“Faith, in fact, is what gives fullness to our reasoning… Though every thinking being longs for God… it is powerless… to grasp him… it discovers God through the beauty and order of things seen, using sight as a guide to what transcends sight.”
Gregory of Nazianzus (329-390)
One of the things I pride myself in is I can still beat most people I know—including my kids—in ping-pong. Now, admittedly, only two of my biological children and their spouses care much about the game or beating me. But two of my sons—my oldest, Matthew, and son-in-law, Josh—care about it very much! And don’t get me wrong, they’re good but not as good as me. 🙂 My secret? Certainly, some of it has to do with learned skills and practice but there’s something else at play when I’m at my best: intuition. I get into this place that many craftsmen, artists, and musicians do where they work, paint, dance, play, etc. from their heart. It’s like I’m concentrating less and feeling more. Truth be told, sometimes a good IPA can intensify my enjoyment and help me relax. Once I get into my grove, my sons, as MC Hammer says, “can’t touch this!”
Intuition is that way of knowing that helps us experience the hazy dreaminess of an impressionistic painting. You don’t appreciate a Monet or a Van Gogh by logically thinking through it. You feel it. You let the colors and impressions wash over you. Skeptic Ernest Renan once said that “Christians are living on the fragrance of an empty vase.” Although Renan’s perspective reflects a lack of awareness of the significant testimony that undergirds the Christian faith, there’s some truth to what he says. Indeed, there is a “fragrance” to the empty tomb just like that of flowers or perfume. The Resurrection of Jesus Christ permeates the world with traces of joy and hope. And these aromas are something you experience (not unlike marriage or parenting) rather than just reason out. It’s like how you appreciate a symphony or music by your favorite artist, or a cool breeze and rustling leaves, fireflies lighting up your backyard, or the warmth of the sun. Yes, you can observe or study these things but how do you appreciate them for all they are? You feel, immerse yourself, get caught up in, or bask in them.
When I first heard and considered Bob’s six ways of knowing, intuition (#6 in Part 1) seemed the weakest way of knowing. And, from an intellectual point of view, the intuitive answer to Bob’s question “he lives within my heart” seemed just plain goofy. Thirty-five years later and on the other side of close friendships, romance, sex, marriage, being a dad, a grandfather, and seeking joy in life, my views have changed. What my heart says now matters more than it once did. What’s more, I’m more in touch with my heart.[1] All of this is because I’ve learned something about love… love—that thing that’s so powerful but impossible to quantify or dissect scientifically. As the French mathematician and philosopher Blaise Pascal famously put it:
“The heart has its reasons, which reason does not know. We feel it in a thousand things. It is the heart which experiences God, and not the reason.”
What Pascal is saying is that the heart—that intangible core of who we are, has eyes. And these eyes, connected with our deepest loves and longings, tell us powerful things about reality. This is intuitive and, although it, again, can’t be quantified scientifically, it is absolutely a valid lens by which we see and experience reality. This being the case, as Roman Catholic apologist Peter Kreft advises regarding the heart, “Instead of looking at it and explaining it or explaining it away, let us look with it.”[2]
Learning to look with the heart is a spiritual endeavor and part of the faith journey. And one place in Scripture that you can vividly see the transformative effect of intuitive knowing and an epistemology of love is in the story of Job. As part of the wisdom books in the Bible, Job wrestles with the heady and emotionally charged topic of unjust suffering. Through a series of tragedies, Job loses his wealth, his children, and his health. Most of the book is a series of dialogues where his wife and his friends bring him little comfort. Toward the end of the story, God questions Job at length in a way that humbles and changes him. Finally, Job responds and note carefully his response:
“My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.”[3]
[1] I’m using heart here in the way the Bible does as a person’s inner control center—the seat of one’s mind, will, and emotions. An older synonym that’s also helpful is “affections.”
[2] https://www.memoriapress.com/articles/reasons-heart/
[3] Italics mine. Job 42:5, NIV.