostles.

     On this point, Phillips also enlists Rom. 1:18, which speaks globally of how sinful people “suppress the truth” that God exists, a truth evident in the design and wonder of creation itself. What Phillips needs from this verse is support for his claim that sinful humans “are no longer able to know truth truly at all” (p. 14), in contrast to the always partial and selective knowledge of truth which, he says, characterizes human finitude in its innocence. However, what Paul is talking about is the suppression of what people know—what has been “clearly perceived,” “because God has shown it to them” such that “they are without excuse” (Rom. 1:18-21). When someone does not know something at all (Phillips’ claim), he cannot suppress or hold it down; there is nothing, in that case, to be suppressed. Also, if the sinful people of Rom. 1:18-21 (as Phillips interprets this passage) know nothing at all, then they are not “without excuse” but have a legitimate excuse to plead, namely, ignorance—that is, they did not know anything, including the knowledge that might be derived from creation that God exists.
    
     To elaborate, suppose we identify three levels of seeing necessary for the level of understanding in Christ God wants us to have. The first level is physical seeing; the second, mental seeing; and the third, spiritual seeing. Without physical seeing, which, let’s say, stands for sensory perception in general, there would not be mental seeing (understanding or knowledge gained through the physical senses). Without mental seeing (understanding or knowledge which takes place internally), there would not be spiritual seeing (a spiritual understanding of the things of the Spirit). So there is a tri-level structure in place for us who are in Christ in order “that we might understand the things freely given us by God” (1 Cor. 2:12). Importantly, all three levels are essential and even have a kind of founding order among them; that is, without a certain level of integrity or reliability both in physical and mental seeing, there would not be integrity or reliability in seeing by the Spirit as offered in Christ. My point is that God does not bypass those two common sense or natural levels of seeing in the process of giving us spiritual sight or understanding by the regenerating power of the Spirit. For instance, when Scripture says, “So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Rom. 10:17), this involves both physical hearing (what is included in physical seeing as sensory perception) and mental hearing (what is included in mental seeing as understanding or knowledge). If someone hears the gospel in a foreign language, that person experiences physical hearing without mental hearing or understanding (1 Cor. 12:14, 16). Also, someone may hear the gospel in their own language, such that both a first (physical) and second (mental) level of seeing occur and yet not experience the third level (spiritual) seeing necessary for salvation. This is because regeneration by the Spirit in Christ (receiving new eyes and ears spiritually) is necessary before that can happen. But I wish to emphasize, again, that in the latter case, a person may be seeing just fine at the first two levels of this tri-structure for knowing (may, physically hear and intellectually understand the gospel) and yet not experience what someone born again means when they sing these words from Amazing Grace, “I once was lost but now I’m found, was blind but now I see.”

     In his sermon, A Divine and Supernatural Light, Immediately Imparted to the Soul by the Spirit of God, Jonathan Edwards recognizes the important role for what I am calling physical and mental seeing in relation to spiritual illumination:

It is not intended that the natural faculties are not made use of in it. The natural faculties are the subject of this light: and they are the subject in such a manner, that they are not merely passive, but active in it; the acts and exercises of man’s understanding are concerned and made use of in it. God, in letting in this light into the soul, deals with man according to his nature, or as a rational creature; and makes use of his human faculties.

And, of course, my argument is that a certain integrity for these “natural” or “human” faculties (with respect to everyday reality) is critical—even foundational in an important sense—to the successful reception of the Christ of Scripture as the truth.

     Hence, we cannot, in the manner of the philosophers and contrary to Scripture, (1) charge these faculties with innate or inherent errancy, (2) appeal to the Spirit of truth to somehow save us from these artificially created, philosophical problems, and then (3) go our way trusting that somehow the truth of the gospel will nonetheless be as strong, liberating, and sound as God intended for it to be.   

     Now in this tri-level structure of knowing (as just implied), where philosophy and the Bible identify problems of knowing is quite different. Based on its mind-body dualism, modern philosophy locates the problems for knowing with the first (physical) and second (mental) level of seeing. The Bible locates the problems for knowing at the third level of spiritual seeing. Having said that, we could also add that philosophy does not address (or, for the most part, even recognize) the spiritual seeing or understanding with which the Bible is concerned. And, we might also add, that the Bible (with its assumption of more of an interrelationship between the mind and body) does not recognize any special problems (of the sort with which philosophy is concerned) associated with the first two levels of physical and mental seeing.  

     How does all this apply to the discussion at hand? As just indicated, most modern philosophers in lock-step with Descartes’ mind-body dualism and subjectivism, believe that there are problems for knowledge at the first and second level of mental seeing. And, as I’ve been saying, those who are Reformed (like TGC represented by Phillips) tend to uncritically accept as well as integrate these problems into Reformed theology, whether as explicating human finitude or the effects of sin on the mind. Put differently, both these philosophers and Christians, in general, posit a certain blindness pertaining to truth. But what certain Christian Reformed theologians and leaders have done is conflate the blindness Scripture speaks about with the blindness the modern philosophers have invented.

     John Calvin dealt with a similar view that had crept into the church in his time. How he responded to it is instructive:

To charge the intellect with perpetual blindness so as to leave it no intelligence of any description whatever, is repugnant not only to the Word of God, but to common experience.[5]      

 To translate this into the present discussion, a claim that there is a second level blindness (with respect to mental or intellectual seeing) common to mankind is repugnant to the Word of God means, obviously, that it is contrary to what Scripture teaches. That is, the Bible simply does not recognize such but assumes, for its purposes, that people are generally able to know truth in an ordinary sense. The same is true for our common experience: even skeptical philosophers most of the time and the rest of us all of the time know that in real life there are things that are objectively true and things that are objectively false, that knowing the difference between the two is fundamental to our well being, and that, by God’s common grace, we as humans may indeed know reliably quite a lot about many things in general.

     On this score, surely no one would charge Calvin with being insufficiently Reformed or not adequately believing in original sin or, especially, not taking into account the effects of sin on the mind. However, the question is whether these effects are understood as problems for knowing and truth in general, as proposed, for example, by the philosophers, or as spiritual problems (distinct from philosophical ones) for knowing God. That is, spiritual blindness—being blind to who God is and what he is saying to us in Christ—is not the same as a mental blindness defined as skeptical problems for knowing introduced by philosophers. This holds true, importantly, even though such blindness seems to be a convenient point at which to integrate or merge philosophy with Christianity or Reformed theology. Obviously, it also does not mean or imply literal blindess (pertaining to physical seeing), nor mental blindness (pertaining to mental seeing or general comprehension). For instance (and to state the obvious), Paul was not telling the Corinthian saints (1 Cor. 2:14) that they could not physically see the epistle he had written them, nor was he saying that because they were not “spiritual” that they could not mentally (intellectually) see or understand what he had written. He was saying, as already indicated, that they were not mature enough to receive, appreciate, or relate to the spiritual things Paul wished to say to them (1 Cor. 3:1-4).  

     Now the version of Christian theology integrated with philosophy that I have been addressing employs philosophy’s problems for knowing, even conflates them with the third level or biblical problem of knowing (spiritual seeing). Because this mix of Christian/Reformed theology and philosophy has adopted, as I’ve been suggesting, the problems for knowing introduced by modern philosophy’s mind-body dualism, it construes the remedy provided in the gospel and by regeneration through the Spirit as primarily an epistemological remedy (with everything else about the grace of God—such as, forgiveness of sins, the imputed righteousness of Christ, eternal life, etc.—following from that). Whereas Descartes takes refuge in a bodiless and worldless, thinking ego as his foundational certainty and from which he builds his edifice for knowledge, this mix of Christianity and philosophy finds its foundation for knowledge, spiritually, in a subjective regeneration of the heart which connects us with the only one (or so they claim) who has objective, true knowledge, which is, God himself as revealed in Scripture. However, in thus bypassing the natural, human faculties (what Scripture never does) this approach for knowing truth (both initially and continually) gets entangled in problems such as: without these faculties how does one know, in the first place, what Scripture says such that one can become regenerate or trust in Christ? Do the body and mind—with a certain level of functional integrity—have no place in that process? And are the body and mind without a participating role somehow for us as Christians who desire to grow in the grace and knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ (2 Pe. 3:18)?

     Now this inversion is not far from what Descartes himself proposed, except, of course, that Descartes made no attempt to introduce regeneration (spiritual seeing) and God’s Word as foundational for knowledge. Descartes has the ego (mental seeing) as a disembodied, thinking being serving as that foundation. On the other hand, the syncretism of Christianity and philosophy I’ve been considering attempts to make God—through a subjective regeneration—the foundation of knowledge, somehow bypassing the body and mind or natural and rational faculties (due to finitude and sin) in their possible role for knowledge. The problem is that Descartes is at least doing something theoretically plausible as an account of knowledge. On the other hand, the Christian-philosophical mixture I’ve been considering has not only no basis in Scripture but also no viable explanation for the role of the body and mind in relation to God as the foundation for knowledge. That is, God is obviously transcendent or external to the subjective ego; hence, one has to get outside oneself somehow (or, rather, be reached by God from the outside). How does this happen altogether without the senses (physical seeing) and intelligence (mental seeing), even if we acknowledge its supernatural source?

     Addressing a concern similar to this helps explain why Edwards in the sermon mentioned earlier makes it clear that the natural and rational faculties are not bypassed when one is spiritually illuminated in Christ with the revelation of God. His account of regeneration is that it is a change, renewal, or dynamic “sense of the heart” or “due apprehension” as to the reality, excellence, and sublimity of the spiritual things of God in Christ. And, with our earlier consideration of 1 Corinthians 2:12-13, I have no doubt but that Edwards would explain that text in the same manner, denying that this divinely imparted principle of the Spirit for knowledge somehow sidesteps or replaces our natural faculties or reason. He would say that this principle removes hindrances and prejudices from those faculties, while unflinchingly stating, “Reason indeed is necessary in order to it.” 
 
     Now if one requires proof that I am not misrepresenting the view under consideration, that is, that this Reformed approach to epistemology inverts my proposed tri-level structure for knowing, one may consider, for instance, what our dear brother and popularizer of presupposition - alism John Frame says, after presenting his argument that “these faculties” (of the unregenerate — and notice that he is locating the fault in the faculties themselves and not just a sinful misuse of such) “are not suited to serve as ultimate judges of anything.” Having stated that, however, Frame seems to recognize that this presents a problem. Notice the objection he includes as a reasonable response to this problem and what he says in response:

After all, do we not rely on our human senses and reasons to understand and distinguish the Words of God?...By way of reply...Scripture says there is a difference between God’s Words and ours, and it implies that we are able to discern that difference and to judge our words by God’s. Even if we cannot answer the objection, therefore, we must believe (on blind faith if nothing else) that it can be answered, if we are to believe in biblical authority at all.[6]     

Frame continues from there, somewhat incoherently, in my opinion, to affirm that God reveals himself through the means of the human senses and reason without explaining how this is consistent with his prior statement that the faculties themselves have innate problems due to sin. That is, he does not tell us by what self-critical, objective criteria fallen minds can differentiate human from divine thoughts—even while seeking to honor biblical authority. He also seems to conflate the human ability to know things (the capacity for wisdom) with what has been done with that ability (what the world counts as wisdom), as if, human words, wisdom, or comprehension itself among the unregenerate are always and only radically, sinfully different from God, even to the point of being useless for knowing God in any sense (what I know, if put in those terms, Frame does not believe). However that may be, what I wish to emphasize here is the obvious problem Frame has with clearly accounting for the role our natural and rational faculties (the first two levels of my tri-structure for knowing) in receiving God’s Word. Why is that? And why do we find no such difficulty, as Frame defines it, in Scripture somewhere? Furthermore, if on such an important question, a thoughtful, wise, and seasoned presuppositionalist of the stature of John Frame has to play— even if only for the uncomfortable moment—the “blind faith” card, should that not in itself make us pause and perhaps reconsider whether our account of knowing is truly biblical or consistent with our “common experience” (as Calvin says)? 

     If this problem for knowing at the first (physical seeing) and second (mental seeing) levels are philosophical in origin and foreign to Scripture (as I’ve been suggesting), then what is the effect of sin on the mind? Though this isn’t the context for an extended discussion on this point, I will say that I believe sin’s effect on the mind concerns not whether we can know things in general (again, reflective of what happens at the first two levels) but, rather, what we do with what we know (that is, a third level issue). Dutch Reformed Anthony Hoekema, formerly a Systematic Theology professor at Calvin Theological Seminary, in a work entitled Created in God's Image argues that the structural aspects of God's image in humanity were retained after the Fall—viz., our reason, moral sensitivity, and capacity for relationships. Hoekema states that these structural aspects are employed in a corrupt manner but remain intact in their integrity. In other words, the effect of the Fall on the mind in terms of human rationality is such that there is not a breakdown (or defectiveness) in the mental structure of rationality itself but rather a misuse or perversion of such for sin.

     For example, one could use a ball point pen to write or to stab a person; the structural and mechanical integrity of the pen as an object remains the same either way but how it is used is quite different in that case. So also, with respect to knowing (I reiterate), it is not a question of whether we can know things in general (such as the problems for knowing one finds in Plato, Descartes, Kant, etc.) but what we do with what we know that reflects the effects of sin on the mind.

     To my mind, this seems to account well for all that Scripture teaches about sin in relation to the mind. It also explains problems I mentioned earlier, such as, why people who have heard the gospel are accountable to God for not obeying it, since they could not disobey something they could not understand in any sense (see 2 Thess. 1:8; Rom. 1:19-20; Jn. 15:22-25). Or, it accounts for why, in our common experience, people who are not regenerate can be just as knowledgeable in various professions and fields of learning (if not more) than the regenerate. Or, put differently, it accounts for why regenerate Christians, who supposedly have by regeneration the only conditions to know anything, are not by that fact necessarily assured to exceed the unregenerate in knowledge with respect to all these professions and fields of learning.


[1] Can We Know the Truth?, pp.14-15.
[2] Can We Know the Truth?, p. 12.
[3] I recall a Christian philosophy major, highly intelligent, who told me one day that she was arriving at the conclusion that she didn’t know anything but that Jesus is her Lord and Savior. Perhaps, I failed her, but it seemed too sacred a sentiment for her. I couldn’t bring myself to reply: “Then how do you know Jesus is your Lord and Savior?”
[4] In TGC’s “Confessional Statement” (at their website), section 2 on “Revelation,” after declaring the full authority and sufficiency of Scripture as God’s Word, TGC writes: “We confess that both our finitude and our sinfulness preclude the possibility of knowing God’s truth exhaustively, but we affirm that, enlightened by the Spirit of God, we can know God’s revealed truth truly.” What seems to be missing here is any indication that the content of Scripture is itself a reliably knowable, objective standard as truth—particularly, a standard by which Christians may sufficiently know God’s will and mind or better: what Paul calls, “the whole counsel of God” (Acts 20:27). Why is it that, when talking about Scripture, there is, on the one hand, a disclaimor about “knowing God’s truth exhaustively” (who claims that?) due to finitude and sin and, on the other, there is the vague promise of the Holy Spirit who somehow fixes things by revealing God’s “truth truly”? Nowhere, however, is there a clear statement about how we know objectively what Scripture says sufficiently to be assured that our faith and practice as Christians is according to God’s Word. 
[5] Institutes of the Christian Religion, book 2, chapter 2, section 12.
[6] From John Frame’s online article, “Presuppositional Apologetics: An Introduction” (Part 1 of 2: “Introduction and Creation”).


The Gospel Coalition's Claim that Due to Human Finitude Truth Is Subjective


     In his booklet, Can We Know the Truth?, Phillips writes that “humans are finite” and therefore “can only know truth partially, so their knowledge is subjective, selective, and incomplete.”[1] Here Phillips speaks of the human condition for knowing by virtue of creation and apart from any effects of original sin on the mind. (We will consider what he says about the latter in my next post.) Notice that as Phillips makes this claim that truth is subjective because of human finitude he offers no support from either Scripture or philosophy (modern or postmodern). 

     As for the word, "finite" (or "finitude"), though many of us employ this term, it is not found in Scripture. Moreover, one would also not find there man’s capacity for knowledge characterized as “subjective,” "partial”[2], and "selective." On the other hand, one can easily find what Phillips is claiming here about human knowledge in the modern philosophers beginning with Descartes. The modern philosophers, in contrast to Phillips, rightly knew that since most people have a common sense view of truth, it was their responsibility to present some good reasons for believing, to the contrary, that truth is subjective. 

     So what does it mean to say humans are “finite”? Simply put, what is “finite” is “limited” or “restricted.” In a Christian context, human finitude involves a comparison to God who is infinite and, therefore, not limited or restricted. Does the Scripture support such a view? Certainly. But the question is this: What does this mean for us as humans when it comes to our ability to know things? That our knowledge is limited compared to God is trivially obvious. However, both in the Bible and in life, we do commonly experience and are even, as the ninth commandment implies, responsible for an objective apprehension of reality. Indeed, there simply is no reason to equate human finitude or limitedness to defectiveness or errancy for knowing. We do not make such an inference, for instance, when it comes to the limits of our humanity with respect to physical strength. As infinite, God is all-powerful. But we do not infer from such that the power a finite human has to walk or run or throw or lift things is defective or errant. That is, to be finite, in this respect, does not mean that one always limps or falls when one walks or runs; that one cannot throw strikes in baseball; or that one necessarily and always drops things in the act of lifting. To be sure, human power is nothing compared to God, but this doesn’t mean that God doesn’t require us to use the power he has given us (however limited) or that in using such we are always experiencing problems.

     What about Phillips’ claim that human knowledge is "subjective," "partial," and "selective"? When I hear a statement like that, I am always tempted to ask: How would someone know something like that? Is that to be taken as objectively true and reliably knowable? If so, it is self-defeating. If not, then, it is, as a statement about knowledge, just as subjective, partial, and selective as it claims all knowledge is. That is, the statement itself is, for all we know, unreliable or not worthy of acceptance.

     Similarly, how do we know that our knowledge is "partial"? Is that the whole truth? If not, why should we rely on such a partial truth about the nature of knowing? It could be—as "partial"—either misleading or false. Or, if all knowledge is "selective," is that true in a non-selective sense? If not, why should we put stock in a statement about knowing that is openly selective—that may have (again, for all we know) left something quite important out of consideration, leaving us with a distorted view of knowledge?

     More generally, what does this belief that our knowledge of truth is "subjective" even mean, practically speaking? Obviously, to claim that knowledge is subjective implies that it is not objective. However, can we not know or tell others anything objectively true? For instance, if it is not raining outside my house right now (and it isn’t), is it subjective for me to claim as much? If so, why is it that if one were to poll my wife and my next door neighbors, they would have the same answer? It seems reasonable to suppose that if my knowledge that it is not raining outside my house right now were truly subjective it would run askew of what others in the vicinity of the house believe. But it doesn’t. So what sense is there in claiming, as Phillips does, that our knowledge is subjective, when there are so many instances we could point to, even with considerable regularity, that prove otherwise? 

     If knowing is "subjective," this means (or so I understand it) that in subject-object relations for knowing knowledge itself is more about the subject (or centered therein) than the object. This is what some have called the “egocentric predicament,” and others, “the categorio-centric predicament.” (The latter is the view that when it comes to knowledge we as humans are centered in the categories of the mind such that we have no way to get outside ourselves to check if our perceptions match reality.) So, again, this implies that knowledge isn’t centered in the object, and, consequently, cannot be tested or verified by the object itself. Hence, what we claim to know, if subjective, is significantly influenced by our subjective needs, conditions, biases, and inclinations. At best, this means, our knowledge does not correspond to or accord with the reality of the object or thing itself which we claim to know.

     But, again, is this truly what we experience as knowing? Someone has said that no one is a postmodernist at 10,000 feet. It is also true that at that altitude no one believes that truth is subjective, partial, or relative. Indeed, at times like that, we are grateful for how truly objective human knowledge is and can be. We even count on it being so. When I walked into my office just now, I began to list in my mind the kind of things we all commonly know with a high degree of success. For instance, I know the difference between my chair and my desk. (I didn’t attempt to sit on my desk.) I know what switches to use to get the lights on. If I don’t want to hear my radio, I don’t turn the knob that turns it on. As I open my laptop, I know that it does not come on by pushing the knob on my desk drawer. I also know how to read the letters on the keys of my laptop. As I use my word processing software, I know how to form words on the screen by pressing certain keys down. I understand what words I want to use and which words I don’t want to use. The knowledge I am presently conveying will hopefully be read by someone. At that time, our shared knowledge of the English language and perhaps something of the theological and philosophical background for what I am writing here will be helpful. So much of what we do occurs successfully because we indeed have knowledge and are not pervasively errant in our knowing.

     In his Truth and the New Kind of Christian, R. Scott Smith offers a number of every day examples (much better than mine) to demonstrate how we do in reality know much about our world in an objective manner.[3] But this sort of exercise could be done by anyone. And the obvious and perhaps more important question is: why aren’t we doing so? Why are we counting our failures rather than our successes? Why do we focus on the problems there may be with knowing and truth rather than the amazing integrity and consistency we regularly experience in that regard? Why don’t we say of our ability to reliably know things: “I am fearfully and wonderfully made” (Psa. 139:14)—and give all praise to God?

     Instead, we seem bent on making rules out of exceptions. For instance, we look at an ambiguous drawing—is it an ugly old hag or beautiful lady—and then think to ourselves: “All reality is ambiguous.” Really? That a particular drawing is ambiguous and even exceptional as such may be true. But how does a rare experience of knowing convince us that this is how it is with all knowing? Are all drawings that ambiguous as to their subject matter? And are all objects in life that ambiguous for any attempt to know them as they actually are?

     Be that as it may, what does Phillips’ first reason that “humans may not be able to know the truth truly” or that truth is subjective imply? It seems to mean at least that human knowledge is relative. This is because a view that truth is subjective implies that truth is relative to the subject or knower—the one who claims to know something. Put a bit differently, under subjectivism a claim for knowledge, to the extent that it is decisive at all, actually says more about the subject who is doing the knowing than about the external object which is known. The implication of a statement like this is that truth is not decisively or ultimately related to the object one claims to know.

     Those of us who believe that truth is or may be objective are actually relativists as well. What made it unnecessary to highlight this particular kind of relativism is that it was always equated with what is simply there or what we as humans have always assumed to be the case for knowing. For instance, when I claim that I am presently looking at the screen of my laptop, I don’t have to qualify this item of knowledge by prefacing it with, “relative to what is there in front of me.” When we say that a subjective view of truth is “relative,” we mean that a special or an uncommon sort of relativism is being espoused—one that is centered in the knower rather than the known.

     To claim, therefore, that truth is subjective means (if it is a modernist claim) that even though we may believe truth exists or is real, knowing that truth is a problem. That (as Phillips says) we may not know “truth truly” (in this context) means that we may as easily know “truth falsely” as know it truly. Importantly, Phillips is not speaking here of the normal challenges for knowing truth associated with a common sense or realistic approach to truth. Rather (based on other things he says as well), he seems to imply that there is no epistemicly accessible and objective criteria whereby truth itself (understood generally) can be tested or verified.

     If that is so, however, we come face to face with a significant irony in Phillips’ book: although he seems to be concerned about the subjectivism and relativism of our modern and postmodern times, the truth is that Phillips himself believes (even, clearly states) that truth is subjective. As a logical consequence (and again), this also means (though Phillips doesn’t say this), that truth is relative. Consequently, what we seem to have in Phillips is a relativist who is not so much telling other relativists that they are wrong as relativists but that they are invited to experience the Christian form or variety of relativism, since it is sanctioned by God and confirmed to the heart by the Holy Spirit through reading Scripture.[4]    

     What does it mean, practically speaking, to claim, as Phillips does, that human knowledge is “partial”? One way to approach this is to recall what happens in a court of law. A witness is charged to “tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth”? Why? Because partial truths may be misleading, significantly errant, if not lies. For a witness to tell “the whole truth” means that, in response to questions, they should tell everything they know as completely as possible. Having “the whole truth” from witnesses—the truth sufficient to know whether or not someone is guilty of an alleged crime—is critical to a court’s veridical quest.

     It is also fundamental for every day issues pertaining to truth. For instance, to a parent’s question, “Where did you get that gum?,” a child may respond, “The store.” But let’s suppose that the child has stolen the gum from the store.[5] The partial truth, “the store,” obscures something parents would want to know from their child in this case. But let us suppose that both parents and their children were educated to believe that, because as humans they are finite, all they can expect from knowledge in this world is partial truths? Would this expectation for truth, namely, that under certain circumstances we need “the whole truth” fare well in that case?

     More to the point: if humans by virtue of creation are shut up to a state of partial knowing (for all we know: a false perception of reality), what does it mean for us when the Bible presents a case for the truth that Jesus is Lord? If in our capacity to know things we are errant by nature (even before original sin—much more after sin, as Phillips maintains), what do we as humans have to do with “truth”? Would we not be, from that consideration alone, in the same position as Pilate with his, “What is truth?” 


     Phillips’ claim here also means that to the question which serves as a title for his booklet, Can We Know the Truth?, we must answer, “We may not know the truth truly.” That is, if we were to make a distinction between knowing the truth in particular cases or knowing truth generally, Phillips states that it is doubtful that we can know the truth either way. This would also seem to imply that if what we mean by “the truth” is the “truth of the gospel,” this item of knowledge, also, cannot be known as “truth truly,” as it is a subset of knowledge in general. As already indicated, what he argues elsewhere is that the “truth of the gospel” is a kind of knowledge that the Holy Spirit assures to our hearts through regeneration but (by implication) is not known in an ordinary sense the way we might want (or need) to know the truth of other matters.



[1] Can We Know the Truth, p. 14.
[2] Though Phillips himself doesn’t do this, Christians today often quote Paul’s “for we know in part” (1 Cor. 13:9) as a scriptural justification for equating human finitude with a subjectivity as our necessarily knowing truth only partially. The context for this statement (1 Cor. 13:8-12) shows, however, that the “whole” (or the “perfect”) to which this partiality is related is not knowledge on this side of glory but rather, on that side of glory, when there will be a “face to face” (1 Cor. 13:12) encounter with Christ in heaven. Paul says, “Now I know in part; then I shall know fully even as I have been fully known” (1 Cor. 13:12).
[3] Truth and the New Kind of Christian, pp. 174-180.
[4] Just so I am not misunderstood, God does confirm his Word subjectively by the Spirit in this manner. My objection here is to any proposal that (apart from such subjectivity) denies a common, universal, objective, and knowable ground for truth between believers and unbelievers.
[5] This is actually a personal account. As a child of four, I helped myself to a pack of gum from the store. After a “conversation” with my parents (what in the South they more precisely call a “reckoning”), I received my first spanking—memorable for its intensity. Needless to say, my parents got “the whole truth” out of me.