Seeker of truth or child of God?

In 2009, I took a senior seminar course entitled “Pondering the Big Questions”. In the course we read a variety of papers and books that looked at faith, science, and philosophy and how they fit together within a “life view”. One of the more memorable assignments from the course was an essay in which we were given two descriptions, “seeker of truth“ and “child of God,” and we were asked to choose one and argue why it was THE essential one for our identity.

At the time, I bristled at the false dichotomy. I knew that the professor was an agnostic who, despite teaching at a Christian college, enjoyed raising questions about matters of faith. It was clear that the assignment was intended to be provocative. How could I choose one without the other? Although I still believe that there is no wrong answer to that question, as I look back now, I realize that thinking through the question and ultimately choosing “seeker of truth” was a valuable experience. It helped me to realize just how inseparable those two identities, “seeker of truth” and “child of God”, are in my world view. I concluded that there can be no choosing between truth and faith because faith that is not grounded in truth is worthless and truth is found in God, the object of my faith, and he chose me long before I believed.

In the years since, people have occasionally asked me the question: Do you find it difficult to reconcile your Christian faith with science? When faced with that question, my mind often returns to that essay. I recently stumbled across a quote by Dr. R.C. Sproul, a well-known theologian, who was asked a similar question about the relationship between faith and science, and his answer is one that I very much identify with:

“I believe firmly that all of truth is God’s truth, and I believe that God has not only given revelation in sacred Scripture, but also, the sacred Scripture itself tells us that God reveals Himself in nature—which we call natural revelation.

Sproul’s point is that God reveals some truths through scripture, but he also reveals other truths through nature. Science is a method for pursuing truth that is revealed in the natural world. It is limited by our ability to observe and interpret, and yet it remains a remarkably effective tool for making sense of nature. Similarly, studying the Bible is a method for pursuing truth in God’s revealed word. Our understanding of it is incomplete, and our interpretations are often imperfect, but the essential truths of the Christian faith are made remarkably clear through its pages. The point is that Christians do not need to choose between science and faith. If we believe that truth is revealed through both scripture and nature, then there can be no contradiction. This means that our essential beliefs should stand up to scrutiny and they should be supported by evidence not believed in spite of evidence. If they do not, then this worldview has a crack in its very foundation. As such, Christians need not shy away from asking the hard questions.

In the 11 years since writing the aforementioned essay, I have often reflected on this reality. This seems to be happening with increasing regularity these days in which the pursuit of truth feels particularly challenging and the desire to pursue it seems particularly rare. During this time, I have always found it easy to spot indifference toward truth when it was displayed by those who do not share my beliefs. It is not hard to see this in cancel culture with its willingness to ostracize anyone who questions certain progressive cultural narratives. However, in recent years I have become increasingly aware of the prevalence of this same indifference toward truth among my fellow Christians.

For example, in a previous post I asked the question: Is there evidence of racial discrimination in policing? As I explored the data, it quickly became apparent that the existence of racial disparities is indisputable. A disproportionate number of those who are stopped and searched by police are black. But why? Once you start trying to explain that observation, it raises a number of uncomfortable questions. Could it be that black people are more likely to commit crimes? Could it be that racial bias is prevalent in policing? Could both be true? (Spoiler: The evidence I found suggests that the answer to all three questions is yes, which raises a host of additional questions.)

I have always known that asking the first question was dangerous even if it is a possibility that should be considered. With the wrong audience, asking such a question could prompt accusations of bigotry and/or make me a target for harassment. But as I researched the post, it dawned on me that I was more concerned about the backlash to the second question. So many people in my orbit are more likely to say bluelivesmatter than blacklivesmatter, and as I wrote, I found myself worrying about whether merely asking whether racism was a real problem might prompt some of them to write me off.

This was a sobering realization. As I discussed earlier. I believe that asking these sorts of questions is an essential part of the pursuit of truth which is in turn an essential part of being a Christian. And yet, I found myself concerned about whether Christians would be hostile toward this pursuit. How can this be? Christians believe that human nature is tainted by sin. Shouldn’t we, of all people, be willing to question our assumptions and predispositions? Sadly, I have come to the conclusion that this is rarely the case. Far too often, we act as if we already know all the answers and we are unwilling to consider the possibility that some of our beliefs, particularly in the realms of politics and science, just might be wrong.

It always surprises me how willing so many of my fellow Christians are to sweep away scientific consensus as mere opinion without genuinely considering the alternative. Somehow we have embraced revelation through scripture but we are dismissive of revelation through nature. Sproul seems to agree. After the previous quote, he goes on to tell a story:

I once asked a seminary class of mine that was a conservative group, I said, ‘How many of you believe that God’s revelation in Scripture is infallible?’ And they all raised their hand. And I said, ‘And how many of you believe that God’s revelation in nature is infallible’, and nobody raised their hand. It’s the same God who’s giving the revelation.”

The point is not to say that the scientific consensus is infallible or that it is on par with scripture. It isn't. Like any human enterprise, it is affected by our frailty and biases. However, scientific inquiry, which is based on observation of the natural world, should not be completely discounted either. If all truth is God's truth, then we should take observation of the natural world seriously; we should desire to understand the world as much as we are able; and we should approach scientific evidence and yes, scientific consensus, with an open mind.

Returning to the original theme of this post, my answer to the prompt of the essay was that I am a truth seeker and I am sticking to that answer. I have no plans to stop asking the hard questions and then seeking out the answers wherever they may lead. This blog is just the latest manifestation of that. Sometimes this means reevaluating assumptions I have long held and acknowledging that I haven’t always subjected them to scrutiny. Sometimes it means questioning people and institutions that I have long trusted and admitting that they may not be as trustworthy as I wanted to believe. And sometimes it means asking the question “What if we are wrong?” and then being willing to examine the evidence as objectively as possible.

And if you are wondering why that is such an important part of my faith, well, why don’t I let 22-year-old me explain:

Seeker of Truth or Child of God?

Am I a seeker of truth or a child of God? This seems like a chicken and egg question. Both descriptions are integral parts of my identity. I suppose the answer would depend on what is meant by the question. If one is interested in chronology, then the answer is that I embraced the idea of being a child of God first. I have considered myself a child of God since I chose to commit my life to Christ at the age of four. At that time, I had no idea what that commitment meant, and I certainly had not wrestled with the veracity of the claims of Christianity on an intellectual level.

On a different level, if the question is asking about my purpose in the grand scheme of life, then I am not sure either is preferred. From a divine perspective, it seems like the two concepts would be one and the same. I am a child of God created to seek the truth.

Just like the question of why the water in the tea kettle is boiling, there are many correct answers to this question. While I find both of the above responses to be valid on different levels, I am not sure that they are particularly interesting or revealing. In this paper I will address the question of which aspect of my identity I currently hold to be more fundamental, more meaningful and more formative of my outlook on life. To this question, I must answer that I am a truth seeker.

This answer does not equate to a denial that I am also a child of God. Far from it, I continue to believe that I am and always will be a child of God. 1 John 3:1 constantly reminds me of this reality when it says

“How great is the love the Father has lavished on us, that we should be called children of God! And that is what we are!”

So what would motivate me to call myself a truth seeker first? Why would one even attempt to answer such a question? It seems difficult to conceive of a situation that would necessitate a response to this question. The only situation that I was able to imagine could be described as follows:

Suppose that you are presented with indisputable evidence that Christianity is false. In light of such evidence, would you reject Christianity and embrace this new evidence or would you cling to your birthright as a child of God?

Clearly, this situation is purely hypothetical, but at risk of betraying my “self-ignorance” I must assert that I would choose truth.

If this motivation is to be meaningful, then an obvious follow-up question must be asked. Could such evidence possibly exist? After all, we have spent the past few weeks discussing epistemology, ontology, physics and metaphysics. If there is one thing that we can take away from these discussions, it is that indisputable evidence is elusive at best. Is my faith a “safe faith” that could never really be overturned by the cold, hard evidence? Well, I certainly doubt that such evidence exists. But, if I am wrong about Christianity, then there is no reason to believe that such evidence would be impossible to produce. I must conclude that in this aspect, my faith is not safe.

I suppose this leads to the answer of the second question. What are my hinge beliefs? What is the basis for my worldview? I will defer to the Apostle Paul on this question. In 1 Corinthians 15:13-14, 17, 19 he writes:

“If there is no resurrection of the dead, then not even Christ has been raised. And if Christ has not been raised, our preaching is useless and so is your faith… And if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile; you are still in your sins… If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men.”

The resurrection of Christ is my hinge belief. It is my reason for continuing to believe that Christianity provides the most consistent and accurate worldview. I believe that there is sufficient evidence to conclude that the resurrection is more than a myth or a fable. I believe that it is historical fact. However, if evidence was presented that convinced me of the contrary, I would have no choice but to reject Christianity in its entirety as worthless.

This answer may be surprising to some, even to some Christians. However, I feel that this response is not only consistent with Christianity, but it is a necessary part of a biblical worldview. Again, I will defer to scripture on this point. In John 8, Jesus spoke with some Jewish followers about this very question. In verse 31 he began by saying:

“If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.”

He went on to say that these people were not true disciples because they rejected God’s commands. Instead, he claimed that they followed their father. The crowd objected saying “Abraham is our father.” Jesus responded saying:

“‘If you were Abraham's children,’ said Jesus, ‘then you would do the things Abraham did. As it is, you are determined to kill me, a man who has told you the truth that I heard from God. Abraham did not do such things. You are doing the things your own father does.’

‘We are not illegitimate children,’ they protested. ‘The only Father we have is God himself.’

These people claimed to be children of Abraham, and by extension children of God. Nevertheless, Jesus would have none of this.

“You belong to your father, the devil, and you want to carry out your father's desire. He was a murderer from the beginning, not holding to the truth, for there is no truth in him. When he lies, he speaks his native language, for he is a liar and the father of lies. Yet because I tell the truth, you do not believe me! Can any of you prove me guilty of sin? If I am telling the truth, why don't you believe me?”

It seems that claiming to be a child of God without seeking the truth is worthless in Jesus eyes.

Now, one may claim that there is a tinge of irony in this argument. After all, did I not just use scripture to argue that I should be a truth seeker? But how do I know to trust scripture if I am not a child of God first? Isn’t this argument circular? My intent was not to use this to argue that I should be a truth seeker; it was only to show that being a truth seeker is consistent with a Biblical Christian faith. Why I am a truth seeker is another question altogether, and the answer is far too complex to fully address in such a short paper. An abbreviated response to that question is that I see no alternative. I must assume that truth exists just as I must assume that I exist. As far as I know, there is no way to go about proving this. This assumption is an additional hinge belief that shapes the way I view reality. If I do not make this assumption, then I have no basis for acting or thinking at all. Moreover, if truth exists, then it must not only matter, but it must be all that matters, for there is nothing else. Thus any quest for a meaningful life must involve a search for truth.

Am I a seeker of truth or a child of God? Perhaps, this is merely a question of semantics. Yet, in my estimation, there is only one answer; I am a truth seeker first. In seeking the truth I have found “the way, the truth, and the life” (John 14:6) and the promise that “The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God's children.” (Romans 8:16)