Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1
	*THE " WHAT"* OF FAITH**

	"...that we may...supply what is lacking in your faith?" (I Thessalonians 3:10, RSV)

	To be definitive, what precisely is Faith? The word itself is one of the most popular terms in the history of the Church, and especially since the reformation. When one speaks on the topic of Faith, it is assumed that everyone listening knows what is being talked about. Is this really the case? Hearing different people use the vocable in speeches and daily conversation makes one aware that there is a lack of consensus with regard to faith's basic meaning. Ironically, this ambiguity seems to be hanging over the word at a juncture in history when clarity and precision is a must in almost everything else. An epistemological study of this unit of speech appears needful for our time. For sure, it would be a real benefit to people's Spiritual development if all could agree on the fundamental essence of what this Biblical expression refers to.

	How should one begin defining a word that is used so commonly in the Western World, and all too often so carelessly? When we pronounce the locution, Faith, what essentially are we communicating? If the proper definition is rendered in response to this question, it seems certain that two aspects will need to be addressed. They are: the functional aspect and the substantive aspect.

	Functionally speaking, "Faith," said Tolstoy, "is that by which men live." (William James, The Varieties of Religious Experience , (New York: Collier Books, Macmillan Publishing Co., 1961, p. 5.) This definition is from an internationally renowned Christian writer of the modern era, but what does he tell us? Not very much I'm afraid. His statement, although true, is nebulous. William James, following Tolstoy's lead said: Faith is "the sense of life by virtue of which man does not destroy himself, but lives on. It is the force by which he lives." (Ibid, p. 5.) James was a professor at Harvard and America's most distinguished Christian philosopher at the turn of the twentieth century, but his definition of Faith, like that of Tolstoy's, does not tell us much. "Faith is a divine work in us," said Martin Luther, the German monk who is credited with being the chief exponent of the reformation. It "is a lively, creative, active, powerful thing...," (Robert G. Tuttle, Jr., John Wesley: His Life and Theology, (Grand Rapids: Francis Asbury Press, Zondervan Publishing House, 1978), p. 194.) the reformer continues. He goes on to say, "It is a gift of God. By no act of will can it be induced." (Roland H. Bainton, Here I Stand: A Life of Martin Luther , The New English Library (New York and Toronto: New American Library, 1950), p. 173.) Luther says more than Tolstoy and James, but still leaves us begging for additional information.

	If I were to articulate what leading theologians have said through the centuries and trace all the variances of how the word is used in both classical and Biblical Greek -- understandably a big order -- more material would be churned out than the average person would care wading through. Therefore, in effort to relieve the reader of needless verbosity, let me come right to the point and say that the essence of Faith is primarily "*untaught and unlearned knowledge*." It is knowing things innately, having knowledge of something prior to and independent of sensory experience. So, in the functional sense, Faith is essentially cognitive. The cognition is genuinely mysterious in that it is not derived from the nurture in the home, nor from the teaching in the classroom, and neither can it be traced to the trial and error of individual learning experience. I might add, although it may strike some as surprising, even disturbing, neither does the uncanny knowing faculty derive in any direct sense from the Church or the Bible. Granted, the Gospel when proclaimed and the Scriptures when read excite, inform and direct faith, but do not create it. Once Jesus asked his disciples, "Where is your faith?" (Luke 8:25, KJV.) The very question infers that they possessed it as a constitutional part of themselves, but it was not being relied upon at that particular moment.
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	Now, just for the record. It might be appropriate to call attention to the fact that a few philosophers have refused to accept the fact that human beings are born with innate knowledge. For those who hold to this way of thinking, there is no such thing as "untaught and unlearned knowledge." Perhaps the leading proponent of this persuasion is David Hume who argued that the mind at birth is a clean slate, having no knowledge of any kind within it until sensory experience puts it there. However, Hume and the few who have attempted to hold this position have had to close their eyes to many things -- such things as are present in this volume. This philosophical contention notwithstanding, faith is a knowing that does not issue from domestic instruction, academic training, or personal learning. Instead, faith is a property that is constitutional with the human being.
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	At this point, it might be advantageous to note very briefly how one may distinguish between the knowledge that issues from faith as opposed to the knowledge that issues from all forms of cultural training and learning. Respectfully, the knowing that derives from Faith may be rendered basically as "re-cognition" while the knowing that derives from schooling, upbringing, and personal experience may be rendered basically as "re-call." Thus, recall is associated with formal training and all other normal learning experiences, while faith must be said to be recognition, that is, an enigmatic "re-knowing" of what one has not known in mortal existence. Plato was among the earliest to call attention to this inherent property of the human being. Albeit he never referred to it as Faith, as far as I know, but called it "recollection," or "reminiscence." The Church's first biblical theologian of lasting stature, Augustine, was at one with Plato about this mystique of the human mind. The fifth century Bishop said, "Even what is in it (i.e., in the mind), is mostly hidden, unless experience reveal(s) it." (The Confessions of St. Augustine , (Grand Rapids: Baker Book House, 1977); p. 149.) Thomas Aquinas, the eminent theologian of the 13th century, was also in full agreement with Plato on this theme. Aquinas admitted that the mind of the human creature could not know some of the things that it knows except by the reminiscence of the soul. Thus, two Christian scholars of lofty reputation agree with Plato on this point. So do I, differing from them only semantically. The manifest faculty of the soul identified by Plato as recollection or reminiscence, I would simply label as Faith. Thus, it is by faith that one knows about things that have never been encountered in mortal tenure.

	To concur with Plato at this point would be no more heretical for this author than it would be for Augustine or Aquinas. A good rule of thumb for all who are conscientious about doctrine is that orthodoxy is never more sound than when it agrees with Truth. According to the Bible, great numbers of pagans knew many of the Spiritual realities and foundational principles of life that were inscribed in the Scriptures preached unto them. The Apostle Paul said, "Gentiles...do by nature the things contained in the law...." They show that what the law requires is "written in their hearts." (Romans 2:14-15, KJV.) Where the non-Biblical writers were lacking was in the fact that they did not know enough about these things, which ultimately find their fulfillment in the revelation of Jesus Christ. Again the Bible quotes the Apostle Paul commending the heathen poets of Greece as they made accurate poetical statements about God, saying: "For in him we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of your own poets have said, For we are also his offspring." (Acts 19:27-28, KJV.) Is it not true then that even the Bible itself encourages the possibility that Plato was right about the fact that mankind remembers what does not derive from mortal recall. Needless to say, acknowledging that Plato was right on this issue does not imply that he was correct on everything he said. Be that as it may, it can still be voiced unapologetically that Plato and other great thinkers of history were familiar with the workings of faith; although they chose to use other terms when referring to its functional dynamics.

	As one reflects upon it, this modicum of Divinely installed cognizance, which I am referring to as Faith, is profoundly mysterious in that there is no historical point of reference for it. Subliminally, a knowing seeps into consciousness leaving the intellect at a loss as to how it arrives. It is as Hebrews 11:1 says, "the evidence of things not seen," that is, never seen before nor experienced in any way. In the opinion of Rudolf Otto this faith-knowing "...comes to be...indeed the greatest of all mysteries." (Rudolf Otto, The Idea of the Holy, translated by John W. Harvey, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1923; reprint ed., 1958), p. 222.)

	As one might expect, much of the knowing that comes through Faith is related to the natural world. Amazingly, the mind has an immediate grasp of the fundamental facts and principles upon which reality is based. This instant realization of patterns and relationships is commonly referred to as self-evident knowledge. However, it needs to be emphasized that all self-evident knowledge, whether it is about the physical universe or the Spiritual universe, springs from Faith.

	Once one begins focusing exclusively on the knowing that relates to Biblical Truth and the things of the Spirit proper, much of the cognition of Faith will lie outside of the self-evident category. This is not to say that the Spiritual realm contains little to no self-evident Truth. Far from it! Much self-evident Truth is in the Spiritual realm. To be sure, a sizable measure of Spiritual Truth is known by Faith with an unshakable certainty. What I wish to underscore here is that when it comes to the things that lie exclusively in the Spiritual domain, much of the "untaught and unlearned knowledge" with which we were born goes only up to a point. A considerable amount of its content is not of a cut and dried certainty. Instead, some is ear marked with subtleties and incompleteness, while remaining nonetheless veritable knowledge. This less-evident acumen of which I speak is inexact but conclusive; nonspecific but directional. At one point, Abraham of old illustrated it well. The Scripture says that Abraham "went out not knowing wither he went." (Hebrews 11:8b, KJV.) Now note. Abraham knew he was to go. That much was sure. Even so, he did not know where precisely he was to go -- at least not in the beginning. But Faith propelled him to keep going. Today if one reads through the Scriptures, Faith will affirm the Truth being read. Some of it will be strong and self-evident. But other parts will impress the mind with only a nudge, a prod, an urge, an intimation, a hunch, or an inclination toward something or away from something. On this wise, Faith's knowledge of things is a bit shy or timid, hesitant to announce what it knows. This of course operates in contrast to the self-evident knowing that is bold and assertive. For example, when the prognosis of my daughter's terminal illness was told to me by the doctor, I felt a strong compulsion to get alone and pray. The "knowing" that I should pray was intense but the content of what might be accomplished uncertain. Would my praying help my daughter? I knew not. Would it help me? I knew not. All I knew was that I must pray, and the urge did not abate until I had. This brings to mind a similar incident from the first century. A certain father took his child to Jesus and was not real sure as to what he could expect. The Scripture says, "The father crying out with tears said 'I'm faithing Lord (as much as I can), help my un-faith.'" (Mark 9:24 , author's translation.) A Roman centurion approached Jesus with much more confidence. He came on behalf of his paralyzed servant. Arriving before the Lord, he pleaded: "...only say the word, and my servant will be healed." (Matthew 8:8, RSV.) In response to the entreaty, Jesus exclaimed to everyone within hearing distance that the behavior of the military commander exemplified the greatest faith he had seen in all of Israel . Mark it well. It was the greatest seen by Jesus up to that time in His earthly ministry.

	Permit me to call your attention to the similarities and differences in three of the people just mentioned: The two fathers, and the centurion. Like the first century father and myself, the centurion felt the urge to go to Jesus. His urge, similar to ours, was issuing from Faith. The cognitive content of his urge, however, was much greater and therefore differed from ours only by degree. Incidentally, as one might assume, the content and intensity of the urge issuing from Faith will vary from one person to another, a matter that will be dealt with more fully in another section.

	Although much more needs to be said, and will be said in the following chapters, it may be concluded here that Faith, in essence, is "untaught and unlearned knowledge." It is essentially a knowing about things not gained from the personal experiences of one's mortal life history. Even so, it remains that the functional aspect of this dynamic property of the human being is cognitive in nature.

	Having touched on the function of Faith, what now may be said to be its substance? That is, what kind of fabric or what type of material is faith made of?

	The New Testament makes it very plain that the substance of Faith is Spirit. The Scriptures specify in several places that Faith is inseparably linked to the Spirit of God. The astounding knowing ability that is characteristic of faith cannot, in any absolute sense, stand apart from Spirit. It is, in fact, a derivative of the Spirit. Therefore, it may be said that Faith is a projection of the Spirit, or an arm of the Spirit, or a product of the Spirit. Perhaps as a bay is to an ocean, Faith is to the Spirit. The New Testament declares the inexpungible ties of the two in this fashion: "...the fruit of the Spirit is...faith...." (Galatians 5:22, KJV.) That is, the Spirit produces Faith as a fruit tree might produce fruit. Again, the New Testament remarks that Faith is a gift of the Spirit. (I Corinthians 12:9.) That is to say, Faith originates from the Spirit.

	According to the New Testament, one cannot speak of Faith without speaking indirectly of the Spirit. In the book of Acts it is said of Stephen that he was a man "full of faith and of the Holy Spirit." (Acts 6:5, author's translation.) The same was noted of Stephen's contemporary, Barnabas. (Acts 11:21.) Faith and the Holy Spirit are correlatives in the Scriptures. In fact, the presence of Faith is always in direct proportion to the presence of the Spirit. If faith increases in one's life, it will be the result of an increase of the Holy Spirit in that same life.

	Finally, it becomes clear that if one is to establish the substance of Faith, then one must of necessity establish the substance of Spirit. The word Spirit occurs a little less than 400 times in the Bible. If one were to carefully and patiently trace through the Scriptures the times the word, Spirit, refers to God, and attempt to isolate its most telling quality, it would have to be admitted that the modern term, "intelligence" would seem very fitting. For "God is a Spirit," (John 4:24, KJV.) and as Spirit He knows all things about all people, including their intricate formation inside the womb. (Psalm 139:13.) As Spirit, God knows the activities and routines of every individual of the teeming throngs living throughout the whole earth. Furthermore, He even knows every thought of each. (Psalm 139.2.) Although the Spirit would include all the attributes of God, what we know today as intelligence comes nearest to defining the dominant trait of Divinity. The Apostle Paul gives support to this when he writes, "Now we have received...the Spirit which is from God, that we might understand the gifts bestowed on us by God." (I Corinthians 2:12, RSV.) With these words, the most prolific letter writer of the New Testament is featuring the fact that both "gifts" and "intellectual understanding" come from God. Hence, Faith is a gift of the Spirit, (I Corinthians 12:9.) and God Himself we know to be Spirit, which highlights “cognition” as a dominate attribute of the Supreme Spiritual Being.

	By virtue of what has been said thus far, we know Faith to be nothing less than something of God Himself inside of us. But mark it well, that something of God, which a few ancients have called a "spark" of Divinity, is termed Faith in the New Testament. Therefore, the "untaught and unlearned knowledge," of Faith can never be fully disassociated from the super-knowing of the Spirit. With the substance of Faith being that of Spirit, and with Spirit carrying the prominent attribute of intelligence, it naturally follows for all intents and purposes, the substance of Faith has to be regarded also as cognitive in nature.

	In summation, it may be remarked that the substantive aspect and the functional aspect of Faith are essentially the same, in that they are both cogitative. They differ mainly by degree, with Faith having a limited supply of knowing, while the Spirit has an unlimited supply. At the risk of appearing overly simplistic, I will say that Faith is to the soul as the brain is to the body. Both Faith and soul are made of Spirit as both brain and body are made of flesh.

	Now that a workable definition of Faith is in place, the remaining chapters enlarge upon the understanding presented here. All that follows offers supportive evidence from a wide range of historical and contemporary sources that should serve to place Faith among the most exciting features of human existence.



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