"Graph"ted into Christ

As a math teacher, I find that visual portrayals facilitate understanding of mathematical concepts. Sometimes, my attempts to think visually bleed into my more theological thoughts. Among other loosely related mathematical concepts I've heard or considered that have afforded some cause for reflection:

#1 - Upon the consummation of the present world, one wonders if our knowledge (or, perhaps, certain other capacities indicating spiritual growth) in this present life will become statically determined by our course in this life or able to further increase. If the latter - which is my intuition and suggested in eschatological passages such as Isaiah 65 and Revelation 21-22 - we might consider our relationship to God as asymptotic. Often times, we hear or talk about God as "infinite." In this analogy, God would rather be like the definitive line towards whom we would ever become closer over the unending progression of time - but without intersection or mergence. This analogy would preserve the Creator-creature distinction but allow us to entertain hypothetical futures as fully sanctified and glorified people yet with the potential for greater conformity to Christ-likeness.

#2 - Some biblical scholars (example) have found what appear to be intricate patterns in Scripture. Chiasms and parallelisms are more well-known examples, but so-called "deltaforms" remind me of the concept periodicity or reverberations. In fact, one day, I envision the possibility of something like a huge screen (extrapolate an IMAX theatre) in which it might be possible to display the entire Bible. To fit our field of vision, perhaps the display would have be coded. In any case, given this scenario, I imagine it would also be possible to highlight or "colorate" verses in this display in which certain symbols, words, numbers, letters, phrases, sentences, themes, and so forth appear. Upon doing so, it would not at all surprise me if patterns were to emerge in some cases - even intertextually, depending on one's canonical organization (e.g. Hebraic Tanakh vs. Protestant Old Testament). This could make for compelling apologetic argumentation regarding textual issues.

#3 - Factor trees are akin to Porphyrian trees. These are useful in various contexts in which one wants an understanding of the scope of subject matter. One might take inspiration from these paradigm models. A massive project I've imagined would be to classify how different traditions interpret various verses. I don't have in mind an atomistic structure in which literally every interpretation provided by every person who has ever lived is displayed within the "tree." Selectivity would be needed regarding which traditions to include and who would function as representatives within each tradition. Even so, an interactive layout along these lines would be quite helpful for catechesis, systematics, comparative religion, etc. 

#4 - Finally, what prompted this post is a recent mathematical metaphor has come to mind: in our postlapsarian context, I think we can picture ourselves as zero-dimensional figures, "points" on a one-dimensional, bisected line that represents our lifetime. Even from conception - our "origin" and the "origin" or middle of the bisected line - we have a continuous orientation, attraction, and/or "face" towards negative "values" (which is typically leftwards on a number line). 

There are layers here: without divine intervention, our negative moral "values" from conception become intensified the longer we live, i.e. the further that we walk "leftwards" over time. In fact, in a sense, the timeline of our lives started at zero from birth. This is interesting in that typical countdowns end with zero; otherwise, we tend to count upwards from zero. In this picture, however, we are at allowed to continue to exist on the number line of life with an orientation and intensification towards negative values. This exhibits the extent to which our lives are on borrowed credit and the extent to which we presume upon God's goodness and patience.

Now, it takes a transcendent God immanently applies higher dimensional, redemptive grace to our zero-dimensional selves through His incarnate Son. Mathematically speaking, we literally experience a "transformation" as we are reflected across the axis of the number line and turned "about face" to become soldiers for Christ, oriented on a path towards positive "values," i.e. the "right[ward]," heavenly city.

I've thought about whether this illustration could be depicted in different terms. For example, can we consider ourselves as two-dimensional figures who must live and move - whether we travel up, down, left, or right - on a sinful plane of existence? If this is intelligible, it would seem to similarly require a transcendent God to immanently apply higher dimensional grace to our two-dimensional selves through His incarnate Son. In this case, it would seem our selves would be transformed into three-dimensional figures with the orientation towards moving forward towards Christ-likeness (albeit the potential to slide "backwards").

There are both limitations to these metaphors and potential for further development. For example, a limitation of these metaphors is that they are best understood within the setting of a postlapsarian context. In particular, the illustration in which we become "three-dimensional" objects might provoke the misconception that our ontology changes when God applies redemptive grace to our lives, whereas our sinfulness is accidental to our human nature. What is essential to humanity is to have an ethical orientation. The fall of mankind in the first Adam and redemption of those in the last Adam connote changes to our ethical orientation, not to our ontology. Therefore, perhaps the metaphor in which we begin and end as zero-dimensional "points" is more apt (although having a so-called negative orientation again suggests it is better thought of given a postlapsarian context).

Speaking of that former metaphor, it is possible to develop it further. Clearly, the end behaviors of the line indicate the destination toward which one is heading - heaven or hell. We might also mark on the number line a time after which God will no longer apply redemptive grace to whose those orientations [and actions] are continuously "negative" or sinful (cf. the consummation of this present world). 

Or consider that while the timeline which we have been considering may be conceived of as strictly one-dimensional - a straight line in either direction - it is also possible to conceive of it as, say, two-dimensional. For instance, humans are three-dimensional: it is easy enough for us to conceive of a situation in which we view something that initially appears to be a simple, straight line is actually a two-dimensional figure once we pivot our perspective. Say we have a overhead, helicopter view of what appears to be a straight line. When our helicopter lands, we actually see that the object is actually a two-dimensional polynomial (like a rollercoaster that never turns sideways but does go up and down).

Applying this new setting to the metaphor, we would still be zero-dimensional points on this polynomials, and references to end behaviors, timelines, etc. would still apply. Now, however, we are afforded more freedom of imagination. Consider relative maximums and minimums: these might depict temporal goods or trials that people experience. Or think about the fact that different polynomials have different y-intercepts: from an "overhead" perspective, this would be the "origin" of man, the point on the "line" in which the x-coordinate is zero. From a perspective in which we can view the two-dimensional polynomial, however, we can speak of different y-intercepts as depicting natural or circumstantial advantages or disadvantages that exist from conception. God gives some more "talents" than others, after all.  

Surely, more could be said. I wish I had artistic or technological proficiency to show these or other ideas I've had (example). But those are certainly not talents with which I have been endowed!

Self-Attestation vs. Self-Authenticity

As I read more and more examples in which I find a conflation between epistemology and apologetics (link, link, link, link), I am reminded of Anthony Bryson's thoughtful chapter in Calvinism and the Problem of Evil called, Calvinism, Self-Attestation, and Apathy toward Arguments From Evil. Unlike many authors, Bryson is aware of the distinction between the two:

...my aim is not to look at what role self-attestation should play in apologetics. I'm interested in how the Christian can know that the Bible is the word of God. In the SA literature, these sometimes get confused.

In his chapter, Bryson detects apathy from presuppositionalists towards the problem of evil and thinks such is due to their reliance on the principle of "self-attestation." He writes that some presuppositionalists think as follows: 

We clearly know that God exists because of what the Bible says. Since God is its author, it is infallible. And we know its author is God because of its own self-testimony. In short, the Bible is self-attesting... 

...how can we know that the Bible is inspired? The most common answer from self-attestation theorists is that Jesus and the rest of the Scriptures teach that it is… we know that it was written by God because God, in the Bible, has written that it was written by him. (pgs. 275, 280-281)

Now, some authors of books in the Bible do claim their own or other biblical writings have been divinely revealed. But any reliance on self-attestation to function as a positive evidence, proof, or defense of one's belief in the Bible already presupposes that the Bible is trustworthy. Circular argumentation (apologetics) may be permissible (see below). But argumentation presupposes epistemic justification, and circular justification (epistemology) is not permissible (link). Bryson is interested in the latter, not the former.

Here's another problem with "apathetic" presuppositionalists Bryson mentions: does every proposition the Bible communicates begin with a self-attestation (e.g. "I am the Lord...")? Obviously not. How, then, are we able to know those propositions? Not by an appeal to self-attestation! There must be some other way in which we know each biblical proposition, in which case Bryson has a point that the motivation for a lazy self-attestation epistemology is undercut. 

Further, suggesting that self-attestation is an epistemic necessity would seem to lead to a vicious regress: with respect to any purported revelation from God, God Himself would have to attest that He is attesting that He is attesting ad infinitum. Divine revelation could not be known if it requires infinite content.

Now, none of this suggests that self-attestation arguments are irrelevant to apologetics. Self-consistency is a virtue, after all. The Bible may even allow for [apologetic] tests according to which one may disconfirm knowledge claims, which is not the same as suggesting the Bible requires tests for knowledge-claims to be epistemically justified (link). 

Even so, should one solely rely on self-attestation arguments in one's apologetic (let alone in one's epistemology)? No. For example, other religious apologists might make self-attestation arguments. It would be useful to show in what ways Christianity has comparatively unique evidence or in what ways those religions are internally inconsistent. In other words, if he had cared to make an argument against a purely self-attestation apologetic, Bryson would also have had a point. To this extent, I have no issue with him. 

On pg. 282, however, Bryson seems to equates self-attestation with self-authenticity:

SA arguments fence off inerrancy claims so that we cannot possibly acquire good reasons for thinking that the Bible, or just a part, is uninspired. God's self-authentication is the most fundamental and important piece of evidence for the inspiration/inerrancy of Scripture. All other evidence depends on it and must be interpreted in light of this epistemic base. The self-attestation of Scripture is not one piece of evidence among others that happens to weigh more. It determines what else can count as evidence, including how or whether we even ought to search for evidence. Put another way, for the SA theorist belief in biblical inerrancy resembles the sort of belief lodged in the middle of a Quinean doxastic web. The belief will (and ought to) be held, come what may.

Perhaps Bryson only means to summarize certain presuppositionalists. In footnotes for this paragraph and elsewhere in his chapter, he mentions Frame and Kruger. Indeed, his critiques of these and other presuppositionalist may land. For example, Kruger, whose work I do respect, has said (link):

Christian theologians—especially in the Reformed world—have long argued that there is a more foundational way we can know books are from God: the internal qualities of the books themselves.

In this case, Bryson's response appears devastating:

Kruger believes that SA sanctions the use of other kinds of evidence, like the internal virtues of a book, to pick out the divinely inspired books. Yet, despite this broadening of potential evidence, his view collapses into the strict self-attestation view. He requires that we beg the question and assume which books belong in the cannon [sic] to figure out which books should be included in the canon. Unless God, via some other form of communication, enlightens us as to the list of canon making attributes, we must rely on God's word. Consequently, we must have already isolated the right books so that we can extract from them the criteria for canon inclusion.

For instance, Kruger believes that the beauty of the Bible, along with its efficacy and harmony, is evidence of inspiration. But how does he know to search for these attributes? Primarily because of what he knows about God and his character. And he acquired this knowledge, I believe he would say, from Scripture.

At this point, we've hit upon the second horn of our dilemma: We must already know some of the books that belong in the New Testament canon apart from this method. For if we know that book X belongs in the canon and then learn that according to that book, properties a, b, and c are indicative of divine inspiration, those properties must not initially explain how we first learned that book X is inspired. (pg. 293)

Touché. Is there an alternative, or is the presuppositionalist out of luck? Perhaps Bryson would agree that "self-authentication" can refer to some meaning that is distinct from "self-attestation" if an author defines his terms. That is the route I would wish to take.

Self-attestation would be something along the lines of a speaker identifying himself as such while speaking. Bryson's definition of self-attestation (provided above) is just fine. On the other hand, I have mentioned elsewhere that I think self-authenticity means that the truth content of one's belief is the very justification one has for believing it. Self-authentication would be synonymous with self-justification.

As such, these are distinct ideas. In my mind, then, equating self-authenticity with self-attestation would be to commit the same sort of conflation between knowledge (epistemology) and defense of knowledge (apologetics) I've seen elsewhere. Consider an analogy I've mentioned before:

When a mom calls a child to dinner, she doesn’t need to identify who she is for the child to "know" who is calling. If she did identify herself, such self-attestation ("Ryan Hedrich, your mom is calling you!") wouldn’t be "needed"... but it also wouldn’t be unreasonable. Self-attestation might serve as a reminder to the child to take her words seriously. Aside from questions of knowledge, such reminders might have a psychological or pragmatic purpose (e.g. behavior reinforcement, mindfulness). (link)

To expand on this, a child is playing outside of his house. His mom calls him home for dinner. How does the child "know" to come home for dinner? Well, the epistemic starting point must be the mother's voice. 

Of course, the voice doesn't exist without the mother first existing, but that's a point of ontology. An ontological precondition for a situation in which a child is able to "know" to come home for dinner is distinct from what the child himself must take as his epistemic foundation for knowing to come home for dinner. Again, when a child hears his mother's voice, she doesn't need to say, "This is your mom speaking!" for the child to "know" and obey his need to come home.

A fortiori, as sinners, we are playing outside of the safety and nourishment of God's house. When He calls his children home by His word - Scripture; the Bible - the recipients of His effectual call may - with full assurance - know, hear, follow His voice. They will do this even if the word they hear does not contain a reference to self-attestation ("Thus saith the Lord")! That being said, our God is gracious, and if we listen long enough, we find that He does give us behavior reinforcement and so forth by self-attesting as to the fact that it is He who is calling.

The epistemic justification we have for believing God's speech is true - the content of which are biblical propositions - is the very fact that His word is truth. There is no prior premise. There is no circular reasoning in which a proposition[al belief] somehow becomes justified only after one makes a circular argument. As I said before, we don't know Scripture because it is "self-attesting" - i.e. because Scripture says it was written by God. We know it because it is "self-authenticating" - i.e. the truth of God's word and nothing else is our epistemic justification for foundational belief in it. 

In short, I think self-authenticity is to epistemology as self-attestation is to apologetics. Neither "prove" the Bible is God's word. But self-authenticity (John 10) is the principle by which Christians are able to know what is indemonstrable, whereas self-attestation is one reason (among many) Christians can cite in defense of what they already know.

We Have History

I spent some time last year familiarizing myself with the historical background of the denomination of which I am a member, the Orthodox Presbyterian Church (OPC). Among these include, in no particular order: 

- Articles from the early days of The Presbyterian Guardian 

- Articles from the current denominational magazines New Horizons and Ordained Servant

- Minutes from the general assemblies of the OPC   

- Pressing Toward the Mark (Compilation of Essays by OPC churchmen, 50th denominational anniversary)  

- Confident of Better Things (Compilation of Essays by OPC churchmen, 

75th denominational anniversary)

- Gary North's Crossed Fingers

- John Muether and Darryl Hart's Fighting the Good Fight  

- John Muether and Darryl Hart's Seeking a Better Country 

- Darryl Hart's Between the Times  

Those who know me well might be somewhat surprised at this, for my typical preferences tend towards writings that are more self-consciously "theological" or "philosophical."

A prologue to the main point: no work of man is neutral. A work of history - which primarily consists of a record of past events - is as much dependent upon the historian's presuppositions as a work of theology or philosophy will depend upon the theologian's or philosopher's presuppositions. For example, an historian makes value-judgments such as what past events are worth recording, what is worth omitting, how to frame conflicting reports of or interpretations about an historical event he wants to record, etc. 

True, an historian may communicate truth as much as a theologian or philosopher. After all, Christianity is an historical religion, one which must and does rely upon the qualification of divinely revealed truths as a sufficient response to skeptics who might question the presuppositions of Moses, Paul, etc.

Nevertheless, most authors in history have not been divinely inspired. My experience is that historians are less likely than theologians or philosophers to examine or state their own fundamental beliefs, methodological presuppositions, or motivations for their work, so I often find historical works to be more opaque than theological or philosophical works. Additionally, it is easier to compare purported theological and philosophical truths to a rule of faith (Scripture) than it is to ascertain the truth of an historical report. 

For example, it may take a little effort to discern that a Christology such as is ascribed to Nestorius is not compatible with Scripture, but such is manageable. On the other hand, most contradictory historical reports - such as whether Nestorius actually affirmed so-called "Nestorianism" - seem to equally cohere with one's rule of faith. Further, theological or philosophical works on "Nestorianism" would likely have more explicit dependence on [or, in heretical works, antagonism towards] Scripture than would be apparent in a primarily historical account of Nestorius.

Thus, if one's goal is to know (in the sense of having full assurance) any truths that are communicated, reading philosophical and theological works would seem to afford more opportunity for epistemic reflection. Theologians, philosophers, and historians may each communicate truth, but I find that the propositional content which is communicated through a theological or philosophical work may be known in a sense that that which is communicated through a strictly historical work typically cannot. 

To return to the above example, suppose Nestorius never actually affirmed Nestorianism. A theological treatise on Christology need not even provide an historically accurate report of that to aid one in understanding what is the problem with affirming that Christ is two persons. Christological truths such a treatise could communicate would be valuable regardless of whether the work simultaneously communicated historical truths regarding the person of Nestorius.

If the reasoning thus far is legitimate, it begs a question: what profit is there in directing one's attention towards a field of study such as history, one whose primary content (propositions about the past) cannot usually be "known" in the sense of affording one full assurance (i.e. the content will not be strictly deducible from divine revelation)? While Christians may technically have the liberty to read such works, is there more that can be said in favor of reading works of history? 

Of course, reading a historical work might incidentally stimulate theological or philosophical reflection. Given the non-neutrality of man's works, it is not surprising to consider that an historian's own theological or philosophical beliefs would be implicitly present in their efforts to record past events. 

But a richer answer as to the favorability of reading historical works would be that one cannot divorce Christianity from history. Such an idea would be gnostic. The importance of this can be understood through the example that Christians have the responsibility of guarding the deposit entrusted to them (I Timothy 6:20). Guardianship entails contending for the faith (Jude 3) in response to heresies. Heresies don't arise ex nihilo but through heretics (Jude 4, 2 Peter 2:1), men who have lived and acted in time.

While it is unclear that the "knowledge" Christians may have of heretics (e.g. Matthew 7:15-20) is the same sort of "knowledge" which we may have of God's own word - again, I would suggest only the latter is the sort of which one may have full assurance (which is not to diminish the importance of the former sort) - what is clear is that Christians have a responsibility to identify and reject heresy when they think they hear it. This is an apologetic task. One must be able to fend off attacks to one's own faith.

As I've said in many other posts, apologetics depends on epistemology: a defense of one's knowledge depends on one's first having knowledge (link, link, link). We must know God's word to use God's word. If one doesn't know how to handle the sword of the Spirit, when it comes time to battle, he'll likely be cut down by his failure to make proper use of it. The wound one incurs might even be self-inflicted. This highlights the importance of reading theological and philosophical works, as such may help us more easily recognize what can be derived from Scripture with full assurance.

At the same time, apologetics is an important discipline in its own right. Because we are called to have answers at the ready when asked questions of our faith (1 Peter 3:15), merely having knowledge is not designed to be an end in itself. Wisdom entails application of one's knowledge to circumstance. It is obviously important to have a sword for a battle, but we should not forget that the sword is for battle. It is unrealistic to expect that God would give us a sword but never call on us to unsheathe it. Having a sword does one no good in a battle if he fails to parry or block with it.

Hence, to the extent that writings of all kinds - historical, theological, philosophical, etc. - pose and answer various questions which will either tend towards a defense or attack upon our faith, we have good reason to direct our attention to such writings. In fact, this principle expands to works of all kinds. Literature is just one example.

To return to the case in point, the historian is an apologist. He provides ready answers to questions he thinks are significant enough to ask: "Who is ______?" "What is ______?" "How did ______ happen?" As has been emphasized, historian have presuppositions too. Thus, historians may turn out to be allies or enemies. 

This outlines my new interest in the works mentioned at the beginning of the post. Being a member of the OPC means it would be helpful to know the battle lines the OPC has drawn. And I believe that the aforementioned authors would tend to be my allies in most battles. However, to mix metaphors, one must also watch out for friendly fire. Historians are as susceptible to mistakes, biased framing, or incomplete information as theologians and philosophers (I have a few concrete cases in mind, but I'll return to those in a different post).

For these reasons, from an apologetic standpoint, one is better served by prioritizing the reading of primary, source documents when such is feasible. Admittedly, this learning process takes longer than would reading a summary. Summaries are useful to the extent that the content summarized is uncontroversial. On the other hand, when it comes to events that have varying interpretations, primary sources will be more reliable communiqués. In the case of the OPC, such would include approved minutes of general, presbytery, or local church assemblies, committee reports that have been accepted by said assemblies, etc.  

One final point about history. It has been said that "history is written by the victors." Interestingly, we are seemingly approaching a point in time when this may no longer appear true (if it ever was). That is, peoples who lose battles - military or otherwise - are now in a position to record their perspectives of the past in ways which were not possible prior to the advent of the printing press, internet, etc. Can't losers write history after all?

Now, whose historical records are accepted in the mainstream is a separate question. But even this question may not seem to be definitively answerable insofar as people who are "losers" at one point in history may become victors or be accepted by victors later on (and vice versa for people who are "victors").

Gathering the strands together, we live in the middle of a long and ongoing battle. Those who live after us would seem to have the advantage of us. It is one thing to argue that Christians are called to read and convey history for apologetic purposes. It's another to wonder what confidence we can have that we will be remembered as we truly have been.

By His omnipotent Word, God has preordained what will occur in time. Even if we have reason to expect persecution - e.g. misrepresentation, slander, exclusion - we have assurance that when the long battle is consummated, what we have worked in Christ will come to light (John 3:19-21). Even during this battle we are more than conquerors, for we are the very letters by which the eternal and unchangeable decree of God is writ in time (Romans 8:37, 2 Corinthians 3:1-3). In a quite literal sense, then, it is true that "history is written by the victor[s]" - we are the words of God (link). If nothing else, meditation on this should give us some relief from our own, internal battles (Romans 7-8). Truth wins out in the end.