Exegesis versus Philosophy

God’s Word or Man’s Wisdom? The Battle Between Exegesis and Philosophy

A Seed of Doubt

It began with a question.

Not a question of curiosity, but of subtle rebellion.

“Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?” (Genesis 3:1)

The serpent’s inquiry in Eden wasn’t a request for clarification—it was a philosophical reframing. A challenge to divine clarity. A seed of doubt planted in the soil of human autonomy. Eve’s response, though earnest, already showed signs of interpretive drift. She added to God’s command (“…and you must not touch it”), and softened the consequence (“…or you will die”). The Word of God was no longer received—it was being reimagined.

This moment marks the first theological crisis in human history. Not a battle of behavior, but of interpretation. Not a question of obedience, but of epistemology: How do we know what God meant?

From Eden to the academy, the tension between exegesis and philosophy has persisted. One method listens; the other speculates. One begins with the text; the other begins with the self. And in a world increasingly shaped by human wisdom, the stakes of this interpretive divide have never been higher.

Drawing Out or Supplanting In

This article explores the critical divide between philosophy and Biblical exegesis in discerning God’s Word and God’s way. While philosophy often begins with human assumptions about the divine, exegesis—anchored in sound hermeneutics—seeks to draw meaning from the text rather than impose meaning onto it. Through narrative, scripture, and theological reflection, we’ll examine why exegesis offers the stronger footing for faithful interpretation—and why the Edenic temptation to reinterpret God’s Word remains alive and well.

The Philosophic Drift

Philosophy, in its noblest form, seeks wisdom. It asks deep questions about existence, morality, and meaning. But when applied to Scripture without exegetical discipline, it risks becoming a mirror—reflecting human ideas about God rather than revealing God’s self-disclosure.

Modern theology often begins with philosophical discomfort. Divine wrath is reinterpreted as metaphor. Hell becomes psychological alienation. The exclusivity of Christ (John 14:6) is softened into pluralistic hospitality. These shifts rarely emerge from textual study—they arise from philosophical presuppositions: God wouldn’t say that. God couldn’t mean that.

This is not new. The serpent’s question in Genesis 3 was not about the tree—it was about the trustworthiness of God’s Word. Philosophy, untethered from exegesis, becomes a tool for reimagining God in our own image.

“Professing themselves to be wise, they became fools.” (Romans 1:22)

Exegesis: Listening Before Speaking

Biblical exegesis begins with submission. It asks not “What do I think this means?” but “What did the Spirit intend through the human author?” It honors the grammar, context, genre, and canonical coherence of Scripture. It resists the temptation to make the Bible say what we wish it said.

Paul’s exhortation to Timothy is clear:

“Do your best to present yourself to God as one approved… rightly handling the word of truth.” (2 Timothy 2:15)

This is not a call to speculate, but to study. Exegesis is a posture of humility. It recognizes that Scripture is not raw material for philosophical construction—it is revelation to be received.

Jesus Himself modeled this in Luke 24:27:

“And beginning with Moses and all the Prophets, He interpreted to them in all the Scriptures the things concerning Himself.”

He didn’t philosophize about His role—He exegeted the Law, Prophets, and Writings to reveal it.

Hermeneutics as the Bridge

Sound hermeneutics is the bridge between text and meaning. It acknowledges that interpretation is necessary—but insists that interpretation must be governed by the text itself, not by external philosophical systems.

Consider the parable of the prodigal son (Luke 15). A philosophical reading might emphasize autonomy, identity, or psychological healing. But an exegetical reading sees the Father’s lavish grace, the Son’s repentance, and the scandal of mercy. The meaning is not in what we wish the story said—it’s in what Jesus intended to reveal.

Hermeneutics asks: What genre is this? What is the historical context? How does this passage relate to the whole counsel of Scripture? Philosophy asks: What do I think this means in light of my worldview?

Only one of these approaches guards against the Edenic error.

The Consequences of Philosophical Primacy

When philosophy leads, Scripture follows—or worse, is silenced. Theological liberalism often begins with philosophical presuppositions: “God is love, therefore He cannot judge.” But this reverses the order. Scripture says:

“The Lord is slow to anger and great in power, and the Lord will by no means clear the guilty.” (Nahum 1:3)

To ignore this is not just poor theology—it’s rebellion masked as sophistication.

The consequences are pastoral as well as theological. When Scripture is reinterpreted through philosophical lenses, believers are left with a God who is abstract, unknowable, and ultimately silent. The clarity of God’s commands becomes negotiable. The comfort of His promises becomes conditional. The authority of His Word becomes optional.

This is not freedom—it is confusion.

The Pattern of Modern Convenience: A Case Study

Perhaps nowhere is the triumph of philosophical presuppositions over exegetical discipline more evident than in recent reinterpretations of biblical sexuality. The historical record reveals a telling pattern.

The Historical Consensus:

From the earliest Christian interpreters through the modern era, biblical passages addressing homosexual behavior were consistently understood as general prohibitions, not merely condemnations of exploitative relationships:

• John Chrysostom (4th century) argued that homosexual acts were degrading and contrary to nature
• Augustine (4th-5th century) maintained the traditional interpretation in his extensive writings
• Thomas Aquinas (13th century) affirmed this understanding in his systematic theology
• John Calvin (16th century) and other Reformers continued this interpretive tradition
• 20th century scholarship maintained this consensus across denominational lines

This interpretation held across different languages, cultures, and centuries—including scholars who had no particular social investment in the conclusion. The linguistic evidence in Romans 1:26-27, 1 Corinthians 6:9-10, and Leviticus 18:22 was read consistently across vastly different historical contexts.

The Modern Shift:

The reinterpretation to pedophilia, temple prostitution, or mere cultural accommodation emerged primarily in the late 20th century. This timing correlates precisely with broader cultural shifts in sexual ethics, not with new manuscript discoveries, archaeological findings, or linguistic breakthroughs. The new readings require complex arguments that previous generations of scholars—including those fluent in the original languages—somehow missed for nearly two millennia.

A Revealing Admission:

Aldous Huxley’s honest reflection captures the underlying dynamic at work:

“I had motives for not wanting the world to have meaning; consequently assumed that it had none… For myself, as no doubt, for most of my contemporaries, the philosophy of meaninglessness was essentially an instrument of liberation… We objected to the morality because it interfered with our sexual freedom.” ~ Huxley

This candid admission reveals what often drives theological reinterpretation: not new exegetical insights, but the desire to align Scripture with contemporary moral preferences. When interpretive conclusions change in lockstep with cultural movements rather than arising from sustained textual study, it suggests that external philosophical commitments are driving the exegesis rather than the text driving the theology.

Philosophy in Its Proper Place

This is not a call to abandon philosophy. The Church has long benefited from philosophical reflection—Augustine, Aquinas, and others used philosophy to clarify and defend Biblical truth. But they did so with Scripture as the starting point, not the subject of speculation.

Philosophy can serve theology when it submits to revelation. It can help articulate doctrines, defend truth claims, and engage culture. But it must never become the lens through which Scripture is judged.

“See to it that no one takes you captive through hollow and deceptive philosophy… rather than on Christ.” (Colossians 2:8)

The danger is not philosophy itself—it’s philosophy untethered from the Word.

The Seed Continues

The serpent’s question still echoes:

“Did God really say…?”

It echoes in classrooms where Scripture is deconstructed. In pulpits where hard texts are softened. In hearts where obedience is delayed by doubt. The question is no longer about fruit—it’s about authority.

Will we listen to God’s Word, or reinterpret it through our own wisdom?

Exegesis calls us back to Eden—not to the tree, but to the moment before the question. To the posture of trust. To the clarity of command. To the simplicity of obedience.

God has spoken. The question is not whether we understand Him—it’s whether we will submit to what He has said.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.” (Psalm 119:105)

Let us be those who walk by that light. Not by the flicker of human speculation, but by the fire of divine revelation.