No Danger of Taking Too Much From Ourselves? (4)

The Westminster Dictionary of Theological Terms rightly defines “presuppositionalism” as “a philosophical approach to theology.” On the face of it, how do we explain this historical development indebted to Cornelius Van Til in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries among the heirs of the Reformation movement associated with Calvin and Luther? I mean, more precisely, why did those in this time period who were born and bred on the principle of Sola Scriptura—Scripture alone as the basis for our faith and practice—a principle with a track record of rejecting human tradition left and right—become captives to that very thing through philosophy and in the name of Reformed theology? I would suggest that it was from a worthy but misguided intent to glorify the sovereignty of God in salvation through Jesus Christ. It was to show, that is, the comprehensiveness and greatness of that salvation. More specifically, how certain modern thinkers in the lineage from Descartes to Kant framed the problem of knowing seemed like a great opportunity through philosophy to honor Jesus Christ all the more as the only way to truly know anything. Whereas these philosophers were skeptical of knowing anything at all directly, for certain, or as it is in itself—and while they placed such emphasis on how the human mind alone conditions and accounts for knowledge in the most fundamental sense—those who are Reformed (like Van Til) saw an opportunity to insert as an answer to that problem the mind of Christ known by spiritual regeneration and Scripture as the only sure, central, and fundamental knowledge—that is, how we can know anything at all. What could be more worthy as a motive than that? And what danger could there possibly be in such a motive?

But, as I wrote in my last post, the problem of knowing (that we can’t know reality directly) as understood and treated by these modern philosophers is simply mistaken at its foundation—not a real problem at all. And this was no small mistake (as Searle points out). Much of modern (and what came to be known as postmodern) philosophy rests on this grand mistake. If we then apply Reformed theology as the right answer to this wrong problem, the result is a philosophical approach to theology which is itself wrong but now has for Christians what philosophy itself (or on its own terms) does not and could not have: a divine status as knowledge. How? Through its relationship to Scripture. It is like a Christian helping one who is struggling to get a heavy bag into a car. Surely, the motive is good. However, let’s suppose the person struggling with the bag is a thief. Then the good intent of that Christian lending a hand has actually served evil.

Similarly, the modern philosophers were theoretically taking something away from human knowing (a kind of thievery) which in reality was not the case. Van Til with a certain deference and respect for philosophy thought it was indeed the case. Consequently, he rushed in to help. To his credit, he rejected the man-centered solution of the philosophers. (That was the sense in which he rejected their brand of “idealism,” but we shouldn't be confused into thinking he did not accept "idealism" at all.) On the other hand, Van Til believed he could use Reformed theology to glorify God all the more. He proposed as an answer to the modern philosophers’ problem for knowing that having the mind of Christ was necessary to know anything at all. (A claim I suggest the Bible never makes, not even “in principle”). The result is that Reformed folk end up saying things like “there is no common ground for truth between a believer and unbeliever.” The implication is that truth is relative to one’s perspective. (A claim that in itself would have made these modern philosophers happy.) It means that we cannot know truth directly but only indirectly through our perspective. Van Til claims, therefore, that unbelievers have to accept the Christian’s presuppositions (or perspective) before they can accept the Christian’s Savior. To be sure, that sort of extreme claim about the nature of knowing was unknown to Calvin and Luther and all of Reformation history (all of church history, actually) prior to Van Til and the twentieth century. (Reformed folk who accept Van Til's presuppositionalism don't seem bothered by that.)

More importantly (as I’ve stated repeatedly elsewhere), it is as a doctrine completely unknown to Scripture or the apostles of Jesus Christ. For instance, it flies in the face of example after example of the apostles preaching to and reasoning with unbelievers in the book of Acts — directly (or: non-perspectivally, non-presuppositionally) presenting to them evidence from Scripture and their experience as apostolic witnesses that Jesus of Nazareth was raised from the dead and had fulfilled the Messianic prophecies. In other words, the apostles did not first convince people of Christian presuppositions or a Christian worldview as if (in keeping with what the modern philosophers thought) one’s subjective perspective governs what is possible for knowledge and we never can get at the thing-in-itself. They were not presuppositionalists. The apostles obviously believed that they could make a direct appeal to facts to convince people that Jesus is Lord. Indeed, this belief in common ground for truth between themselves and unbelievers underlies all their communication with such people.

Now Van Til, in his The Defense of the Faith (for example, on pages 144-145), equates this sort of direct appeal to facts with Arminianism. Although, one notices that he either avoids or seems oblivious to the fact that the apostles themselves in communicating with unbelievers appealed directly to facts all the time. Instead Van Til picks on Bishop Butler and Charles Hodge and others because they have a naive view of “neutral facts.” Imagine how far Van Til would have gotten if he had said, “Yes, the apostles Peter and Paul mistakenly appealed directly to facts in their preaching of the gospel. This is lamentable. It’s an Arminian mistake before Arminianism ever was. However, we who are truly Reformed in the twentieth century know better now. It’s a new chapter in the church’s history. Thankfully, with the help of Descartes and Kant and others in modern philosophy, we  have learned better. People must accept Christian presuppositions first. Then we can present them with the facts that are only understandable within those presuppositions.” Yes, if that had been said explicitly on the front end, Van Tilian presuppositionalism would have never gained a foothold in Bible-believing, Christ-centered, truly Reformed churches. In truth, however, that is precisely and clearly what Van Til all along was implying (and what is still implied) through his philosophical approach to Reformed theology. 

In addition, it seems that Van Til (wittingly or unwittingly) in getting people to accept his presuppositionalism relies on that partisan or sectarian feeling that may go with being a true, card-carrying Calvinist. Here is the line: If you are a Calvinist (or truly Reformed) you will accept Van Til’s upgrade through philosophy as to what it means to be a Calvinist, especially in the area of apologetics. Calvin himself, of course, would never have accepted presuppositionalism in the first place. It’s not like Calvin was unaware of skepticism in its various forms throughout the history of philosophy. He just didn’t buy it.

Be that as it may, however, it is important to be aware that there are at least three fallacies Van Til commits in his The Defense of the Faith to persuade people of the rightness of his position. With all these fallacies Van Til is seeking to persuade people that in getting people to accept a conclusion there can be no direct appeal to facts, that all knowing is presuppositional in nature. What makes the following fallacious is that none of these strategies actually present an actual argument for those propositions. Instead, Van Til is appealing to psychological triggers that might coerce someone in some manner into accepting his presuppositionalism without any real argument doing the work. All these fallacies essentially play on a Calvinist's desire to be considered a "true Calvinist" by others, especially in the area of apologetics. The first fallacy is ad hominem ( a verbal attack "at the man" or person). This occurs when Van Til labels anyone an "Arminian," if he doesn't accept Van Til's presuppositionalism. (What Calvinist wants to be called an Arminian?) The second fallacy is similar but broader. It is partisan in nature and involves an "appeal to the feelings of a people or populace" in their identity as a group. The latter occurs, when Van Til equates things like a direct appeal to facts with Arminianism in general ("one of those people") and his own philosophical appropriation of Calvinism (his presuppositionalism) with true Calvinism ("people who are truly Reformed"). (An aside: I suspect this fear of not belonging to "the group" — to those who are considered fully and truly Reformed — largely explains why presuppositionalism is so influential among Reformed people today. Coupled with that, my guess is that most of those who accept Van Til's presuppositionalism do not know the actual philosophical history, pedigree, or point of departure (or the path not taken) from which his theory arises. It is likely as well that to a large extent they don't understand Van Til, either, but rely on pastors who, in turn, rely on seminary professors who largely rely on John Frame and/or Greg Bahnsen for their understanding of Van Til.) The third fallacy in Van Til's The Defense of the Faith is "false dichotomy." This occurs when someone presents two alternatives, one in a negative light (in this case: "You don't want to be an Arminian, do you?") so as to nudge us toward the other position (again, in this case: Van Til's presuppositionalism as true Calvinism), while there is a third alternative that goes unmentioned (in this case: a true and biblical Calvinism minus Van Til's presuppositionalism).  That is, contrary to what Van Til implies, one doesn't have to be an Arminian or a Van Tilian version of a Calvinist. One can be truly and fully Calvinistic (that is, truly and fully faithful to the sovereign grace of God revealed in Scripture with all the five points of Calvinism fully supported) and disagree with Van Til's philosophical theology. With that said, these fallacies are spread like a net throughout Van Til's The Defense of the Faith. Wherever they are thus extended there is no real advance in what Van Til should be arguing, namely, that his presuppositionalism is consistent with and demonstrated in Scripture and thus truly worthy of the name: "Reformed." For his philosophical Reformed theology, Van Til actually and as a rule spends very little time engaged with Scripture itself.

To reiterate, then, the problem the modern philosophers proposed wasn’t real in the first place. That in turn makes the answer Van Til proposes unreal or mistaken, even when and as it intends to be Reformed and God-glorifying. If I may pause here for a moment, I trust that those of us who are Reformed will agree when I say that if we have to choose between what we find in Scripture and a doctrine which seems to glorify God but actually is inconsistent with Scripture (for example, the aforesaid, apostolic, direct appeal to facts in preaching the gospel), we will (and should) go with Scripture. Any idea that we are or can be truly Reformed in our embrace of a doctrine because it seems God-glorifying even when that doctrine is inconsistent with or even contrary to Scriptural assumptions or declarations may be (I trust we agree) a deceitful doctrinal scheme taking us captive and causing us to lose our grip on the Head, Jesus Christ, in whom all the fullness of God dwells.

Furthermore, I must say that presuppositionalism as a denial of the public or common aspect of the truth of the gospel, especially as it entails a direct appeal to the facts of the gospel as exemplified in the evangelistic work of the apostles in the book of Acts discourages the church from engaging in such a work and tends to justify a certain passivity in that regard. The attitude of "well they don't have the right presuppositions anyway" justifies in many cases silence when we as the church should be speaking. It also puts a burden on the church (at best, slows her down) that we don't see placed on the apostles in the book of Acts. I mean that the apostles evidently did not see it as their task to convince people of Christian presuppositions or a Christian worldview before they made their case for Jesus as the Messiah. They got directly to the point. They proclaimed what God had done. They spoke of fulfilled prophecy. They told of what they had seen and heard. They declared with great passion and urgency: "Jesus is Lord!" That was it. (Read the sermons in Acts.)

As for Calvin, I have been laboring to show that he was not and would not be a presuppositionalist. Admittedly, however, there is a statement he makes in his Institutes that seems to open the door to the kind of thing Van Til has done. Calvin writes:

Man is in no danger of taking too much from himself, provided he learns that whatever he wants [or lacks] is to be recovered in God (Institutes of the Christian Religion, book two, chapter two, section 10).

Now Calvin, of course, did not incorporate philosophy into his Reformed theology the way Van Til has. But I have always been intrigued by this particular statement. Why didn’t he simply say: “Let us not add or take anything from ourselves without Scripture as our guide.”? Isn't that how he handles everything else doctrinal? Why would he encourage a boldness in us as Christians to subtract from ourselves certain capacities or abilities to whatever extent we want as long as we turn and recover what we’ve lost from God? Could there not be (as I’ve been indicating) an unscriptural subtraction which by its improper foundation or construal inevitably leads to an unscriptural recovery in and from God? Why open the door for glorifying God as we fallen humans see fit? It seems to me that in Calvin’s quest to encourage us to humble ourselves, he almost invites merely human (or philosophical) construals of loss and defectiveness about ourselves without an awareness of problems that can result from that — even if God is seen as the only source of recovery. The Holy Spirit, I never tire of saying, wasn’t given to rectify problems created by philosophy.