As every missionary knows, when we cross a cultural divide for the sake of gospel ministry, the Lord works no less in us than he does through us. And since what the Lord does through us in the lives of others is largely hidden from view—we will only know in glory—a cross-cultural witness to the Lord Jesus Christ is in a unique position to grow in grace and knowledge, in a manner at once humbling and enriching.
The same is true for theological education in cross-cultural settings. The global theological conversation which is at the center of theological education as missions holds tremendous promise for the reformation of one’s own approach to curriculum design, course delivery, and expectations. Critical thinking is a good example.
It is often said that East Asian educational culture lacks that critical ethos characteristic of the Western mindset. The typical East Asian student “does not think critically,” so the story goes, while the Western student does. Ironically, this simplistic view is rarely questioned. Is it not possible that every culture encourages critical thinking, and values its own version, but that in each instance the ethos and context in which critical thinking is meant to operate are different? And what tremendous opportunities for mutual encouragement—indeed, for reform—if this were the case!
So, perhaps Western critical thinking is what it is because of the way in which Western culture conceives of the human person and of personal relationships. It is commonly believed, of course, that things are the other way around, that the way we think determines our sense of ourselves, of others, and of relationships, that our ideas come first. But this sequence is itself artificially individualistic, rationalistic, and thus reductionistic, and in that sense, notably Western.
And yet one notices that with the rise of so-called expressive individualism comes the demise of critical thinking and critical discourse as previously practiced. A new mode of critique accompanies the new view of the human person—namely, critical theory, in which the deconstruction of persons is leveraged on the interplay of relational power dynamics. Covenant, too, is a deeply relational logic, but, alas, this one disappoints. On the Aristotelian model—the model familiar to us as ‘classical’ —persons are eclipsed by claims and propositions and syllogisms, and, pedagogically, behaviorism crouches at the door. However, now that the dominant logic is that of an actualistic anthropology of self-utterance, teachability dies from self-inflicted wounds.
Alternatively, no reader of Confucian thought can miss the twin emphases of social awareness and critical thinking. In Korea, the Westerner will be informed with a chuckle that he has no nunchi (“eye for seeing”); he does not know his place. That is, he is naive and childish in his social self-understanding. He constantly creates awkwardness for himself and others, so he needs to be instructed on elementary matters. In essence, he cannot think for himself.
In my experience, the challenge in East Asia is not to encourage the student to think critically as a westerner does but to encourage the student to stop thinking about himself, or of himself as a liability. The issue in East Asia is fear of failure and of the humiliation of letting others down. The American, with his unburdened sense of self, is unfamiliar with this kind of pressure. He will gladly risk failure for a chance to try because he assumes that what he does is mostly about himself. One’s sense of self, and sense of one’s self in relation to others, makes all the difference.
And if so, if critical thinking always expresses our answers to a few basic questions—who am I? And what is my context?—then a Reformed, biblical theological ‘subversive fulfillment’ of the conventional view is the order of the day.
According to Genesis chapter 1, God created man in his own image and after his likeness, intending man to have dominion “over the fish of the sea, and over the birds of the air, and over every living thing that moves upon the earth” (Gen. 1:28). Chapter 2 verse 9 says that “the LORD God brought forth out of the ground every tree that is pleasant to the sight, and good for food.” This means that God entrusted to man these abundant natural riches, so that man would enjoy them and have dominion over them.
Verse 9 adds: “also the tree of life in the midst of the garden, and the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.” And in verses 16–17, the Lord speaks to the man and says: “Of every tree of the garden you may freely eat; but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil you shall not eat, for in the day that you eat of it you shall surely die.”
Note well: the whole garden is beautiful; everything that surrounds man is aesthetically gratifying. Moreover, the fruits are good; they are delicious and healthy. And above all, man, by divine blessing, enjoys mastery over his entire context. But in the end, his fate hangs on his response to that word of God regarding the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. And Adam might obey, or he might disobey.
It is important to understand that, fundamentally, the prohibition of Genesis 2:17 is an invitation. It is an invitation to Adam to interpret his entire context according to God’s Word and under God’s authority. In order to do this, Adam would have to interpret himself as he is, as a creature of God, even the image of God, under the absolute authority of the absolute God. Adam would have to understand himself as a creature of God who owes his Creator perfect obedience, up to and including even his own life. Specifically, Adam will have to objectify his own instincts, his own feelings, and his own thoughts and intuition, and to submit them consciously and intentionally to the law of his Creator. He will have to review his situation very carefully, considering the people involved, the relevant relationships, and the meaning of all that has been said. And he will have to adopt an obedient way of thinking, feeling, and reacting. And in order to do this, above all Adam must know that “God hath all life, glory, goodness, blessedness, in and of himself; and is alone in and unto himself all-sufficient,” and that God alone is “the fountain of all being, of whom, through whom, and to whom are all things” (WCF 2.2). In sum, Adam must “trust the Lord with all [his] heart and lean not on [his] own understanding” (Prov. 3:5). He must believe that: “Blessed is the man . . . who delights in the law of the Lord” (Ps. 1:1, 2). And he must confirm this belief through obedience, by not eating from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
When we think critically, we delight in the law of the Lord, and we flourish in the pure joy of obedience.
Adam’s self-objectification and theocentric consideration of himself and his world represent the original ideal for healthy and wholesome creaturely thinking. The prohibition of Genesis 2:17 is an invitation to maturity by way of doxological self-examination, and it therefore represents the inaugural moment of human critical thinking. Accordingly, the proper context for critical thinking is covenant love and obedience to God. Godliness is the first principle of the life of the mind. “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge” (Prov. 1:7). When we think critically, we delight in the law of the Lord, and we flourish in the pure joy of obedience.
But Adam transgressed the law of God and ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. By transgressing the command of God, Adam declared that God’s Word was, in his view, negotiable, dubious, and not ultimate. Adam’s transgression said, effectively, that God’s Word was a suggestion rather than a command. When Adam transgressed the law of God, he elevated his own human interpretation of the world to the same level as God’s interpretation. He thus treated God as a mere creature. That is why when Adam ate of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, he came under condemnation of death. And when the Lord asked Adam, “what have you done?” he did not ask because he did not know; with this question, the Lord was leading Adam to a new kind of critical thinking, one filled with repentance and dread of divine wrath.
The Lord invites us, “Come now, let us reason together,” and the reason, the context for this summons, is this: that our sins “though . . . like scarlet . . . shall be white as snow,” so that, being “willing and obedient,” we “shall eat of the good of the land” (Isa. 1:18, 19). The renewal of the mind and the rebirth of sound thinking are part of obedient communion with God in Christ Jesus. Critical thinking belongs to the new life in Christ that we live by the power of the Holy Spirit who dwells within us. To think critically, indeed, to think well, is to declare that He is the Lord and besides him there is no other, and to think, lovingly and obediently, as little children, the thoughts of God after him.
In other words: When resourced with adequate depth, Scripture and Reformed confessions can facilitate cross-cultural conversation and engagement—for example, this one between East and West on the topic of critical thinking—which draws us all into richer self-critique according to Scripture, and which encourages each one to learn from the other to the glory of God. And we are only scratching the surface. The global theological conversation, into which theological education as mission ventures, holds tremendous promise for richer biblical theological and redemptive historical insights; for fresh insights into the theology of pastoral training; and for the mutual love and edification of the saints around the world.