Rethinking Worldview E-Book

J. Mark Bertrand

• Herausgeber: Crossway
• Kategorie: Religion und Spiritualität
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2007

Beschreibung

Everyone has a worldview. How did we get it? How is it formed? Is it possible by persuasion and logic to change one's worldview? In Rethinking Worldview, writer and worldview teacher J. Mark Bertrand has a threefold aim. First, he seeks to capture a more complex, nuanced appreciation of what worldviews really are. Then he situates worldviews in the larger context of a lived faith. Finally, he explores the organic connections between worldview and wisdom and how they are expressed in witness. Bertrand's work reads like a conversation, peppered with anecdotes and thought-provoking questions that push readers to continue thinking and talking long after they have put the book down. Thoughtful readers interested in theology, philosophy, and culture will be motivated to rethink their own perspectives on the nature of reality, as well as to rethink the concept of worldviews itself.

Leseprobe

“Rethinking Worldview throws off sparks able to light the dry tinder that many Sunday school classes and seminary seminars have become. J. Mark Bertrand’s four worldview pillars, his explanation of how to move from consumer to critic to contributor, his discussion of personal unity and diversity within the Trinity, and much besides, make this book worth having and giving.”

—MARVIN OLASKY, editor-in-chief, World magazine

“The strength of Bertrand’s book is its comprehensiveness, as the author turns the prism of worldview until every angle has been illuminated. Bertrand maintains our interest throughout his long discussion with an incipient narrative thread in which his understanding of worldview is told as the sum of his own discoveries and experiences in relation to worldview. The book actually has the quality of a suspense story in which the reader is led to wonder what Bertrand discovered next in regard to worldview.”

—LELAND RYKEN, professor of English, Wheaton College

“Rethinking Worldview is an engagingly written work to strengthen believers in their efforts to engage the world in a winsome and effective manner. Built around the themes of worldview, wisdom, and witness, this excellent book provides an illuminating and thoughtful way forward for the twenty-first-century church to think, live, speak, and worship. Mark Bertrand has made a splendid contribution to the ongoing conversation regarding Christian worldview thinking. After reading this book I wanted to shout “Yes, and Amen!” I heartily commend this book and trust that it will receive a wide readership.”

—DAVID S. DOCKERY, president, Union University

For those of you suffering from “worldview fatigue,” or who think it’s a theologically unhelpful concept, or who are new to the notion altogether, read this book. It’s like a satisfying draught of ice-cold, refreshing water on a hot summer day! It offers reinvigorating approaches to the priceless Christian worldview concept, properly focuses our attention on its wisdom-giving properties, and propels us to full-bodied Christian witness and cultural engagement on its basis. Bertrand’s book is a rich gift to serious citizens of the kingdom of God.

—DAVID NAUGLE, professor of philosophy, Dallas Baptist University;author, Worldview: The History of a Concept

Rethinking Worldview: Learning to Think, Live, and Speak in This World

Copyright © 2007 by J. Mark Bertrand

Published by Crossway Booksa publishing ministry of Good News Publishers1300 Crescent StreetWheaton, Illinois 60187

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except as provided for by USA copyright law.

Cover design: Josh Dennis

Cover illustration: iStock

First printing 2007

Printed in the United States of America

Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version,® copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission.

All rights reserved.

All emphases in Scripture quotations have been added by the author.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Bertrand, J. Mark, 1970– Rethinking Worldview: Learning to Think, Live, and Speak in This World / J. Mark Bertrand. p. cm. Includes index. ISBN 978-1-58134-934-4 (tpb) 1. Ideology—Religious aspects—Christianity. 2. Theology, Doctrinal— Popular works. 3. Apologetics. I. Title. BR115.I35B47 2007 230—dc22

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For Laurie

CONTENTS

Preface: What This Book Won’t Do

PART 1: WORLDVIEW

1 Things Unseen: Rethinking Worldview

2 The Four Pillars: Worldview as Starting Point

3 God, Man, and the World: Worldview as System

4 Creation, Fall, and Redemption: Worldview as Story

PART 2: WISDOM

5 The Principal Thing: Regaining Wisdom

6 Not What You Think: The Reality of Wisdom

7 A City without Walls: Five Lessons for Siege Warfare

8 Learning to Read

PART 3: WITNESS

9 Engagement and Beyond

10 Three in One: Worldview Apologetics

11 The Enigma of Unbelief

12 Imagining the Truth: Christians and Cultural Contribution

Epilogue: The Final Word

MEDICINAE TEMPUSEST

Preface What This Book Won’t Do

In the old days, authors introduced their books with an apology, taking advantage of the dual meanings of the word. They begged indulgence for the shortcomings of the work, and at the same time offered a defense of why it was written in the first place. If you ask me, that was a fine tradition, and I’d like to revive it here.

This is a book about worldview, which means it will touch on matters of theology, philosophy, and culture. These are deep waters, and I admit at the outset that I’m not the most authoritative guide. I make no claims to expertise. Instead, I am a fascinated amateur. In a field packed with professional ministers, theologians, historians, and philosophers, I am a layman. If anything, my sensibility is more artistic than academic—a fact that will no doubt drive some readers crazy, though I hope it will open up unexpected vistas, too.

As the title Rethinking Worldview suggests, these pages represent a two-pronged invitation. First, this is a call to rethink and reevaluate your own perspective on the nature of reality. You are right about some things, wrong about others; and perhaps this is an opportunity to ensure that the balance tips the right way.

Second, I invite you to think again about the idea of worldview itself. So much has been written on the subject—much good, some not—that it has become familiar, even commonplace. In some ways, the popular understanding of the concept is deficient, and as a result, those quick to dismiss it as old-fashioned might be operating without a good, nuanced grasp of what worldview thinking really is. Hopefully, reading this book will stimulate a desire to take a second, deeper look.

What to Think, How to Think

For all its ambition, there are some things this book will not do, and we might as well establish them up front.

This book will not tell you what to think.

It does not include a catalog of official Christian viewpoints on theological, philosophical, or political matters. For the most part, it is not polemical. We will not be considering the shortcomings of various public policies and formulating idealistic alternatives. That really is the realm of experts, and while I am as opinionated as the next man, and as convinced that my ideas, if implemented, would usher in a golden age, I know that everybody else thinks the same thing, and for reasons just as sound (or unsound, as the case may be).

No, this book will not tell you what to think—but that is a common enough caveat. Most authors say something along these lines: “I won’t teach you what to think; I’ll teach you how to think.”

Noble as that sentiment might sound, this book will not teach you how to think, either.

As a young man, I read many, many books that made this claim and never found one that actually delivered. Later, when I became a writer and teacher myself, I always tried to be careful never to set such ambitious goals. My aim is to inspire reflection and action; so think of this book as a conversation, where you are free to elaborate and dissent.

The greatest compliment I have ever received came from a student who sat quietly in the back of a weekly Bible study I once taught for college students. He approached me after a particularly long group discussion and said, “What I like about your class is that you don’t talk down to us. You treat us as equals.” Those words stuck with me, and whenever I find myself straying from that ideal, I try to shut up.

As a result, in the chapters that follow you will discover my thoughts on a variety of topics, and you will encounter them in the way I think them—which might not always be the best method of explaining. I make no apology for this; consider it a sign of respect for the reader.

But I do apologize for the inevitable fact that, like many authors, I have bitten off more than I can chew. This book covers subjects too wonderful for me to express, and there will be rough patches along the way, places where my limitations are shown to least advantage. I have attempted to smooth them out, to provide the most reliable account possible, but there is a virtue in allowing some of these shortcomings to make it onto the page. It is my way of saying, “I think this is so, but I could be wrong.” It goes without saying that for final authority, look to God and not this book.

Parallel Reading

With that in mind, I have one request to make. If you are going to invest the time required to digest this book, I ask that you read it in tandem with Scripture. Many Christians read from the Bible daily as a matter of course, but if you haven’t cultivated this habit, I ask that you adopt it at least temporarily. This book, after all, is ultimately a derivative work, a book about a book. It leans against Scripture as an injured man leans on his crutch. To make the most of it, you as a reader will need to do some leaning of your own.

There are many reading plans available to guide you through the Bible, and there is always the option of starting at Genesis 1 and moving forward. If you have a method of your own, by all means employ it. If not, let me suggest an expedient. Begin in the New Testament with the Gospel of John and then keep going through Acts, Romans, and beyond. This will keep the good news of Christ, the history of the early church, and the essentials of sound doctrine in the forefront of your mind as you read Rethinking Worldview. I have tried to create a book consistent in every way with that parallel reading, but being finite and fallen I have no doubt failed. Where you find friction between your Bible reading and what you see here, set aside my errors in favor of truth.

An Introduction and a (Re)Introduction

This book is an introduction to worldview thinking and its implications for people new to the concept, and a reintroduction to those who, like me, have not always found particularly helpful the ways the idea is expressed and applied in the mainstream. It is divided into three parts—worldview, wisdom, and witness—with the conviction that any treatment of the intellectual dimensions of worldview that doesn’t lead into a discussion of how to profitably live and speak in this world is incomplete. If there is one thing I will reiterate time and again, it is the organic relationship between these things.

If worldview thinking is to prove valuable in our lives, it must help make us better believers and doers of the truth. Otherwise it becomes a mental exercise that breeds arrogance and shores up the false security of intellectual elites.

Before We Begin

I’ve noticed an interesting trend among some twenty-something evangelicals, a tendency to snigger behind the hand whenever worldview is mentioned. It reminds me of how my generation reacted when older Christians talked about end times portents or rock music. We were jaded. We knew better. The Bible, as far as we could tell, backed our skepticism more than the certainties of our elders.

When I was first exposed to worldview thinking—a kind of Christian cultural critique that involves tracing back the philosophical assumptions that underlie cultural expressions—it was as exciting to me as, say, deconstruction. But then, I hadn’t grown up with the idea of worldview. I had not persevered through a thousand youth group lectures on the topic, or been encouraged to diagnose and dismiss everybody else’s ism. These younger evangelicals have, and to them it is old hat.

I do not agree, but I sympathize. In many ways, the worldview approach that has gone mainstream throughout evangelicalism deserves the sniggering. A lot of people without even rudimentary philosophical training are using pseudo-philosophical language in an effort to reassure equally untrained laymen that their belief systems will stand up to scrutiny. And they do—until they’re actually tested. A lot of simplistic scorecards are handed out so that unsophisticated young people can discern the “hidden agenda” of the various scary elites. Worldview thinking has been co-opted by the culture wars, so it is no wonder that people disenchanted with those wars have grown indifferent to worldviews, too.

But it shouldn’t be that way.

The Disconnect

When worldview analysis is properly applied, it operates as a kind of buttress to the moral argument for God’s existence. The reader discovers “Christian” themes, assumptions, and structures in work done by people whose mind-set is anything but Christian, and this raises the question: why? Asking worldview questions is a way to open up the culture to deeper scrutiny. It ought to provide a fuller, richer experience of the world around us.

Instead, worldview critiques often function on the pass/fail level, like a bacteria filter which, applied to our entertainment, cleanses it of harmful influences. The worldview critic reduces what he reads to the level of theme then gives an up or down vote on whether the distilled meaning of the work fits into the biblical worldview. Unfortunately, this turns out to be a way not to engage with the work directly at all. Instead, the art is processed into a set of categories already familiar to the critic, who then applies the standard responses to them. The whole process is depressing to anyone who actually enjoys and benefits from the complexities of art.

If you are one of those people whose eyes glaze over when the “w-word” is mentioned—or worse, one of those people who uses it as a club to bludgeon ideas you haven’t fully grasped—then Rethinking Worldview may be just the thing: an attempt to rediscover the benefits of worldview thinking without resort to the baggage that has accumulated over time.

PART ONE: WORLDVIEW

1: Things Unseen: Rethinking Worldview

Reality can be only partially attacked by logic.FRIEDRICH DÜRRENMATT

“So you’re writing a book about worldview?”

I must have heard it a thousand times from a thousand different people, each one with a wide-eyed, uncomprehending stare. Not because they had no idea what a worldview is—it’s a view of the world, obviously—but because it was hard to imagine why another book on the subject needed to crowd its way onto the shelves. After teaching Christian worldview for several years to high school and college students, I knew what they meant. There were already dozens of exceptional titles on this topic and hundreds of competent hangers-on. Everything that needed to be said about world-views had already been uttered, emphasized, repeated, underscored, and capped with a series of exclamation marks.

What could I possibly add to all that?

Nothing, I found myself thinking. There was nothing more to say. The ancient author of Ecclesiastes bookends the problem succinctly: on the one hand, there is “nothing new under the sun” (1:9), and on the other, “of making many books there is no end” (12:12). Whenever people asked about my book, whatever explanations I managed to stutter through, the raised eyebrows never lowered and the tone of mild amazement never evaporated.

“So you’re writing a book about worldview? Oh, dear.”

Looking back, I am sure that many of the people who heard about this book were not so skeptical. It was my own doubts, my own cynicism, torturing me.

The problem is, I don’t see the concept of worldview the way other people do. As far as I’m concerned, it’s mine. Of course, I realize I did not invent it and up until now have done relatively little to promote it, but still I’m plagued with the blind, intimate regard of a lover for the object of affection. Yes, I am in love with worldviews. From the moment I first discovered the notion, I have adored it. No matter how often I think about them—no matter how many of their problems and shortcomings become apparent to me—I can never seem to exhaust my fascination with worldviews.

My discovery of worldview, however, was like G. K. Chesterton’s discovery of orthodoxy. In his famous book by the same name, Chesterton compares himself to a man who has set sail on a quest and made landfall on an isle of mystery, only to find that it is already inhabited and well known to everyone else. By the time I planted my little flag on the beaches of worldview, there were already skyscrapers towering over the tree line.

So when the urge to write, to contribute a slender volume to the growing literature on the subject, finally came to me, I harbored doubts. Whatever there was to say had already been said. Writing another book would be like composing a sonnet in honor of a beauty queen: you are not telling people anything they don’t already know.

But I was wrong. The more I studied and taught, the more I realized that there was something more to be said, something urgent. As much as I love the worldview concept, and as much good as I believe it has done, I am convinced that the time has come to rethink our assumptions about worldviews. We need to take a second look and make sure that, in adopting the concept so widely and making it such a staple of evangelical discourse, we have not gutted it. I suspect that we have. In streamlining the idea of worldviews for mass consumption, we have been simplistic. We have been pedantic. And worst of all, we have been overconfident.

I know because I have been guilty of all this and more, and writing Rethinking Worldview has helped me see it.

What is left to contribute to the conversation about worldview? Plenty. First, we need to recapture a more complex, nuanced appreciation of what worldview really is. Without that, we can’t proceed. Second, we need to situate worldview in the larger context of a lived faith, finding out how all this intellectual labor should affect not only the way we think but also how we act. To do this will require a renewed focus on the biblical concept of wisdom, which is one of those things we tend to talk about rather than practice. Finally, this book will explore the organic connections between worldview and wisdom, and how they express themselves in witness.

As Christians, we want to talk to the world about the gospel of Jesus Christ, and we want them to listen. I believe that a new understanding of worldview coupled with a life of wisdom leads inevitably to profound, powerful witness—and where witness is lacking, perhaps worldview and wisdom are, too. So in these pages we will rethink worldview, restore wisdom to its central role at the heart of Christian living, and seek to regain a credible and creative witness in the culture where God has placed us.

“So you’re writing a book about worldview?”

You better believe it.

Worldview and Its Discontents

What makes the worldview concept, pioneered by philosophers, appropriated by theologians and apologists, and now embraced by evangelicals around the globe, so compelling? Of all the insights that have percolated within the ivory towers over the last century, why has this one captured the imagination of so many thinkers—and why has it found such traction in the popular mind?

In part, the reason lies in how obvious the concept is once explained: the notion that everyone has a unique perspective, that we interpret facts through the lens of some theory about life, seems self-evident. “It’s common sense,” people say. This is something the average man already knows without needing some academic to tell him so.

Another reason for the popularity of worldview thinking is that, in a fragmented society where each of us feels embattled on some point or another, it is comforting to realize that our opponents in the culture war—whoever we conceive of them to be—are, by definition, blinded by their own perspective. No one is purely objective. Our view of the world is colored by upbringing, class, ideology, and experience. So what if our enemies muster powerful arguments against us? So what if “facts” and “reason” seem to be on their side? They are starting from their own prior commitments, and we are starting from ours. Ultimately, none of our basic assumptions are subject to challenge. We may not be able to prove “them” wrong, but they cannot prove us wrong, either. Or so the thinking goes.

When an idea hits the mainstream, it is invariably simplified and streamlined. This has happened to the worldview concept in spades. At one extreme, it becomes a form of relativism: everyone has a worldview; worldviews are inherently subjective, so everyone’s perspective is equally valid. At the other end of the spectrum, the worldview concept becomes the key to establishing the priority of one perspective over all the others: everyone has a worldview, but only one is ultimately coherent, so all the others are equally invalid. The irony is that partisans on each end of the divide employ similar terminology, but to different purpose.

Evangelical Christians have tended toward the latter extreme, and no wonder: the worldview concept offers a way to assert the superiority of our faith and deconstruct every opposing ideology, religious and secular, in one fell swoop. In addition, because it is such a bookish, educated notion, worldview thinking offers a much-needed counterweight to the tradition of anti-intellectualism that so many evangelicals now want to leave behind.

That is certainly what attracted me. My first exposure to worldview came through Christian apologists like Francis Schaeffer, a voice in the late twentieth-century wilderness who gave evangelicals permission to use their minds again in church. Here was a believer who did not shrink from an intellectual challenge. He did not cloister himself in some faraway spot where his faith need never be defended. At the high tide of modern confidence in science and rationalism, Schaeffer was arguing that after all, none of it—the world, life, the mind, the imagination, the body—made any sense unless God, as revealed in Scripture, really existed. Like many others, I was swept up in the confidence of that proposition, buoyed by the hope that, even if I myself could not understand the reason why, ultimately, intellectually, one simply must accept the truth of the Christian faith.

I knew that there was more to faith than intellectual assent. I knew that when Jesus commissioned the church to “make disciples,” he had more in mind than changing people’s worldview. But as an apologetic tool—and frankly, as a psychological crutch, as a justification for why a well-read, middle-class, academically minded man of the late twentieth century, with an advanced degree and more than a passing knowledge of philosophy (including Nietzsche, who had searched for God’s pulse and found none, and Bertrand Russell, who had written emphatically, if not always persuasively, about why he was not a Christian), should not be scorned and dismissed out of hand for his faith—worldview thinking was a panacea.

The first thing worldview thinking established in my mind was that Christian faith is coherent. What the Bible teaches about God, man, and the world holds together. It has the strength of internal consistency. If anything, it is too consistent, too neat, since every challenge, every paradox, can be explained by the fact that God is omnipotent and we are finite.

There are some matters, as God emphasized to Job at the tail end of the Bible’s account of that righteous man’s suffering, that are simply too dark for us to probe. This sense of consistency was important to me, and still is, because the modern assumption that religion is simply myth and superstition runs strong in our culture. In the early twentieth century, liberal and fundamentalist alike agreed on the radical divide between faith and reason, each seeking to neutralize one by means of the other, and today we still live in the shadow of that settlement. Americans accept, for example, that a person elected to public office will make decisions based on his ideological framework. But if that framework is religious, we grow suspicious. Faith is a private affair, a matter of the heart. In the public square, reason is the arbiter—in name, if not in practice. Is it any wonder that, growing up in these circumstances, thoughtful Christians are drawn toward anything that might explain that we are not unsophisticated dupes—or at least, that our position is defensible from the point of view not only of faith but of reason too?

Evangelicals see themselves as an embattled people. Later, I will take up the topic of siege mentality and how our fear of impending collapse has sometimes led us to justify what in Christ’s name is unjustifiable. For now, suffice it to say that we often find ourselves on the defensive, and defensive people tend to be shrill, uncertain, and unconvincing. So the worldview concept instilled me with confidence: there was no need to feel threatened by the world outside—the world that, as a Christian, I was called to be in, but not of. My Christian worldview was intellectually respectable. In fact, it had given birth to a rich and varied (though by no means spotless) tradition. Men and women with a faith like mine and a hope like mine were responsible for much of the good in the culture I had inherited. Instead of apologizing for my faith, worldview thinking convinced me to speak up for it.

When I did, I uncovered another obvious truth: other people have a worldview, too. They are not as impressed as I am that Christianity is a coherent way of seeing the world. The same could be said of Nazism or Stalinism. It is all very well to argue that Christians have a defensible theory of life, but what makes my worldview better than anyone else’s? In fact, how can I argue with credibility for the Christian worldview when my own co-religionists cannot agree on what it is? We evangelicals are noted for our divisions—and our divisiveness—so to an outsider, all talk of a monolithic Christian worldview seems absurd.

So I said, “The Christian worldview is coherent.”

“Which one are you talking about?” they wanted to know.

For lack of a better answer, I could argue for plain vanilla orthodoxy, the faith embodied in the ancient creeds, or generic evangelicalism, the thin consensus between the denominations that lets us all (mostly, kind of) get along. “That’s the Christian worldview I’m talking about.”

“Well,” they would say, “that’s just your opinion. You have your worldview, and I have mine.”

Being an astute culture warrior, I pointed out: “That’s relativism. You can’t say I have my truth and you have yours. There’s only one truth, and this is it.”

“Says you.”

Those two little words—says you—are the most powerful argument in any discipline: theology, philosophy, even domestic harmony. They are powerful because they are true. Whenever you say something, it is you who says it. You. And what do you know? Who are you to speak? Please, get real. You? Why should I listen to you? It is the perfect comeback—just ask your spouse. One of the beauties of the “says you” defense is that if your opponent responds that it is a logical fallacy or some other such rationalist nonsense, you can fold your arms, smile knowingly, and declare, “You’ve just proved my point.” Argument won, game over.

You say your worldview is better than mine? Well, who are you?

Point taken. Somewhere along life’s journey, I realized that I could denounce people as relativists for only so long before even I grew bored. After all, it is hard to dismiss as an imbecile the very person you are trying to win over. It is one thing to defend Christianity as a viable option, but quite another to cast it convincingly as the one, the only, option.

We do not fully understand an idea until we grasp its limits.

In coming to terms with this difficulty, I was starting to grasp the limits of the worldview concept. As a defensive measure, it was brilliant. As a contemplative measure, it was also superb. By thinking of the implications of my faith systematically—to the extent that anything can happen systematically in something as disorganized and inefficient as my mind—I was reminded that to be a Christian is, first and foremost, to be one who follows or imitates Christ. My faith involved a transformation: I was called to be like Christ, to be “conformed to his image.” That is what we call sanctification. It implies a lifetime pursuit of godliness, and I found that worldview thinking overlaps helpfully with this idea. It reminded me that God’s perspective on reality is the correct one—as creator, he has the first and last word—and that my own viewpoint (like my own actions) would be measured against that standard. Worldview consciousness encouraged me to pursue the mind of Christ.

In a sense, worldview thinking helped to justify my position as a believer. I did not come to faith as a result of it, but once I was there, it gave me a way to understand what had happened in my life. It also provided a way to understand why what happened to me did not happen to everyone. But I could not find a way to communicate this insight to anyone who did not already share it.

If you are already a Christian, then worldview is a revelation, but if you aren’t, the concept alone will not move you. In fact, it might do just the opposite, driving you to the other extreme where everyone has a worldview and all worldviews are equally valid.

Some worldviews are better than others. This much was obvious. But if I said as much, or if I went further and said that the Christian worldview (however you defined it) was the best of the lot and, as Schaeffer said, the only one that makes sense of the world as it really is, then the unbeliever had a ready answer, one that I could not easily dismiss.

He said: “Oh yeah? Prove it.”

I am not such a cynic that I believe this cannot be done. There are arguments—a host of them—that reinforce Christianity’s claim. During the course of this book, we will look at more than a few. But this is the moment to shift gears and look at what worldviews really are. Already, we have established that everyone has a worldview. How did we get it? How is it formed? Is it possible by persuasion and logic to change it? Important questions, and before we can begin to talk about “proving” the Christian worldview, we need to explore world-views at greater length.

How Worldviews Are Formed

Here’s how they work: first, things happen. Events occur.

You observe them happening to other people; you experience them happening to you. These events produce emotional responses: joy, sad ness, fear, worry, scorn, mirth. They also serve as catalysts for thought. When you think about what happens, you arrange events. You search for meaning, or at least for patterns, in what has taken place. You begin to draw conclusions about the way the world works.

Based on these conclusions, you face the future with certain expectations and prejudices, hopes and anxieties. New experiences, new ideas, new people are all interpreted in light of the conclusions you’ve already reached. A kind of belief system emerges, and you are only partially aware of how it works.

When certain things occur, you expect particular results to follow. If they don’t, you might adjust your system—or, as sometimes happens, you might refuse to see. You trust certain people and distrust others, scorn certain messages and revere others, and all this happens in the shadow of what has gone before.

Our image of ourselves as neutral, unbiased observers is naïve. We are engaged and engulfed in the world around us, not detached from it. Whether we realize it or not, we have taken sides. Just like a political party, we have created a platform, a platform that draws from many sources, a platform about which we have an incomplete awareness. And this process creates what we call a worldview.

Interpreting Reality

A worldview is an interpretation of influences, experiences, circumstances, and insight. In fact, it is an interrelated series of interpretations—and it becomes a method of interpreting, too. A worldview is something you are aware of only in moments of crisis or contemplation. In ordinary time, it is like a pair of glasses or contact lenses. You are so accustomed to looking through it that you barely notice it’s there.

Eyeglasses are an often-used metaphor for worldview. The famous French chanteuse Edith Piaf is best known for her standard “La Vie en Rose,” life through rose-colored glasses. When we describe someone as wearing rose-colored glasses, we mean that he doesn’t see the world as it really is; instead, everything takes on the rosy hue of the lens through which he views it.

This metaphor applied to worldview suggests that every perspective is like a pair of tinted shades. It only serves to color your perception of the world. But there is a better way of approaching the question. Don’t think of your worldview as sunglasses. Instead, think of it as a pair of prescription lenses. The task of every worldview is to see the world as it is, to correct your vision. The test of a good worldview will be whether it brings reality into sharp focus or leaves things blurry.

And I happen to be speaking from experience.

Growing up, I was the kid who preferred reading to recess and chose the library over the playground whenever possible. My parents always warned me about reading in poor light, but let’s face it: low lighting sets the mood. I’m not sure when my vision began to deteriorate, but at some point, perhaps as early as junior high, I became nearsighted.

This isn’t a problem when you read—to this day, I can read without the aid of glasses—but it can definitely cause trouble when you’re trying to catch a football. Fortunately, bookworms don’t do much of that, so it wasn’t until I learned to drive that my vision became a problem.

One afternoon I was riding home from high school with my cousin Jeff. He had recently gotten glasses and as he drove, he read off the signs that we passed. I was amazed at how far he could see. Up until that moment, I had never suspected that my own vision was faulty, and to be honest, I didn’t wonder even then. Instead, I remember thinking that Jeff’s glasses must have given him better than 20/20 vision, since he could see even farther than I could. I just assumed that whatever I could see was the objective standard.

When I was behind the wheel, my poor vision wasn’t as much of a handicap as you might think. Because we lived in a small town, I had the streets memorized long before I had to drive them. I never had to consult street signs, and so it never bothered me that I couldn’t read them. To make matters easier, I attended a church school where students worked in individual workbooks instead of in traditional classes, so I never had to strain my eyes to read what was written on the blackboard.

It is amazing to think that a young man with what I later discovered was 20/80 vision was capable of performing normally in every area of life (aside from catching footballs), never suspecting the deficiency of vision.

But when I left the closed system of a small town and headed for college, my assumption that I was seeing things clearly was challenged. I had to sit near the front of the classroom to have any hope of reading what professors wrote on the board. My slit-eyed concentration made up for the years when I should have had to squint but didn’t. Still, I didn’t realize my eyes were the problem—I just figured everybody at the back of the room had a hard time reading the blackboard.

The crisis only came to a head when my father visited in the middle of my first semester. Before leaving for college, I had sold my car, so I traveled as a passenger through my new surroundings, never really grasping the lay of the land. When my dad let me borrow his rental car to give my friends a ride, a disaster was in the making. It was eight o’clock at night in a town where I had never driven before. Snug behind the wheel, I worried about getting lost on the way from his hotel to the campus—but I stopped worrying the moment I backed into the truck behind me!

Busting the tail light in a rental car is not a good feeling, but I didn’t blame myself. After all, I never saw the truck behind me. Fortunately, all the damage was to my car, and the truck was unscathed. So I scooped up the pieces of the tail light, put them in the glove compartment, and headed out into the night, still oblivious.

And that’s where the real problems started.

When you have 20/80 vision, you don’t see very well at night. The headlights up ahead dazzled and disoriented me. The unfamiliar roads took on a sinister aspect. Soon I was gripping the wheel convulsively to keep from shaking, and I was driving slow—very slow. Grandmas were blowing past me on the highway. My forehead beaded with sweat and I plunged into the depths of panic. I prayed out loud, promising never to drive again if I could just make it to the campus alive. Approaching headlights grew so big I thought they would engulf me. By the time I made it to the college to pick up my friends, I was a nervous wreck. I still didn’t know what had happened, but I was ready to give up driving forever.

Fortunately, my dad suggested glasses as an alternative.

The Standard for Seeing

During my visit to the optometrist, I was never asked how I would like to see the world. Eye doctors do not have much of an appreciation for subjectivity; they are sold on 20/20 as an objective standard. Unfortunately, they did ask me what kind of frames I would like, and this resulted in a pair of large glasses with gray plastic frames that made me look like a wannabe science teacher.

Nevertheless I could see. In fact, with my glasses I was able to discover some things for the first time. Street signs were a revelation, for example, and I was now free to sit in the back row of the lecture hall, where I could not only read what the professor wrote on the blackboard but also see the smudges of chalk on his pants. Thanks to my corrected vision, I was also able to see and recognize people as they approached me in the hallway, so the reputation I’d had for snubbing them (when, in fact, I simply didn’t recognize their blurry faces) disappeared.