How I Know

An Epistemology for a Christian Worldview.

Ken Funk 8 May 2002

The opinions expressed in this essay are my own and do not represent an official position of Oregon State University.

As a Christian, I have a Christian worldview. By saying that, I implicitly claim to know certain things: things about the ultimate nature of Reality, about the origins and nature of the universe, about what its purpose is, about God, about Man, and about the values of things. You may ask how I know these things. This essay is my response to your question.

I know the knowledge that makes up my worldview the same way I know any knowledge.

I know by Authority.
I know by Empiricism.
I know by Reason.
I know by Intuition.
And the source of my deepest intuition is the Logos.

Due to their inherent limitations or my own inability to use them to their fullest potential, none of these ways of knowing guarantees certainty, either individually or collectively. But all my knowing -- and not just my knowing of my worldview -- comes from them.

Introduction

One's knowledge and how one applies it is based on a set of fundamental beliefs that ground and influence all one's perceptions, thoughts, judgments, and decisions. I call that core set of beliefs a worldview. A worldview includes an epistemology (beliefs about knowledge and knowing), a metaphysics (beliefs about the ultimate nature of Reality), a cosmology (beliefs about the origins and nature of the universe), a teleology (beliefs about the purpose of the universe and its occupants), a theology (beliefs about the existence and nature of God), an anthropology (beliefs about the nature of Man), and an axiology (beliefs about value and the values of things). It would be difficult to overstate the importance of one's worldview. It influences what information one seeks, it shapes one's perceptions of sensory stimuli, it guides one through thought processes, it provides a framework for all of the specific knowledge one acquires, and it provides the basis for virtually all of the judgements one makes about good and bad, right and wrong. (See What is a Worldview?)

My own is an orthodox, Christian worldview. I believe that ultimate Reality is supernatural, and that a supernatural Being, God, that transcends spacetime, created the universe out of nothing. His creation is purposeful, and consistent with that purpose He built order into the universe. The physical order is manifested in physical laws which govern the behavior of matter and energy. God's moral order is partly manifested in moral standards, standards of good and bad, right and wrong, that culminate in a summum bonum, a greatest good, which is for us humans to enjoy intimate fellowship with Him.

Unlike matter and energy which are always constrained by the physical order of the universe, we as moral agents are not compelled to conform to the moral order, for God has given us a measure of free will to choose to seek the summum bonum or not. Individually and collectively we have chosen the latter and are destined not for communion with God, but for complete, utter, and eternal separation from Him.

However, He intervened to rescue us from this destruction. He became a man -- Jesus Christ. He was born and lived a perfectly moral life, but was executed and bore the consequences of sin -- not His own, but ours -- then rose from the dead and returned to the heavenly realm. Through His life, death, and resurrection, we may claim His free gift, which is eternal life in His kingdom.

As you can see, my worldview touches on metaphysics, cosmology, theology, anthropology, and axiology. But it is epistemology that I wish to address in this essay. My worldview is a collection of knowledge. By making the above assertions, I claim to know things about the ultimate nature of Reality, about the origin and purpose of the universe, about God, about people, and about the value of things. (See My Worldview.)

You might say that my worldview is not knowledge -- merely faith. But what is faith? Associated with any knowledge I have is confidence, the extent to which I feel sure that my knowledge does in fact correspond to truth and the extent to which I am willing to take risks acting on it.

Conjecture or speculation is a kind of knowledge, knowledge bearing little or no confidence, upon which I am reluctant to risk anything. And certitude is knowledge that carries with it full confidence or certainty, on which I am willing to take large risks, such as my personal or professional reputation, my health, my safety, my life, or even my immortal soul.

Now I would say that faith is merely knowledge on which I am willing to think and act in the presence of personal risk, but for which I can show no overwhelming empirical evidence or irrefutable proof.

So my worldview is knowledge. Then how do I know my worldview? How do I know? I know my worldview the same way I know anything. For example, I know my Christian worldview the same way I know my science.

Although some physicists, chemists, and other natural scientists might take issue with the claim, I am a scientist. My colleagues, students, and I apply the scientific method to the study of aviation safety. More specifically, since most aircraft accidents are caused by pilot error we study aviation human factors, the factors that affect human performance in the cockpit. Our research has focussed on the human factors of aircraft automation, cockpit task management (how pilots manage or mismanage flying tasks), and aircraft certification.

In our research we collect and analyze aircraft accident and incident data. We conduct experiments in our laboratory using flight simulators with real pilots as subjects. We have compiled a body of knowledge about aviation human factors and we have developed and tested computer-based tools to help pilots fly better and to help engineers design better cockpits. We have presented our findings at conferences and published them in journals and we hope and believe that our work will make air transportation safer.

And, reflecting on my personal and professional knowledge, I realize that I know both my worldview and my science by authority, by empiricism, by reason, by intuition, and by something deeper than mere intuition.

I Know by Authority

Authority is the power to influence knowledge, the power to impart knowledge, the power to increase confidence in knowledge. Authority usually resides in a person, organization, or document and we often refer to such a person, organization, or document as an authority.

There is a good case for authority. Ancient authority has withstood the test of time. An authority that is widely acknowledged has a good deal of face validity: that large numbers of people accept an authority is indication that it has received extensive scrutiny and is still honored. But disregarding any particular authority for the moment, we must acknowledge that most knowledge is in fact from authority: most of the knowledge of an educated person comes not from direct experience but through authority.

However, there is also a good case against authority. Authority is indirect. Authorities can be and indeed often are fallible. Ancient authority is questionable: it came from a people less experienced, less intellectually mature than ourselves. Mere numbers of adherents do not guarantee the validity of an authority; there are plenty of instances in which the majority was wrong about something. And a large number of believers is an argument for authority only if the believers are independent.

Although it is indeed fallible, authority has played a major role in the development of my worldview. I learned my religious knowledge from authorities: my parents, my Sunday School teachers, my pastors, my Christian friends, the Church, books, articles, pamphlets, and other documents, especially the Bible.

And by the way, the Bible is a reliable authority. There exist today over 24,000 portions of New Testament manuscript, over 5,300 in the original Greek, some dating to the first century AD. All are in substantial agreement, giving strong evidence that today's New Testament is true to the original. The New Testament therefore gives us an accurate account of Jesus and the early Church from people who actually saw and heard him, from witnesses to what he said and did and who made great sacrifices for their faith in him. The New Testament has persisted through nearly two millennia, surviving scrutiny by many individuals and cultures.

It is probably not surprising to you that I know much of my worldview from authority. But I also depend heavily on authority in my work. Most of what I know about my science is from authorities: my teachers, my professors, my colleagues, other experts in my field, the authors of books and journal papers I read, the editors and publishers of these documents, and the books and papers themselves.

So, although authorities can be fallible, I know my worldview and I know my science partly by authority.

I Know by Empiricism

Empiricism is knowing through empirical evidence. Empirical evidence is evidence based on experience or sensation.

There is a strong case for empiricism. It is direct and concrete. We personally apprehend empirical evidence, so it is not subject to the bias of others, but it is subject to verification by others. We depend on empiricism in everyday life.

But empiricism has it limits. Many of us have "seen" a magician pull a dove out of an empty scarf, or push a cigarette through a perfectly sound quarter, although we know that something entirely different was going on. Most of us who drive have had close calls because we failed to see an oncoming car or misjudged its velocity. I know from my research that many aircraft accidents occur in spite of sensory information that was readily available to the pilots.

Although most educated persons acknowledge that success at the lottery is extremely unlikely, many of us continue to play it because we see empirical evidence that a few people win big. Although most of us would deny that the movements of stars and planets influence human lives, horoscopes continue to be published; astrology has been sustained for millennia because the empirical evidence matches its predictions closely enough to warrant the trust of many.

Speaking of the heavenly bodies, for centuries, empirical evidence supported the belief that the universe consisted of a flat earth at the center of circling sun, moon, planets, and stars. And early empirical study of the human body supported the notion that flowing blood caused the heart to beat, and not the converse.

Also, empirical evidence is not always what it seems. For example, the chair I am sitting on and the table on which I am working seem perfectly solid, yet physicists tell me (and I must take this on authority), that they are both mostly nothing.

Nevertheless, empirical evidence is essential to my science. We conduct experiments in my laboratory, from which we collect data using computers, video cameras, and tape recorders. We analyze this empirical data and use it to draw conclusions about pilot performance in real airplanes. Less formally, I observe everyday human performance in non-pilots as well as pilots and use this evidence to supplement our experimental data. Although I no longer fly myself, I once was a pilot and I draw on my past experiences to add to that evidence. And under the assumption that though I am not now a pilot my behavior when driving a car or operating a piece of machinery is akin to flying an airplane, I use introspection during those times to collect more empirical evidence about human performance.

Empirical evidence is also important in my worldview. For example, I recently witnessed something I consider miraculous evidence to support my worldview. Several months ago I saw a gravely ill girl, pathetically huddled on a hospital bed, near death. But on a recent Sunday I saw her with her family at church, healthy beyond all reasonable expectation, the result, I believe, of prayer. I have also seen many minor miracles, too small individually to be worth mentioning, but collectively adding up to more than mere coincidence.

The ordered complexity that I see all around me -- especially life -- existing in a universe that tends to disorder and decay defies a naturalistic explanation.

My continuing experience is that things "work" for me. I have experienced a good life. I have wonderful parents, I experienced a good childhood, I received a good education, I have a good job, I have enjoyed a degree of professional success, I have a wonderful family, I live in a nice home, and I enjoy many luxuries, all of this through no merit of my own. I must conclude that I am not just a lucky being in an uncaring universe. I am the beneficiary of grace: the unmerited favor of God.

Moreover, I see God, or at least the effects of His existence, in the words and actions of Christian friends and the people of my church. They are different. Their lives are not motivated by transient, material trivia. Their lives have meaning. I see in them unity, love, and power possible only through the grace of a transcendent, powerful, and loving God.

So, although empiricism in practice can be fallible, I know my worldview and I know my science partly by empiricism.

I Know By Reason

Reason is a subset of thought, which is mental activity, mental process, a series of mental events, changes in mental state, mental transformations.

Reason is focussed, directed thought that transforms knowledge to valued mental ends. It starts with perceptions and knowledge, applies accepted transformation rules, and ends with new knowledge. Reason always has a goal or purpose. Sometimes that goal is well defined, for example, to prove or refute a hypothesis or to confirm a diagnosis. But mostly that goal can only be partly specified, for example, that the end result correspond to objective reality, that it be coherent or consistent with other knowledge, or that it be pragmatic or useful for thought or action.

There are two major kinds of reason, deductive and inductive. Deductive reason (or deduction) begins with an initial set of premises, assumptions, axioms, or "self-evident" truths. It applies transformation rules and thereby derives conclusions: new knowledge. Deductive reason is exemplified by mathematics, but we use it any time we reason from generalizations to particulars or come to a specific conclusion from a general rule.

For example, given the premise that today is Wednesday and the general rule that my local disposal company collects trash and recyclables in my neighborhood on Wednesdays, I conclude that the trash men will be here today and I had better take my full trash can and recycling containers to the curb for pickup this morning.

Ordinarily, deductive rules or laws are general and the conclusions are specific, so deduction moves from generalizations to particulars. Inductive reason (induction) on the other hand begins with specific cases (e.g., observations) and forms generalizations or laws. It moves from part to whole, from specific to general. Inductive reason is exemplified by the scientific method, but much common knowledge is derived by it. For example, I derived the general rule about Wednesdays and trash collection by observing trash crews on Wednesdays and inductively deriving the rule.

There is a strong case for reason. First of all, it works, at least much of the time. We live longer, healthier, cleaner, more comfortable lives than did our ancestors, thanks to the science and technology made possible by reason. Reason is systematic and repeatable. It is open to inspection and validation or refutation by others. It is tied up with the order of the universe. When practiced carefully, it is objective and resistant to subjective predisposition, misconception, and bias.

But reason has its limits, and two related findings in mathematics cast serious doubt on Reason as the final arbiter of truth. The first is the incompleteness theorem developed by the mathematician Kurt Goedel. The essence of it can be illustrated by reference to the following statement:

Reason cannot prove this statement to be true.

If reason proves this statement to be true, it is falsified, and reason has erroneously proved a false statement. On the other hand, if reason cannot prove the statement to be true, then here is a true statement that reason cannot prove.

The other version of this is Alan Turing's halting problem. Turing invented a kind of abstract procedure to help solve certain difficult problems in mathematics. The actions of such a procedure are equivalent to an attempt to prove a theorem: when the procedure halts, the theorem is proved. Here is a problematic procedure, named go:

procedure go
        if willHalt (go) then
                while true = true
                        print "stop"
                end while
        end if
end procedure

This procedure invokes another procedure, named willHalt, that tests another procedure (e.g., go) to determine if it will halt in finite time. If go will halt (and the condition of the if statement is satisfied), then go prints "stop" forever, which means that it never halts. If go will not halt (the condition is not satisfied) the then clause of the if is reached and the procedure passes on to the end procedure statement and halts.

It might appear that there is some cheating going on here, in the form of self-reference in the case of the statement, or recursion in the case of the procedure, and if such tricks could be separated from more sensible statements or practical procedures, the incompleteness problem or the halting problem could be avoided. But another mathematician, Alonzo Church, proved that there is no procedure that could, in finite time, do such sifting.

So we are faced with the proven fact that in any formal deductive system there will always be true statements that are unprovable. And since deduction is a cornerstone of reason, we must conclude that reason alone is inadequate for deciding the truth of certain, perhaps interesting and important assertions.

And even if reason itself were universally valid, humans are not always rational: we are subject to (systematic) biases: failure to consider all hypotheses, failure to consider all valuable sources of information, and confirmation bias.

Nevertheless, I depend on reason in my science. My colleagues and I use the scientific method: we observe, hypothesize, experiment, analyze data, and reject or fail to reject hypotheses. We use reason to deal with data: we collect data from accident and incident reports, analyze that data using deduction, and draw general conclusions from it by induction. We use reason to develop and test tools for pilots and designers: we develop software by a process of deduction and induction. We test the software and collect data from the tests, we analyze the data by deduction, and we make recommendations about how to use it by induction.

Our use of reason in science is validated: our work has received the scrutiny of the scientific community and accepted as valid, as attested to by the publication of our work in scientific journals, continued funding from our sponsors, and continuing collaboration from pilots and their airlines.

My worldview is partly is based on reason too. Reason tells me that there is a God. There is, for example, the argument for God as primal cause. I exist (self-evident, to me anyway). Every natural thing has a cause (induction). I have a cause (deduction). I did not cause myself (self-evident). Something other than me caused me (non-contradiction). Something caused it. And so on, ad infinitum. Pursued under a naturalistic assumption, this ultimately leads to absurdity. Therefore, the ultimate explanation for my existence and, by induction, the existence of all material things, is a Primal Cause outside of nature. I call that God.

Of course, the "proof" of God's existence has been hotly contested for millennia; one argument against it, coming from quantum mechanics, is that causality is not what it seems to be on the surface. But there are other rational bases for knowing that there is a God, the improbability of the universe as we know it being one. Considering the complexity of the universe -- especially life -- the probability of its genesis by purely natural means is infinitesimal, even given the supposed age of the universe.

And while the existence of the universe, including life, could be explained as the result of the laws of nature, that leaves some intriguing questions. Where did the laws come from? Why this universe? Why do things "work" the way they do? There must be an explanation outside of nature.

Then there is Pascal's wager, a very straightforward, if somewhat unsatisfying, application of reason: the expected cost of believing in a non-existent God is much less than the expected cost of not believing in a God who does exist and expects certain things of us.

But to me, one of the most convincing arguments for God comes from the moral order of universe. It is self-evident that the universe has a moral order: things have value, value varies from thing to thing, and most reasonable people have an innate sense of what is good and bad, right and wrong. Now the source of that moral order or purpose cannot come from the universe itself, just as the purpose of a toner cartridge in a photocopy machine does not come from the machine itself. The source of the moral order cannot be from within the universe, therefore there must be an external moral Authority, and I call that God.

So reason tells me that there is a God. It also tells me that my Christian worldview is valid. Jesus made some very remarkable claims about himself: that he was sent by God, that he could forgive sin, that he was the son of God, that he was God. Rationally speaking, Jesus was either, insane, a liar, or he was who he claimed to be. It seems unreasonable that a faith built on a fraud could have had such a positive influence on the world: a belief in the intrinsic value of the individual, the notion of philanthropy, belief in reasonableness of the universe, justice, and codes of morality. I do not claim that Christianity can take full credit for these boons, but most of them would not exist in the sense they do today without the influence of Christianity practiced in its truest sense (see W.E.H. Lecky's History of European Morals).

Perhaps a more convincing rational argument for the validity of the Christian religion comes from the confidence demonstrated by early believers. Logically, it seems absurd that people who had been eyewitnesses to Jesus would have sacrificed, suffered and died for a fake.

So, although reason in practice can be fallible, I know my Christian worldview and I know my science partly by reason.

I Know By Intuition

Intuition is knowing without the use of rational processes; immediate cognition. It is variously described as a feeling, an emotion, or an internal, confident knowing. Intuition seems to be related to conscience and is possibly a direct apprehension of the Real, independent of empirical evidence or conventional reason.

Admittedly, intuition is often wrong. Quite often it is not verifiable, not open to inspection. It can often be explained away in terms of bias, predispositions, preconceptions, delusions, subconscious thought, or even random mental activities.

But, on its behalf, intuition exists at the limits of empiricism and reason. Intuition goes where empiricism and reason cannot go. It must often be the arbiter between competing authorities. It often helps us decide what empirical evidence to accept or reject. Intuition helps us decide how much evidence is enough. It often sets the goal for reason and helps us decide which deductive rules to apply. In the end, intuition may be our final personal authority on what we believe.

Of course, my Christian worldview depends heavily on intuition. My worldview "feels" right and I have confidence in my its knowledge. I feel clear direction to think and act "Christianly" (though I admit that I frequently fail to follow that direction). I feel a calling to have a Christian worldview.

But I also depend on intuition in my science. Intuitively, induction and deduction make sense to me. Intuition helps me decide when to accept a questionable assertion, which of many possible hypotheses to pursue, and how much evidence I need to not reject a hypothesis. Intuition has been the impetus for most of my scientific studies. In particular, the idea for and my decision to pursue cockpit task management as a research area came to me years ago in an unexplainable flash of intuitive insight that I can remember as if it were yesterday. And I am in good company. Einstein, for example, conceived relativity theory based on intuition years before the Michelson-Morely experiments.

So, although intuition can be fallible, I know my religion and I know my science partly by intuition.

I Know By the Logos

But what is the source of intuition? Is it merely chance? Is it inaccessible, subconscious thought? Is it superstition? Is it bias? Is it some form of random process? Or is there something more to intuition? Is it an extension to reason? Is it, sometimes at least, the Reason underlying my reason?

Certainly intuition is often mistaken, but can reason as direct apprehension of the Real be possible? My mind has a certain consistency with the universe. Is it so strange that my brain, my mind, my psyche, my psukhe (Greek), being made of or operating, at least for now, on the substrate of the stuff of an ordered universe and sharing that order could directly grasp its truth?

Is it not possible that my reason, faulty though it may be, is but a subset, a localized manifestation of a Cosmic Reason that is the source of the order of the universe? Is it not possible that the grand, unified theory of the universe that the physicists are seeking, the theory of Everything, is accessible to me, and to anyone, directly by a form of "deep" intuition?

Some refer to "deep" intuition as mysticism. I am not talking about mysticism in the sense of the dark occult, but in the true sense of the word, mysticism that is a direct apprehension of objective reality, unmediated by sensory experience or conventional human reason. Is mysticism possible?

Some modern physicists would say yes. For example, Steven Hawking alludes to mysticism. Hawking is a brilliant theoretical physicist from Cambridge, a scientist widely compared to Einstein. In A Brief History of Time (pp. 174-175) he wrote the following:

Even if there is only one possible unified theory, it is just a set of rules and equations. What is it that breathes fire into the equations and makes a universe for them to describe? The usual approach of science of constructing a mathematical model cannot answer the questions of why there should be a universe for the model to describe. ... Up to now, most scientists have been too occupied with the development of new theories that describe what the universe is to ask the question why. ... if we do discover a complete theory, it should in time be understandable in broad principle by everyone, not just a few scientists. Then we shall all, philosophers, scientists, and just ordinary people, be able to take part in the discussion of the question of why it is that we and the universe exist. If we find the answer to that, it would be the ultimate triumph of human reason -- for then we would know the mind of God.

Paul Davies goes further than Hawking to actually acknowledge the possibility of mysticism. Davies, a mathematical physicist from the University of Adelaide, Australia, picked up on Hawking's last four words and wrote a book called The Mind of God. In it (pp. 226 - 228) he wrote the following:

Mysticism is no substitute for scientific inquiry and logical reasoning so long as this approach can be consistently applied. It is only in dealing with ultimate questions that science and logic may fail us. ... mystics claim that they can grasp ultimate reality in a single experience, in contrast to the long and tortuous deductive sequence ... of the logical-scientific method of inquiry. ... The essence of the mystical experience, then, is a type of shortcut to truth, a direct and unmediated contact with a perceived ultimate reality.

Fritjof Capra actually affirms mysticism and connects the mystic experience with quantum physics. Capra is a high energy physicist who has worked at the University of Paris, the University of California at Santa Cruz, and Stanford. In his book, The Tao of Physics, he dwells mostly on eastern mysticism (e.g., p. 10):

Although the various schools of Eastern mysticism differ in many details, they all emphasize the basic unity of the universe, which is the central feature of their teachings. The highest aim for their followers -- whether they are Hindus, Buddhists, or Taoists -- is to become aware of the unity and mutual intersection of all things, to transcend the notion of an isolated individual self, and to identify themselves with the ultimate reality.

But Capra also affirms that such mysticism was present in the earliest days of Western philosophy (pp. 6-7, emphasis added):

The monistic and organic view of the Milesians [of Ionia] was very close to that of ancient Indian and Chinese philosophy, and the parallels to eastern thought are even stronger in the philosophy of Heraclitus of Ephesus. Heraclitus believed in a world of perpetual change, of eternal Becoming. ... all changes in the world arise from a dynamic and cyclic interplay of opposites, and he saw any pair of opposites as a unity. This unity, which contains and transcends all opposing forces, he called the Logos.

Now, Logos is a Greek term that literally means word, articulate thought, logic (which term is derived from it), or even reason. But more significantly, it developed into an important philosophical and theological concept. Heraclitus, sometimes credited as the founder of systematic philosophy, introduced the Logos in the sixth century BC. The Stoics, the pre-eminent rationalists of the ancient world and possibly of all time, refined it over a period of several hundred years. Philo of Alexandria, a hellenistic Jew of the first century AD, thoroughly trained in Greek philosophy, connected the Logos to the books of Moses, the first five books of the Bible. According to C.H. Dodd (The Interpretation of the Fourth Gospel), around the time of Christ, the educated citizen of the western world would have had something like the following understanding of the Logos.

The Logos is the plan or model of the universe. Philo wrote, in On the Creation V :

As therefore the city, when previously shadowed out in the mind of the man of architectural skill had no external place, but was stamped solely in the mind of the workman, so in the same manner neither can the world which existed in ideas have had any other local position except the divine reason [Logos] which made them

The Logos is the source of order in the universe, that by which all things come into being, that by which all things come to pass. No writing of Heraclitus exists in its entirety, but rather we have fragments of his writings, preserved as quotations in other classical works. In fragment 1 he wrote:

Although this Logos is eternally valid, yet men are unable to understand it -- not only before hearing it, but even after they have heard it for the first time. That is to say, although all things come to pass in accordance with this Logos, men seem to be quite without any experience of it -- at least if they are judged in the light of such words and deeds as I am here setting forth.

Diogenes Laertius was probably not a Stoic himself, but he wrote about the Stoics and their teachings. For example in his Lives of Eminent Philosophers (VII, 149), he noted that according to the Stoics:

all things happen by fate ... Fate is defined as an endless chain of causation whereby things are, or as the reason [Logos] or formula by which the world goes on.

Although Marcus Aurelius was a Roman emperor who lived in the third century AD, he was Stoic philosopher and probably represented long-established Stoic thought when he wrote, in The Communings of Marcus Aurelius With Himself (V, 21),

What soul, then, has skill and knowledge? Even that which knoweth beginning and end, and the reason [Logos] that informs all Substance, and governs the Whole from ordered cycle to cycle through all eternity.

Philo continued this theme in On the Cherubim (Part 1 XI):

it is not the pursuits which you follow that are the causes of your participation in good or in evil, but rather the divine reason [Logos], which is the helmsman and governor of the universe

The Logos is universal. Plutarch too was not necessarily a Stoic but a philosopher and biographer of the first and second centuries AD, and therefore captured contemporary thought when he wrote, in Isis and Osiris (377-378):

just as the sun and the moon and the heavens and the earth and the sea are common to all, but are called by different names by different peoples, so for that one rationality [Logos] which keeps all these things in order and the one Providence which watches over them and the ancillary powers that are set over all, there have arisen among different peoples, in accordance with their customs, different honors and appellations.

The Logos is eternal. Heraclitus wrote, again in fragment 1:

Although this Logos is eternally valid, yet men are unable to understand it -- not only before hearing it, but even after they have heard it for the first time. That is to say, although all things come to pass in accordance with this Logos , men seem to be quite without any experience of it -- at least if they are judged in the light of such words and deeds as I am here setting forth.

The Logos is God. Diogenes Laertius wrote, in Lives of Eminent Philosophers (VII, 134) that the Stoics:

hold that there are two principles in the universe, the active principle and the passive. The passive principle, then, is a substance without quality, i.e., matter, whereas the active is the reason [Logos] inherent in this substance, that is God. For he is everlasting and the artificer of each several things throughout the whole extent of matter.

The Logos is the Divine Reason and the source of human reason and intelligence. Philo wrote, in On the Creation (LI):

Every man in regard of his intellect is connected with divine reason [Logos], being an impression of, or a fragment or ray of that blessed nature

Nevertheless, the Logos is not understood by humankind. Heraclitus wrote, in fragment 64:

Although intimately connected with the Logos, men keep setting themselves against it.

So, the Logos, although frequently overlooked or ignored, is the fundamental ordering principle of the universe, its meaning, plan, and purpose. The Logos is that by which all things come into being and by which all things come to pass. The Logos is the Divine Reason, by participating in which we can be truly rational and knowledgeable. All of this comes together in a unique way in the New Testament. John 1:1-14 (the Prologue to the Gospel of St. John) says:

In the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with God, and the Logos was God. He was with God in the beginning. Through him all things were made; without him nothing was made that has been made.

In him was life, and that life was the light of men. The light shines in the darkness, but the darkness has not understood it. ...

The Logos became flesh and made his dwelling among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only of the Father, full of grace and truth.

The remainder of John's gospel is an account of Jesus' later life, ministry, death, and resurrection. In John's record of Jesus' ministry, Jesus speaks often of truth, knowing, and believing. For example, he tells His disciples (Jn 14:6) "I am the way, the truth, and the life ..." Earlier (Jn 8:31), He had said "If you hold to my teaching, you are really my disciples. Then you will know the truth and the truth will set you free." Once a Jewish religious leader name Nicodemus came to Jesus and Jesus said (Jn 3) "I tell you the truth. no one can see the kingdom of God unless he is born from above ... " The skeptical man asked "How can this be?" and Jesus replied

"You are Israel's teacher and you do not understand these things? I tell you the truth. We speak of what we know and we testify what we have seen, and still you people do not accept our testimony. I have spoken to you of earthly things and you do not believe; how will you believe if I speak of heavenly things? ... For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life."

Then in his high priestly prayer immediately before his arrest, crucifixion, death, and resurrection, Jesus, the Logos incarnate, said to God:

For you [God] granted him [Jesus] authority over all people that he might give eternal life to all those you have given him. Now this is eternal life: that they may know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. ...

I pray ... that all of them may be one, Father, just as you are in me and I am in you. May they also be in us so ... I have given them the glory that you gave me, that they may be one as we are one: I in them and you in me.

So it is by an indwelling of the Logos that I -- and you -- may possess the ultimate knowledge, which is in fact the pinnacle of the moral order of the universe, the summum bonum, the greatest good: to know God. That knowledge can come only by the incarnate Logos.

I know by The Logos. Knowledge begins with belief. St. Augustine said that unless we believe, we will not understand. I believe in Jesus Christ, the Logos incarnate, the Logos in me, and in believing, I know, perhaps not infallibly (due to my own limitations), but I know with great confidence.

Summary and Conclusion

You may call the confident knowledge of my worldview mere faith because it falls short of certitude. It is uncertain, but it is reasonable, just as reasonable as my scientific knowledge. I have faith in God, in Jesus Christ, in the Bible, and in the Church. But is that so different from my knowledge of science?

Remember that faith is merely knowledge somewhere on the continuum between conjecture and certitude; knowledge on which I am willing to think and act in the presence of personal risk, but for which I can show no overwhelming empirical evidence or irrefutable proof.

I do my science in the absence of certitude. When I lecture to a classroom of students, submit a manuscript for publication in a scientific journal, or present a paper to my peers at a scientific conference, I place myself at some professional and personal risk. And in so doing, I am exercising faith.

I must have faith in my teachers and professors as sources of truth and in their competence, truthfulness, and completeness. I must have faith in the authors whose publications I read, the reviewers of papers and books, the publishers of the papers and books, and in my own ability to read, comprehend, and apply what has been written. I must have faith in my colleagues' competence, truthfulness, and good motivations. I have faith in the order and reasonableness of the universe, in the scientific method as a means to uncover it, and in inductive and deductive reason as means to knowledge. I must have faith in the potential value of my scientific work and my ability to acquire, understand, and apply information. I must have faith in the potential value of the hypotheses I formulate, the equipment and software I use in my research, in my analysis methods, in my ability to correctly apply those methods, and in my ability to accurately interpret the results of my analyses. I must have faith in the representativeness of the experimental conditions I create in my simulations, in the methods I use to control unwanted variability in my experiments, and in my subjects to behave in a representative manner.

Is that faith so different from my Christian faith? No. And I am not the only one to come to such a conclusion. For example, Michael Polanyi was an eminent physical chemist, a member of the British Royal Academy of Science, and a philosopher. In Personal Knowledge, Polanyi wrote that knowing is not merely a passive response, but rather a fiduciary act, an act of trust, that always takes place in the absence of certainty. Lesslie Newbigin summarized Polanyi's major point nicely in his own book, Truth to Tell:

All our knowing is a personal commitment in which there is no external guarantee that one cannot be mistaken.

So what can I know for sure? Can I really be absolutely certain about anything? In practice, all ways of knowing are fallible and all knowledge is subject to uncertainty. That leaves me in a state of epistemological angst, cognitive emptiness, and profound intellectual humility. But could that be just the state in which God wants me? A state in which I am, admittedly, intellectually unworthy? A state in which I am susceptible to His unmerited favor, His Grace?

John Hick wrote, in his article on faith in the Encyclopedia of Philosophy:

Man's personal autonomy is protected by the fact that he can become conscious of God's activity toward him only by an uncompelled response of faith. Thus, men are not only free to obey or disobey God; they also have the prior and more fundamental freedom to be conscious of God or to refrain from being conscious of him.

So how do I know my worldview? Why do I believe what I believe about God? About Christ? About me? About you? Why do I have this faith? How do I know this knowledge? Do I know it by superstition? By chance? By self-deception? By illusion? By cowardice? By loneliness and longing for something bigger than me?

No. I know my worldview the same way I know anything, including my science. I know my Christian worldview by authority, by empiricism, by reason, and by intuition. But most of all, I know my worldview, I know this knowledge, confidently, because of God's grace manifested in me by His Logos.

That is how I know.

The opinions expressed in this essay are my own and do not represent an official position of Oregon State University.