GatewayArts New Exhibit: "Fruit"

I’ve been working this summer in the budding arts ministry at Gateway Community Church, and this last weekend, we just opened our new visual art exhibit: “Fruit.” The goal of the exhibit is to creatively explore and enflesh the “Fruit of the Spirit.” But we tried to do this in an untraditional way. Alex Villareal did an excellent job of conceiving the exhibit, and encouraging everyone to create. One thing he urged us to try to do was to contrast the “fruit” against whatever its opposite would be.

This was my first time to create a piece to be hung in any exhibit. Visual art is not a skill I have spent a long time developing in myself. I have always loved to draw. I wanted to be an animator for Disney when I was a little kid. But I soon discovered that there were far, far better artists (like my friend Scott Hickmon!) than myself, and they could produce art much more quickly than I could. That’s about the time I started focusing more on acting. But art is still something I enjoy doing, whenever I actually do it. So I thought I’d give it a “go.” I’ll try to post an image of my piece, and tell about the process that went into making it in another blog.

Anyway, I really enjoyed observing people checking out the art in our exhibit. I especially liked watching people’s reactions to Alex’s installation “In Search of Peace” (snapshot by Elizabeth Wright pictured here). Installations are so big, they demand people’s attention. And how could you not take a gander at anything surrounded by hundreds of black ants? He was trying to capture the way people try to find peace in the midst of anxiety through escape, such as the escape of watching TV shows like Leave it to Beaver.

While people’s reactions to Alex’s piece were most acute, it seemed like all of the pieces in our exhibit had the effect of somehow bringing people to life—especially Sunday morning. People didn’t really come to church expecting to see a new art exhibit. I think they were pleasantly surprised. Some people were bothered by some of the pieces. Others were amused by those same pieces. In both reactions, I think there was a kind of “waking up” involved. It gave people something to talk about. It caused them to think. It stimulated their senses and imagination. It helped bring them alive, I think.

What better way to start a week?

Why the Cross-born King?: a sermon on John 12

I've been trying to blog more lately. Well... more precisely, I've been trying to publish on my blog(s) what I've been writing outside of it. This seems to be the only way I'll ever have a remotely consistent blog. My writing seems to be mostly occasional--written to someone in particular about something in particular. While those thoughts are never fleshed out perfectly, or thought through perfectly, there is great care given to them, and they reveal a bit of who I am and what I'm about--at least at the moment.

One reason I haven't been posting things like this on my blog is simply because I want things to be perfect before I post them. It's finally sinking in that that is never going to happen, at least for me. So why not just post things that aren't perfect? Why not essentially put the label "In development" or "rough draft" on everything I post in my blogs? Perhaps being okay with my own imperfections is itself a step in the process of perfection? At very least, it helps me overcome some of my obsessive perfectionism.

The following is a sermon I did this past semester for a class on preaching. Let it be said: I am not a preacher. I did not go to seminary to become a preacher. If I had to do a sermon every week, I think I would nearly kill myself. I don't know how REAL preachers do it. But I do fancy myself as an aspiring writer. I enjoy the writing process, and the research process. I don't mind the actual preaching either, if I have plenty of time to prepare for it. This sermon is, of course, not perfect. But it does unpack some things that I have been thinking about. Here you go...

Why the Cross-born King?: a sermon on John 12

Delivered: 4/28/2008

Monday night, I pulled another all nighter trying to get my work done for this week. So I packed up my stuff, and left my house about 3:45 AM, and drove up to Waco. About 5:15 or so, I pull into the parking lot of the Pilot Travel Center/Gas station just south of town on I-35 (it’s where I go to pull all-nighters when I’m in Waco).

Before my car is even in the parking space, a guy in a Camaero pulls up next to me, looking at me with his window rolled down, and I just knew he was going to ask me for money.

I got out of my car, and of course he did just that: “Hey man, my mom is in ICU in Austin, and I need money to make the trip cuz I’m out of gas… think you can help me at all?”

I’m thinking: “Fantastic! I just made a $45 trip up to Waco, and now this lying idiot wants me to give him free gas.” I’m so sick of these people who try to take advantage of people like me, who think they can actually fool me into believing them. But I have this principle that I give them money anyway, because Grace is not about what people deserve.

I gave him $10 worth of gas, but I made sure he was clear that this was going to hurt me financially, that this was a sacrifice. But I didn’t do it out of love, but out of wanting to make him feel like crap for lying to me. And that was vain. Because I bet he just drove away in his Camero with a grin on his face saying, “Ha ha, See ya, sucker.” He didn’t feel guilty. He played me; I was his victim.

I wonder… I can’t help but to wonder if they said the exact same thing to Jesus when they put him on the Cross: “See ya, sucker.” I wonder if they thought they had played him?

But I don’t think Jesus felt like a victim. Somehow… somehow what Jesus did on the Cross transformed his “being a victim” into “victory” itself. Even as the victim, He won, and he knew it. He knew what was going to happen on the Cross all along, and he knew it was going to confuse a lot of people, because not at all what they were looking for.

At least that’s what we see in the Gospel of John. Over, and over again, Jesus predicted what would happen to him—that he would be ‘lifted up’—and he warned that most people would be confused. And the crowd never got it.

You see, the people in the crowds were looking for this thing we call the Kingdom of God to come, except they were looking for something the same shape of all the other ‘kingdoms’ of the world they knew. They were looking for a King who would rule by the Sword with strength and force.

And this was exactly what they thought Jesus was going to be. This guy astounded them. His fame was spreading throughout the lands because of the amazing wonders he performed, turning water into wine, healing the lame and sick and blind, walking on water. He fed five thousand people—that is a legion of people—out of one kid’s dinner! In fact, it says in 6:14 that when he did that, he had to slip away because the crowd was going to (quote) “make him king by force.” And then, as if that wasn’t enough, he raises some guy from the dead whose been gone from this world for three days! I mean, that is pretty stinking awesome (pun intended, Lazarus), and everyone who saw was so blown away, the text says that they couldn’t stop talking about it!

It says in chapter 12 that (quote) “great crowds” of Jews were coming to see Jesus (and Lazarus) because the news of Lazarus that was being spread so rapidly. Now if there was already a legion of people who had come to see Jesus because of some healings, you can imagine the kind of support he could muster up with a resurrection.

Honestly: Who else could you possibly imagine would be a better candidate for overthrowing Caesar, and taking Israel back for Yahweh?! If a warrior messiah was literally what they were looking for, and they just saw Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead, you know they had to have been talking to each other like:

(surfer accent) “Dude, think about it. This guy leads a couple of Legions of people against Rome… I mean, so what if Caesar’s army is bigger, cuz Jesus is a necromancer, man: people die, and he’d just zap ‘em back to life, you know? I’d be like ‘There’s one Jesus.’ Zap ‘There’s a few more over there.’ Zap. Zap. ‘Oh, you missed one Jesus.’ Zap. You know? It’d be awesome!”

That’s obviously what I’d be thinking, anyway…

So people came in swarms to welcome him into Jerusalem with palm branches and praises:

“Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord—

the King of Israel!” (Jn 12:13)

So many people had come to see Jesus, it says in verse 19 the Pharisees, who were plotting to kill him, just basically told each other that they might as well give up, because there is no way they could get to Jesus now.

So far, with all these signs and wonders, Jesus fit the crowd’s bill. So far, the Messiah they were expecting, and the Messiah Jesus was, were the same thing. And now was the time of the Passover! How perfect! Just as Israel was freed from Egypt, they would now be freed from Rome!

It all made sense to them. Jesus’ miraculous feats just kept getting bigger and better as if they were building up to the glorious climax, and it would make sense for that climax to be the overthrow of Rome.

But that wasn’t the climax he was building up to. And they were going to be extremely disappointed.

See, the glorious climax Jesus was building up to was something inconceivable to them: Christ (Messiah), King, crucified.

And now, in 12 verse 23, Jesus makes this clear:

²³ Jesus answered them, “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.

²⁴ Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. ²⁵ Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. ²⁶ Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

²⁷ “Now my soul is troubled. And what should I say—‘Father, save me from this hour’? No, it is for this reason that I have come to this hour. ²⁸ Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven, “I have glorified it, and I will glorify it again.” ²⁹ The crowd standing there heard it and said that it was thunder. Others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” ³⁰ Jesus answered, “This voice has come for your sake, not for mine. ³¹

Now is the judgment of this world;

now the ruler of this world will be driven out. ³²

And I, when I am lifted up from the earth,

will draw all people to myself.”

³³ He said this to indicate the kind of death he was to die.

Well, the crowd still doesn’t get it. Jesus was going to be “lifted up”; Jesus was going to die, and that death is going to be the glorious climax that he has been building up to this whole time—his death was going to be his glorification. His death would be his Kingdom Come.

Instead of being a warrior messiah who strides into Jerusalem swinging a sword to drive out the ruler of Rome, Jesus is the suffering servant who “drives out the ruler of this world” by hanging on a Cross. Instead of being the mighty king who usurps his Kingdom by force of arms, Jesus is the mighty king who draws “all people” to himself when his arms are forced to a tree.”

Oh yes, Jesus is glorified in this hour. This hour is his glorious inauguration, but you have to have the eyes to see it as he is crowned in thorns, and takes his throne on two wooden beams.

The absurdity of it demands that we ask: why in the world? Why would he do it like this, when he could have done it exactly like everyone expected him to? Why? What is it about the Cross that makes it superior to the Sword?

There are a lot of theological reasons I think you could justifiably list that make the Cross superior to the sword, but I’m going to focus on one thing that I don’t think is really talked about enough, but has radical implications on how we live our lives as agents of the Kingdom of God.

You see, the Cross is inextricably connected to God’s Love for the world (Jn 3:16). God’s love for the world wants the world to be made whole, to be healed from its brokenness—that is what Christ being “lifted up” is referencing: the Golden Serpent that was “lifted up” on a pole so that anyone who looked at it would be healed of their snake bites. But because he loves us, God wants the whole human being to be healed, both internally and externally.

The Sword simply can’t do this.

Greg Boyd says it best, I think:

“The power of the sword…can never transform a person’s inner being. While the use of the sword tends to deepen the resolve of the punished rather than transform it, Jesus’ aim was to transform hearts and, by that means, transform the world.”[1]

The Kingdom of the World, you see, wields the Sword. The Sword gives us the ability to control these external factors, which very honestly make life easier for us much of the time. It is something that is reliable, and for the most part manageable, and we like that in the world. When the Sword is applied to Government, it makes laws, and punishes lawbreakers. With our vote, we can even have a say in which laws are created.

But we don’t just apply the sword to Government; it happens all the time with Religion as well. I recently came across a list of rules that one Christian High School has for its students. It had lots of stuff like “No physical touch between the sexes.” I think there were about thirteen paragraphs concerning the length and type of clothing girls are allowed to wear. What really amused me was this one: “Any behavior that is not consistent with the Bible will not be tolerated.” Really? Well, have fun figuring that one out…

You see, this is an example of the sword, manipulation, control. Sure this helps to get us the results of external compliance, but what we see time and time and time again is that kids who grow up in these environments often end up rebelling against that oppressive religious regime. Sure these kids don’t look like they are ‘sinning’ on the outside, but they were not healed on the inside. Their appearance of healing was superficial and caused by fear of punishment. And when they get out on their own, once that fear is removed, so is their ‘good’ behavior. They have not been healed, because they have not been Loved. They have not been loved, because they have not been shown the Cross.

Now, I don’t want to say that rules and laws and everything that goes along with the Sword should necessarily be done away with absolutely. If I was older and wiser, maybe I would say that. As for now, I think maybe it is something that is needed sometimes. Maybe a balance needs to be found. But what I think I can say with confidence is this: it is not the ideal. If used at all, the Sword must ever be a last resort, and never be our default mode.

That said, it remains true that rules and punishment can only promise external change. It may often bring better tangible and certain ‘results,’ but the change it brings is not lasting, and it is caused out of fear of suffering—fear of the Cross that we are threatening them with!—and that has got to bother a people who are disciples of the one who was on the receiving side of the Cross.

In Jesus “lifted up” on the Cross, we see a loving King who does not rape, but woos. The Sword can only command us externally, but the Cross can captivate our hearts. The King on the Cross shows us love, respects our freedom, and inspires and awakens the Kingdom of God from within us. When our hearts are freely his, everything else follows. This is a change that, unlike the extreme external discipline of that Christian school, remains even when fear of punishment is lifted. It is a change that has the quality of “eternity”—it has an “eternal” kind of life to it.

The Cross is not as certain, and not as “safe” in the way the world prefers; in fact it is risky. But Jesus tells us that risk is not necessarily a bad thing, because life results from death, just as a fruit-bearing plant results from the death of a seed. Jesus not only tells us this, but he shows it to us on the Cross, when He is lifted up, and brings healing, and draws all people to Himself.

The Martinez family used to have a quiet, comfortable life, living in a beautiful home, secluded in the Colorado mountains. But in 2000, they decided to trade their comfortable life for a home in one of the most violent and troubled neighborhoods in Albuquerque, NM. This was a neighborhood flooded with drugs, and prostitution, and gang violence.

Why did they move? Because they—even their kids, all younger than 15, wanted to bring change and healing to these people.

In an interview with the children, the girls said that it was scary sometimes because there would always be people walking through their yard, and there were shootings. One time, they said, their dad got beat up by a gang. The gang took him, and beat him senseless with 2x4s and beer bottles. He came back to his wife, bruised and bloody, and her reaction was, “We are not going to lose this. We are going to stay here, this is our calling, our purpose.”

Instead of turning them into the police, the family reached out to the attackers. They made friends with them, loved them, welcomed them into their home, and by becoming completely vulnerable to these people, they inspired change within them. The crime rate in that neighborhood has now dropped 50%.

This is the way of the Cross. It does not make us as safe and comfortable as the Sword does, but is often risky and painful. We can’t control the results of the Cross, because transformation can only happen when the Holy Spirit gives them eyes to see its worth. Many people will walk away unchanged, just like they walked away from Golgotha with a hardened heart. In others, change may happen, but we will never see it because it doesn’t happen right away. The world demands to see results, but we cannot live that way if we follow the Cross.

And a lot of times, people will look at what we have done through the Cross, and they’ll only see how they have ‘played’ us, and they’ll walk away saying, “See ya sucker.”

I’m never going to see the results of my little encounter with Camero guy. I seriously doubt it will have any results, because I did not bear the Cross in love like I should have. I didn’t want to inspire him to greatness out of my love, I just wanted to make him feel like trash for lying to me. I essentially turned the Cross into a club, and beat the guy over the head with it—that’s just another version of the Sword. I was the victim, and I made him a victim as well.

But if I would have practiced the Cross out of love, neither of us would have been the victim. I would not have been a victim because, just as G.K. Chesterton once said, “You cannot defeat the Cross, for it is defeat.” The Cross turns victim into victory. But much more important than me not being the victim is this. If I would have practiced the Cross, this last Tuesday morning at 5:15 AM, Adam Langley might have died a martyr’s death, a death that bears witness to the beautiful life-giving Grace of God.

The Cross is not just about not using the sword. It is about dying, dying a kind of death that—like the death of a seed—might have sprung forth life out of the dead soil of that guy’s heart.

As agents of the Kingdom of God, we have to let the question remain in our minds on constant vigil: Is this the way of the Cross or the Sword? Am I trying to coerce the Kingdom to happen externally through strength and determination of the sword? Or am I trying to inspire the Kingdom to happen internally through the love and sacrifice of the Cross? In what instrument am I placing my hope and my trust? Do I find my hands with a hammer? Or do I find my hands with nails?

---

[1] Myth of a Christian Nation, 33.

My Two Cents on “Jesus Mythicism”

This is a cut-and-paste response to a Christian friend of mine, Mr. James Panetti, who was wrestling with this thing sometimes called “Jesus Mythicist” theory, which maintains not only that the Jesus represented in the Gospels is not historical, but that there was never even a historical figure known as “Jesus of Nazareth.”



Yeah, I think you are reckoning with some of the same things that I have been investigating. The underlying question you are dealing with is "How do we know stuff?" (That is what epistemology is all about.) What you are essentially pointing to is two different channels of "knowing" reality: "heart" and "head." You might even differentiate them as "intellect" and "imagination." There are probably several ways you could distinguish them.

For a long time, the two trajectories of knowing have characterized "art" and "science" separately. Science, employing the intellect, has been about the business of "objectively" withholding belief until "proof" has been offered to it. What I was touching on in my own note was the fact that they naively ignore the fact that they have not applied this methodology to the scientific method itself. My point has been essentially to show that science is not as strictly "scientific" as it assumes itself to be. The very method it asserts is assumed through a kind of intuitive "leap". In your own terms, you might say that they assume this scientific method because it is appealing to their "heart." Another way of saying it: they assert the scientific method because they find it beautiful.

Here is a very interesting excerpt from a biography on Einstein called Einstein: His Life and Universe:

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One day during the 1930s, Einstein invited Saint-John Perse to Princeton to find out how the poet worked. "How does the idea of a poem come?" Einstein asked. The poet spoke of the role played by intuition and imagination. "It's the same for a man of science," Einstein responded with delight. "It is a sudden illumination, almost a rapture. Later, to be sure, intelligence analyzes and experiments confirm or invalidate the intuition. But initially there is a great forward leap of the imagination."

---------

There have been several books and articles written that deal with this role of the imagination in scientific discovery, and the "leaps" that are taken in order for science to advance.

The particular struggle you have been wrestling with sounds like what has been called the "Jesus Mythicist" movement. This movement has come about in conjunction with the "New Atheism" that has recently emerged with Dawkins and Harris and others. I have two or three cents to say about both of those movements, and I’ll share that in generalizations that do not necessarily hold true for each person individually, but it might be said characteristic of the movements as a whole. They are often called "fundamentalist atheists," and for good reason: they characteristically ignore most of the significant intellectual advancements that have developed in postmodernism and what might be called post-postmodernism (we don't quite know what to call what comes after postmodernism yet!).

This atheism (and the Jesus Mythicist movement along with it) is a popularized rehashing of old out-dated enlightenment assumptions about reality. What is strikingly (and absurdly) ironic about it is that it wears the guise of "intellectualism", but it really practices what might be called "emotionalism." You will notice in debates between many of these atheists and Christian apologists (for example, the debate between Christopher Hitchens and Alister McGrath) that the atheist will depend largely upon wise-cracks, insults, over-generalizations, and charisma, whereas the “irrational” Christian they debate is raising powerful intellectual points to reckon with, which the atheist completely ignores, or else shrugs off with yet another wise-crack. I’ve noticed too that many of these atheists seem to absolutely relish in being as crass as possible (for example, the “Christ-my-ass” day of the “Rational Response Squad”) which is, of course, very cool, objective, and rational…not!).

As far as Jesus Mythicism goes, it assumes that if Jesus was indeed who the Church says he was, there would be scores of undeniable historical documents proving this. They assume a "Foundationalist" epistmeological posture that refuses to believe anything unless it can be proven (but only in the way that they happen to prefer things to be proven), and this with nearly absolute certainty. Because the other extrabiblical accounts of Jesus' life can be questioned (if you really think about it, is ANY historical document immune from doubt?), they reject them as proof.

What is happening, I think, is that these Mythicists are emerging in an age of information revolution. With the internet, everyone is a published writer, and any bit of information you could imagine is at your fingertips. My impression is that mythicists quite naively assume (though they wouldn't admit as much) that the ancient world was at least somewhat the same way: "If there really was a miracle-working Jesus, surely Joe Nazereth would have blogged about it." The fact is, however, that the process of documentation and writing, etc., was extremely time consuming and expensive, and there were not many people who even had the literacy to undertake such an endeavor.

Yet even if they did have the time and resources to write about Jesus, there would also need to be the additional requirement of people preserving that document for 2000 years. People would need to think this document was important enough to take the trouble of preserving it, and making copies of it, etc., in order for us to be able to have a copy to point to today.


It is nothing new to doubt that the Gospels portray the actual history of a man named Jesus from Nazareth. The whole "quest for the historical Jesus" movement tried to deconstruct the "historical Jesus" from the "theological Jesus." These guys didn't doubt there was an actual historical person based upon which the Gospel writers told tall tales, they were just trying (unsuccessfuly) to figure out which tales were tall, and which were short.

It's one thing to say "If Jesus did all the things the Gospels say he did, then you would expect to see extrabiblical materials documenting his existence." But I imagine that part of the reason why those in the historical Jesus quest didn't go so far to claim he never existed is because that if Jesus didn't really do all the fantastic things claimed of him, then there would be absolutely no reason whatsoever for the historians contemporary to Jesus' day to document his life. Even if he did do all the things the Gospels claim, it would not be justified to expect scores of extrabiblical accounts talking about Jesus. How much less if he wasn't extra-ordinary?

There are many other methodological assumptions concerning history that factor into this discussion; this is only the tip of the iceberg. But it is also, as I mentioned, assuming a foundationalist methodology: "I don't believe something until I have proof." The reality is: that is not even what they practice themselves concerning their assumptions of right methodology. They reject the "leap" the Christian makes into belief of Jesus' existence, but they make a "leap" themselves into the assumption that some absolute proof is required for belief in Jesus' existence.

The point that Alister McGrath is making in The Open Secret is that these "leaps" are required in the epistemic process--even with science. When we make the "leap" of belief in Jesus (which is not a "blind" leap that is completely without reason), and we are undergirded with good theology, we see from the inside that it is beautiful (in your terms, we "know with our heart" that Jesus is real).

There is a subjective element to that, but it is not relativistic, nor is it (necessarily) completely unobjective. The objectivity of it can possibly be found in this idea of "resonance" or "best explanation." McGrath points out that the Christian worldview has a powerful explanatory power, not only concerning the world, but even the very existence of other worldviews. There is a quality of resonance or equilibrium that Christianity (at its best, not its corrupted forms) can offer that other worldviews and religions do not seem to possess. But that is a whole other discussion....

Einstein on Science and Poetry

The following is an excerpt from the book Einstein: His Life.

One day during the 1930s, Einstein invited Saint-John Perse to Princeton to find out how the poet worked. "How does the idea of a poem come?" Einstein asked. The poet spoke of the role played by intuition and imagination. "It's the same for a man of science," Einstein responded with delight. "It is a sudden illumination, almost a rapture. Later, to be sure, intelligence analyzes and experiments confirm or invalidate the intuition. But initially there is a great forward leap of the imagination."

A dialog on scientific and theological methodology: “Proof” vis-a-vis “Presupposition” in Synergistic “Resonance”

The following is from a dialog I’ve been having with an atheist on this discussion board thread: http://www.rationalresponders.com/forum/14534. The atheist’s responses follow the colons: “::”

It is a somewhat technical (albeit amateurish) discussion on epistemology. These responses are “off the cuff”, not exquisitely refined. They are nonetheless a little window into what I’ve been exploring recently, especially in critical realist epistemology, and Alister McGrath’s approach in his new book “The Open Secret: A New Vision for Natural Theology”. I’d, of course, love to hear your thoughts, if you’re interested in this kind of nerdy stuff, and have the tenacity to tread through this whole thing!

Here goes…

I do not disagree that the empirical method is a reliable and extremely helpful tool for knowing and understanding reality. The reason I harp on its limitations is because it is, for many atheists I’ve discovered, assumed to be the ONLY reliable and helpful tool for knowing and understanding reality, or indeed the tool that trumps all other competing ways of knowing and understanding reality.

The question that was naïvely ignored by modernity (and many atheists…and Christians, too, for that matter) is: “But how do we know the empirical process itself?” You see, I would say (following many respected epistemologists) that all knowledge comes through the use of certain tools or channels or methods. The empirical process is one channel for knowing reality. But what is the channel or process through which we come to know the empirical process? What lies tacitly beneath your statement “There is no reason for doubting my senses”?

This is simplified and imperfect, but I think it looks something like this:

(a) data is transmitted to your senses

(b) your senses transmit data to your brain

(c) You make some fallible assumptions into which you must take a “leap” of uncertainty:

(C1) That the data transmitted to my senses is accurate

(C2) That my senses work properly in transmitting that data to my brain?

(C3) That my intellect capable of properly interpreting this data?

(c) You test out the reliability of those assumptions in step (c).

(d) You discover that those assumptions seem to be reliable and resonate well with the big picture of life.

Again this is oversimplified, but it is somewhat helpful for our conversation. The reality is that the process of knowing is both top-bottom as well as bottom-top. There is a kind of synergism involved here. Only through this synergistic process can you say “There is no reason for doubting my senses.”

So to say “I believe because there is no reason not to believe” is to assume that the default position of the human knower is to believe that which is presented to him (again, an oversimplified statement). I would agree. This is true not only of our senses, but also the testimony of others, and—I would say—even our intuition. (There are probably more things we could throw into that “default” as well.)

We assent to things until some kind of cognitive dissonance is introduced into the picture to make us question the validity of that thing. As such, we believe p because p “resonates” with everything else we understand concerning reality. When we are presented with a choice between p and q, we decide between them based on which option resonates best with our experience of reality.

I understand that this process is very similar to what Thomas Kuhn describes in Structures of Scientific Revolutions. McGrath points to Jean Piaget’s model of “equilibration” as another example of this. Here is an excerpt from McGrath’s book The Open Secret, the chapter on “The Psychology of Perception”:

The account of perception that we have given thus far is of a dialectic process in which sensory input is made sense of in terms of pre-existing perceptual schemas, which have themselves developed as part of the process of acting on sensory input. The perceiver both acts on the world and is acted upon by the world. Processing is both top-down and bottom-up. The perceiver organizes data, but the organizational system employed is itself influenced by the type of data it is required to handle, and has some invariant features or predispositions built into it, presumably as the outcome of natural selection.

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McGrath:

The two sides of this process have been referred to as “assimilation of” and “accommodation to” the world by Piaget. For Piaget, there exists a process of “reflecting abstraction” through which human beings interact with their environment. Human beings are not born with such structures, nor do they absorb them passively from their environment: they construct them through a process of interaction (which Piaget terms “equilibration”), in which equilibrium is achieved between assimilation and accommodation. Assimilation may be defined as the “act of incorporating objects or aspects of objects into learned activities,” where accommodation is “the modification of an activity or ability in the face of environmental demands.” Generally these two processes balance each other, but accommodation to the world begins to dominate when the perceiver encounters phenomena that do not readily fit into existing schemas. This sort of situation involves cognitive challenge and possibly stress, but the outcome may often be a reorganization or development of schemas so that they are more differentiated, complex, and in keeping with the sensory phenomena. Thus there is a cycle of assimilation–challenge–accommodation–assimilation–challenge–accommodation under-

pinning the process of perception and its development.

(end of excerpt from McGrath)

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So anyway, this is essentially the process through which the empirical method is appropriated and affirmed as a reliable epistemological tool. The ideas of “resonance” and “equilibrium” are essentially the same, I think.

:: I only claimed certainty regarding FACTS, nothing more! Facts are certain, unless you can present evidence that facts and our senses are untrustworthy. Your only argument for this was the fallacy from inductive uncertainty when you said that we could not be absolute certain about our senses. This is a red herring. That fact our senses are not absolutely certain does not mean they are not untrustworthy.

I never said that our senses are “untrustworthy” because we cannot be absolutely certain about them, did I? My only contention was that you cannot be absolutely certain about them, not that they are untrustworthy. Those are two completely different things. “Trustworthiness” does not necessarily entail “absolute certainty.”

This is a trustworthy, but not “absolutely certain” statement: “When I turn the key in my car’s ignition, its engine will start.” It’s trustworthy because that is what usually happens, and I do not have reason to doubt it will happen. It is not “absolutely certain” because something could have happened to my car without my knowing that will cause it not to start (e.g. someone siphoned the gas from my tank, etc.).

I would agree that (per your definition) “facts” are trustworthy. I do not agree that “facts” are “absolutely certain.” There is absolutely no fallacy in that recognition whatsoever, so far as I can see. If you think there is, then please justify that statement rather than stamping it with a so-called fallacy. Explain why it is a fallacy. Show me the error in this argument:

1. That the sky is blue is a “fact” (per your definition).

2. We know the sky is blue because our senses tell us so.

3. We cannot be absolutely, 100% certain that our senses give us accurate information about reality

4. Therefore we cannot be absolutely certain about “facts”

Note, again, that this says nothing about “trustworthiness” of the senses. It is merely the recognition of a threshold limiter to our certainty that cannot be surpassed into “absolute certainty.” The lack of recognition of this epistemic boundary is one of the weaknesses of Enlightenment Foundationalism, pointed to by theistic and non-theistic philosophers alike.

:: This is already been explained to you! We know [that the scientific method is reliable] via the scientific method.

No. All you have done is demonstrate circular reasoning. To justify the validity of the scientific method with the scientific method itself is circular. That should be obvious to you. It is like me saying “I know that the Bible is true because it says it is true.” That is circular too. My point is that, to a certain degree, circularity is a necessary aspect of the epistemological process. This has been demonstrated by Jean Piaget, as well as Michael Polanyi (both of whom were both very scientific epistemologists who include a significant amount of scientific research in their arguments, and neither of which had a theistic agenda to their work) and many others.

:: The scientific method limits/removes bias, is the most objective method we have, and it is continuously successful.

It is very helpful in the search for objectivity, but it does not limit/remove the bias of its own assumed truth-bearing nature; it is not (indeed cannot be, I don’t think) objective with relation to itself. The only reason you can say it is “continuously successful” is because you once assumed it to be reliable, and it has not proven otherwise. It is “continuously successful”, but only “from the inside” of presupposing that it is true.

:: And you've presented no alternatives.

Yes I have. Testimony, for example. I even provided you links to some excellent writing on the epistemology of Testimony (the last issue of Episteme journal, for example). Intuition is another factor worth seriously considering, rather than dismissing it categorically without good reason. As I understand, epistemologists such as Alan Goldman have defended intuition (with qualification) through Reliabilism. There are other factors in the process of knowing too, such as prioritization and the fact that a person has to feel like something is worth knowing before they seek knowledge of it. “Resonance” and equilibrium also play into this process. And that’s the tip of the iceberg. McGrath gives an excellent assessment of the psychological aspects of this process in his chapter on the “Psychology of Perception” in The Open Secret: a New vision for Natural Theology (the chapter is actually written by Joanna Collicutt, who is a lecturer in psychology).

Seriously consider the Matrix movie. Try to put yourself in the position of Neo. It is a hypothetical situation in which the very signals being sent to our brains, giving us data about reality, is called into question. This data typically goes without being questioned at all because, as you point out, we don’t have a reason to doubt it.

Think of the expression “the squeaky wheel gets the oil.” When we drive our car, we are not really consciously aware of all the mechanisms that work together to put us into motion, until something goes wrong. When something does go wrong, we pop open the hood and try to see what is the matter, and notice our oil is low, or radiator fluid is leaking, or whatever. When things work well all the time, we can easily take things for granted as being much simpler than they really are. When things go wrong, it forces us to think about these things we take for granted.

The Matrix/BIV analogies are really just a helpful way of causing us to stop and think about the epistemic complexities that we take for granted. If someone we had known for a long time, who we really respected, who had always proven to be a reliable source of information were to tell us in all seriousness that our experiences of reality were really just fabrications of computers being transmitted to us via electronic signals to our brains, we would be forced to reckon with (among other things, such as the epistemic nature of testimony) why we should or should not trust our senses. We couldn’t use science to prove that our friend was mistaken, because science itself would be called into question; science itself would be part of the illusion.

In the process of seeking objective truth, it should be our goal to bring our attention to the tacit epistemological processes that usually do not get our attention. It should not necessarily take a “squeaky wheel” to get us to think critically about it. We should be seeking it anyway. No we don’t have a reason NOT to believe our senses, but that should not keep us from trying to explore the process behind why we DO believe it.

Objectivity is explicitly concerned with thinking critically about our presuppositions. If “our senses tell us the truth” is a presupposition (which it is), then we should be critically examining it. That is exactly what postmodern epistemologists (and philosophers after them) have done. That has been what I understand Alister McGrath has been concerned with in his three-volume Scientific Theology: looking closely and thinking critically about the methodology behind science and theology that has often gone unexamined.

That methodology consists (at least in part) of what I outlined in my last post. But there are many places in which people explain it far better than me (such as McGrath’s chapter on psychology of perception).

:: You've STILL not presenting reasons for why our senses are untrustworthy. You're only making naked assertions!!

I’m not saying they are untrustworthy. Nor is it relevant whether or not there are those “reasons” (see above). Consider the fact that you are making the “naked assertion” that we should let our belief in our senses remain without question unless we have good reason to doubt them.

:: I however can make an argument for the reliability of our sense: our senses are repeatably and independently confirmed via the scientific method to such a degree that there is not reason to doubt them.

Again, in the Matrix scenario, your argument would be irrelevant, because the scientific method would be irrelevant as “proof” (though not irrelevant as “resonance”). You must come to grips with this, but as of yet you have not. All those scientific “confirmations” you point to would be alleged fabrications of the machine to which you’re hooked up. Yes, it would be “reliable”, but that reliability would only be “from within” the Matrix. It would be “reliable” in that it is intrinsically/internally consistent and thus “resonant.”

The reason I don’t believe I’m in a Matrix is not because of the scientific method per se, but ultimately because that belief would not be useful in anyway to help me live my life. If I do not see proof, or other good reasons to believe in the Matrix, then the proposition of the Matrix does not disturb my “equilibrium” enough to force me to adjust the paradigm of my worldview. The best “resonance” is achieved, then, through NOT believing in the Matrix, believing instead in the truth-bearing nature of the signals sent to my brain. I maintain that paradigm (“I can trust my senses”) until equilibrium is disturbed, or an alternative with greater equilibrium and resonance is found.

:: Unless you can present a method that is as good as, if not better than empiricism, at verifying claims, then your complain is a red herring. So far you've failed to to this. What you presented was not only not on par with empiricism, it could not even be used to verify the truth of claims..

I beg to differ. Not only is it “on par” with empiricism, it is what empiricism itself demands and employs. The “method” of which I’m speaking is the very method we use in order to affirm empiricism. I recommend you re-read what I’ve said about “best explanation”, “resonance”, etc., as well as the process of “equilibration”. Better yet, go read some of the articles I posted, or buy or check out from the library McGrath’s book The Open Secret, or look into his Scientific Theology series.

:: The default position is to withhold belief unless we have evidence/reason to accept. We are to assume it is wrong until we have reason to believe otherwise. With our sense and the scientific method, we DO have evidence of reliability, we thus are justified in holding them as trustworthy.

Ok, now think about this. You now say the default position is to withhold belief. If that is the case, then you should be applying that to the scientific method itself. The process would look something like this:

Step One: Withhold belief that the scientific method is true

Step Two: Find evidence that the scientific method is true.

Step Three: Believe that the scientific method is true.

Again, the problem with this is that you are applying the scientific method itself as “evidence” for Step two. This is circular reasoning.

Take the same approach to the Matrix/BIV scenario:

Step 1: Withhold belief that the signals being sent to your brain accurately reflect reality.

Step 2: Find evidence that the signals being sent to your brain accurately reflect reality.

Step 3: Believe that the signals being sent to your brain accurately reflect reality.

Here too you are applying the scientific method to step 2. The problem is that the scientific method rests upon these signals (you get data from the scientific method via these brain signals). If you are “withholding belief” from these brain signals, then you would also, necessarily, be withholding belief from the scientific method. If you are withholding belief from the scientific method, then you cannot use it in step 2 in order to get to step 3 without your reasoning becoming circular.

Your approach is (unbelief-evidence-belief). But as I’ve pointed out, this process is viscously circular. But as I think about it (at 4:21am!!!), it seems that the converse (belief-evidence-unbelief) actually avoids that circularity (at least the “visciousness” of it). You see, your approach explicitly demands non-circularity, but tacitly employs it, and is thus self-contradictory. The converse approach does not demand non-circularity, but acknowledges the necessity of a degree of circularity (at least in the “leap” that is necessary to step into the proposition and test its resonance), and unabashedly employs it. You don’t necessarily have to find absolute proof in order to believe it. You find the evidence to believe it (at least partly) from the inside of that belief—the evidence being that it is a reliable process. No, that reliability is not “proof” (for example) that signals sent to the brain are true to reality. But the more you find yourself in equilibrium from within that position, the more you see it as reliable, and the less it really matters that you find that “proof.” The proof then only matters when dissonance (i.e. evidence against it) is introduced.

But that (above), again, is an over-simplification. The reality is that the process is quite complex and synergistic. Your approach (doubt-evidence-belief) might be called a “bottom-top” approach. The converse (belief-evidence-doubt) might be called a “top-bottom” approach. I think that the process of knowing is synergistic, incorporating both “bottom-top” and “top-bottom,” somehow. We process data (or evidence) using pre-existing schemas; and yet those schemas are also shaped by data. Which comes first: the chicken or the egg? It is difficult to say. Perhaps it is best to think in terms of synergistic process than an absolute starting point? I don’t know.

Sorry this is so long (and took me so long). I’m really trying hard to communicate clearly, but at the same time, this is a process of discovery for me even while I’m writing. I’m certainly not a pro at this (in case you couldn’t tell—ha!). Thanks for your patience! Have a good day!