fact, truth and Truth

There are different sorts of truth in life, from simple scientifically verifiable fact to a sort of truth so strong it serves as one of the underlying pillars to hold up reality.

“fact”

Simple, verifiable facts are the staple of life. We live based on knowing that gravity pulls us down and caffeine keeps us awake. The law of non-contradiction, that two contradictory things cannot be true at the same time, is this kind of fact. Experience teaches us these facts as we age, and they shape how we live.

Doubt them at your peril. The results of denying them are usually swift and often painful.

“truth”

The deeper truths of life, like “hurt people hurt people,” are concepts that sum up our experience and teach us important lessons. Wisdom is often characterized as an understanding of these truths.

Truth of this sort may have a valid point to make, as “hurt people hurt people” does, but they’re not usually true clear through. (For example, I’ve found that hurt people who learn to deal with their hurt are the best suited to teach the rest of us how not to hurt others in the first place. Hurt people do not always hurt other people.)

This sort of truth is often the deepest sort people encounter in life. Half-valid characterizations of reality that, while they may provide something of a roadmap for life, don’t really approach the meaning of life or the purpose behind everything.

“Truth”

The highest kind of truth that I’ve encountered, other than the person of Christ Himself, is the kind that can’t be reduced to pithy sayings or quotable quotes, but which is so critical and central to human experience that people spend their entire lives striving to communicate just one such truth to those around them.

The best example is the structure of a house. Though it is covered by walls, it may still be felt in places, where the walls are more solid, and less easily bowed or shifted. In places, it is left bare, like the rafters and columns in a cathedral, cut and polished to perfection. So it is with this world–there is an underlying framework to reality that supports its structure and defines its shape.

Great works of literature and poetry have been written about this sort of truth and may or may not manage to communicate it. Christ taught some of it in parables, knowing that the only way to really illuminate this sort of truth is by the Spirit. Even if it could be broken down into a few words and spoken plainly, the meaning and reality behind it would be entirely closed to someone whose eyes were not opened to it by God Himself.

This is the sort of truth around which reality orients itself. Like the structure inside the walls of a house, it undergirds reality itself and holds it up. This sort of truth never contradicts itself or fails to bear out.

When I see it, I am reminded of Hebrews 1:3, which says, “The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word…”

Looked at from the proper vantage, all of reality is a spectrum of truth that coalesces into the person of Christ, who is also the definition of reality and of being.

Reality Is in the Eye of the Beholder

English has past tense (he did, he was), present tense (he does, he is) and future tense (he will do, he will be). I’ve often thought that in order to describe God and his creation, we need an “always” tense. Something like “He do, He exist” would be more appropriate than anything we use, and along with that comes a way of seeing the world that we’re not capable of experiencing and barely able to think about.

God exists outside of time.

A great illustration of this is the way most people think of God, which I think may be an extension of the way deists see God. It might be stated as follows: “He set the world with all its laws in motion and now leaves it to its own devices.”

This unintentionally makes God subject to time. God *did create* something in the past is not the same thing as an act of creation that spans the entirety of time and encompasses the whole act. It also creates too distinct a separation between God and His creation. It might be more correct to say (using, of course, “always” tense) “God create the world.” If you can really wrap your head around that and imagine experiencing it, you’re doing better than I am.

The point I’m making is that God didn’t simply create the world and leave it to go its own way. He is involved in every aspect of His creation. Every atom in every instant of being is under His inspection and is being created, just as every other atom of every instant of being. In God’s experience, there is no difference between beginning and end. They are part of the same act of creation that “exist” (“always” tense).

“He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.” – Colossians 1:16

As I said, we can’t really describe or understand it, but we do have to think about it in some way. I like to see it as a song that God is singing, and every now, every instant of everything every person does is enabled by the fact that God is currently “singing” him doing it.

This is not and CANNOT be thought of as an act of predestination.

That concept is vile and incompatible with reality. Properly used, predestination is simply another attempt at trying to understand God’s perspective, which is dangerous, if it affects our perspective and how we act.

In essence, God’s creation of everything is not something set in motion and abandoned, but of a piece, created and being created, and God is an intimate part of every moment.

Thus, it is in God and through God that everything exists. He is the reference through which it all holds together. In a sense, He is the nexus that pulls everything into perspective.

Reality is not what you perceive it to be. Nor is it what you want it to be. Reality is what it is because that is what it was created to be. It is what He said it is.

The First Principle

1. Any belief system must be based on faith. (All thought must have premise.)

Faith is simply a confidence or trust in something. Whether this is faith that what we see and taste and touch is actually real and is truly the way we perceive it to be, or whether that is faith in a being we are unable to see or touch, it is still a trust we cannot verify.
Likewise, any idea or thought must have something upon which it is built. No idea is self-sustaining, and therefore all reasoning must be circular reasoning, based upon some premise, which “proves” itself (or is self-evident).

This principle is difficult to prove even logically, much less materially, specifically because of… well… itself. To make it clear what this means, however, take the words “belief” and “faith” and all their connotations and throw them out the proverbial window. Instead, go with the second part of the statement, namely, All thought must have premise (which should be a tautology–a statement that is obviously true.)

Assuming for a few paragraphs that you don’t consider it a tautology, let’s examine. (If you’re already with me, then don’t expect to get anything new out of most of this post. Feel free to read on, but most of the post is for those who have never really thought through what a “premise” is. Try rejoining me at the last header if you get bored.)

Take the most obvious fact you can think of. A common (though foolish) example is “The sky is blue.” Now ask yourself “Why?” or “What caused this?” …The point here is to realize that “the sky is blue” is NOT a tautology. (In fact, the sky is blue because of the way that light refracts through air.) Now, ask yourself, “Why?” or, again, “What caused this?” Take any statement you like and ask those questions until you come to a standstill. At this point, you don’t have many options. The first option, “Well, that’s just the way it is” doesn’t really count.

Why doesn’t it count? Dig deeper. Unpack the statement just a bit. “Well, that’s just the way it is” is just another way of saying “This is the basic nature of reality. It acts this way because it IS this way.” …which begs the question “What (or Who) made reality behave as it does?” …Now you’ve got three possible answers. One is intellectually dishonest. The other two are functionally the same.

The First Answer

The intellectually dishonest answer is “I CAN NOT know what caused it or how it was caused so don’t bother asking.” …This is the essence of agnosticism. If this is where the train stops for you, then I have another tautology for you, namely. You are not capable of understanding everything there is to understand.

You’ve essentially just stated that you have learned you are in conflict with the nature of the universe and you don’t want to learn or grow any longer. If this is the case, then you have just pronounced yourself intellectually dead. (I have observed that one of the great purposes of humanity is curiosity and learning, and that if our curiosity were ever fully satisfied, our minds would wither and die.)

There are two possible choices at this point.
First: Decide that it’s worthwhile to learn what you can, even though you can’t know it all, and go on to answer two (which is probably your answer anyway, if you are honest with yourself).
Second: Decide that “You can’t know so it’s not worth asking.” …In other words, “I’m putting my head down here in the sand where it’s safe. Go away.”

The Second Answer

So, we’ve just been asking the question, “What (or Who) made reality behave as it does?”

The first LEGITIMATE answer is “I don’t know.” …Which, again, isn’t really the end of the chain. Instead, ask the only question left, “How do you know that reality behaves this way?”

At this point, we’re left with another chain of logic. It probably goes something like this: “How do you know?” “Well, because science says so.” “How does science know?” “Because scientists tested it and found it to be so.” “How do you know they did?” (Which, not coincidentally, has the same answer as “How do they know their results were true?”) “Because I saw, heard, read, felt, smelled, tasted, learned, etc. that it was so.”

And so, the first of two end results to any such (intellectually honest) chain of logic is, “Because I trust what my senses tell me. They tell me that this is the nature of reality.”

Good. Now for the man on the other side of the religious fence.

The Third Answer

Again, the question is “What (or Who) made reality behave as it does?”

The second legitimate answer is, “It was created to be this way by some ultimate force (Probably God or a god). I believe that this is true.”

Again, good.

So what’s the point?

So far so good. We have two possible answers.
One: “I trust what my senses tell me. This is the nature of reality.”
Two: “God created it this way. This is how it is.”

OK. Fine. Now prove it.

Uhhhhhhhh………….. /facepalm

So what are we left with, really?

We’re left saying “Trust me” or “Trust God.” Either way, aside from the simple fact that we believe it to be so, there is no possible way to logically prove anything in the world to someone who does not accept the same premise we do. (And the reason that “Trust God” people seem to argue with each other so much more than “Trust me” people is because usually there is more common ground to the way two people see the world than to the way two people see God.)

So really, what we have is two groups of people. One argues that we should trust our senses first. The other argues that we should trust God (or a god or gods or some other mystical force) first and our senses second. We start from two different premises, but both require that we trust something in order to arrive at any conclusion in the world.

No. What we have is as many groups of people as we have people, because (trust me) EVERYBODY is going to see SOMETHING about their premise a little differently than everybody else does. We’re lucky that we can agree on anything at all.

What does all this mean?

Well, first off, the above chain of logic was what originally convinced me that every belief system must be based on some sort of faith, whether that is faith in what we believe or faith in what we see and touch. We still trust that it is true.

The parallel concept, (that every thought must have a premise) also works off the same chain of reasoning. (Even if that premise is “Because I thought it.”) Most people seem to be able to agree with this concept more readily, partly because it seems so obvious and partly because most people are not emotionally invested in philosophical abstracts the same way they are invested in whatever they have faith in.

Yes, even you atheists… You might as well just get used to calling it what it is, even if you don’t like the connotations. I’ve defined all my terms. You don’t have to be afraid of me poking you in the eye and laughing because you’ve somehow admitted that you have “faith.” One thing I try to never do is hold people in contempt.

So where do we go from here?

Personally, I learned three very important lessons from this.

First: Respect peoples’ right to have their opinion, even if you don’t agree with it. Learn as much as you can about their premises and their conclusions, and about where the fault in their logic lies. Share your view. If you can, shake their hand and part friends.

Second: Know what your OWN premises are before you go running your mouth. This doesn’t just apply to what you have faith in. This is the basis of everything I do in life. This is the basis of how I make every single decision I make. The best way to avoid making an ass of yourself is to be sure that you know not just what you’re talking about, but why. An added bonus: you’ll know how to explain the why if somebody should ask.

Third: What to have faith in is the most important decision you will ever make. Once you’ve made that decision, everything else can be logically attained. What you choose to have faith in will determine everything about your life. Everyone who lives from a basic philosophy rather than social or emotional gestalt makes that decision.