Consider the garden of Eden. The serpent spun a narrative, while God gave a command. The narrative led Eve to believe a lie, causing her to stop trusting in God and instead believe a conspiracy. She didn't have Grok to check facts for her. It simply came down to who she trusted. God who provided everything she needed. Or the serpent who knew how to push her buttons.
In some cases, you have to trust one or the other.
In other cases, you have to follow the data.
I'm a software guy. It doesn't matter how much I want to believe what the cause of a bug is. What matters is the truth. I can waste all day going down fruitless rabbit trails because I expect to find the answer there. Or I can allow the data to take me to where the bug really is - no matter how blind I am to it. It just takes patience to collect the data, and caution not to be fooled by my own biases.
The bible mentions that Daniel had three different kinds of wisdom - at the same time. One, he could see things that others couldn't. Two, he could understand things that others failed to. And three, he knew what to do when others didn't.
When you watch the news, what catches your eye, ear, or attention? When you can catch truth, you have one type of wisdom.
When you use Grok to research a topic, what sinks in that makes sense, that fits, that has an inherent logic to it? When you have gone deep to understand something, you have a second type of wisdom.
When you must make a choice, what steers you, what determines the path you'll take, how do you know which way is the right path? When you can determine the right path, you have the third type of wisdom.
The thing is, you can have one level of wisdom in all these areas through contemplation and study. You can have a totally different level of wisdom in all these areas when you trust God.
My point is that we need what Daniel had. And to be like him, we need both. Data and trust in God.
I talked to Claude about my comment and helped it to understand what I meant (I was a bit on the opaque side). Here is Claude's rewrite after discussing the comment with it...
Consider the garden of Eden. The serpent spun a narrative. God gave a command. Notice the asymmetry: a narrative has to be persuasive because it's trying to move someone who doesn't already trust the speaker. A command is bare. It doesn't manipulate; it just states what is, and leaves the question of trust fully exposed. Eve didn't fall because she lacked information. She fell because she stopped trusting the one who had no reason to deceive her, and started trusting the one whose whole method was deception by story.
Narratives have been used to lead us astray from the very beginning. That's your point, and I think it goes even deeper than the modern examples.
I'm a software guy, so I take epistemic humility seriously. When I'm chasing a bug, it doesn't matter how much I want to believe what's causing it. I can waste an entire day going down rabbit trails because I expect to find the answer there — or I can let the data take me where the bug actually is, no matter how blind I was to it. The discipline is patience to collect data and caution about my own biases. I get why you're put off by people who skip that work.
But life isn't debugging. At some point, epistemic humility has to give wisdom room to breathe.
Daniel 5:11 is interesting on this. The Queen Mother tells Belshazzar there's a man in the kingdom in whom three things were found together: nahiru, sokeltanu, and hokmah — light, insight, and wisdom. Three Aramaic words for three distinct faculties. Light is the capacity to see what's there. Insight is the careful reasoning that avoids error — that's the epistemic humility piece. And wisdom, hokmah, is practical: knowing what to do.
Everyone can see things, but only some can see what God shows them. Everyone can reason, but only some arrive at understanding God opens to them. Everyone can weigh options, but only some can hear which direction they're actually being told to take. The natural versions of all three faculties are real and legitimate. But there's a mode of each that operates on top of them, and Daniel had access to it.
The third one matters most, and the context tells you why. Belshazzar isn't asking for a poet or a philosopher. Handwriting has appeared on the wall during a feast where he was drinking from vessels stolen from God's temple. The empire is about to fall. He needs someone who can see what the writing means, understand what it implies, and know what to do about it — all at once, under pressure, with everything at stake. That's the wisdom a king needs, because a king's decisions ripple out across everyone under him. The Queen Mother knew it, which is why she remembered Daniel.
Here's what struck me listening to your podcast. Every adult is a kind of king. Not over an empire, but over the small kingdom of their own life — in your case it's largely your readers. Decisions ripple. And pure epistemic humility, held as a permanent posture rather than a working method, is essentially the abdication of that kingship. It says I will not act until I am sure, which in practice means I will let the moment pass and call my passivity wisdom. Light without direction is just illumination of a problem you won't act on. Insight without wisdom is analysis paralysis with better vocabulary. The whole thing is ordered toward acting rightly, and for anyone with people under them, acting rightly cannot always wait for certainty.
That's why I think we need what Daniel had, and why we need both halves of it. Data, yes — I'm not abandoning the discipline that keeps me honest in my work. But also trust in the one who isn't selling a narrative, who gives commands rather than stories, and who can put light, insight, and wisdom in a person at the same time when the moment demands all three.
Consider the garden of Eden. The serpent spun a narrative, while God gave a command. The narrative led Eve to believe a lie, causing her to stop trusting in God and instead believe a conspiracy. She didn't have Grok to check facts for her. It simply came down to who she trusted. God who provided everything she needed. Or the serpent who knew how to push her buttons.
In some cases, you have to trust one or the other.
In other cases, you have to follow the data.
I'm a software guy. It doesn't matter how much I want to believe what the cause of a bug is. What matters is the truth. I can waste all day going down fruitless rabbit trails because I expect to find the answer there. Or I can allow the data to take me to where the bug really is - no matter how blind I am to it. It just takes patience to collect the data, and caution not to be fooled by my own biases.
The bible mentions that Daniel had three different kinds of wisdom - at the same time. One, he could see things that others couldn't. Two, he could understand things that others failed to. And three, he knew what to do when others didn't.
When you watch the news, what catches your eye, ear, or attention? When you can catch truth, you have one type of wisdom.
When you use Grok to research a topic, what sinks in that makes sense, that fits, that has an inherent logic to it? When you have gone deep to understand something, you have a second type of wisdom.
When you must make a choice, what steers you, what determines the path you'll take, how do you know which way is the right path? When you can determine the right path, you have the third type of wisdom.
The thing is, you can have one level of wisdom in all these areas through contemplation and study. You can have a totally different level of wisdom in all these areas when you trust God.
My point is that we need what Daniel had. And to be like him, we need both. Data and trust in God.
I talked to Claude about my comment and helped it to understand what I meant (I was a bit on the opaque side). Here is Claude's rewrite after discussing the comment with it...
Consider the garden of Eden. The serpent spun a narrative. God gave a command. Notice the asymmetry: a narrative has to be persuasive because it's trying to move someone who doesn't already trust the speaker. A command is bare. It doesn't manipulate; it just states what is, and leaves the question of trust fully exposed. Eve didn't fall because she lacked information. She fell because she stopped trusting the one who had no reason to deceive her, and started trusting the one whose whole method was deception by story.
Narratives have been used to lead us astray from the very beginning. That's your point, and I think it goes even deeper than the modern examples.
I'm a software guy, so I take epistemic humility seriously. When I'm chasing a bug, it doesn't matter how much I want to believe what's causing it. I can waste an entire day going down rabbit trails because I expect to find the answer there — or I can let the data take me where the bug actually is, no matter how blind I was to it. The discipline is patience to collect data and caution about my own biases. I get why you're put off by people who skip that work.
But life isn't debugging. At some point, epistemic humility has to give wisdom room to breathe.
Daniel 5:11 is interesting on this. The Queen Mother tells Belshazzar there's a man in the kingdom in whom three things were found together: nahiru, sokeltanu, and hokmah — light, insight, and wisdom. Three Aramaic words for three distinct faculties. Light is the capacity to see what's there. Insight is the careful reasoning that avoids error — that's the epistemic humility piece. And wisdom, hokmah, is practical: knowing what to do.
Everyone can see things, but only some can see what God shows them. Everyone can reason, but only some arrive at understanding God opens to them. Everyone can weigh options, but only some can hear which direction they're actually being told to take. The natural versions of all three faculties are real and legitimate. But there's a mode of each that operates on top of them, and Daniel had access to it.
The third one matters most, and the context tells you why. Belshazzar isn't asking for a poet or a philosopher. Handwriting has appeared on the wall during a feast where he was drinking from vessels stolen from God's temple. The empire is about to fall. He needs someone who can see what the writing means, understand what it implies, and know what to do about it — all at once, under pressure, with everything at stake. That's the wisdom a king needs, because a king's decisions ripple out across everyone under him. The Queen Mother knew it, which is why she remembered Daniel.
Here's what struck me listening to your podcast. Every adult is a kind of king. Not over an empire, but over the small kingdom of their own life — in your case it's largely your readers. Decisions ripple. And pure epistemic humility, held as a permanent posture rather than a working method, is essentially the abdication of that kingship. It says I will not act until I am sure, which in practice means I will let the moment pass and call my passivity wisdom. Light without direction is just illumination of a problem you won't act on. Insight without wisdom is analysis paralysis with better vocabulary. The whole thing is ordered toward acting rightly, and for anyone with people under them, acting rightly cannot always wait for certainty.
That's why I think we need what Daniel had, and why we need both halves of it. Data, yes — I'm not abandoning the discipline that keeps me honest in my work. But also trust in the one who isn't selling a narrative, who gives commands rather than stories, and who can put light, insight, and wisdom in a person at the same time when the moment demands all three.