Note: Last Updated 7/29/2024.
Alexandre Dumas: (Abbé Faria)
My son, philosophy as I understand it, is reducible to no rules by which it can be learned; it is the amalgamation of all the sciences, the golden cloud which bears the soul to heaven.
(Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte-Cristo: In Five Volumes: Vol. I, [London: George Routledge and Sons, 1888], Chapter XVII, p. 205.)
Outline.
1. Knowing
2. The Mind and the Heart.
3. Epistemic Certainty.
4. Critical Realism.
5. The Order of Being and the Order of Knowing.
1. Knowing.
Matthew Arnold:
But often, in the world’s most crowded streets,
But often, in the din of strife.
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life;
A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
In tracking out our true, original course;
A longing to inquire
Into the mystery of this heart which beats.
So wild, so deep in us—to know
Whence our lives come and where they go.
(Matthew Arnold, “The Buried Life;” In: Matthew Arnold, Poems: Lyric and Elegiac Poems, [London: Macmillan and Co., 1885], p. 123.)
Sir Arthur Conan Doyle: (Sherlock Holmes)
…when you have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
(Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, “The Adventure of the Blanched Soldier;” In: The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes, [London: Penguin Books, 2011], p. 65.)
John Leland:
It is not necessary to a just inquiry into doctrines or facts, that a man should be absolutely indifferent to them before he begins that inquiry, much less that he should actually disbelieve them; as if he must necessarily commence atheist, before he can fairly examine into the proofs of the existence of God. It is sufficient to a candid examination, that a man applieth himself to it with a mind open to conviction, and a disposition to embrace truth on which side soever it shall appear, and to receive the evidence that shall arise in the course of the trial. And if the inquiry relateth to principles in which we have been instructed, then, supposing those principles to be in themselves rational and well founded, it may well happen, that, in inquiring into the grounds of them, a fair examination may be carried on without seeing cause to disbelieve, or doubt of them through the whole course of the enquiry; which in that case will end in a fuller conviction of them than before.
(John Leland, A View of the Principal Deistical Writers: That Have Appeared in England in the Last and Present Century; with Observations Upon Them, and Some Account of the Answers that Have Been Published Against Them. In Several Letters to a Friend, [London: Charles Daly, 1837], Letter XI, p. 120.)
Richard Whately:
Similar to this case is that which may be called the Fallacy of objections; i.e. showing that there are objections against some plan, theory, or system, and thence inferring that it should be rejected; when that which ought to have been proved is, that there are more, or stronger objections, against the receiving than the rejecting of it. This is the main, and almost universal Fallacy of anti-christians; and is that of which a young Christian should be first and principally warned. They find numerous ‘objections’ against various parts of Scripture; to some of which no satisfactory answer can be given; and the incautious hearer is apt, while his attention is fixed on these, to forget that there are infinitely more, and stronger objections against the supposition, that the Christian Religion is of human origin; and that where we cannot answer all objections, we are bound, in reason and in candour, to adopt the hypothesis which labours under the least. That the case is as I have stated, I am authorized to assume, from this circumstance,—that no complete and consistent account has ever been given of the manner in which the Christian Religion, supposing it a human contrivance, could have arisen and prevailed as it did. And yet this may obviously be demanded with the utmost fairness of those who deny its divine origin. The Religion exists; that is the phenomenon. Those who will not allow it to have come from God, are bound to solve the phenomenon on some other hypothesis less open to objections. They are not, indeed, called on to prove that it actually did arise in this or that way; but to suggest (consistently with acknowledged facts) some probable way in which it may have arisen, reconcilable with all the circumstances of the case. That infidels have never done this, though they have had 1800 years to try, amounts to a confession, that no such hypothesis can be devised, which will not be open to greater objections than lie against Christianity.
(Richard Whately, Elements of Logic: Reprinted from the Ninth (Octavo) Edition, [London: Longmans, Green, Reader, and Dyer, 1870], Bk. III, § 17, pp. 144-145.)
2. The Mind and the Heart.
Johnathan Edwards:
There is a distinction to be made between a mere notional understanding wherein the mind only beholds things in the exercise of a speculative faculty; and the sense of the heart, wherein the mind does not only speculate and behold, but relishes and feels. That sort of knowledge, by which a man has a sensible perception of amiableness and loathsomeness, or of sweetness and nauseousness, is not just the same sort of knowledge with that by which he knows what a triangle is, and what a square is. The one is mere speculative knowledge, the other sensible knowledge, in which more than the mere intellect is concerned; the heart is the proper subject of it, or the soul, as a being that not only beholds, but has inclination, and is pleased or displeased. And yet there is the nature of instruction in it; as he that has perceived the sweet taste of honey, knows much more about it, than he who has only looked upon, and felt of it.
(Jonathan Edwards, A Treatise Concerning Religious Affections, in Three Parts, [Philadelphia: James Crissy, 1821], pp. 215-216.) See also: ccel.org.
Johnathan Edwards:
Thus there is a difference between having an opinion that God is holy and gracious, and having a sense of the loveliness and beauty of that holiness and grace. There is a difference between having a rational judgment that honey is sweet, and having a sense of its sweetness. A man may have the former, that knows not how honey tastes; but a man can’t have the latter, unless he has an idea of the taste of honey in his mind. So there is a difference between believing that a person is beautiful, and having a sense of his beauty. The former may be obtained by hearsay, but the latter only by seeing the countenance. There is a wide difference between mere speculative, rational judging anything to be excellent, and having a sense of its sweetness, and beauty. The former rests only in the head, speculation only is concerned in it; but the heart is concerned in the latter. When the heart is sensible of the beauty and amiableness of a thing, it necessarily: feels pleasure in the apprehension. It is implied in a person’s being heartily sensible of the loveliness of a thing, that the idea of it is sweet and pleasant to his soul; which is a far different thing from having a rational opinion that it is excellent.
(Johnathan Edwards, “A Divine and Supernatural Light, Immediately Imparted to the Soul By the Spirit of God, Shown to Be Both a Scriptural, and Rational Doctrine (1734);” In: The Sermons of Jonathan Edwards: A Reader, eds. Wilson H. Kimnach, Kenneth P. Minkema, and Douglas A. Sweeney, [New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1999], pp. 127-128.)
3. Epistemic Certainty.
James K. Dew Jr., Mark W. Foreman:
There are a few things that we can have certainty about, but for most things, certainty eludes us. This suggests that there are various degrees or levels of assurance that we can have. At the highest level, one might have what we call logical or absolute certainty. This is the kind of certainty that makes a belief impossible to doubt. These include, as McGrath notes, logical statements, self-evident truths or many mathematical propositions. For example, 2 + 2 = 4 or “All triangles have three sides” fall into this category. These are statements that could not possibly be untrue. After this, there is a level of assurance that we might call probabilistic certainty. These include statements like “The sun will rise tomorrow” or “The pen will fall if I drop it.” These statements are considered to be true by everyone. But it is always possible that the sun will not rise tomorrow or that the pen could float on this one occasion. One cannot claim to know with certainty that these things will happen. Nevertheless, it is foolish to think that these things might not happen given the universal track record of the sun coming up and of gravity pulling pens to the floor. There is also what we might call sufficient certainty. In this case, we have very good evidence in favor of a particular belief and know of no significant defeaters for this belief.
But if there are varying degrees of certainty, what causes this variation? Again, McGrath is helpful here. He notes that the degrees of certainty arise from the nature of the objects, entities or issues that we inquire about. In other words, the nature of the thing in question largely determines how it can be known. So, for example, when we are asking about apples, we use our senses to investigate them and see what they are like. By contrast, when we are asking questions about God, who cannot be seen with our eyes or touched with our hands, we must rely on something different. In this, we see how the nature of the object determines how we know it. But, as McGrath notes, the nature of the object also determines how well it can be known. He says, “The degree of theoretical [certainty] that may be secured for any aspect of reality is determined by its intrinsic nature. We are thus obliged to think in terms of a range of possibilities of closure, depending on which stratum of reality is being encountered and represented in this manner.”[fn. 16: Alister E. McGrath, The Science of God: An Introduction to Scientific Theology (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 2004), 187. McGrath uses the word closure, and we have substituted the word certainty here, as this is what McGrath has in view.] In other words, we may know some things more directly and as they appear more obvious to us. This does not suggest any kind of superiority or deficiency in the objects themselves. It simply recognizes certain epistemological facts about the way our minds apprehend reality and the limitations of our cognitive processes.
(James K. Dew Jr., Mark W. Foreman, How Do We Know? An Introduction to Epistemology, [Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2014], pp. 161-162.)
J. P. Moreland:
Here’s a simple definition of knowledge: To represent reality in thought or experience the way it really is on the basis of adequate grounds. To know something (the nature of God, forgiveness, cancer) is to think of or experience it as it really is on a solid basis of evidence, experience, intuition, and so forth. Little can be said in general about what counts as “adequate grounds.” The best one can do is to start with specific cases of knowledge and its absence in art, chemistry, memory, Scripture, logic, introspection, etc., and formulate helpful descriptions of “adequate grounds” accordingly.
Please note that knowledge has nothing to do with certainty or an anxious quest for it. One can know something without being certain about it, and in the presence of doubt or with the admission that one might be wrong. …When Christians claim to have knowledge of this or that—for example, that God is real, that Jesus rose from the dead, that the Bible is the Word of God—they are not saying that there is no possibility that they could be wrong, that they have no doubts, or that they have answers to every question raised against them. They are simply saying that these and other claims satisfy the definition given above (that is, to represent reality in thought or experience the way it really is on the basis of adequate grounds).
(J. P. Moreland, The Soul: How We Know It’s Real and Why It Matters, [Chicago: Moody Publishers, 2014], pp. 13-14.)
René Descartes:
It would be disingenuous, however, not to point out that some things are considered as morally certain, that is, as having sufficient certainty for application to ordinary life, even though they may be uncertain in relation to the absolute power of God. <Thus those who have never been in Rome have no doubt that it is a town in Italy, even though it could be the case that everyone who has told them this has been deceiving them.> Suppose for example that someone wants to read a letter written in Latin but encoded so that the letters of the alphabet do not have their proper value, and he guesses that the letter B should be read whenever A appears, and C when B appears, i.e. that each letter should be replaced by the one immediately following it. If, by using this key, he can make up Latin words from the letters, he will be in no doubt that the true meaning of the letter is contained in these words. It is true that his knowledge is based merely on a conjecture, and it is conceivable that the writer did not replace the original letters with their immediate successors in the alphabet, but with others, thus encoding quite a different message; but this possibility is so unlikely <especially if the message contains many words> that it does not seem credible. Now if people look at all the many properties relating to magnetism, fire and the fabric of the entire world, which I have deduced in this book from just a few principles, then, even if they think that my assumption of these principles was arbitrary and groundless, they will still perhaps acknowledge that it would hardly have been possible for so many items to fit into a coherent pattern if the original principles had been false.
…there are some matters, even in relation to the things in nature, which we regard as absolutely, and more than just morally, certain. <Absolute certainty arises when we believe that it is wholly impossible that something should be otherwise than we judge it to be.> This certainty is based on a metaphysical foundation, namely that God is supremely good and in no way a deceiver, and hence that the faculty which he gave us for distinguishing truth from falsehood cannot lead us into error, so long as we are using it properly and are thereby perceiving something distinctly. Mathematical demonstrations have this kind of certainty, as does the knowledge that material things exist; and the same goes for all evident reasoning about material things.
(René Descartes, Principles of Philosophy, Part Four: The Earth, ## 205-206; In: The Philosophical Writings of Descartes: Volume I, trans. John Cottingham, Robert Stoothoff, Dugald Murdoch, [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985], pp. 289-290.)
Cf. René Descartes:
…moral certainty is certainty which is sufficient to regulate our behaviour, or which measures up to the certainty we have on matters relating to the conduct of life which we never normally doubt, though we know that it is possible, absolutely speaking, that they may be false.
(René Descartes, Principles of Philosophy, Part Four: The Earth, # 205; In: The Philosophical Writings of Descartes: Volume I, trans. John Cottingham, Robert Stoothoff, Dugald Murdoch, [Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985], p. 289 fn. 2.)
Garrett J. DeWeese:
…the stock of propositions about which I can have certainty is not all that large; most of the really interesting things that I believe in life are such that I recognize that I could possibly be wrong about them.
(Garrett J. DeWeese, Doing Philosophy as a Christian, [Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2011], p. 158.)
Alistair McGrath:
The beliefs that are really important in life concern such things as whether there is a God and what he is like, or the mystery of human nature and destiny. These—and a whole host of other important beliefs—have two basic features. In the first place, they are relevant to life. They matter, in that they affect the way we think, live, hope and act. In the second place, by their very nature they make claims that cannot be proved (or disproved) with total certainty. At best we may hope to know them as probably true. There will always be an element of doubt in any statement that goes beyond the world of logic and self-evident propositions. Christianity is not unique in this respect: an atheist or Marxist is confronted with precisely the same dilemma.
(Alister McGrath, Doubting: Growing Through the Uncertainties of Faith, [Downers Grove: IVP Books, 2006], pp. 24-25.)
Alistair McGrath:
Yet a scientific theology takes a markedly different approach, , insisting, as we have seen, that ontology determines epistemology — in other words, that the degree of theoretical closure that may be secured for any aspect of reality is determined by its intrinsic nature. We are thus obliged to think in terms of a range of possibilities of closure, depending on which stratum of reality is being encountered and represented in this manner. The category of ‘mystery’ plays a particularly important role in any discussion about theological closure. The key point here is that the category of ‘mystery’ affirms both the coherence of a multi-levelled reality, and its complexity, which is such that its meaning cannot be totally determined by any one writer or era. As a result, what one generation inherits from another is not so much definitive answers as a shared commitment to the process of wrestling.
(Alister E. McGrath, The Science of God: An Introduction to Scientific Theology, [Grand Rapids: William B. Eerdmans, 2004], p. 187.)
John Piper:
Fourth, we might remind the sufferer that his demand for a kind of absolute, mathematical certainty about his right standing with God is asking for too much. None of us lives with that kind of certainty about any relationships in life, and this need not destroy our comfort. As Baxter says, “No wife or child is certain that the husband or father will not murder them; and yet they may live comfortably, and not fear it.” In other words, there is a kind of certainty that we live by, and it is enough. It is, in the end, a gift of God.
One can imagine a wife obsessed with fear that her husband will kill her, or that during the night one of her children will kill another one. No amount of arguing may bring her away from the fear of this possibility. Rationally and mathematically it is possible. But millions of people live in complete peace about these things, even though there is no absolute 2 + 2 = 4 kind of certainty. The certainty is rooted in good experience and the God-given stability of nature. It is a sweet assurance—and a gift of God. So we say to our suffering friend, “Don’t demand the kind of certainty about your own relationship to God that you don’t require about the other relationships in your life.”
(John Piper, When the Darkness Will Not Lift, [Wheaton: Crossway Books, 2006], pp. 41-42.)
4. Critical Realism.
James K. Dew, Jr., Mark W. Foreman:
Given the strengths and weaknesses of each theory of perception, we may never be able to say which theory is absolutely correct. We may, however, be able to adopt a methodology that allows us to take the strengths of each theory into account. In a wide variety of intellectual disciplines—such as philosophy, theology, sociology and science—much attention has been given to developing a methodology that will allow for genuine knowledge of the external world while also noting the potential for perceptual and cognitive error. This approach is described in various ways, but it most often is referred to as critical realism. When applied to the issue of perception, this approach holds that we can apprehend the external world itself (following the intuitions of direct realism) but can also be misled by both external and internal factors (heeding the warnings of indirect realism). Though it is a genuine form of realism, it emphasizes a need for critical assessment of our perceptions, beliefs and truth claims. It holds that we see the real world, but we might not see it exactly the way it is and should thus shun the naïveté of direct realism.
(James K. Dew, Jr., Mark W. Foreman, How Do We Know? An Introduction to Epistemology, [Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2014], p. 92.)
N. T. Wright:
If knowing something is like looking through a telescope, a simplistic positivist might imagine that he is simply looking at the object, forgetting for the moment the fact that he is looking through lenses, while a phenomenalist might suspect that she is looking at a mirror, in which she is seeing the reflection of her own eye. One logical result of the latter position is of course solipsism, the belief that I and only I exist. What else do I have evidence for?
Over against both of these positions, I propose a form of critical realism. This is a way of describing the process of ‘knowing’ that acknowledges the reality of the thing known, as something other than the knower (hence ‘realism’), while also fully acknowledging that the only access we have to this reality lies along the spiralling path of appropriate dialogue or conversation between the knower and the thing known (hence ‘critical’). This path leads to critical reflection on the products of our enquiry into ‘reality’, so that our assertions about ‘reality’ acknowledge their own provisionality. Knowledge, in other words, although in principle concerning realities independent of the knower, is never itself independent of the knower.
(N. T. Wright, The New Testament and the People of God, Christian Origins and the Question of God, Volume 1, [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 1992], p. 35.) Preview.
Ronald E. Osborn:
Critical realism seeks to chart a third way between the epistemologies of both modernism and postmodernism. It is critical because it accepts the postmodern emphasis on the provisional and always contingent or mediated aspect of knowledge, yet realist because it insists upon the objectivity of the world we encounter and so the possibility of more or less truthful ways of talking about the properties of this world. Whether in matters of science or biblical interpretation we must resist the temptation of modernist positivism, “commonsense empiricism,” or naive realism (the dubious claim that we have direct, unmediated or unproblematic access to truth). At the same time, we must resist the temptation of sheer postmodern relativism (the claim that truth or even reality as such does not exist or cannot be known at all apart from purely subjective language games about it). …We never possess a “god’s-eye view” of the world—a view without lenses, so to speak—but neither are we simply trapped in a hall of mirrors.
(Ronald E. Osborn, Death Before the Fall: Biblical Literalism and the Problem of Animal Suffering, [Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2014], p. 118.)
Cf. Ronald E. Osborn:
Another implication of critical realism is that we must always see our knowledge about particular realities as fitting within narrative frameworks that are nested within larger stories and ultimately within worldviews that involve complex interplays of reason, observation, culture, history and experience that cannot be understood in any kind of neatly stacked way. We must chart a course between the Scylla of modernist-style foundationalism and the Charybdis of postmodern antifoundationalism. The word for this post-postmodern position is postfoundationalism (as if the prefix “post” were not overused by academics already!). Postfoundationalists agree with foundationalists that our worldviews can have greater or lesser correspondence with reality, including both scientific and theological truth. They agree with antifoundationalists (and nonfoundationalists), though, that the attempt to build a system of knowledge from a base of indubitable, infallible certitude that somehow stands on its own (whether this base is said to be else) is an utterly failed epistemological project well past its sell-by date.
(Ronald E. Osborn, Death Before the Fall: Biblical Literalism and the Problem of Animal Suffering, [Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2014], pp. 119-120.)
Critical Realism in Practice.
1 Corinthians 13:12a:
For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.
(New International Version.)
John H. Walton:
“FAITHFUL” RATHER THAN “RIGHT”
Note that I frame this quest by the word faithful—not by the word right. People who take the Bible seriously have perhaps spent too much time and energy trying to insist that their interpretation is right and the interpretations of others are wrong. This is not to say that interpretations cannot be right or wrong. Nevertheless, in the cases of the most controversial issues, “right” is precisely what is under discussion. Everyone cannot be right, but we should recognize what commends one interpretation over another. That is why I have framed this as “faithful” interpretation. Our methodology should be faithful even though sometimes we might arrive at different answers.
Simply put, an interpretation is the result of identifying evidence (for example, linguistic, literary, historical, theological, cultural) and assessing that evidence, then applying it to a base of presuppositions one holds. Such presuppositions may pertain to what readers believe about the Bible or to the theology they deduce from the Bible. They may be presuppositions held consciously, by choice, or subconsciously, adopted through long years of passive reception and tradition. In the process, interpreters prioritize and shape the various pieces of evidence to accord with their presuppositions and cultural locations to arrive at an interpretation. That interpretation, then, reflects what the interpreters consider having the strongest evidence in light of their governing presuppositions.
Unfortunately, it is common for all of us to consider the interpretation that we prefer, given our perspectives and presuppositions, as simply “right.” It is logical to conclude that the interpretation with the strongest evidence carries the highest probability. But for another reader who has different presuppositions, or who prioritizes the evidence differently, or who is not persuaded that one piece of evidence is legitimate, a different interpretation will take pride of place and be considered as having the strongest evidence.
Using the adjective “faithful” instead of “right” humbly recognizes that we all fall into the pitfalls of blind presuppositions and overlooked evidence. We can only seek to be as faithful as possible. No interpreter is infallible. Maybe sometimes we will even be right, but that is not our claim to make. Certain interpretations may be disproved by evidence, but interpretations cannot be proved true. Evidence supports an interpretation and therefore lends it a higher degree of probability. The greater the evidence that supports a particular interpretation, the higher the probability we are understanding God’s message, and the higher our confidence in our conclusions can be.
(John H. Walton, Wisdom for Faithful Reading: Principles and Practices for Old Testament Interpretation, [Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2023], pp. 4-5.) Preview.
Ronald E. Osborn:
What all this means is that we must abandon any pretensions to absolute certainty about our interpretations and confess that we always see “through a glass darkly” (1 Cor 13:12).
(Ronald E. Osborn, Death Before the Fall: Biblical Literalism and the Problem of Animal Suffering, [Downers Grove: IVP Academic, 2014], p. 119.)
Note: See further: “Dialogue and the Necessity of Humility.”
5. The Order of Being and the Order of Knowing.
A. A. Hodge:
14. What is the legitimate office of Reason in the sphere of Religion?
1st. Reason is the primary revelation God has made to man, necessarily presupposed in every subsequent revelation of whatever kind. 2d. Hence Reason, including the moral and emotional nature, and experience, must be the organ by means of which alone all subsequent revelations can be apprehended and received. A revelation addressed to the irrational would be as inconsequent as light to the blind. This is the usus organicus of reason. 3d. Hence no subsequent revelation can contradict reason acting legitimately within its own sphere. For then (1) God would contradict himself and (2) faith would be impossible. To believe is to assent to a thing as true, but to see that it contradicts reason, is to see that it is not true. Hence the Reason has the office in judging the Evidences or in interpreting the Records of a supernatural revelation, of exercising the judicium contradictionis. Reason has therefore to determine two questions: 1st. Does God speak? 2d. What does God say? This, however, requires (a) the cooperation of all the faculties of knowing, moral as well as purely intellectual, (b) a modest and teachable spirit, (c) perfect candor and loyalty to truth, (d) willingness to put all known truth to practice, (e) the illumination and assistance of the promised Spirit of truth.
(Archibald Alexander Hodge, Outlines of Theology: Rewritten and Enlarged, [New York: Robert Carter and Brothers, 1879], p. 62.)
J. P. Boyce:
…reason is the first revelation, and is consequently presupposed in any other.
(James Petigru Boyce, Abstract of Systematic Theology, [Louisville: Chas. T. Dearing, 1882], p. 54.)
Sproul, Gerstner & Lindsley:
But whether we know that logic deals with reality or not, we must begin all our thinking with logic, for that is the only way that we can think. We cannot even presuppose God except logically. In other words, even to think of the God who alone can validate logic, we must first think logically or rationally. Through the exercise of this logic and reason we come to realize the existence of the God who validates the logical process by which we have arrived at the knowledge of Him. So we begin with logic because we must, and in the end we come to the God who proves that we may.
…According to the law of noncontradiction, one cannot assert anything without assuming that its opposite is excluded. If we say, “That is a dog,” the statement must imply that the dog cannot be a not-dog. “A” must exclude “not-A” or “A” itself is meaningless. “God” must exclude “not-God” or “God” is not a meaningful expression. So we could not meaningfully refer to God if it were not for the law of noncontradiction. Manifestly, if we cannot conceive of God without logical laws we cannot presuppose Him in order to arrive at logical laws. Therefore, to say that we must presuppose God in order to validate logic is, without logic, not even a valid statement. It is true that we do not know that logical laws are ultimately valid until we learn that there is a God who made these laws and the creatures who think according to them. But that we must use them and assume their validity before we come to know God is indisputable, because we cannot even define Him without them. First we use logical laws; then we learn of the God who made them. We cannot begin with God, as God began with God, and then move to logic as God then moved to logic. We must begin with logic and then learn that He is the One who made these laws and validates them ultimately. The well-known principle is that the order of knowing is the reverse of the order of being. The order of being: first God, then logic. The order of human knowing: first logic, then God.
(R. C. Sproul, John Gerstner, Arthur Lindsley, Classical Apologetics, [Grand Rapids: Zondervan, 1984], pp. 220, 223-224.)
Tony Lane:
This relationship is summed up in Moltmann’s saying that ‘The order of being and the order of knowing are opposite.’ [end note 1: J. Moltmann The Trinity and the Kingdom of God. London: SCM Press, 1981, 152-53; The Way of Jesus Christ. London: SCM Press, 1990, 77.] The order of being is from the top down – God is the source of goodness and love. On the other hand, the order of knowing is from the bottom up – we understand God’s goodness and love in the light of ours.
(Tony Lane, Exploring Christian Doctrine: A Guide to What Christians Believe, [Downers Grove: InterVarsity Press, 2014], pp. 34-35.) Preview.
Jürgen Moltmann:
The ‘economic Trinity’ is the object of kerygmatic and practical theology; the ‘immanent Trinity’ the content of doxological theology.
If we start from this distinction, then it becomes clear that doxological theology is responsive theology. Its praise and its knowledge of God are a response to the salvation that has been experienced. If the immanent Trinity is the counterpart of praise, then knowledge of the economic Trinity (as the embodiment of the history and experience of salvation) precedes knowledge of the immanent Trinity. In the order of being it succeeds it.
(Jürgen Moltmann, The Trinity and the Kingdom: The Doctrine of God, trans. Margaret Kohl, [San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1981], pp. 152-153.)
Jürgen Moltmann:
There are many different correspondences between the experience of the present Christ and the remembrance of the historical Jesus. These already took on the structure of a mirror image very early on: the One who is now raised from the dead to God is the One whom God once surrendered; the One who is now risen is the One who died; the One now exalted is the One who was once humiliated. The pre-Pauline hymn on Christ in Philippians 2 clearly shows the mirror-image correspondence between ‘humiliated – exalted’, but with a trinitarian difference: Christ humiliated himself – God the Father exalted him. It is therefore understandable that the idea of the incarnation of God’s Son in Jesus of Galilee should be the inverted presupposition for the exaltation of Jesus of Galilee, and his installation as Son of God. The descendence and the ascendance match. Systematically, this must be understood to mean that Christ’s exaltation and presence are the cognitive ground for his incarnation and his history; while the incarnation and history are the ‘true’ ground for his exaltation and presence. According to Aristotle, the first in the history of being is the last in the history of knowing, and vice versa. Consequently, the being of Jesus Christ is known in the light of his end, and his origin is known in the light of his future. In the light of the eschatological revelation in his raising from the dead, his history can be understood.
(Jürgen Moltmann, The Way of Jesus Chrisut: Christology in Messianic Dimensions, trans. Margaret Kohl, [San Francisco: HarperSanFrancisco, 1990], p. 77.)
Thomas Aquinas:
…names applied to God and to other beings are not used either entirely univocally or entirely equivocally. …they are predicated according to analogy... For, from the fact that we compare other things with God as their first origin, we attribute to God such names as signify perfections in other things. This clearly brings out the truth that, as regards the giving of the names, such names are used primarily of creatures, inasmuch as the intellect that gives the names ascends from creatures to God. But as regards the thing signified by the name, they are used primarily of God, from whom the perfections descend to other beings.
(Thomas Aquinas, Light of Faith: The Compendium of Theology, [New York: Book-Of-The-Month Club, 1998], 1.27, pp. 27, 28, 28.)
J. V. Fesko:
One of the missing categories in contemporary apologetics discussions is axiology (rightly valuing something), a common category in classic Reformed Orthodoxy. Under Van Til’s influence, some of his disciples have confused epistemology with axiology, or how we know with the evaluation of that knowledge. William Dennison, for example, writes, “[The unbeliever] will say that the bass weighs three pounds or that 2+2=4 (which is metaphysically correct), but he will not describe or explain the truthfulness (epistemological) of the bass or the mathematical proposition in the context of a Christian theistic universe (concrete understanding).”[William D. Dennison, “Van Til and Common Grace,” Mid-America Journal of Theology 9, no. 2 (1993): 238] Problems arise with this statement on two fronts: (1) Dennison fails to acknowledge that weighing a bass and adding 2 + 2 have metaphysical and epistemological dimensions; (2) he conflates epistemology with axiology. As Francis Turretin (1623-87) explains “There is a difference between the ‘truth of propositions’ and the ‘truth of conclusions.’”[Institutes of Elenctic Theology, 1.8.11] Fallen human beings can rightly know that 2 + 2 = 4 or accurately weigh a fish; their ability to know has not been so damaged by the fall that they fail accurately to use reason. But the axiological evaluation of the fish and the simple math equation are a different matter, only the believer will rightly evaluate the ultimate significance of the existence of one of God’s creatures and the truth of a mathematical formulation. As with the use of common notions, Reformed theologians distinguished between knowledge and judgment or principles and conclusions. Even in a fallen world, believers and unbelievers share a common epistemology due to their creation in the image of God. Recall, however, Calvin’s distinction between two types of knowledge, the earthly and the heavenly. Just because unbelievers are blind as moles regarding the things of heaven does not mean they are equally blind regarding the things of earth[Institutes, 2.2.18].
(J. V. Fesko, Reforming Apologetics: Retrieving the Classic Reformed Approach to Defending the Faith, [Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2019], pp. 213-214.)
Note:
The Order of Knowing:
The Order of Being:
E.g. Herman Bavinck: (who demonstrates the proper epistemological ordering: i.e., Man → God)
When we endeavor to determine more closely the nature of this mind and descend for this purpose into the depths of self-consciousness, we find at its very root the sense of dependence. In our self-consciousness we are not only conscious of being, but also of being something definite, of being the very thing we are. And this definite mode of being, most generally described, consists in a dependent, limited, finite, created being. Before all thinking and willing, before all reasoning and action, we are and exist, exist in a definite way, and inseparable therefrom have a consciousness of our being and of its specific mode. The core of our self-consciousness is, as Schleiermacher perceived much more clearly than Kant, not autonomy, but a sense of dependence. In the act of becoming conscious of ourselves we become conscious of ourselves as creatures.
(Herman Bavinck, The Philosophy of Revelation: The Stone Lectures for 1908-1909: Princeton Theological Seminary, [New York: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1909], Lecture III, pp. 65-66.)
Cf. Herman Bavinck:
The charge of subjectivism has no force… It would be valid only if the subjective condition by which alone the object can be known were made the “first principle” of knowledge. For though the eye may be the indispensable organ for the perception of light, it is not its source. It is precisely the error of idealistic rationalism that it equates the organ of knowledge with the source of knowledge. Thinking is not the source of the idea; the intellectual representation is not the cause of the thing; the “I” is not the creator of the “non-I”...
(Herman Bavinck, Reformed Dogmatics: Volume 1: Prolegomena, gen. ed. John Bolt, trans. John Vriend, [Grand Rapids: Baker Academic, 2003], §. 147, pp. 564-565.)
καὶ αὐτός ἐστιν πρὸ πάντων καὶ τὰ πάντα ἐν αὐτῷ συνέστηκεν ~ Soli Deo Gloria
