Teaching Introduction to Philosophy Courses In Secular and Christian Settings

By Douglas Groothuis, PhD

It is easy to underestimate and hard to overestimate the significance of an introduction to philosophy course. I recently met a young lady who took a required introduction to philosophy course at a prestigious Christian university. When I said I taught introduction to philosophy at Cornerstone University, she replied that her course elsewhere made her want “to pull her hair out.” I have long believed that taking such a course can either make or break a student’s interest in philosophy as a serious pursuit. This is no small matter for one’s intellectual life—or even one’s eternal destiny. For philosophy at its best is the rational search for the truth about what matters most: God, the meaning of life, the good life, and the afterlife.

My Experience in Teaching

I have taught introduction to philosophy courses at several secular schools as well as at two Christian universities. Philosophy: Reasoning and Worldview is my main undergraduate course at Cornerstone University. I never took an introduction to philosophy course as an undergraduate, although all my degrees are in philosophy and are from secular schools. That may have been a blessed omission, since these intro courses often sour people on philosophy, sometimes for a lifetime. No wonder there are so many unemployed philosophers today.  

I was a teaching assistant for a large introduction to philosophy course at the University of Oregon in about 1991. The Professor began the class with some of the puzzles of skepticism. How can we really know that we are not brains in vats who are being deceived by mad scientists that we live in a real space-time world? He also used Descartes’ First Meditation from the Meditations to cause students to wonder if they might be dreaming when they think they are awake. And how do we know there are other minds when we cannot get inside another person’s head? These are some of the classic and perennial problems of skepticism, the demon that haunt philosophy. Several escape routes are available. Descartes provides one rather satisfying one in The Meditations,[1] but the professor did not assign anything beyond the first meditation! That is philosophical malpractice. Old Descartes deserves more respect than that. A professor would never assign only part of a Shakespearean play or half of an epic poem.

Basic Principles

How, then, should an introduction to philosophy course be taught? Let us begin with general principles for both teaching in a Christian and in a secular setting. Whenever I teach a course, I avoid all multiple-choice, fill-in-the-blanks, and true/false examinations. I test for knowledge and the ability to integrate ideas into coherent research and writing. One can guess the right answer in multiple choice and true false tests. Learning should not be about guesswork, but knowledge. Moreover, simply knowing some facts does not rise to the intellectual level of putting facts into a coherent essay. This requires good grammar, a winning style, sound arguments, and proper documentation. I grade my student’s papers as an intellectual and literary whole. You cannot receive the highest grade if the ideas are correct, but the writing or documentation is off. Contrariwise, if the writing and documentation are impeccable, but the arguments are peccable, you wouldn’t be getting the highest grade either.

The Secular Setting

What about teaching in the secular classroom? One must not proselytize in a secular classroom, but that does not rule out giving philosophical arguments that align with a Christian worldview. When I taught secular introduction to philosophy courses, I told the students that since this was a philosophy course, all that mattered intellectually were rational arguments. Thus students (or the professor) should not quote a religious text to make a point in and of itself, but one should make a religious point—or an irreligious point—through arguments. A rational argument is a series of statements where premises lead to a conclusion through some sound pattern of logic, such as induction, deduction, or inference to the best explanation (or abduction).

Therefore, I sometimes offered arguments for God’s existence from philosophy and science in my secular classroom. I always assured my students that I would never downgrade them for disagreeing with me, and I didn’t try to hide my Christian faith. The way I put it was, “If you want to know about me, I teach at Denver Seminary and have written several books and academic articles. If you want to know more about me, check it out online.” I added that their opinion on my beliefs—whether positive or negative—would in no way impact their grade. I affirmed that in the discipline of philosophy, you are only as good as your arguments. 

Nevertheless, this explicit policy did not always keep me out of trouble. Several weeks into a new semester, the secretary of the Philosophy Department at Metro State University called asking if I could pick up an introduction to ethics class. Somehow, two other professors had been hired and fired up to that point, one of whom literally stumbled into class completely inebriated and was quickly fired. I asked when I would be needed. He said, “In three hours.” So, I arrived as the third teacher of that term and started the whole class over again by discussing the nature of philosophy, truth, knowledge, and more.

Somehow, that class never warmed up to me. They were inattentive, often disruptive, and didn’t seem to recognize me as any kind of authority. I could barely bring them to order to start a class. One class began by a student lackadaisically telling me that a previous professor for the class had died. “Smith [not his name] died,” she said without emotion. Smith had been a student of mine at Denver Seminary, although I wasn’t close to him. I think she said it to unravel me. I was surprised, said I that I was sad, since I knew him, but soldiered on. This was an intellectual, spiritual, and emotional battle zone (see 2 Corinthians 10:3-5; Ephesians 6:10-19).

Later in the term, I received an angry letter from the head of the philosophy department telling me that students had complained that I was teaching religion in the classroom, which was wrong in a secular setting. He accused me of being “an advocacy professor.” But he was proud that he worked hard to not let his students know what he believed about anything. I reiterated what I wrote above, but that failed to placate him. I thought that would be the last class I taught there, but I was offered one more course after that.

When I related this to one of my brighter seminary students, he insightfully explained what happened to me. The malcontent students did not accept the idea of a philosophy of religion—in other words, they rejected even the thought of any religious claim being seriously explored. They were convinced that such beliefs were misguided and void of rationale. They thought philosophy must be secular from premise to conclusion and that religion had nothing to do with philosophy. So, if I used arguments for God’s existence (or anything  else in the theistic worldview), I could not be doing philosophy! Of course, that would rule out St. Augustine, Aquinas, Descartes, and contemporary philosophers of note such as William Lane Craig, Richard Swinburne, and J. P. Moreland. At this time, I had written about a hundred and fifty pages of philosophical argument for Christian theism in the first edition of Christian Apologetics, although I didn’t play that up.[2]

This episode shows how deeply secular many academic classrooms have become and why we need confident and courageous Christians in these settings. I’m thankful I was able to be there for many years, and I hope to return in one way or another.

Despite the class’s mass mutiny, one lone student—who never said anything in class—told me this class was the best he had taken at Metro State and that it changed his life for the better. He was a Christian who was built up through what I taught and how I handed the antagonism. So, we press on, come what may. As Jesus warned us, “Beware when all speak well of you, as they did the false prophets” (Luke 16:15). I have never had that problem. One other bright spot in this dark endeavor was when several students asked me after class what I thought about demons and angels. Since it was after class and since they initiated it, I explained the basics of the biblical view.[3] They were quite interested.

Even though one is forbidden from actively evangelizing students in a secular classroom, one can ethically and tactfully bring up spiritual topics outside of class if the students show an interest. This must be handled discretely and prayerfully given the power differential between professor and student. A professor should never pressure students in any way or show favorites based on friendships or anything remotely romantic.

In one of my courses, a young woman said, “When are we going to get to what is true about reality? I don’t have much time, since I have terminal cancer.” I replied that we would work toward that philosophically, but I wasn’t going to announce what I thought outright in class. The student sought me out and I found that while she was raised a Christian, she was drawn toward New Age ideas, especially the teaching that we can “manifest” reality through our thoughts. This was based on Rhonda Byrne’s book, The Secret.[4] Her grandmother was a Pentecostal minister, who had a deep impact on her. We met a few times and discussed the New Age worldview verses the biblical perspective. I gave her a video about it.

By the end of the class, this young woman told me that the New Age view was not true. She could not think her way out of cancer but had to trust God with it all through the work of Jesus. She even set up a meeting with her ex-boyfriend, who was a non-Christian, to talk about Christianity. This was all above-board and appropriate. I lost track of this woman but am heartened by her return to faith. I believe I will meet her again in the blessed afterlife. This text from the Apostle Paul secures this hope in the truth of God’s sure promises.

Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words (I Thessalonians 4:13-18).

Permit me another story from an introduction to philosophy class, one on ethics. When I teach this topic, I always include a unit on the ethics of abortion. I may mention the biblical case against abortion, but in this setting I don’t emphasize it. Instead, I use an argument based on the humanity of the fetus as a person with the right not to be murdered. I first read this argument about forty years ago in Clifford Bajema’s little classic, Abortion and the Meaning of Personhood, and have been giving it ever since whenever I can. I give this argument, along with a developed biblical argument in Taking Back Truth.[5] I will not rehearse that argument here, but only state that it is undeniable that the fetus is a human being whose status as such should be respected and whose right to life eclipses any other consideration.

I offered this argument in about 2010 to my class. They seemed to understand it and didn’t rebel against it. A few years later, a student in that class told me that another young lady in our class later became pregnant unexpectedly. Her boyfriend pressured her to abortion their child, but she refused. I was told that this was partially because of my teaching on the subject and because of her upbringing as a Catholic. I met with this woman and her son, then about two years old, for lunch. You cannot put a price on experiences like this. Thanks be to God.

But what about the structure of an introduction class at a secular school? First, pray for wisdom from above, from the Father of Lights (James 1:5, 17). Follow Jesus’ admonition to be wise as a serpent and innocent as a dove (Matthew 10:16). When you are teaching for a secular school, you sign a contract to fulfill their expectations. You don’t get a pulpit, but a lectern. But whatever strictures you must abide by, you will have some freedom usually in text selection and in making assignments.

When Metro State began requiring original sources instead of introductory books, I chose C. S. Lewis’s The Abolition of Man along with Plato’s, The Apology, Viktor Frankl’s Man’s Search for Meaning, and others. I received no opposition for the Lewis book, although I would have been opposed if I had chosen Mere Christianity. The Abolition of Man is a modern classic; it argues for “the doctrine of objective value” or “the Tao,” and against moral relativism or subjectivism, but not for a specifically Christian account of the Good. Still, it defeats relativism and opens the door to a Christian perspective on God, goodness, and salvation. The Frankl book is a modern classic as well, which recounts the author’s experience and reflections on being a Jew in several concentration camps. It is only meaning (which really means love) that saves us from despair under inhuman conditions.

Teaching in a Christian Context

When teaching an introductory philosophy class at a Christian institution—or at least at one that takes teaching the Christian worldview seriously in its curriculum—one can be explicit in explaining and defending Christianity through philosophy. I attempt this by building on a foundation of the significance of critical thinking and philosophy for the Christian and make the case that Jesus himself was a philosopher.[6] We then discuss the nature of truth as correspondence to reality and knowledge as justified true belief. I emphasize that faith in the biblical sense is not against reason or evidence but trusting what God has said in the Bible and trusting in God himself. We study philosophy in order to explain and defend the Christian worldview and to show the logical defects in non-Christian perspectives. I ground my approach in the Bible with specific texts about using one’s intellect for God’s glory (Matthew 22:37-40; Romans 12:1-2), the importance of apologetics (1 Peter 3:15; Jude 3; Acts 17:16-24), and the spiritual warfare involved in articulating and advocating for Christianity (Ephesians 6:10-19; 2 Corinthians 10:3-5).

I keep an apologetics focus throughout the class without avoiding the hard work of teaching epistemology, metaphysics, and the basic ideas of the great philosophers, such as Aristotle, Plato, Hume, Kant, and others. For example, after surveying Hume and Kant on epistemology, I offer a basic Christian account of epistemology. Since the philosophy of Blaise Pascal is one of my specialties (although he is often omitted from introductory courses and even history of philosophy courses), we discuss this epistemology, the wager, and his anthropological argument for Christianity.[7]

As for textbooks, I have used Ed L. Miller’s Questions that Matter, which is superb, although the latest edition inexcusably excludes his chapter on basic logic. More recently, I have used Ronald Nash’s Life’s Ultimate Questions, which is clear and accurate. I have paired Nash with either my book, Philosophy in Seven Sentences[8] or James Sire’s classic, The Universe Next Door: A Basic Worldview Catalogue, now in a sixth edition.[9] I supplement this material with some online essays and a few videos.

I do not allow any screens in my classroom and call out students if they are trying to sneak a look. I explain that we must focus our attention on the philosophy at hand and not let ourselves get distracted. I send out detailed lecture outlines to students and ask them to bring them to class to refer to an make comments on. Yes, this is old school, but good school.

We begin all classes with a moment of silence to collect ourselves for learning for the glory of God, since I view the classroom as a sanctuary for knowledge. I then pray for our class, including thanksgiving and requests. As opposed to smaller seminar courses, I need to lecture most of the time, but I leave room for student interaction by asking them questions. I sometimes use a “turn and talk” exercise, where I give a question, then have students get into small groups to discuss it for five minutes before I reconvene the whole class for some discussion. I only learned this technique recently from my colleague at Cornerstone University, Kristin Rich. My ideal setting is where I can practice “jazz pedagogy” (involving improvisation on deep themes) but that is difficult with larger classrooms.[10] Nevertheless, just as jazz is “the sound of surprise” (as Whitney Balliet put it), the classroom provides opportunities for felicitous surprises through even limited improvisation with the students.

The Joys of Teaching

In the classic film, “Chariots of Fire” (1982), Eric Liddle, who would become a missionary, tells his sister that he was competing in the Olympics “God made me fast. And when I run, I feel his pleasure." God did not make me physically fast, but I have a pretty quick mind that loves to teach introductory students, both in Christian and non-Christian settings. I often feel God’s pleasure when I teach, especially when you see the lights go on for students, when they encounter new truths that have a profound bearing on their lives. Although I have plenty of teaching fire in my bones at age 69, the sun is setting on my teaching career. I have far more years behind me as a teacher than ahead of me. But the sun is rising on the careers of many Christian philosophy teachers. I hope this essay will encourage Christian teachers and scholars to glorify God, benefit their students, and perhaps even feel God’s pleasure as they do so.

[1] See Douglas Groothuis, “I Think, Therefore, I am,” Philosophy in Seven Sentences (InterVarsity Academic, 2016). Pascal provides another way out. See Douglas Groothuis, “Skepticism and the Hiddenness of God,” Beyond the Wager: The Christian Brilliance of Blaise Pascal (InterVarsity Academic, 2024). J. P. Moreland offers yet another way out, and probably the most convincing. See “The Recovery of Knowledge,” Kingdom Triangle (Zondervan, 2007).

[2] Douglas Groothuis, “Part II: The Case for Christian Theism,” Christian Apologetics: A Comprehensive Case for Biblical Faith (InterVarsity Academic, 2011). The section is expanded in the second edition of this book, published in 2022.

[3] See Douglas Groothuis, “Spiritual Warfare,” Confronting the New Age (InterVarsity, 1988).

[4] Byrne is sadly still at it. Her latest book is, Thought Rules: How Thought Creates Everything. The only problem is that unless you are God Almighty, this is not true for you.

[5] Douglas Groothuis, “The Truth About Humanity,” Taking Back Truth: Exposing Common Cultural Lies (Baker, 2026).

[6] Douglas Groothuis, On Jesus (Wadsworth, 2003).

[7] Douglas Groothuis, Beyond the Wager: The Christian Brilliance of Blaise Pascal (InterVarsity Academic, 2024).

[8] Douglas Groothuis, Philosophy in Seven Sentences (InterVarsity Academic, 2016).

[9] James W. Sire, The Universe Next Door: A Basic Worldview Catalogue, 6^th ed. (InterVarsity, 2020).

[10] Douglas Groothuis, “Swinging in Class,” https://www.douglasgroothuis.com/post/blast-from-the-past-swinging-in-class.