At the University of Texas, the main tower has these words inscribed on it: “You shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free.” Most people at the university probably do not know that those words came from Jesus and that He was talking about living in His word and following Him as a disciple (see John 8:31-2). Today when people see those words at a university, they likely think more about the pursuit of truth in different disciplines like science or philosophy. But even here, scholars in different fields often see truth in different ways. And for good reason. Let’s talk.
Times have changed. We live in a world that often does not think scientifically or rationally. We live in a postmodern world. In this world, people frequently think more subjectively than objectively. They do not want to know what is true. They are more interested in the context for what is true. They want to know your story. To them truth depends upon perspective, and often such people talk as if actual truth statements are naive. Postmodern people can be quite skeptical of anyone who claims to know an absolute truth. Instead, they would rather be good than right. All this and more is part of the postmodern milieu, and that milieu has entered churches of all traditions, for ultimately, the church is composed of people who live in the real world. There is no getting around that.
The postmodern and scientific mindsets disagree on many points, but at the heart of the disagreement lies the issue of how we view truth. The scientific view emphasizes the “knowability” of truth. It highlights the fact that truth is there, that it is orderly, and that we can perceive it. In the church, this worldview stresses the importance of the central Christian doctrines. The postmodern view, however, emphasizes the “unknowability” of truth. It highlights the fact that the realities of God, humanity, and life are all bigger and more mysterious than any statements can capture. It also stresses the idea that truth is ultimately experienced through the subjective filter of our own culture and personal biases. Thus, to the postmodern, the idea of a systematic understanding of Christianity is suspect.
Perhaps this disagreement is understandable, for truth is an oddball. We generally like to think of it as a precise beast. And in one sense, it is. Truth, by nature, must say that some things are and some things are not. It is orderly and organized. Science and math are based on that assumption. Even reading and literature are based on that assumption, for you do not think my words mean that giant pimentos are invading earth from another planet. Indeed, most everything you do assumes the order in truth. The fact that you brushed your teeth, made coffee, stopped at red lights, drank water, fixed your sink, helped your neighbor, or corrected your kids all show that you assume a truth in each activity and that you think that truth to be orderly. If you wish to raise objections to what I am saying, those objections themselves must assume an orderly truth, for objections without order are not objections.
Perhaps we would not be so wrong to think of truth being as regimented as a marine boot camp, as neat and orderly as a Japanese garden. Two plus two really does equal four. Words cannot mean anything we wish. Logic requires certain things to be true, and overrules other things from being true. Some events really happened, and others did not. Truth is not something we can simply make up. It is what it is, it is not random, and somehow we can understand it.
But for all the order in the world, there is something a little more to truth. It is not always so precise as we may wish. In combat the regimented marine unit may scatter and find itself in a free-for-all; and that orderly Japanese garden, upon closer look, contains worlds of ants and beetles that do not fit the manicured image. There is a sort of real life sloppiness to truth. Truth has enough order to it for us to be able to use logic, yet there are times when logic cannot quite do the job. Let me give some examples.
We like to think mathematics to be one of the most precise disciplines. In mathematics we are able to explain that there is a relationship between the number π and a circle, so that we can use π to calculate the area or circumference of a circle. But what exactly is π? We cannot precisely pin it down, for it goes on, it seems, without pattern, forever. Logic has helped us discover the number, but it has not helped us understand the number. Somehow, out of an infinite range of numbers, this strange number is tied up with the properties of a circle. We don’t know exactly why, and we really don’t even understand the number itself. But there it is.
Or again, in math one can logically prove that the repeating decimal .9999… is equal to 1, for if 1/3 = .3333… , and if 2/3 = .6666…, then 1/3 + 2/3 = .9999…., yet 3/3 does not repeat.
Or consider the common boy/girl paradox of probability theory. A family with two children has at least one boy. What is the probability that it has a girl? Common sense says 1/2. But probability theory says 2/3. Or consider the Banach-Tarski paradox, which states that one ball can be cut up into many nonmeasurable pieces and reassembled to form two balls the same size and shape as the first.
There is a sort of wildness in the ordinary facts of mathematics. Basic, simple things like circles and the number one have mysteries and paradoxes to them. But the phenomenon is not limited to mathematics, for the same sort of thing occurs in the atom, in light, and in the behavior of nations. In life, perhaps you have encountered the mystery of a mother-in-law yourself. In reading and literature ambiguities abound, and often they are intentional. It makes me suspect that if humans can intentionally put ambiguity and mystery into their creations, then God all the more can certainly cram them into His. This is how truth is. It is simple and complex all at once. It is precise, predictable, and knowable, but it is also full of mystery and is as wild as the wind. It is logical, but it is not quite logical. Or maybe it is just a shade more than logic, but it is not pure logic. There is something else to it. Truth contains a reality that transcends simple reason without at all destroying the legitimacy of that reason. Indeed, reason helps discover the paradox and dig up the mystery. It discovers that there is something beyond itself.
It is as if logic and order can take us on a road to the sea but not on a boat out beyond the land where the infinite horizon beckons. Yet had we never walked the road, we would not have even known the sea was there. Reason takes us to where we can smell the crusty salt air of paradox and hear the constant pounding of mystery and then leaves us there.
Thus, truth has a definite predictability; but it also has a wild side. We can grasp it in propositional ways, but it is also beyond our understanding. Sometimes we do not like that.
Now it is precisely here that I wish to address the impact of postmodern thinking on the church. In one sense I have to say that the postmodern thinking is correct to talk of the unknowability of truth. God is more real and complex and mysterious than any doctrines of Him, just as your own mother is more real and complex and mysterious than any statements about her. He is grander and wilder and far more beautiful than you can ever imagine, and you can spend an eternity enjoying Him and still not reach the bottom. That is a message the church needs to hear. God is bigger than our doctrines.
And yet, the more rational approach is also correct. The fact that Christian doctrine will never fully capture God does not mean that it is somehow suspect. Indeed, it is the doctrines that show us the mysteries. We would not see any mysteries at all in π if we did not first understand some basic doctrines about the properties of numbers. Mystery does not exist all by itself. Doctrines lead us to it. Remove the doctrines and you remove the mystery. The basic doctrines of the Deity and humanity of Christ together form the mystery of the Incarnation. The central doctrine of the Atonement points us to a love unfathomable. The foundational doctrines of God’s justice and mercy together show us a God incomprehensible. The Trinity confounds us. Predestination and free will, however you understand them, are still bigger than your mind. The Christian loses his life to gain it, marriage is a picture of Christ and the Church, the husband is the head of the wife, yet they are joint heirs together, we are dead to sin but we must die daily. On we could go. The fact of the matter is that if we want to experience the highest mysteries, complexities, and realities of God, we must travel the doctrines to get there.
The postmodern emphasis is a good reminder that it is God and not the doctrines that is ultimate, but many postmoderns are too eager to conclude that, therefore, the doctrines are unimportant. In doing so, they undercut the very thing they desire. They want the mystery of God but then question the very things that take them to it. They want something real, but deny themselves the ability to get at anything real. They want to experience God and not just know facts about Him but forget that there can be no true experiencing without first knowing something. They want to connect with the “ancient church” but don’t want the doctrines or the doctrinal emphasis of the ancient church. They are, thus, left with nothing meaningful to connect with. They want the wild side of truth but not the orderly side. But the orderly side is what ultimately will lead them to the wild side. They deny themselves the very thing they want.
On the other hand, many people in various churches today have the orderly side down, but they stop there. It is as if they know the map but not the land. They have no experience with the wildness of God. Their doctrine has sterilized God, though it was intended to glorify Him. To these people, many of whom fear what postmodernism brings, I would say this: the postmodern emphasis on mystery and on a real experience of God is nothing new. You’ll find it in the psalms, Isaiah and Paul. You’ll find it in the mystics. You’ll find it in Clement, Chrysostom, Augustine, Anselm, Thomas a Kempis, Luther, Calvin, Jonathan Edwards, Spurgeon, Moody, Chesterton, Tozer, C.S. Lewis, and on. And never will you find that one of these Christians somehow traded away doctrine to get it. Rather, they found the wildness by traveling the doctrines. They simply allowed the doctrines to touch their hearts.
That is the key. It has always been the key, and while times may change, that is one thing that will not change.
