To Prooftext or Not to Prooftext

A prooftext is when we misread or misinterpret a text so as to take away the wrong meaning.  

“Well then why on earth would anyone do that?” you might ask.  Simply put, we usually do this sub-consciously.

Our brains are hard-wired for efficiency, which is wonderful in many regards.  We develop neurological “short cuts” through repetition and learning (habits, disciplines, etc.) and these allow us to conserve energy for new scenarios requiring problem solving, creativity and critical thinking.

When we think about a bias or a world view, we’re generally referring to these “short cuts” which have become so central to our human experience as to effectively frame our “thought architecture.”  In simpler terms, these produce the “lens” through which we see the world.  (Feel free to refer to the earlier post regarding perspectives and perceptions).

These predispositions and presumptions allow for us to engage in deductive reasoning – moving from the general to the particular.  Deductive reasoning is fast, efficient and easy to the extent that our presumptions are accurate.  Naturally, deductive reasoning is also incredibly frustrating and painful to the extent that our presumptions are inaccurate.

We deduce through our “lens” – our world view, our biases, schemas and other neurological short cuts.

But the way we develop these in the first place is through Inductive reasoning – moving from the particular to the general.  We observe, experience, muse about and process information, and use our takeaways to formulate our lens.  (“This has been true each time I’ve experienced it, therefore it must always be true.” for example).

And while this is often good, normal and safe, there are times when our default method comes up short.  

Several years ago I had begun an in-depth study of the Gospels.  Within a few short months I had developed a growing unease as the Scriptures were failing to align with my deductive method.  I quickly reached a climax of ultimatum where I had to decide either to go on assuming I was right, trying to force the Scriptures to mean what I wanted them to mean, or I had to humble myself, take up the inductive method, and allow the Scriptures themselves to form my theology.

With much weeping and gnashing of teeth, I pried off the blanket of comfort and ease that comes from the deductive method, and learned to “walk again” in the inductive method.  In the subsequent years, I’ve been able to look back and recognize that my earlier, flawed deductive lens was greatly restricting my movement – like trying to run underwater while pulling a battleship behind me.  The freedom of allowing the Scriptures themselves to instruct and build my lens has produced an indescribable joy.

But it all began with tears, heartache, the fear of heresy and pain of death – dying to self, that is.

In theological terms, I gave up Systematic Theology in exchange for Biblical and Narrative Theology.

And the journey continues, of course – the occasional remnant of the old flawed lens will manifest in a prooftext from time to time.  And when it does, I deal with it, inviting the Scriptures once again to reshape my lens.

It’s sort of like physical conditioning, or any new positive discipline we try to implement: It’s always difficult, often painful, and seldom fun, but the resulting freedom, capacity and joy are worth it every time.