Can Naturalistic Science Permit Nonscientific Appeal to the Divine?

According to Robert O'Connor, MN “must refer to wholly natural phenomena, making no reference to immediate or direct contribution by nonnatural or supernatural agency.” He then adds, however, that scientific accounts can permit “further, nonscientific appeal to the divine as the ultimate and sustaining source, meaning, and purpose of all natural phenomena” (, 16). He writes:

The goal of natural science should be conceived as aiming toward an understanding of natural entities, processes, events, states of affairs, relationships, and such, as natural entities, processes, events, states of affairs, relationships, and such, i.e., explaining those phenomena from start to finish in natural terms. This does not commit the scientist to the view that all phenomena can be given a complete natural explanation (or indeed any), but only to the view that scientific explanations account for natural phenomena as far as they can in completely natural terms. (1997, 17)

What O'Connor is proposing is a conditionalizing approach whereby the scientist determines to operate within a circumscribed domain, assuming that scientific explanation within that domain proceeds in “completely natural terms” (, 17).

O'Connor's account of MN is about as theologically sensitive as it is possible to be. He presents MN as a methodology that serves to interpret the natural order in its own terms, within a circumscribable field. MN is the method of natural science, and God is not an object of natural science. Yet, there seems to be an inconsistency or, at least, lack of clarity in his account. This raises the question: is he more theologically sensitive than a standard account of MN would allow him to be? He suggests that scientific accounts, characterized by MN, can be understood as permitting “further, nonscientific appeal to the divine as the ultimate and sustaining source, meaning, and purpose of all natural phenomena” (, 16).

To be clear, MN is an approach to science that develops scientific accounts that are essentially naturalistic, insofar as they have been developed by MN. To the extent that a scientific account is naturalistic, it cannot permit any appeal or reference to the reality of God. It is only the scientist qua theist (who is not adopting MN) who can make nonscientific appeal to God by moving from the domain of her scientific understanding to the domain of her theological understanding. However, since her scientific account would be naturalistic and her theological account would be theological, the two would be incompatible with one another. What the scientist can do, as O'Connor suggests, is reinterpret her scientific account within a theological framework. However, if she does this, she essentially changes the nature of her scientific account—it is no longer naturalistic.

It is hard to work out why O'Connor is committed to MN. Just because a scientist's attention is focusing on a domain where neither God nor God's activity can be directly known does not mean that her methodology needs to be naturalistic. Denis Alexander writes: “We don't call Christian accountants ‘naturalistic’ because of the absence of theological terminology as they check the company accounts, any more than we expect our doctor to use theological language when she tells us that we've got the flu, or the mechanic to refer to biblical texts when servicing our car. The absence of specific references to God does not render our lives suddenly ‘naturalistic’” (2008, 186).

In short, the MNist (person who is committed to MN) does not simply discount God or avoid referring to God. While a scientist is adopting MN, she is unable to recognize that there is a God to discount. Rather, it is the theist, who is adopting MN, who is obliged to discount God. It would therefore be more consistent for the Christian to adopt a methodology that acknowledges the hiddenness of God rather than a naturalism that rules out the possibility of recognizing that God has anything to do with the natural order. We could give such a methodology a neutral name like “natural scientific method.”

Is MN An Appropriate Means of Honoring God's Work in Creation?

Kathryn Applegate offers a similar defense of MN to that of O'Connor. However, she also has some additional things to say that are worth considering. So, I am going to devote three subsections to Applegate's defense. The reason for this is that the various aspects of her position accurately represent some of the key reasons why so many Christian thinkers think that MN is a viable option. She also does a superb job of communicating these reasons.

For Applegate, MN is “the scientific practice of limiting the explanation of natural phenomena to only natural mechanisms.” She continues: MN “was originally upheld by philosophers and scientists who sought to honor God by discovering his work in creation and by not invoking him in place of secondary causes” (, 37). As such, MN demonstrates a deep respect for the creator/creature distinction by ensuring that God's activity is not confused with creation's activity.

This seems somewhat counterintuitive since MN does not allow the Christian scientist qua scientist to discover God's work in creation as such—if it really is methodological naturalism. MN merely develops a naturalistic account of phenomena in the natural world. Now, again, it is possible for the Christian scientist qua Christian to revert to a theological method to reinterpret these scientific accounts theologically. MN, however, does not allow for such reinterpretation. And, as I have been arguing, the Christian should not need to compartmentalize her theological and scientific worldview. She does not need to adopt MN in order to avoid invoking God in place of secondary causes. A theologically informed method can serve that end with clarity, consistency, and, indeed, coherence.

Applegate appears to defend a kind of localized MN that allows the scientist to continue to operate with a theology of nature. This begs the question as to why the Christian scientist cannot operate with one overarching Christian methodology which, for consistent reasons, limits the extent to which a person can refer to God in her scientific studies. Such an approach could allow the Christian scientist qua scientist to refer to God when her faith requires this of her but refrain from doing so when it is not warranted.

To be clear, Applegate is emphatic that scientific activity is not in tension with the Christian faith. She acknowledges that “[w]hatever process one studies, from the birth of stars to intracellular dynamics, it does not explain away God's activity in the world” (, 37). Her concern is to affirm, rightly, that the scientist observes realities that do not directly reveal the existence of God, because God transcends the natural order. Here, her position aligns with Thomas F. Torrance's advocacy of a “methodological secularism.” He writes,

the acceptance of the contingent, autonomous nature of the world called for the development of autonomous modes of scientific inquiry appropriate to it. This involved what might be called a “methodological secularism,” i.e., an orientation in which science bracketed the world off from its relation to God, in order to investigate its nature for its own sake. That was certainly in line with the renewed stress of the Reformation upon God's creation of the world out of nothing, and of the primacy of his grace in which God turns toward the world he has made, which summons man to join him in that movement of his grace toward the world, and that had the effect of making natural scientific investigation of the world part of man's obedience to the Creator. (1998, 41)

On a similar note, Conor Cunningham asserts that MN “is the approach that science must take when it engages with the universe insofar as it will fail to make any progress unless it brackets out the divine.… [So, a] certain methodological naturalism is commonsensical” (, 265–66).

Torrance's and Cunningham's description of MN is deceptive. It is not science that brackets off God, but theists who decide to bracket off their belief in God in order to practice science naturalistically (or secularly). When MN is adopted, all scientific explanations are limited to naturalistic explanations. So, by adopting MN, the Christian decides that a naturalistic understanding is more appropriate to the scientific task than her theistic or Christian understanding. This, however, raises the question of criteria. It is commonplace to recognize that the criteria a person decides to adopt in scientific research are not themselves determined by thought processes that are inherently scientific. Rather, this decision is based on metaphysical assumptions about the nature of reality and, more specifically, about what that person considers to be the most appropriate assumptions to inform scientific method.

To return to Applegate's earlier point, it is quite right to suggest that belief in the existence of a creator can help the scientist to go about her task in the way that she does, trusting in the order of the universe. However, if this is the case, why would a Christian not allow her theological assumptions to inform her methodological assumptions—even if these theological assumptions make no external difference to her scientific practice? At the very least, would it not make more sense for a Christian scientist to adopt a methodological deism? This would at least mean that her method would not require her, in her capacity as a scientist, to rule out recognition of the existence of God.

Is It Ever Appropriate for Science to Disregard Anomalies because They Do Not Conform to Standard Scientific Method?

The defining tension at the heart of Christian MN is reflected in Applegate's comment that “the Bible reveals a God who normally accomplishes his purposes through means such as natural processes or human activity” (, 38). The same problem is apparent in John Hare's comment that “Methodological naturalism is reasonable for most of science, since we cannot put God in the lab” (, 247). What this indicates is that Christian MN can run into problems. The Christian MNist is committed to a methodology that does not allow for the possibility of key events within the contingent order that they recognize have profound significance— that is, every single event that requires to be identified with God's active involvement in human history.

Why would this be a problem? For most scientists, a methodology that rules out the possibility of providing an adequate account of certain occurrences (within the natural order) would not be considered an adequate methodology. A scientific approach should allow anomalies (that cannot be explained away or reduced to error) to challenge and thereby revise their interpretative models and methodology. Science cannot ignore or rule out anomalies simply because they do not fit with standard scientific practice. Of course, for metaphysical naturalists, MN does not constitute a problem, since they rule out a priori any involvement of God in any facet or reality. Many Christians, however, do claim that reference to God is required to make sense of certain occurrences within the natural order. So, under certain circumstances, many Christians will recognize that MN will undermine their interpretation of natural history.

To account for this, Applegate notes that science cannot “capture all of reality, including the possibility of God's direct action in natural history” and considers miracles to be “the blind spot of science” (, 41). The trouble with MN, however, is that it does not allow the Christian scientist qua scientist to recognize miracles as blind spots. MN requires the Christian scientist qua scientist to offer naturalistic explanations of these spots that are likely to be inconsistent with her Christian understanding. Therefore, the Christian would again need to operate with an overarching methodology with which she could determine what counts as a blind spot, and thereby avoid adopting MN when it would undermine her Christian understanding. If she were to do this, however, her scientific study would not consistently be characterized by MN. Rather, it would be characterized by a methodology that sometimes required her to employ naturalistic criteria (e.g., when she believed that a Christian scientist was making inappropriate references to God) and, at other times, required her to employ nonnaturalistic criteria (e.g., when she believed that a miracle had genuinely taken place).

If this is the case, it is hard to see why Applegate should not advocate a scientific methodology that consistently corresponds to her Christian perception—a methodology that would not require her to mis‐explain the blind spots. Again, this would not mean that her interpretation of the natural order would need to appear any different from the naturalist for the majority of the time, that is, unless her Christian understanding requires this of her.

Am I Confusing MN with Metaphyscial Naturalism?

One way that Applegate and others might respond is to say that this is to confuse MN with metaphysical naturalism. I have already acknowledged that I think that there is a difference between the two. At the same time, however, I do not think it is as easy to draw a line between the two of them as is often suggested. For instance, if a scientist is consistently adopting MN, there will be no difference between her explanations and those of the metaphysical naturalist. The only difference between the two is that the MNist may be committed to different metaphysical assumptions that she chooses to set aside in order to adopt MN and which determine when MN should and should not apply.

Despite this, it is widely assumed that MN is metaphysically neutral because it is only concerned with the scientific practice of interpreting natural phenomena. But this is just not the case. The person who adopts MN assumes that natural‐ism is the most appropriate philosophy for systematizing scientific investigation. And that is not a metaphysically neutral assumption (McMullin , 3–28; see also Dawes ). When a person advocates a particular methodology for approaching a particular object, she will normally do so because she has metaphysical views about the nature of that particular object: about how that object relates to reality, and about the nature of the reality within which that object finds itself. For example, a scholar of literature is likely to have metaphysical reasons for not adopting methodological materialism to interpret Dostoevsky. She believes, for example, that The Brothers Karamazov has inherent qualities that transcend the materiality that makes up the pages of the book. Therefore, she is likely to believe that these inherent qualities make this book more valuable than a block of wood—even though a block of wood will be more effective at fueling a fire. To believe this is normally to acknowledge that there is more to reality than the purely material. As such, she has metaphysically informed reasons for thinking that it is inappropriate to interpret this book by adopting methodological materialism.

Similarly, it would seem that there should be metaphysical reasons for the Christian scientist not to interpret the natural order with MN. It seems strange for a Christian to turn to a philosophical position that she thinks is false (naturalism) for the sake of systematizing her scientific method. The Christian believes that the natural world has order, is contingent, and is created and maintained by a God who acts in its history in special ways. As I have been arguing, the Christian scientist qua scientist should continue to be mindful of her Christian commitments. She should engage in the natural sciences with a humble awareness that God is (normally) hidden rather than with the assumption that God has nothing to do with the natural order. With this approach, the Christian can view science as a Christian vocation and can assume that her faithful understanding and her scientific practice are wholly compatible with one another—she can engage with the world with an integrity of understanding. And when, for example, a scientific theory is advanced that is essentially incompatible with her Christian faith, because of its naturalistic assumptions, that same intellectual integrity will lead her to call this theory into question.

On the other side of things, I would also argue that it is possible for certain scientific discoveries to make a difference to a person's Christian beliefs (e.g., how she interprets the Genesis creation sagas). If the Christian believes that her Christian beliefs correspond to the reality of the natural world, then the Christian should not feel a need to commit to bracketing out some of her Christian beliefs in order to practice science. As Tom McLeish writes, “a theological tradition is all‐encompassing. In Judaism and Christianity, the universe itself carries theological weight as God's creation; it carries rational weight as our human environment—with both positive and painful consequences. Keeping science and theology at arm's length artificially limits their domains of discussion—and this is inconsistent with the range of both of them” (, 168).

To return to Applegate, it is hard to work out where the nodal point lies which obliges her to take a different turn and advocate MN. Indeed, toward the end of her article, she refers to Denis Alexander as someone who thinks that Christians should drop the term MN and talk more generally about scientific explanations (which I think is the best way forward). For Alexander, there are good theological reasons for seeking to ensure “that the scientist does not invoke God as an explanation for things in the course of his or her daily scientific research” (2008, 186). But, for him, the Christian does not need to take up MN to do this, and he is rightly concerned that MN comes with “the unstated implication…that the Christian will somehow leave their faith in God behind the laboratory door” (2008, 186). Reflecting on his own scientific practice, he writes: “When I walk into my laboratory I do not suddenly stop believing in God—far from it, I go in as the Christian explorer looking forward to uncovering more of the wonders of God's world. The more we discover, the more we glorify God by revealing his thoughts in the created order.…Naturalism is the philosophy that there is no God in the first place, so only an atheist can provide truly naturalistic explanations for anything” (2008, 185–86).

Although Applegate considers Alexander's suggestion that we drop the term MN as “wise counsel indeed” (, 41), she goes on to argue that “surprisingly, methodological naturalism frees us to envision God…as faithfully and lovingly preserving, redeeming, and remaking all things in Christ. Methodological naturalism, when practiced by a Christian, presupposes the sovereignty and consistent sustaining work of God” (, 42). What becomes clear here is that Applegate is defending a version of MN that can be adopted with Christian presuppositions. If this is the case, the question arises as to why Christians would want to claim the term “naturalism” for themselves, given that, in this modern world, it is normally seen to be an ism that is committed to suppositions that are incompatible with Christianity. Not only would this invite confusion, but, if Christians were to do this, they would find that non‐Christians were operating with a very different version of MN—one that denies the existence of anything beyond the natural order. This would be to suggest fundamental agreement where there is none. Here I would appeal to Wittgenstein's dictum that normally “the meaning of a word is its use in the language” (, 43).

To conclude this section, my argument is quite simple. The Christian should consistently seek to interpret the nature of reality by making use of all that she knows. At the very core of the Christian faith is the claim that God not only exists but that God brought this contingent order into existence as an intelligible reality. Furthermore, the Christian believes that God is actively involved in history, creating a faith that can serve as a witness to God's creative, providential, and redemptive activity. For this reason, there should be at least some difference between the way in which the Christian and the naturalist approach and interpret the structure, behavior, and history of the natural world.

MN Encourages Scientists to Develop Theories that Are Essentially Incompatible with Christianity

One of the most apparent ways in which MN poses a threat to Christianity is when it invites scientific theories that, due to their naturalistic assumptions, end up being incompatible with theism. This point has been discussed in more detail by Alvin Plantinga who, alongside Michael Rea, offers one of the foremost critiques of MN (Plantinga ; Rea , 62–65). I do not wish to devote too much space to reiterating Plantinga's arguments. However, it is worth mentioning his main point and commenting on it briefly.

In his essay, “Games Scientists Play”(), Plantinga provides some examples of theories that assume that God does not exist, even though such theories could easily be developed in a way that allow for the possibility that God exists. In particular, he looks at the theory of religion that is advanced by sociologist Rodney Stark. In Stark's theory, religion is presented as an imaginary construction of rational thought that arose over time, as human beings sought to realize the possibility of acquiring “nonexistent goods—eternal life, a right relationship with God, salvation, remission of sins—by negotiating with nonexistent supernatural beings” (Plantinga , 140). In short, Stark's view is that, through the process of evolution, human thought came to be characterized by a tendency to dream up fantasies, which delude them into thinking that nonexistent goals are real. This is what led to the development of religion. So, for example, in times of desperation, when there seemed to be no natural options, communities would take up the view that offering a sacrifice to a supernatural being might help to bring about a change in the state of affairs. For Stark, as Plantinga interprets him, religion “is devoted to the pursuit of nonexistent goods by way of negotiation with nonexistent supernatural agents” (Plantinga , 141).

Plantinga notes that “taken neat,” Stark's position “is clearly incompatible with Christian belief, according to which at least some of the supernatural beings and some of the goods mentioned do indeed exist” (, 141). However, he suggests that it would be possible to alter Stark's theory in a way that does not stop it from being scientific, but enables it to be noncommittal on the question as to whether or not a supernatural agent exists. Such a theory could be compatible with Christianity. Plantinga refers to this alternative as “Stark minus.” On this account, rather than referring to supernatural beings as “nonexistent,” Stark could refer to them as “alleged.” By so doing, it would take a more neutral stance to the question of whether or not God exists—a stance that seems much more appropriate to the scientific task. What Plantinga demonstrates in this example is a way in which MN can bias science (or sociology) in a way that needlessly makes a theory incompatible with theism, when there is no scientific reason for doing so.

By turning to MN to ensure that no reference to God is made in a scientific investigation, the Christian invites theories that are incompatible with Christianity because of their naturalistic assumptions. The critical point here is that MN does not itself rule out the possibility of developing theories that are informed by metaphysical assumptions, it merely restricts a person from making nonnaturalistic assumptions. In order to avoid drawing naturalistic conclusions, a person would require nonnaturalistic criteria with which she could judge when it was inappropriate to draw naturalistic conclusions. Obviously, MN cannot steer a person away from drawing inappropriate naturalistic conclusions because MN assumes naturalistic criteria. Therefore, there would be no reason for the MNist to think that it would be an overstep to conclude that God is merely a product “of the supernatural imagination.”

Another point to make here is that the only reason to prescribe MN would be to avoid reference to God when some theists might think that it would be okay to do so. Generally speaking, even those in the Intelligent Design movement will not refer to God, for example, when making observations about chemical reactions, material composition, physical movement, and so on. It is only when speculating about underlying causes, which might leave room for a more metaphysical form of reasoning, that scientists will propose employing MN. Under these circumstances, the scientist does not avoid the possibility of metaphysical reasoning; she merely restricts metaphysical reasoning to naturalistic reasoning. Bradley Monton writes:

If science really is permanently committed to methodological naturalism—the philosophical position that restricts all explanations in science to naturalistic explanations—it follows that the aim of science is not generating true theories. Instead, the aim of science would be something like: generating the best theories that can be formulated subject to the restriction that the theories are naturalistic. More and more evidence could come in suggesting that a supernatural being exists, but scientific theories wouldn't be allowed to acknowledge that possibility. (2009, 58)

The prospect of inviting naturalistic theories that are incompatible with Christianity is a clear reason why the Christian should discourage a commitment to MN, lest she find herself committed to practicing science in a way that may require her to be disingenuous in her assessment of natural history. It is hardly rational for the Christian (or, indeed, any other kind of theist) to employ a method that requires her to amputate the legs on which she stands so that she can be accommodated by the procrustean bed that is naturalism. And that is the case even if such a sacrifice would never actually require her to develop theories that conflicted with Christianity.

MN Creates a Culture that Affirms a Tension between Science and Christianity

When MN is viewed as the scholarly way to interpret reality, the academy places naturalism on a pedestal. Under its shadow, the Christian scholar finds himself under immense pressure to play the games of his naturalist peers in order to gain their respect and survive in the academy. If the Christian caves in and adopts a naturalistic methodology, he participates in a culture that takes offense at the Christian faith. This participation may only be fleeting, and it may only color a part of his scholarship. Nonetheless, such participation expresses a sense of insecurity about the Christian faith's ability to be a witness to reality. As I have suggested, a person's decision to take up a particular methodology is not a metaphysically neutral decision. It is based on a person's understanding of what he considers to be the most appropriate methodology for understanding the particular object of his study. Therefore, if a Christian thinks that naturalism is the best metaphysic to shape scientific methodology, he assumes that there is an essential conflict between science and Christianity.

If the Christian believes that science and Christianity are compatible and yet still feels a need to adopt MN, then he is playing the games of the secular world. He surrenders to the prevailing assumption that naturalism is more appropriate than Christianity for shaping our scientific knowledge of the natural order. What makes this all the more problematic is that human beings are, by nature, creatures that are subject to habituation. So, what we find is that methodological assumptions have a tendency to shape metaphysical perception—even if this is not necessarily the case. As we know from the rise of scientism, it is incredibly easy for a person's practices to become what he preaches. Therefore, a cultural perception that MN is the most appropriate methodology for the natural sciences encourages society to drift toward a more naturalistic understanding of reality, toward metaphysical naturalism. So, when Christians adopt methodologies that require them to bracket out their Christian commitments, they not only permit but encourage naturalism to take a hold on society. Also, when this bracketing out is done in the name of academic scholarship, the Christian furthers the perception that Christianity does not deserve the same academic standing as naturalism. By so doing, he disavows the Church, as the body of witnesses who live their lives before the triune God, the one whom Christians believe to be “the Truth.”

In sum, when the Christian does not allow his methodology to conform to his metaphysic, he contributes to a culture, to the habitual mindset of a society, that is disenchanted—that is profane. Bitten by the frost of secularism, the Christian MNist becomes caught up in the trend of reducing the totality of reality to “natural phenomena.” Within an academic culture that is shaped by MN, the Christian now finds himself in a defensive position in which apologetics becomes the preferred means by which to demonstrate the intellectual viability of Christianity to a secular hermeneutic.

If he resorts to apologia, the Christian may also find that he is tempted to play down any beliefs perceived to be offensive to secular society. He may start to contemplate ways in which he can translate the Gospel message into secular language—into a language that masks Scripture's appointment as a witness and servant to God's self‐communication. If he does this, he ceases to be a luminary, inspired by the content of his faith, and gives over his identity to the principalities and powers of secularism. This is particularly apparent when, in the culture of MN, the Christian decides to accept Stephen Jay Gould's view of nonoverlapping magisteria: that is, when he dissociates Christianity from the “hard facts” of reality and seeks to justify Christianity to the secular world by reducing it to a subjective worldview that can provide us with a sense of value and meaning. Why might this be problematic? Richard Dawkins provides an answer:

Whatever else they may say, those scientists who subscribe to the “separate magisteria” school of thought should concede that the universe with a supernaturally intelligent creator is a very different kind of universe from one without. The difference between the two hypothetical universes could hardly be more fundamental in principle, even if it is not easy to test in practice. And it undermines the dictum that science must be completely silent about religion's central existence claim. The presence or absence of a creative super‐intelligence is unequivocally a scientific question, even if not in practice—or not yet—a decided one. (2006, 82)

Dawkins’ claims are perceptive. The existence of a purposeful creator who, at times, performs special acts within the history of creation makes all the difference to how we understand the universe. However, the Christian who acknowledges this would arrive at a very different conclusion from Dawkins. As I am arguing, the Christian should conclude that this means he should not silence his faith when it comes to scientific practice.

For the Christian, there may come a day when there is universal recognition that God exists—conceived as a mind‐independent, nonnatural personal agent, who is able to act in the world, and whose actions cannot be reduced to the natural operations of the contingent order. On that day, it would be hard to imagine that the scientific world would continue to believe that scientists qua scientists should discount the possibility of there being theological explanations for natural phenomena. On that day, the question on the lips of every scientist would not be, “What is to be gained by dropping the commitment to MN?” With God's universal revelation bringing about the demise of naturalism, this question would cease to be the default question in the world of science. Rather, the question that would be asked would be, “What is there to be gained by adopting MN?” (see Koperski , 440). It is this latter question that the Christian scientist should be asking himself today.

Before turning to consider the third problem that MN raises for Christianity, I shall take a moment to consider two theologies that arise in the midst of a culture shaped by MN.

MN Can Prompt Christians to Disregard the Reality of God or Deny Its Place in Intellectual Discourse

Since evolutionary science has been characterized by MN, some evolutionary theorists have made naturalistic assertions which, as we have seen, are hard to align with Christian theism. Scholars such as Stephen Pinker, Pascal Boyer, and David Sloan Wilson, for example, assert that God can be reduced to a false belief that arose by way of a misstep in the evolution of human psychology. It is standard, moreover, for evolutionary theorists to assert that human beings are a random accident of natural history. Although evolution is not incompatible with Christianity per se, it is true that some naturalistic theories of evolution inevitably obstruct the task of Christian theology, just as some Christian theologies can serve to obstruct progress in the natural sciences.

One way to avoid the possibility of naturalistic theories of evolution getting in the way of Christian theology would be for Christian theology to require its adherents to commit to a methodology that assumes that the theory of evolution is false. However, most Christians who believe in evolution will strongly object to this option—and quite rightly. This is because, for them, some version of evolution is almost certainly true. Consequently, it would call into question the integrity of Christianity if it were to require its theologians to assume that evolution is false (even if this made little or no difference to the actual practice of Christian theology). Still further, it would compound the perception that science and Christianity are mutually incompatible.

There is an inconsistency in the fact that most (if not all) Christian advocates of MN are happy to adopt the assumption that God has nothing to do with the natural order (to avoid Intelligent Design) but would be unlikely to think that Christian theology should ever adopt a methodology that would require them to deny evolution (because some naturalistic theories of evolution can find themselves in tension with Christianity). This inconsistency points to a latent perception among some Christian scientists that God is more optional in our understanding of reality than the theory of evolution (at least, practically speaking). When we commit to MN, we are subliminally conditioned into thinking that the pursuit of scientific understanding is compromised by acknowledging the reality of a God who is actively involved in the world. As such, “God” is not considered to be anything more than an object of Christian belief, an idea that occupies a place in philosophy of religion or religious studies, a source of false hope, a postulate that can provide a foundation for morality and value. Too easily MN generates the supposition that theology is an optional mythology. It does not concern any form of mind‐independent reality.

From a Christian perspective, such an attitude toward God constitutes a de facto rejection of God because the Christian believes that her faith denotes or, to use Robert Nozick's term, “tracks” the reality of one who sustains every moment and movement of history, into every atom and, indeed, vacuum constitutive of creation. So, while the Christian may be aware that God is beyond the limits of creaturely understanding, this should not invite the assumption that “God” can be no more than a figment of our minds or a postulate defined by the limits of the immanent order. It does not prompt the Christian to become caught up in thought experiments in which reality is assessed according to the hypothesis that there is nothing beyond nature. Such reactions would invite an “eclipse of grace”: a focus on the natural order as something that is simply “there for reason to see”—something that can be understood in and of itself, apart from God (Taylor , 222). The Christian resists these moves because her faith is defined by the recognition that there is no logic to creation apart from the triune God.

Ever aware that she exists before God, the Christian sets her mind on things above, not upon earthly things (to the exclusion of things above) (Colossians 3:2). By seeking to order her life before God, the Christian can begin to see the proper place of earthly things: can come to see earthly things as created things. The patterns of her mind can become attuned to the dynamics of creation, and her life of scientific service can come to be perceived as a Christian vocation. To draw on Søren Kierkegaard, she can begin to understand herself as “an apostle”—one who has a divinely given purpose. “By this call,” Kierkegaard writes, she “does not become more intelligent, [she] does not acquire more imagination, greater discernment, and so on—not at all but by the paradoxical fact is sent by God on a specific mission” (1997, 95). The “paradox” here lies in the fact that, on the one hand, she knows that she cannot claim this vocation for herself, cannot master the movements that it requires her to make. She believes that this “mission” is purposed and sustained by the grace of God. On the other hand, she seeks to develop her own sensitivity to the fact that God is with her, governing her, and directing her in her vocation. Even though the apostle cannot directly communicate this providence to others, she does not bracket out her recognition of this providence. As Kierkegaard notes, the apostle will not find that God astonishes her with more intelligence, more imagination, greater discernment, and so on. However, she will find that her prayerful life of response will come to be characterized by the conversion of her mind as God draws her to himself (see Webster , 22).

More requires to be said here than the scope of this essay allows. What should be clear, however, is that the naturalistic pursuit of knowledge is not proper to the Christian life before God. If the Christian adopts naturalism, she will find herself outside her element, like a fish out of water. Such commitment requires her to disregard the revelation and illumination that helps her to see the fullness of creation. It requires her to reorient her mind toward natural ends, to earthly things, and play into the illusion that there is nothing more to reality than natural phenomena. Such playfulness risks inviting confusion into her life of discipleship, as a life that otherwise seeks to be “patterned after the great miracle and mystery of the Incarnation, in which [the human being] finds its basis, limit, and final hope” (Hunsinger , 223).

It is true that the academic world is becoming increasingly secular. However, when the Christian scholar finds herself unable to convince a secular scholar of the reality of God, she should not anxiously reduce reality to the phenomena that can be directly seen by both of them. She should not give in to the wisdom of the world that, for Paul, God has made foolish (1 Corinthians 1:20–25). She should embrace a cruciform boldness with which she does not fall into temptation, but, in times of anguish, prays with earnestness (Luke 22:40–44). Such are the practices that are constitutive of a Christian's vocation.

How else might we think about the problem here? When the Christian adopts MN in order to speak in a language that is more respectable to the secular populace, she learns a language that is not her own. When she commits herself to this language, she can lose herself in this language. Like any person who starts to learn another language, that language can begin to become a part of her. She can discover herself thinking in that language, dreaming in that language, speaking to others outside the secular populace in that language. And she can begin to take pride in doing so because it is with this language that she finds acceptance as a respected scholar. When this happens, she can come to frown upon and be frustrated by the Christian language. Unsettled by the “naiveté” of the Church community, bored by the “ramblings” of the Sunday preacher, she starts to find herself detached from the life of the Church—because the Church does not speak her language, and she has allowed herself to forget and become impatient with the language of the Church. For her, the problem with the Church is that, so often, it is made up of a hotchpotch of characters who, from a secular academic perspective, can seem uninteresting. What compounds this situation is the confusion that derives from striving to be bilingual in this way: to be both faithful and profane. “No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other” (Matthew 6:24 NRSV).

If a Christian assumes the language of naturalism, it is hard to see how this will not generate a process of subliminal transformation whereby her epistemic base becomes tacitly conditioned into developing a naturalist metaphysic. And, if she continues to bear the name “Christian,” she will find herself struggling to demonstrate that her “Christianity” does not get in the way of the secular pursuit of knowledge—the pursuit of those thinkers whose endorsement she seeks. The likely result is that the “Christian” finds herself imprisoned within the immanent frame thereby reducing the Gospel to a message that is more fathomable by the secular mind—a message about value, meaning, purpose, wonder, and so on.