WHAT DO YOU BELIEVE? 2/5

The Problem With Truth

The second point of evidence I want to address in this series is our approach to the concept of truth. Now, when I say truth, I mean Truth with a capital “T”—as in the stuff both science and religion aim to describe; the ultimate fabric of reality; "that which has existence apart from any idea any mind may have of it, and which would exist if there were no mind anywhere to entertain a thought of it.” (The Pursuit of God by A.W. Tozer)

Every day, we are inundated with statements marketed as “truth.” Take your Facebook feed for example. Every few scrolls, there’s some generic absolute emblazoned in a sleek, san-serif typeface over an heavily filtered image of some inspiring vista. There might be a well-dressed 20-something strategically placed in said vista; looking thoughtful, possibly in a yoga pose. Either way, their back is turned to us, or they're obscured by silhouette as they somehow both listlessly and contemplatively survey mountain tops, or a wheat field, or an avant-garde alleyway. And below it, in the comment section, you read “TRUTH” coming from scores of followers. 

Then there’s the much more subtle truth statements that permeate our lives lived outside the caricatured world of social media. They come to us in the form of television shows and water cooler talk, song lyrics and celebrity interviews—all affecting our actions and discourses often without our noticing. We find ourselves speaking of concepts like karma, poetic justice, and the golden rule with the assumption that they are correct indicators of reality—our actions predicated on general assumptions that we both make and project on others without giving any thought to their base. Whether consciously or not, we all stand on some sort of ground when it comes to The Truth.  And like justice, I’ve noticed three general stances.

I can hear you groaning already, “Oh great, here come the three groups again!” And I admit, it wasn’t my intention to structure this essay like the last one, but it seems like that’s the route we’re taking. However, this time I feel like we should give each group a name. Group 1, Group 2, and Group 3 are bland and confusing, especially when you have to keep referencing the top of the essay to remind yourself what description goes with which group number (looking at you Justice Essay). 

We’ll call the first group the Intuition Truth-ers. Their derivation of Truth is based solely on their current perspective or feelings. When confronted with a notion, they quickly assess whether or not they agree with its implications and then judge its validity based on that assessment. 

Next, are the Broad Truth-ers, they are the ones who say that The Truth is relevant or even unknowable, so they take the pluralist approach and put all attempts at Truth into the same category. They say, "who are we to discredit someone else’s truth or impose our own on others? What’s true for some people may not be true for others.” 

Finally, there are the Concise Truth-ers, those who say that The Truth is totally knowable, and that there are concrete, consistent, and immovable facts about our reality that we can ascertain. However, what those facts are, as well as the methods by which to ascertain them, may differ from group member to group member. 

Now that we all have team names, I’m sure you’ll find yourself at least partially leaning toward one of these three groups. So, let’s begin to dive into each’s approach.

Intuition Truth-ers

First of all, I doubt many readers will readily admit to being card carrying member of the Intuition Truth Club, but almost all of us find ourselves attending one of their quarterly potlucks from time to time. However, if through careful reflection you discover that your perspective on Truth noticeably lacks any kind of reference to anything beyond your own thoughts and experiences, then you have not only bought the t-shirt and bumper sticker, you may actually be leading the next month’s bake sale. 

Intuition Truth-ers, I’ll give you the same words as I did the feeling-based justice seekers from the previous essay: Unless you are the supreme arbiter of truth, how you happen to feel about something doesn’t have any bearing on whether or not it is true. Again, all of us are guilty of making a snap judgement on something simply because it disrupts our current perspective on things (e.g. anytime you scroll through a social media feed), but this disruption must occur and be thoroughly investigated if we are to ever grow in our pursuit of Truth. 

Think about it. Any one of us will readily admit that we don’t know everything, correct? Then why, when met with some idea that’s surprising or offensive to us, is our first reaction to automatically discount it as foolish and ridiculous? Obviously, that’s not to say that every offensive idea is true, but it’s only after intentional consideration that we have any solid grounds by which to personally judge the validity of a notion. Yet remember, unless you are an ardent Solipsist, don’t think your personal judgements on things have any effect on their actuality. 

Which brings up a peculiar trend becoming more an more popular these days: the choosing of a set of beliefs based on what “works” for a particular individual. They say the tenants of Buddhism “work” for them because they provide a nice spiritual outlook on life without all the close-mindedness of some of the other religions. Or they say it’s fine that Christianity “works” for their friend at school, but they just don’t see that type of lifestyle "working" for them. Or even more so, they decide to make their own custom designer-religion by borrowing all the pleasant sounding aspects of various beliefs and conveniently ignoring all the constraining parts. Please, tell me you see the absurdity in all this? Since when does whether or not something “works” for a person have any bearing on it’s validity? You don’t see people walking around saying, “you know, gravity’s fine for some people, but it just doesn’t work for me” and then they go floating away all pretentiously. 

Broad Truth-ers

Again, I will borrow from the previous essay on Justice. To make the claim that there is no such thing as ultimate truth—or at least it is unknowable—is, in itself, an attempt at stating an ultimate truth—a truth you are claiming to, in fact, know. And, again, to say that no one should impose their understanding of truth on another is actually imposing an understanding of truth on another. 

In describing their view on Truth, Broad Truth-ers may reference the popular parable of The Blind Men and the Elephant. In this parable, a group of blind men each go about feeling around different sections of an elephant. They then attempt to describe the creature before them:

One man, feeling the leg of the animal, says "It’s thick and sturdy, like a tree."

Another man, feeling the tail says, "No! It’s thin like a rope."

While still another, touching the side, argues "It’s big and broad like a wall."

This is supposed to represent how the differing beliefs of the world are only seeing part of a larger Truth. However, there’s a flaw to this argument that I will let a much more learned man explain:

“...I remind the hearers that the only way this parable makes any sense, however, is if the person telling the story has seen the whole elephant. Therefore, the minute one says, 'All religions only see part of the truth,' you are claiming the very knowledge you say no one else has. And they are demonstrating the same spiritual arrogance they so often accuse Christians of.  In other words, to say all is relative, is itself a truth statement but dangerous because it uses smoke and mirrors to make itself sound more tolerant than the rest. Most folks who hold this view think they are more enlightened than those who hold to absolutes when, in fact, they are really just as strong in their belief system as everyone else.  I do not think most of these folks are purposefully using trickery or bad motives. This is because they seem to have even convinced themselves of the ‘truth' of their position, even though they claim ‘truth' does not exist or at least can't be known.  Ironic isn't it? The position is intellectually inconsistent." (Tim Keller in Pluralism as a Religious Philosophy by Tim Keller and Charles Garland)

Concise Truth-ers

Now, on to those that believe there are real, concrete truths behind all that is. I admit, this is a very large group, and most of you probably consider yourself part of it. But within this group there are two distinct sub-groups. 

In one group are those who put great value in the stuff of religion. They argue that faith and testimony are paramount in ascertaining the truths of our existence. 

In the other group, are those that will only respond to the empirical. They say the only truth worth pursuing is that which can be scientifically proven. 

Quick Caveat

By now, you may have a guess as where I’m going with this argument, which is why I am addressing this now. 

In this essay, it is not my intent to debunk any current claims made by the scientific community, nor is it my intent to provide an airtight argument for the Christian creed. Rather, I am more so writing to shed some light on the unfair standard by which we have come to judge truth, by exposing the overvalue placed on the empirical based discipline of science and the unwarranted dismissal of the more faith-based assertions of religion.

Science vs Religion

To start, I want to address this prolonged and arduous battle between science and religion. Personally, I think it’s odd, and at many times counterproductive, pitting the two fields against one another when, at their root, they are asking two entirely different questions. You see, at its most basic, the field of science is centered around the question of "how?” while religion is centered on the question of “why?” Let me provide an example to explain what I mean by this. 

Say you are standing on a sidewalk and witness a car drive past you. How would you go about explaining the reason for this car’s driving? 

Science would say it’s driving because the accelerator has been pressed down, causing combustion in the engine, moving the pistons, which turn the crankshaft, which turns the drive shaft and eventually the tires, and due to the friction between the rubber and the ground, the vehicle is either pulled or pushed along. 

Religion would say the car is driving because the driver has some place to go. 

I’m sure you’ll agree that both answers can be considered correct. The former is simply more concerned with how the process of driving works, while the latter is concerned with why the driving is happening in the first place. You could say that science is focusing on the car, while religion is focusing on the driver. 

You can see how this example addresses the classic science and religion argument over the origin of Earth. Now, you can call me ignorant, you can call me stubborn and a science-hater, but I admit that I believe that the earth was created by God in the way Genesis depicts it, because I like the beauty of the creation story and it's something I’ve decided to put faith in. However, there are also Christians who believe that it’s possible the Earth is billions of years old and that the story of creation written in Genesis is intended to be a poem depicting the events of creation, rather than a literal timeline. I would argue against them, but would the foundations of my faith be shaken if their argument proved to be true? Not at all! Because the Bible wasn’t intended to be an instruction book on how to build a universe. Rather, it’s a centuries-long collective narrative that tells of a God who created a universe out of love, and why He would go to any lengths to win back the hearts of His creation after it rebelled against Him. 

[Update 05/26]

Again, I believe the Bible to be the infallible Word of God and supremely true. And, I also believe there are plenty of important "how" questions that The Scriptures directly answer (e.g. How our broken relationship with our Creator can be restored [Romans 10:9]). And these are definitely questions we should be asking. (Please, I beg of you, ask these types of questions!) 

But, all too often I see us getting hung up on much smaller "how" questions, about subjects so relatively inconsequential, and we are getting frustrated because the Text is answering with a “why.” And that “why" is: “I love you, just trust Me.” We don’t have the perspective to see what’s at work on a grander scale. Otherwise, we would be asking very different questions. 

[End Update]

And what about the questions we are asking science? Of course there are some “why” questions we can ask science like, "Why is the sky blue?" or “Why does the earth rotate around the sun?” and it could very well answer them with nice, logical conclusions. However, the “why" questions science is capable of answering still only deal with function as opposed to intent. You could very well reword the previous questions as, “How come we perceive the sky as blue?” and “How does gravity work?” 

Intent and Meaning

Which brings us to a shortcoming of science that a lot of people would rather not admit; and it’s a jumping-off point for many who are too uncomfortable with the requirements of faith: In order to address any sense of intent behind existence, one must leave the territory of science and submit to the confines of religion. Why is this such a hard leap for many of us? It’s because empirical evidence is comfortable; things are testable, repeatable. The control remains firmly in our hands. However, testimonial evidence—the stuff behind intent—requires faith in the message, and places control in the hands of the teller.

Now, I’m not saying empirical evidence isn’t valuable, I’m saying it’s not complete in describing the world we live in. We still have this glaring hole in our experiences that no matter how hard we try, we cannot fill by means of scientific experimentation. This hole is “meaning.” Like the man driving the car because he has some place to go, his reason for driving can only truly be ascertained by direct testimony from the driver, otherwise any other assertion of meaning would be mere speculation. 

“Meaning, eh?” you might say. "Meaning is just a construct of our survival instinct. We invent significance behind our existence to promote stronger familial bonds, or to comfort ourselves against the starkness of this world. Yes, the car is driving but have you ever thought that there is no driver? That there is no intent?” 

This is the stance I see many of the more science-minded taking when it comes to the religious affairs of meaning. However, I don’t see many adherers practicing what they preach. In fact, I think believing that meaning is a myth requires just as much, if not more, faith than believing there is a distinct purpose behind our universe and subsequently our actions. 

I’ll get into this more in the next essay, but to those who believe meaning is just a human construct, can you really tell me you honestly believe things like love, and kindness, and friendship are all based on illusions? The stuff behind the greatest works of art, music, and literature throughout the ages—do you really profess that all of it is simply a product of our own deception? And do your actions reflect your belief? 

When a novel causes you to burst with excitement at the long anticipated reunion of lost lovers or when a film makes you weep with joy as the pain riddled protagonist finally finds the hope he’d so desperately longed for, do you think to yourself, “Wow, this story has really triggered an instinctual empathetic response in me. What a neat artifact from my ancestors! I can see how this would really promote the survival of the species.” No! When the bride finds her true love, or the missing child finally returns home, something inside you wells up and proclaims, “This is right! There is something true about this!"

How cruel would it be to spend our entire existences searching for meaning, longing for true relationship, only to have the universe turn out to be this cold, aimless thing where any attempt at significance is left incomplete, unresolved; our hearts left chasing only shadows where we thought we saw something real. 

Yet, you are free to buy into this dismal perspective, and the bitter anguish that comes with it. But don’t think that somehow your suffering will produce any sort of merit. If you’ve decided to give up on meaning, then you must also give up on any idea of your stance being more “noble” than others.

However, if you allow yourself the hope that meaning exists, you must submit to the realm of religion. Even if you don’t attest to a “god” of sorts, and rather suspect some sort of “natural law” is behind our sense of meaning, you must still enter a world of faith. Again, the intentionality required to inject any actual meaning into our existence can only be ascertained through testimony provided by the intentional force itself.

So, what do I want you all to take from this? Besides obviously wanting you all to become Jesus-loving Christians, I want you to recognize the indispensability of religion when I comes to explaining our reality, and that science isn’t the end-all-be-all that people make it out to be. Again, science it great at what it does. I don’t want to belittle the benefit of all the countless discoveries made through its processes. I just want to remind people that if we wish to pursue any sense of purpose in our lives, or purpose in the world around us, we must enter the realm of religion. 

Strangeness

At this point, I’m guessing a few of you are saying, “Okay, so you want me to be a Christian. Great. But God coming as a man? People rising from the dead? Angels? Demons? Heaven and Hell? It all sounds so farfetched. How do you people actually believe this stuff?” 

First of all, strangeness has no bearing on the validity of something. On the contrary, it is my experience that strangeness is often the calling card of new information. I’ll admit it is hard to do, but try imagining being told some of the established norms of our universe for the first time. Imagine hearing about the concept of gravity or where babies come from all over again. I mean, try explaining to someone what the heck a Portuguese Man of War is. Jellyfish are weird enough creatures as it is, but then to learn that this thing isn’t even a jellyfish—that it isn’t even an singular animal—but a "colony of specialized, genetically identical individuals called zooids with various forms and functions, all working together as one.” (National Ocean Service NOAA) There are many aspects of reality that we undoubtedly first thought bizarre that we have now come to know as commonplace. 

Actually, I believe the “strangeness” of the Christian message helps legitimize it’s credibility. In the Bible, specifically the books that comprise the Gospel of Jesus Christ—the crux of Christian belief—there are certain oddities and nuances that are included in the testimonies that, I think, point to its authenticity. The text of John 20 for example, recounts the initial discovery of Christ’s resurrection:

"1 Now on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. 2 So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, 'They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.' 3 So Peter went out with the other disciple, and they were going toward the tomb. 4 Both of them were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first.” (John 20:1-4)

There are two things that jump out as strange in this passage. The first is the inclusion of John (the other disciple) outrunning Peter on their way to the tomb. The fact that John (commonly believed to be the author of this particular Gospel) decided to include that he outran his friend—a detail so anecdotal and seemingly superfluous—in the retelling of the scene, gives his testimony that certain intimacy and familiarity that gives a story credibility. The other oddity is having a woman as the first witness of the empty tomb, and the first person visited by the resurrected Jesus. In an time and culture where a woman’s testimony was commonly dismissed and not even viable in a court of law, if someone was attempting to fabricate such a story, they would have surely made a man the premiere witness of arguably the most crucial event in the story’s telling. And yet, we have Jesus himself commissioning a woman—a former prostitute at that—to be the honorary messenger of the greatest news in the history of mankind. 

"16 Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.' She turned and said to him in Aramaic, ‘Rabboni!' (which means Teacher). 17 Jesus said to her, 'Do not cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to My brethren and say to them, "I am ascending to My Father and your Father, and to My God and your God”' 18 Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, 'I have seen the Lord' — and that he had said these things to her. (John 20 16-18)

On What Grounds?

Regardless of what you choose to believe, we all hold on to a truth statement of some sort. It could take the form of a long-held religion, or simply be a personally curated set of beliefs, but we proclaim such a statement most loudly with our actions, rather than our words. The question I challenge you to ask yourself is: What is the foundation of the truths I profess? 

Do you have a storied, diverse body of believers—some much wiser and committed to truth than you—agreeing with you saying, “Yes! I see these things too!” Is your foundation soaked in the blood of those that came before you? —those so committed to this truth that they would see themselves tortured and brutally killed in order that the message live on? Would you, yourself, stand ready to die for the truth that you profess to believe in? Or is your foundation only yourself? Is it a foundation haphazardly formed by a concoction of intuition and personal experiences? Is the truth you believe in something you’ll go to the grave for? Or will you only offer a strongly worded argument, but nothing much further? 

Of course, the truth does not depend on how many people believe it, nor how fervently they defend it. A former pastor of mine used to say, “You can be totally sincere about something and still be be sincerely wrong." However, I feel assured in the Text that I, and countless individuals before me, have personally wrestled with, shed tears over, some their own blood over, and have all eventually come to submit to the Truth that it conveys. I am much more assured in a Text like that than some personal canon amassed from movie quotes and cultural norms—something carefully crafted to never question or challenge you, something you can comfortably project into the unforeseeable future without much maintenance. That is until tragedy or crisis strikes and you’re left with nothing to uphold you, as the chosen foundation of yourself is the very thing that is crumbling. 

Let yourself be challenged in your approach to Truth. Ask questions. Surround yourself with those you see running harder after this thing than you are. Be honest with yourself about what you believe and why you believe it. As we say about our Holy Scriptures: Don’t just read the text, let the text read you. Yes, there’s a lot of mystery to it all, but that’s the beauty of it. I can think of no nobler task, no greater adventure, than the pursuit of The Truth and God himself.

“Reality, in fact, is usually something you could not have guessed. That is one of the reasons I believe Christianity. It is a religion you could not have guessed. If it offered us just the kind of universe we had always expected, I should feel we were making it up. But, in fact, it is not the sort of thing anyone would have made up. It has just that queer twist about it that real things have. So let us leave behind all these boys' philosophies--these over simple answers. The problem is not simple and the answer is not going to be simple either.” 

—Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis