Pentecostal Hermeneutics in the Late Modern World: Essays on the Condition of Our Interpretation

Part One

Historical-Constructive Hermeneutics

1

Toward a Hermeneutical Realism

In examining the development of theological hermeneutics in the Classical Pentecostal tradition, and in line with the contextual-Pentecostal hermeneutic, I have already pushed the matter of what is interpreted beyond written or spoken texts toward a broader view of that which is theologically interpreted. What constitutes a ‘text,’ in this sense, is anything that is interpreted theologically. It is the self or anything ‘other’ that is understood in light of one’s faith commitments and further interpreted in inquiry, reflection, and criticism upon those commitments and that which is interpreted. The range of the ‘texts’ cognizantly interpreted by Pentecostals has included Scripture, the world or nature, special religious experiences, general human experience, the human self, rationality, and tradition. Even when tacit, the uses of certain concepts of rationality and the role of tradition have each played significant parts in the interpretive ethoi of the Pentecostal tradition. This has been the case even when the philosophical assumptions were unstated or the theologian unaware of these assumptions. Only recently have they come to the fore to be consciously reflected upon.

Deeper philosophical reflection on human understanding and the processes of interpretation has been and will continue to be helpful to the future development of Pentecostal theology. My purpose here is thus to offer an initial constructive philosophical and theological proposal for Pentecostal theological hermeneutics that enlists the help of several philosophers and philosophical theologians in order to provide the best approach for the task of Pentecostal theological interpretation that I can propose at this time. My desire is to offer a modest and provisional proposal that works toward a broad affirmation of a ‘hermeneutical realism’ for future theological hermeneutics in the Pentecostal tradition, even if the scope of the subject matter is broad. My goal is that this proposal will attend to current and classical philosophical concerns with enough breadth to include a variety of approaches to the task of doing theology.

The ‘hermeneutical realism’ I am advocating differs from a similar approach to the relationship between human understanding and reality which has been deemed ‘critical realism.’ Hermeneutical realism is chastened in its accounts of reality in terms of a recognition that it is operating with a historically contingent hermeneutic rather than with a single, proper critical method. While critical realism is typically modern, hermeneutical realism is reflective of the concerns of late modernity or postmodernity. This means that I affirm the ubiquity of interpretation. Yet this does not mean, as I have stated and implied throughout, that I find one hermeneutic as good as another. I follow Charles Taylor’s best account epistemology that finds some accounts, and thus some hermeneutics, better than others. And following James K. A. Smith, I find all accounts of theological understanding or knowledge to be human accounts of reality from a theological (ad)vantage point. Thus, while every account will always be limited and always only partially adequate, they can be very fruitful and, hopefully, bear the fruit of the Spirit (Gal 5:22–23). This means that, with Smith as well, I hold that those theological accounts which speak theological truth can only do so as they are graced by God, as they participate in God’s incarnational actions in the world, guided by the Spirit and gaining understanding from the Word and through the common grace of the goodness of creation with its cultivation in culture and tradition.

That hermeneutics is ubiquitous and that it is necessary for offering cogent theological accounts of our world are convictions in line with the ‘linguistic turn’ in twentieth century Anglo-American analytic philosophy and the similar turn in the phenomenology of the Continental tradition. My approach to theological hermeneutics is chastened by this conviction. My thesis is that theological hermeneutics is best understood in terms of holistic paradigms, our best theological accounts of the reality of our world which intertwine the ontologies implicit in our hermeneutics, the specific discernments made concerning the truths of historical existence, and what has come to be the structures of the hermeneutics themselves.

The Linguistic Turn and the Rejection of a Foundationalism of Indubitable Beliefs

Richard Rorty considers Anglo-American linguistic philosophy and Continental phenomenology the results of the lack of success found in quests for neutral viewpoints or criteria external to one’s method.¹ Recalling modern attempts to transform philosophy into a science which could be disconfirmed, he makes the historical claim concerning modern philosophers that every philosophical rebel has tried to be ‘presuppositionless,’ but none has succeeded.² He further holds that to know what method to adopt, one must already have arrived at some metaphysical and some epistemological conclusions.³ But defending them by using one’s own method brings charges of circularity, while, on the other hand, not defending them entails begging the question of the truth of one’s system. Yet he recognizes that, of course, philosophy does progress in that ideas change. Be that as it may, how do we know we are going in the right direction? For Rorty, there is, essentially no solution beyond the proclivities of communities: There is nothing to be said to this, except that in philosophy, as in politics and religion, we are naturally inclined to define ‘progress’ as movement toward a contemporary consensus . . . one’s standards for philosophical success are dependent upon one’s substantive philosophical views.⁴ What the focus on linguistic philosophy in contemporary philosophy has done is to stir debates centering around the view that philosophical problems are problems which may be solved (or dissolved) either by reforming language, or by understanding more about the language we presently use.⁵

This has entailed a turn to tradition and a contextualized understanding of rationality. And it has led, in the theological world like others, to approaches which understand theological discourse in relation to communities and language. For example, the postliberalism of George Lindbeck holds that doctrines function for the Church like idioms for the construing of reality and living of life.⁶ Not just for postliberals, but also for others who have made the ‘linguistic turn,’ language is not just designative—a tool for putting labels on objects—but also constitutive of the social nature of human existence.⁷ As Kevin Vanhoozer puts it, ‘language’ thus stands for the socially constructed order within which we think and move and have our being.⁸ He links the ‘linguistic turn’ to postmodernism which, as a philosophical and theoretical turn, is identifiable by its rejection of ‘reason’ as a neutral and disinterested perspective for the pursuit of justice: Specifically, postmodern theory rejects the following modern postulates: (1) that reason is absolute and universal (2) that individuals are autonomous, able to transcend their place in history, class, and culture (3) that universal principles and procedures are objective whereas preferences are subjective.⁹ In Jean-François Lyotard’s famous phrase, the postmodern condition is incredulity toward metanarratives, as there is no one true master story that is substantiated by autonomous and universal reason.¹⁰ Vanhoozer, though, questions Lyotard’s dismissal of grand stories in a manner similar to my approach. Is not Lyotard’s dismissal itself a performative self-contradiction? As Vanhoozer puts it: Lyotard dismisses metanarratives, but does he not present his own account in metanarrative terms, that is, as the ‘true’ story of knowledge?¹¹ Is it actually not more consistent and honest to recognize one’s own accounts as ultimately relying on a grand story, though without holding that it is the only story that can be told which has been provided by universal, autonomous reason?¹²

Murphy and Brad Kallenberg consider this situation in the Anglo-American context, but in reference to its Cartesian background. Descartes’ image of human nature as a thinking thing, somehow distinct but residing within the extension of the human body, is at the root of modern epistemological foundationalism: the real ‘I’ is an observer in the mind, looking at mental representations of what is outside.¹³ The ‘Cartesian theater’ of the solitary knower, they contend, was the result of the socio-political conditions as well as the corpuscular physics of his day.¹⁴ They find that the critique of this picture of knowing and its attendant referential notion of language by Ludwig Wittgenstein has been key for the reconsideration of language and human understanding in the Anglo-American philosophical and theological worlds:

Wittgenstein’s point is that language does not refer, or picture, or correspond to, some nonlinguistic reality; there is no way for us to imagine that to which language corresponds (‘a state of affairs,’ ‘the world,’ ‘reality,’ etc.) except in terms of the very language that this ‘reality’ is supposed to be considered in isolation of. Rather, learning a language is an irreducibly social enterprise by which a child is trained in a communal mode of living.¹⁵

Rather than trying to overcome language, a futile effort, clarity begins with an acknowledgment of the irreducibly social character of human experience and the intrinsic relation of human experience to the real world.¹⁶

But does this also rule out realism, that is, the philosophical conviction that has been traditionally construed as holding that our knowledge is reflective of a reality existing outside of our minds?¹⁷ My contention here is that one would have to answer in the affirmative if, by realism, what is meant is one correct account produced by the engagement of a universally available reason, autonomous from culture, tradition or special revelation that corresponds to reality as it actually and statically is, even if it comes in a ‘critical’ form. But such a version of realism and its correlating rejection found in non-realism are not the only options. They could be exhaustive options if we take as the universally true perspective that of the tradition of modern philosophical anthropology with its attendant disengaged and atomistic notions of human agency, which, in turn, have given greater credence to the naturalist worldview.¹⁸ A hermeneutical realism, I maintain, could answer this question negatively as it insists on the fallibility and finitude of human interpretation, of all understanding as creaturely and rooted in traditions, while still insisting on the reality of dynamic presences which are known, in some aspects or others, more adequately or less, honestly or deceitfully, helpfully or problematically, and in vast and complex mixes of the above. We conceptualize our worlds differently and thus categorize our experiences differently, experiences which we are able to have in the first place because of our ability to relate to that reality through language. So, in the first place, we have different experiences based on our pasts and present agendas. This means that multiple true things can be said. But also, untruths and distortions can still often be distinguished from truths. And almost all of our claims require contextual qualification, though theology is the domain in which the most universal truths are spoken, even as they always come from particular contexts.

However, Stanley Grenz and John Franke find that much of conservative Protestant American theology has not taken this route but rather has embraced the foundationalist approach of overcoming uncertainty by finding unquestioned beliefs or first principles from which to begin. Whereas liberal modernists looked to experience to ground these principles, conservatives grounded the truth of Christian doctrine by a simple appeal to the Bible’s inerrancy.¹⁹ The naïve form of this appeal can be seen in each of my exemplars of the original Classical Pentecostal hermeneutic (in chapter 2 of Theological Hermeneutics), though the Bible’s inerrancy or reliability tends to be, but is not always, argued for in the Evangelical-Pentecostal hermeneutic (found in chapters 3 and 4). The foundationalist and common sense approach is not so simply naïve. It seeks to avoid getting hung up on epistemological problems so that real claims about the content of what is true about our world can, in fact, be made.²⁰ And its insights that some beliefs are dependent on others and that belief systems appeal back to certain basic beliefs or affirmations are claims with strength. Alvin Plantinga’s defense of a softer form of foundationalism, with others in the ‘Reformed Epistemology’ camp, represent a sophisticated contemporary defense of such a position.²¹ But with Grenz and Franke, I find it compelling that what is ‘basic’ is not a simple entity that is given and that precedes the enterprise of theological inquiry and reflection. Rather, the interpretive framework and theology are inseparably intertwined.²² I hold this to be the case even if what is ‘basic,’ or, as I will model it, at the core of a paradigm, is engrained in us by the traditions from which we come. Our traditions provide this integration of habits and beliefs, forming in us our basic commitments.

The usual alternatives to foundationalism and its correspondence theory of truth have been coherentism or pragmatism. Coherentism justifies beliefs in their fit with other held beliefs, in their non-contradiction so that truth is in relation to a belief system as a whole. And pragmatism finds truth to emerge as predictions are followed by testing, observation and confirmation in a cooperative effort of a community of interpreters.²³ However, it is possible that the correspondence, coherentist and pragmatic theories of truth can and do function together.²⁴ And I find that they are best conceived of doing so in an embodied manner which recognizes the roles which physical embodiment, context, tradition and culture play, and thus do not problematically separate belief from experience or statically conceive of reality. Religious believing would thus be understood as a type of experience, an encompassing and massively broad category. Religious beliefs and all other religious experiences would then be, on the one hand, specific to religious traditions and not generic, yet, on the other, not incommensurable with the beliefs and experiences of other humans on account of our common humanity and common world to which we relate. Grenz and Franke, working with similar convictions, find:

Experience does not precede interpretation. Rather, experiences are always filtered by an interpretive framework—a grid—that facilitates their occurrence. Hence, religious experience is dependent on a cognitive framework that sets forth a specifically religious interpretation of the world. . . . Christian theology, in turn, is an intellectual enterprise by and for the Christian community. Through theological reflection, the community of those whom the God of the Bible has encountered in Jesus Christ seeks to understand, clarify, and delineate its interpretative framework informed by the narrative of God’s actions on behalf of all creation as revealed in the Bible. In this sense, we might say that the specifically Christian-experience-facilitating interpretive framework, arising as it does out of the biblical narrative is ‘basic’ for Christian theology. As the intellectual engagement with what is ‘basic,’ theology is a second-order enterprise, and in this sense theological statements constitute second-order language.²⁵

My claim is that it is inevitable that we operate with beliefs central to our understanding of the world, beliefs which function to help us gain faithful understanding of our world, through our epistemic, hermeneutic grid. Faith is at the core of a paradigm, though it is not an indubitable foundation. I find such paradigms as not only functioning to account for our world but also as constructive of it as they consider the goal of theology to be the community’s response to God’s call to participation in constructing a world that reflects God’s own will for creation.²⁶ Likewise, my approach would be consistent with Vanhoozer’s canonical-linguistic approach to Christian theology in that the relationship between beliefs and the experiences of Christian life are held to be embodied together in their interrelation:

Doctrine seeks not simply to state theoretical truths but to embody truth in ways of living. . . . The Christian way is fundamentally dramatic, involving speech and action on behalf of Jesus’ truth and life. It concerns the way of living truthfully, and its claim to truth cannot be isolated from the way of life with which it is associated.²⁷

The approach to theological hermeneutics in terms of paradigms which I am proposing is then not merely cognitive. It is what gives shape to the embodied and practiced lived experience of Christian faithfulness to the Triune God.

Paradigms and Best Accounts of Our World

Though I maintain that Pentecostal theology should not pursue a correlationist strategy, privileging other disciplines above itself and necessitating that it meet their criteria, I hold that it is clear that theology can (and should) learn from other disciplines and incorporate their findings into its own paradigms. Indeed, the understanding of theological hermeneutics in terms of paradigms I am proposing here draws from philosophy of science.²⁸

Thomas Kuhn’s publication of The Structure of Scientific Revolutions in 1962 was a watershed moment in contemporary philosophy of science. It was in this book that Kuhn coined the use of the term paradigm as a view of some portion of the natural world which includes a set of beliefs, methods and values.²⁹ Paradigms thus provide not only the theories from which the scientist works, but they also provide the rules of the game. As a result, this approach does not consider facts and theories as categorically and permanently distinct. New paradigms emerge to confront the state of crisis ‘normal science’ finds itself in by reshaping theories and thus reinterpreting facts.³⁰ What is theory in one paradigm may become understood as fact by a new one. Importantly, he sees sociological factors as also being crucial to this process. Ptolemaic astronomy had its chance to solve its problems, but then a competitor was given the chance at replacing it. He claims that in the history of science, a loyalty to paradigms exists so that the falsification of theories simply by a direct comparison to nature does not really occur. Instead, another candidate must first emerge. The decision to reject a paradigm is the decision to accept another. The comparison that occurs between the two competing paradigms is a judgment between the two as well as one between each paradigm and nature itself. Often times, adherents to a dominant paradigm simply have to die out for a new one to take its place because of the strength of their loyalty to the dominant paradigm.³¹

My conception of theological hermeneutics is similar to this hermeneutics of nature. Kuhn has seen that the methodological structures of investigation of the natural world and the content which this methodology accounts for are mutually informative. He was reticent to deem one paradigm better than another because of the human inability to ultimately adjudicate this, until he was pressed by accusations of relativism. So, in his 1969 Postscript to Structure of Scientific Revolutions, added to its second and third editions, he clarifies his position by stating: Later scientific theories are better than earlier ones for solving puzzles in the often quite different environments to which they applied. That is not a relativist’s position, and it displays the sense in which I am a convinced believer in scientific progress.³² But he does not work this out. Thus, the modification of this approach produced by Imre Lakatos in his methodology of scientific research programs is a more valuable resource for developing a philosophically-informed Pentecostal hermeneutical realism.

Lakatos’ proposal is that of his methodology of scientific research programs (SRPs) which provides a centripetal model of the structure of beliefs.³³ As someone who also drew his ideas from the later Karl Popper, he finds ‘unscientific metaphysics’ to most often serve as the stimulus for new scientific theories. This allows for both metaphysical and thus irrefutable cores as well as refutable ones. In either case, philosophical assumptions are understood as informing the hard inner core of a SRP. The hard inner core of a SRP includes the methods, theories, and core beliefs of that program that are non-negotiable. To give up a part of the hard core is to surrender the program itself. The hard core also serves as the positive heuristic of the program; the positive heuristic tells the program which paths to pursue, setting the agenda. Around the hard core of the program is the protective belt of auxiliary hypotheses which serve as the negative heuristic of the program. The negative heuristic protects the hard core from objections, whether theoretical or experimental. It seeks to forbid the directing of a modus tollens directly at the hard core. The auxiliary hypotheses thus adjust and adapt or are even replaced in order to defend the core of the research program. A SRP is judged by being deemed either progressive or degenerating. It is progressive if it is able to predict novel, new facts. Thus, good empirical predictions reflect theoretical progressiveness. For him, this is not justification but corroboration. It constitutes what he calls a progressive ‘problemshift.’

But all of this is not a description of what happens to an isolated scientific theory. It is a description of what happens to a series of theories—to entire systems or research programs. A SRP begins to degenerate when it is unable to corroborate its predictions or account for well-documented observations. It also degenerates when its auxiliary hypotheses are forced to deal with observations in an ad hoc manner, thus displaying burgeoning inconsistencies arising in the hard core. Yet Lakatos also warns against reverting to falsificationism. The best theories live with known anomalies and unaccounted for phenomena. History has taught us that in numerous cases it has been unwise to kill a budding SRP because of known anomalies.

In the case of the natural sciences, two or more SRPs should be allowed to breathe, at least according to Lakatos, though one will usually win out. It will win because it is able to corroborate excess empirical content over its rival, even content that was forbidden by the rival. Yet it must also explain its rival’s unrefuted content. Experiments do not overthrow theories; rather, they demonstrate their inconsistency with nature. Pressing farther ahead than Kuhn, Lakatos holds that these decisions do involve rationality and logic as they are not just psychological or sociological matters. Thus, the Lakatosian approach affirms correspondence as well as coherence and pragmatic tests for truth claims. Going beyond Kuhn’s vagueness on this point, Lakatos sees this progression not just as a series of revolutions but as an evolution. Research programs stand on the shoulders of others, in some cases they stand on the shoulders of programs with which they are inconsistent, yet they do make progress in accounting for the natural world.³⁴

Although Lakatos’ methodology of SRPs was formulated for a philosophy of science, it offers insights for understanding theological hermeneutics. Nancey Murphy has already appropriated Lakatos’ methodology to theological method.³⁵ Within limitations and with some augmentation, I find that much of Murphy’s appropriation of Lakotos is helpful. This is so if entire traditions and types of theological hermeneutics are understood similarly to SRPs. They are ways of understanding reality, as programs for accounting for it, given certain core affirmations and attendant agendas which fund these programs.

Murphy sees this as providing an approach to theology that differs from that found in the history of religions school, where religions are studied utilizing the methods of the social sciences, and that found among dialectical theologians, for whom theology is the science of revelation.³⁶ Murphy uses Lakatos to show how theology can lay claim to knowledge of God in the age of probable reasoning. But I can only affirm this with her in a modified manner since I am approaching theological hermeneutics in terms of qualitative and linguistic categories rather than the scientific and quantitative ones found in the language of ‘probable reasoning.’³⁷

Much of the need to borrow from an approach such as Murphy’s is to account for the tension inherent in the type of hermeneutical realism I am proposing that must consider how theology is to make theological claims about the realities of God, God’s revelation, the nature of our world, the human self and other subjects of theological interpretation, while still taking into account the inevitable contextuality and fallibility of all claims to theological understanding. Using aspects of Murphy’s approach is possible even if I would not go as far as she does in her goal of making theology follow procedures quite similar to those of the natural sciences and become something akin to a social science.³⁸ Murphy and I share the conviction that Christian theology is not just the internal discourse of the Church that has, in the end, no real and transcendent outside referent. But I find that the contextual placement of the people groups among humankind exists so that people might seek God, even perhaps grope for him and find him, though indeed he is not far from any one of us (Acts 17:26–27). So, my contention is that while theology is a second order reflection on reality that occurs in programs of theological inquiry that are never neutral or objective, they are still attempts to account for the reality of God. Thus, my approach to theological discourse assumes that theological discourse is something more than a human projection, refusing to grant the neutral ground to reductionistically naturalist criteria.

Murphy’s utilization of Lakatos’ methodology seeks to distinguish data that has a bearing upon the nature of God from that which bears only or primarily on the psychology or history of religion. While I do not think that these types of data are ever entirely distinct from one another, Murphy does helpfully lead the theological interpreter to consider what data is suitable for theology. But what entails data is not a neutral given: The categories of appropriate data must be determined by the content of the research program itself.³⁹ And her categories of appropriate data which count for theology represent a broadening of that which counts toward an account of the world away from reductionistically naturalist ones. Her recurring suggestion is that the discernment of Christian communities provides key data for Christian theological research programs. Insofar as devotion and morality reflect the intentions and actions of God, they provide evidence to support theories about the nature of God.⁴⁰ So the crucial data for theology are the results of Christian discernment.⁴¹ This means that the practice of making knowledge claims about God’s activity in human life on the basis of discernment . . . [is a] Christian epistemic practice.⁴² She holds that discernment includes the one discerning and her language, and it would be a mistake to see data as simply external to the discernments themselves. It is also internal and found in the relationship between the discerning community and the things discerned.⁴³

Murphy claims that theology’s data is always interpreted according to the paradigm in which it is operating so that all facts are theory laden.⁴⁴ Observations of the world are not simply observations that every other competent observer would have; rather, they are influenced by what one knows and by the language one uses in expressing that knowledge:⁴⁵

Theories provide patterns within which data appear intelligible. A theory is not pieced together from observed phenomenon; it is rather what makes it possible to observe phenomena as being of a certain sort and as related to other phenomena. This is not to say, of course, that theories create what is seen, only that theoretical knowledge allows the observer to organize the raw data of sensation into intelligible patterns. It does leave open the possibility, however, that there may be more than one intelligible pattern.⁴⁶

As I have contended throughout, this does not apply just to the relation of formal theories and data but to all human understanding. Still, Murphy accounts for the multiple languages that one can speak, within which one sees and comes to knowledge of the world while still claiming that they are accounts of the real world. This broadens what can count as a legitimate inquiry into reality by not legislating criteria beforehand so that marginalized inquiries, like theological ones are in contemporary Western academic culture, might be allowed to compete.⁴⁷ And theological hermeneutics will especially use the communal data of discerning God’s self-revelation:

Observation of God’s acts and hearing God’s word involve various forms of perception other than vision. As in science and, in fact, knowledge generally, we have theory-laden facts. In the clearest cases Christians do not say that they heard the words of fellow believers and then interpreted them as God’s; rather they hear God speaking through the human speaker; the community’s discussion or response attempts simply to find whether others heard it as well. The experience comes interpreted, but this is no objection since that is the regular means by which observation becomes knowledge. The surest way to get from observations to hypotheses or theories that explain them is to begin with observations that are already expressed in language suggestive of the causes or of the explanatory framework. The value for theology of observations already communally described as acts of God is obvious. In short, if God does not appear in the facts, his presence in the explanation will always be suspect.⁴⁸

Thus, the language of observation is intimately linked to the language of explanation. This leads to the question of how multiple coherent interpretations of their respective data concerning a thing can be judged, especially if it is given that there is no neutral arbiter.⁴⁹

This is where the pragmatic test of ‘empirical progress’ found in the Lakatosian research program comes to the fore. On this model, the program which produces novel facts is progressive, and therefore a successful program, whereas that which fails to make confirmed predictions is degenerative, and therefore a failing program.⁵⁰ Despite the slow evolution of Christian belief and the conservative tendencies of Christian communities, Murphy finds that there is (and she thinks there should be) openness to new knowledge. A novel fact is that which is not used in the construction of a theory but whose existence is first documented after that theory is proposed.⁵¹ But this should not rule out those new articulations which, while they offer an expectation of new experiences (and how could they not?) provide the language which better accounts for and opens up new experiences of transcendence as producing novel facts. I find Murphy’s Lakatosian approach beneficial for construing a way of deciding between approaches to reality—even if its focus is too cognitive and gives too little attention to the role of theology in spiritual formation and discipleship.⁵² Approaches that produce new benefits and achieve new ends pragmatically demonstrate that they have in some way accounted for what is real in a productive manner.⁵³

That the type of contextualized understanding of our world I am proposing would recognize that every understanding is always already dependent on a faith does not entail uncritical fideism since faith in anything can be challenged. Paradigms, based as they are on certain items of faith, can be found strong (progressive) or weak (degenerative). The objection that there is a hidden foundationalism in the hard core of a SRP or theological research program is thus more of an observation about the inevitability of one’s assumptions in formal reflection than a cogent objection to this view.⁵⁴ The hard core of a program can be challenged and found wanting, though it is the most difficult part of the paradigm with which to do so with, and a successful challenge will lead to degeneration and the likely collapse of the paradigm for those other than its most faithful adherents.

If, as I have been asserting, a hermeneutic is always interconnected with an anthropology and buttressed by an ontology which are the result of one’s epistemic judgments, then it can be seen that the process of interpreting one’s world, theologically or otherwise, is not simply a linear process. It is not just a process of forming a correct methodology and then implementing it. While this does not entail disregard for method entirely, it does revise its role away from that of