Philosophy entered my life very organically. The first roots grasped the soil when my dad would come home from a long day of classes and study, and we would discuss what he was learning in the Philosophy of Religion program over dinner. Unlike many of my interests, it seemed to choose me.

Philosophy beckoned to me, declaring: “Your mission, if you choose to accept it, is to discover the ultimate purpose of life, the universe, and everything, as well as the mechanisms by which these are linked together.” Well, I thought, that sounds simple enough.

I remember always being naturally curious, beginning with science and technology when I was in elementary school. The natural world ignited my imagination and inspired me with wonder. The stars and planets–– the movements of the heavenly bodies and their unfathomable magnitude–– struck me with awe.

When I encountered philosophy, however, I felt that I found something truly special. A pursuit that demands the most rigorous engagement of the cognitive faculties in the pursuit of the loftiest goals–– finding answers to the most important and fundamental questions of life–– that sounds like a real adventure!

I began to realize that philosophy was not a tame beast, however. Many unfortunate men have played with the matches of philosophy only to be consumed by the fires of skepticism.

On the one hand, a deep question requires excavating below certain assumptions. On the other, one cannot dig to infinity. There comes a point at which we cannot keep digging, for there is no more ground that can be moved with the tools we have. When I was twelve years old, I found the point at which I could dig no deeper.

A book by James W. Sire introduced me to nihilism and Neitzsche, and I began examining my ability to prove my own existence on the basis of reason alone. I was very alarmed at what I uncovered: all the arguments for my existence were built upon the foundational premise that I already existed! Descartes said, “I think, therefore I am,” but this did not satisfy me at all. When one assumes that one thinks, he has already assumed that he exists.

I wanted to simply brush this discovery off and ignore it, but it kept eating at me. I was shot down in my quest for truth, feeling betrayed by my mind who thus far seemed to be a loyal companion. What now?

I struggled with these ideas frantically, wrestling and looking for a way out. How could I break free from this excruciating puzzle?

Finally, the arrow was pulled from my side–– I made the leap of faith.

Kierkegaard said, “thinking can turn toward itself in order to think about itself and skepticism can emerge. But this thinking about itself never accomplishes anything.” When one discovers the limits of human reason, one must paradoxically recognize the limitations of reason itself, and thus accept a framework for the world that extends beyond the limits of human rationality.

If the universe is meaningless and chaotic, and I along with all other men have spontaneously sprung from the chaos for no reason whatsoever, then why would I have any reason to trust my own mind?

However, if I have been intentionally formed and crafted for a purpose by a being with knowledge and power far beyond my own, and this being desires my eternal good, does it not seem reasonable that my mind has been created with sufficient capabilities to understand what is necessary to accomplish that goal?

The book of Ecclesiastes declares: “Do not be overrighteous, neither be overwise–– why destroy yourself?” Philosophy cannot reinvent the wheel. We cannot literally question everything, or else we stand upon nothing.

Once the leap has been made, we no longer have to endure crushing burdens of skepticism and rationalism, which allow us no certainty. With a secure foundation, we the freedom to explore everything fearlessly! The universe and the world of ideas become an infinite playground to enjoy, without want for safety. We can be grateful for the gift of life and of being we have received, and freely enjoy it!

“He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire; he set my feet on a rock and gave me a firm place to stand.”