In the heat of my deconstruction1, I trusted no one. Everyone claimed to be correct, but not everyone could be - if truth exists. I was desperately looking for something to ground my reality in - philosophy, science, ethics, Jesus - what would it be? And more importantly, on what grounds?
Centuries of postmodern2 thought trickling into culture and digital globalization only perpetuated the situation (Instagram opened me up to the entire world). Amidst hundreds of religions, worldviews, and various interpretative outcomes within each, how could any group claim they had the truth?
A deep uncertainty was developing at the core of my being. No single answer could solve my problem - I needed a total perspective shift.
Making the situation even more complicated, I wasn’t sure if I wanted this uncertainty to leave… I had learned so much through my doubt.
To trade my questions for absolute certainty meant I would resemble an arrogant fundamentalist, ignoring the hard questions and retreating into the safety of the Christian echo chamber, but to continue doubting everything meant I could learn nothing, eventually embracing meaninglessness to retain my sanity - and deep down I knew this couldn’t be true.
Even answering the apologetics 101 questions wasn’t helping. I had evidence - the historical validity of Jesus and the case for the resurrection, the perseverance of the apostolic church amid persecution, and modern-day miracles - they all aided in my belief that Christianity was not just a fabricated ideal.
But somehow, there was still a debilitating restlessness in my soul. Like a bull in a china shop, each day, this chaotic creature would barge in, very much unwelcome, and make a mess of that which I had tried so hard to polish.
After the stampede, I’d pick up the broken pieces, glue them back together, and put everything salvageable back up for display.
But I needed to stop the bull once and for all - not just continue gluing the wreckage back together. And you don’t survive in the bull ring until you first understand the bull.
Epistemology- How Do We Know What We Know?
Epistemology is just a fancy word for the science of knowledge, and it’s where we must begin our studies if we are to understand this bull of postmodernism.
In the typical fashion of this blog, let’s define, then deconstruct, the idea of knowledge itself. (If you are only deconstructing your Christian beliefs and not the assumptions you are using to deconstruct those beliefs, then you are failing to acknowledge the full-circle nature of the search for knowledge).
What is knowledge? Is it absolute certainty or mere probability? Is certainty even attainable? And if knowledge is just probability, is it actual knowledge?
We must begin by defining the Foundation (capital F) of reality.
The Greeks called it logos, and the Hindus call it dharma - naturalistic scientists are still searching for it, philosophers are still debating it, and Christians call it God. From a philosophical perspective, it is the question behind the question. Can it, or this Being that is being itself, be known?
Or will there always be another question behind it/him/her?
Here’s an example. Many atheists and mystics substitute a personal God for the cosmos. Following this line of thinking, one must try to decide if the cosmos are infinite or finite. If infinite (as they must be to be a worthy replacement for God), how do we know they are infinite? How do we know there isn’t a wall somewhere past our current vision? And if we find a wall, what if we look behind the wall? What will we find? Another seemingly infinite universe? Or another realm entirely? What about behind that? And that? And that?
Lots of question marks - entirely appropriate.
René Descartes set out to find certainty in his philosophical work by employing doubt. He proposed that through skepticism and doubt, one could arrive at certainty. He said we must doubt everything so that whatever remains is undeniably true. Anything that could not be 100% proven was thrown to the wind. Eventually, he found the certainty he sought in the existence of his conscience, hence his enormously famous “I think; therefore, I am.”
The Cartesian method shaped much of the thinking of Europe and, ultimately, Western society, but his methods have come under scrutiny at the end of the day. What he called “the thinking mind,” isolated in its knowable existence, is only knowable based on one’s belief in the thinking mind. One could say, “I am certain that I exist because I am thinking,” but another person could come along and say, “I think you do not exist based on my thinking. I think nobody exists.”
Simply put, and definitely overstated, there is always a question behind the question. Get that in your head.
The situation we are left in is peculiar. We must treat partial, non-exhaustive knowledge as actual knowledge.
Any serious thinker must also accept that knowledge is always grounded, that is, finds its origin, in some faith claim, however spiritual, scientific, or secular that initial claim may be. We cannot believe X without first believing Y, and we cannot believe Y without first believing Z. This continues into infinity until one becomes depressed, exhausted, calloused, distracted, or faithful.
The obvious question is, what will that grounding point be for you?
Will it be relentless doubt and the questioning of everything, allowing you to deconstruct and dismantle every falsehood, never leading you into naivety but simultaneously never giving you enough confidence for meaningful action?
Or will it be faith, the obedience that comes from hearing and believing, even if you cannot fully explain it?
In his essay “Proper Confidence,” Lesslie Newbigin proposes a route forward.
Newbigin states (emphasis added), “Both faith and doubt are necessary elements in this adventure. One does not learn anything except by believing something, and — conversely — if one doubts everything one learns nothing. On the other hand, believing everything uncritically is the road to disaster. The faculty of doubt is essential. But as I have argued, rational doubt always rests on faith and not vice versa.”3
Newbigin asks us to value faith and doubt, neither at the expense of the other, but ultimately acknowledging, along with the great secular philosophers of the last two thousand years, that the grounding point of one’s knowledge always finds its home in some version of belief.
But what might that grounding belief be?
Remember, since there is always another question to be asked, the infinite logos/dharma is genuinely unknowable from a philosophical, scientific, or explanatory standpoint.
To the materialist, I ask you to be open-minded with me, if not for just a brief moment.
Is it not possible that the logos, the thing/being behind all, could be personal and thus could reveal himself to us if he wanted to? And if he revealed himself, is it not possible that he values being known personally — as my wife does in our marriage — more than he values being explained (if explaining him is even possible)?
What if personal knowledge, like that found within the intimate relationship of marriage, is more foundational than explanatory knowledge? Who’s to say? Why do you believe one way or the other? Is it not reasonable to believe that love is more important than mere explanations that theoretically continue into infinity?
Running with the wife example… I know my wife better than anyone, but I cannot explain everything about her. I can’t explain her brain’s workings like a neuroscientist can. I can’t tell you the exact geometric specifications of her facial structure like the Face ID software on her iPhone can. I can’t even explain her personality tendencies as well as a therapist can… but does that mean these people (or software) know her better than I do?
No. Of course not… the ability to explain something does not infer that you also know something, and to know someone, as we would all define knowing, does not mean you can explain everything about them!
Unfortunately, many come to the opposite conclusion when discussing God. They are blinded by their ivory towers and spectacles, assuming God is to be found in (or above) the towers they inhabit. To the naturalistic scholar, it is inconceivable that God could be so easily found as in a manger.
I agree - utterly inconceivable. That’s why it changes everything if it’s true.
The Word Became Flesh
This is where Christianity invades “the wisdom of this world” so acutely and powerfully.
If, as the author of John states, “the logos has become flesh and dwelt among us.” then everything must change. The methods we use in philosophy and the questions we ask must find their center in this new idea of the incarnate logos. According to the early church leader Athanasius, it is the new arche (root word of archetype) that all human reason must flow from (not to).
Newbigin states, “At the heart of the Christian message was a new fact: God had acted — and let us remember that the original meaning of ‘fact’ is the Latin factum, ‘something done.’ God had acted in a way that, if believed, must henceforth determine all our ways of thinking. It could not merely fit into existing ways of understanding the world without fundamentally changing them.”
Trusting in the revelation of God is not a copout - but a conscious decision based on the probable evidence.
Given that we all must find our epistemological grounding in some faith claim, it is entirely tenable to find it in this new Incarnate arche, that is, the personal revelation of God. The Christian God is most truly known through an encounter, not a discussion. He is not a problem to be solved but a person to be met.
And if accepted, we must now treat the logos as a person instead of an idea to be toyed with. He is to be engaged with, talked to, and heard from. We must decide how much influence he will have in our lives. Will he be given the role of an acquaintance or a father? Like any relationship, there will be risks involved.
Newbigin, once again, beautifully articulates the stakes at hand — “Personal knowledge is impossible without risk; it cannot begin without an act of trust, and trust can be betrayed. We are here facing a fundamental decision in which we have to risk everything we have. There are no insurance policies available.”
You must decide for yourself - is the fact that the logos became flesh nonsense, the talk of fools, or could it be true?
And if true, what might it mean for me and you?
I would now call it “spiritual formation” for semantic reasons. According to Webster’s Dictionary, Deconstruction primarily applies when the Deconstructor intentionally sets out to show a system's inadequacies. When I deconstructed, I was wrestling with tricky questions to find the truth of Christianity, not reveal its fraudulence. There are certainly parallels between deconstruction and spiritual formation, and they often look the same from the outside. The only way to decipher this is to examine the intention behind the questions. I will continue referring to my season of “spiritual formation” as deconstruction, for clarity and consistency's sake, but also to continue targetting the deconstruction audience instead of excluding them with overtly Christian language (you think they’re going to read an article on spiritual formation? Lol…)
Postmodernism is a style and concept in arts, architecture, and criticism that emerged in the late 20th century. It represents a departure from modernism and is characterized by a general distrust of grand theories and ideologies.
Newbigin, Lesslie. Proper Confidence: Faith, Doubt, and Certainty in Christian Discipleship. Grand Rapids, MI: Eerdmans, 1995. 24-25.
Best blog yet - great work!