Much philosophical endeavor is occupied with trying to answer questions that ought never to have been asked. I am reminded of Bill Cosby’s old joke about it. Philosophy majors want to ask questions like “why is there air?” when the PE majors knew the answer already. Air is for blowing up volleyballs.
The world is given to us. God made it. He established it, and His character and nature is imprinted everywhere. Thus it is that we don’t have to figure certain things out. We should just say “thank you.” And we should say it to God, in the name of Jesus.
This drives autonomous man crazy, because he can’t figure out how this particular mutt named Bob and this particular poodle named Pierre can both belong to the general category dog. There are no wires running between them, no electronic telemetry that we can detect from Plato’s Dog in the Sky, And yet if you have a toddler on your lap and point to two dogs in a picture book and say dog, you will get a solomonic nod. And if you point to the next picture of a cat and say dog, you will get a toddler’s gut chuckle. Just like Samuel Johnson refuting Bishop Berkeley by kicking a rock. This is because the toddler (and Johnson) are grateful (and simple) enough to live comfortably in the world God made.