ABSTRACT:
This entry asks whether Christians who are librarians can affirm the ACRL frame “Information Creation as a Process.” It argues that they can, provided the frame is grounded not in a constructivist epistemology alone, but in God’s creative work, covenant epistemology, and a view of information as intentionally produced by intelligent agents. Information creation is presented as a genuinely human, relational, and transformative activity that helps students move from raw information to meaningful knowledge. The essay contends that research and writing are not merely technical tasks but formative processes that shape learners intellectually, morally, and spiritually. Drawing on Genesis, covenant theology, and the concept of Universal Information, it frames information creation as a way humans image God through purposeful, responsible, and truth-seeking work. For faithful librarians, then, the process of information creation should be embraced, deepened, and taught as part of Christian formation and sanctification.
FULL ENTRY:
Can Christians who are librarians affirm Information Creation as a Process, one of the frames from the ACRL (2016) Framework for Information Literacy for Higher Education? In this entry, I argue that Christians can faithfully affirm the Framework’s frame “Information Creation as a Process” as a genuinely human, covenantal, and transformative practice, even while remaining critical of aspects of its constructivist epistemological base. This entry will provide a brief overview of the query, “Can information be created?” It will answer this with a qualified “yes,” and examine how the process component of information creation may assist a faithful librarian.
Specifically, countering the frame’s constructivist epistemological base, faithful librarians must ground the process component of information creation in (1) God’s own processual work of creation, (2) covenant epistemology’s emphasis on relational, responsive knowing, and (3) a robust account of information as intentionally created by intelligent agents rather than by impersonal mechanisms or machines. On this basis, I suggest that faithful librarians should not only adopt the frame’s basic practices but also deepen them, inviting students to see information creation as a form of imaging God that shapes them intellectually, morally, and spiritually.
The “Information Creation as a Process” frame embodies a constructivist perspective on knowledge by viewing information as actively created, interpreted, and refined through research, writing, revision, and sharing (ACRL, 2016; Lloyd, 2010, pp. 10–14). This frame assumes a connection between information and knowledge, with no development of that connection. In fact, some go as far as to state that the development of information literacy requires an understanding of how knowledge is created and disseminated (Folk, 2025, p. 5). While I do not disagree with such a connection, its lack of development in either the Framework or other scholarly literature is alarming. I developed this connection in an earlier entry, and it will help to summarize it here: information is understood as raw material and knowledge as what happens when that material is interpreted through a worldview (Christian or otherwise), so the move from one to the other is as much spiritual and ethical as it is intellectual. It also frames librarians as connectors who help people turn facts into understanding and new insight rather than just handing over information. For example, in a reference interview, a patron’s vague request remains merely information until the librarian clarifies what they really need, such as whether they want statistics, historical causes, or theological analysis. It becomes knowledge when that information is interpreted and connected to a real question, helping the patron understand and use it meaningfully rather than just collecting facts. In this context, how should we understand information creation?
The ACRL (2016) frame “Information Creation as a Process” rightly insists that a piece of information is not merely a product to be retrieved but the outcome of a process—one of intending, researching, revising, and disseminating a message in a chosen format. On this, the frame and Gitt (2023) agree, and Universal Information gives that process a definite shape. Because UI is, by definition, “symbolically encoded, abstractly represented” and directed toward “expected action(s) and… intended purpose(s)” (p. 86), the creation of information proceeds from the top down: it begins with purpose, moves through intended action and meaning, and only then arrives at the encoded symbols a receiver can perceive. The frame’s central pedagogical instinct—that experts attend to the process of creation and not only the finished artifact—thus finds a philosophical warrant in Gitt’s apobetic dimension. To ask how a stop sign or a call number came to be is to ask, first, what purpose it was made to serve; the red, lettered octagon is not first a shape that later acquired significance but a purpose (keep drivers safe here) given, in turn, a response, a meaning, and finally a symbolic form.
Locating the origin of that process is where a faithful account both affirms the frame and parts from its usual epistemological base. Gitt (2023) places the beginning of any message in the sender’s goal, “the purpose that the sender wishes to achieve” (p. 68), and holds that both the creation and interpretation of meaning require intelligence. Information is created, then, whenever an intelligent sender forms an intention, determines the response it calls for, invests that response with meaning, and encodes it in agreed-upon symbols for an intelligent receiver to decode. The frame describes this same movement but often rests on a constructivist assumption—that the value, and sometimes the meaning, of information is finally negotiated within communities of practice, as though creation were construction all the way down. Gitt’s UI resists this. A purpose presupposes someone who purposes; strip away the sender’s intending mind and what remains is not information awaiting communal construction but mere pattern—Bates’s (2006) “organization of matter and energy,” syntax that no one meant.
For the faithful librarian, this is where the frame’s genuine insight is best secured rather than abandoned. Information creation is a process, and forming students to attend to that process makes them wiser readers and makers. But the process is not self-grounding. Puddefoot (1992) argues that information discloses its nature only within a broader, meaning-bearing context (pp. 22–23), and that divine information in God’s Word orders creation and makes relationship and creativity possible (pp. 10–11, 14–15). Covenant epistemology reframes the “process” accordingly: creating and coming to know are less the construction of meaning from nothing than the faithful reception, ordering, and passing-on of what has been disclosed (cf. Meek, 2011; Johnson, 2015). When a cataloger encodes a book’s identity to guide a patron, that small act of authorship participates in a larger pattern in which information originates in intentionality, and intentionality ultimately originates in the God who spoke creation into being. The frame can therefore be embraced without reservation once its foundation is shifted: creation is indeed a process, but a process of authoring and disclosing meaning, never of generating it ex nihilo apart from a purposing mind.
In a constructivist epistemology, information is not an inherent, fixed object. Still, it gains significance through interpretation and application, with understanding emerging as individuals engage with it in specific contexts and transform it into knowledge or action (Duffy & Orrill, 2004, pp. 167–169). From a constructivist standpoint, meaning is derived from how people interpret and use information, not from the information possessing a fixed meaning independently. This emphasizes learners’ engagement with research goals, the process of information creation, and the tools used, and frames information literacy as a dynamic social practice that fosters individual development and community learning. This perspective aligns with social constructivism’s view that meaning arises through interaction with others and various information landscapes, rather than passive reception of static, decontextualized facts (ACRL, 2016; Burke, 2017, para. 6; Lloyd, 2010, pp. 10–14).
I cannot fully embrace a constructivist epistemology because constructivism tends to ground knowledge in convention, human perception, and social experience (Boghossian, 2006, p. 6). Such assumptions often imply a lack of external, transcendent realities. However, with the premise that all truth is God’s truth, and given that constructivism includes useful components (such as the focus on the learner), rejecting this frame solely because of its constructivist foundation is unwarranted. In addition, some elements of covenant epistemology align well with a constructivist perspective. For example, covenant epistemology does not imply a degradation of the knower in the learning process; instead, it affirms a relational and responsive nature of knowing, emphasizing the vital relational roles of both the knower and the known. This relational component, implied by covenant epistemology, is a key part of how a faithful librarian might understand the frame “Information Creation as a Process.” Thus, when teaching this frame, a faithful librarian can emphasize relational responsibility to sources and frame research as a covenantal encounter with God’s reality. I think most faithful librarians would embrace this frame, as it makes practical sense: when the context of the learner alters, so does their information need.
For example, when I research content for a blog entry, I am not merely sorting through neutral data; I am discerning how a source bears witness to truth within God’s world. A doctoral dissertation often carries greater weight than a Wikipedia article because its claims have typically been tested through rigorous scholarly review, making it a more reliable witness to truth for my purposes. Yet covenant epistemology reminds me that this discernment is not just methodological; it is relational. In receiving, evaluating, and using a source, I am responding before God to truth that already belongs to Him, which means even a less formal source like a wiki may still contain genuine insight that I must carefully and humbly consider. This posture also helps guard against what Dru Johnson (2014) calls epistemological error—the mistake of treating sources in ways that ignore their proper authority, context, or limits, and thereby misusing or misreading the truth they may contain. In this way, “all truth is God’s truth” gives me the confidence to receive truth wherever it is found. In contrast, covenant epistemology gives me the responsibility to do so faithfully, in relationship with God, the source, and my community of inquiry. Similarly, the frame notes that seeking information for the context of writing this blog is different from seeking information about the best restaurant in town, and that one should use other standards and protocols in various contexts (ACRL, 2016, para. 16).
To sharpen what we mean by “information” in this frame, I draw on Gitt’s concept of Universal Information (UI), which helps Christians insist that process presupposes personal agency. UI is distinct from the all-too-common ambiguous definitions of information. Gitt (2023) asserts that “(e)very piece of created (information) represents some intellectual effort; it can be traced to a personal idea-giver who exercised free will and who has an intelligent mind” (p. 184) and that information “originates only from a non-material component of an intelligent sender(s)” (p. 184). Gitt’s concept of information clarifies that the process of information creation must be carried out by an intelligent sender with intentionality (cf. Puddefoot, 1992, p. 7). One could argue that by writing this blog entry, I (a personal idea-giver with an intelligent mind, exercising my free will) am creating information.
If in agreement that information comes from an intelligent sender, is the creation of information a process as this information literacy frame insists? The frame notes that information creation is an iterative and purposeful sequence of activities involved in producing and communicating information in any format (ACRL, 2016, para. 14). While there may be contexts where information creation may seem instantaneous and not a process, such as the addition of 2+2, in most contexts, it is either a rigorous, discipline-driven process or a process that has become habitually engraved, making it seem instantaneous. However, sin’s impact on our intellectual ability (cf. Oliphint, 2025, p. 262) can make the creation of information all the more difficult. Yet the tedious process of information creation has immense value because of the pivotal, transformative role it plays in the learner. Information creation often results from wrestling with data, trying to understand an argument and its premises, and critically assessing a scholar’s work. Perhaps the only context in which information creation is truly instantaneous (and not a process) is when information is created by a holy and infinite God, lacking a sinful nature and therefore not in need of transformation.
If information creation is to be truly understood as a process, the creation account in Genesis may help us understand information creation. God is all-powerful; He could have easily created without using a process; everything He wanted to create could have been created instantaneously. However, God chose to spread out His creation, making it a process. Whether it took six 24-hour days or much longer, perhaps the fact that God created everything from nothing (ex nihilo) and did so in a process simultaneously underscores both the miraculous nature of creation and the crucial role of process. This component of the process is also noted in Genesis 2, where God has Adam name all the animals. This was a process whereby Adam learned (Johnson, 2014, pp. 28–29). Because of sin, process has become obscured. In some contexts, one understands that process – things such as growth, mediation, and unfolding – is part of the good design of creation. However, process can also reflect humanity’s fallen distortion when sin bends those same processes into delay, fragmentation, obscurity, or self-protective systems that no longer serve truth, goodness, or love. Sin does not introduce process; it makes process laborious. Therefore, when we talk about research as a process, we are not merely adopting a constructivist pedagogical trope; we aim to echo a godly process that reflects the creational pattern rooted in God’s way of working.
As the process is a key piece of the Genesis creation narrative, it raises the question: Why did God choose to create through a process? As the creation process happened before Adam and Eve’s fall, perhaps some observation may also help us differentiate between good and bad processes. Even though Scripture notes that God created humanity as complete, mature adults, not as infants or toddlers, I do not believe this necessarily implies that all facets of creation were complete (e.g., Genesis 2: Adam’s naming of the animals). In other words, while God had finished His work with creation, there was still much left to be done (Pearcey, 2023, p. 32). First, the creation mandate (Genesis 1:28) suggests that God intended humanity to work to complete what God started (cf. Mattson, 2011, pp. 78–98). Second, since humanity’s original sin in Genesis 3 affected humanity’s noetic ability, much of life has become complex and requires processes (cf. Watkin, 2022, p. 165). Thus, there are very few aspects of life that are not part of a process that one must work through, whether it’s sanctification, growing up, entering a professional arena, writing a blog entry, performing, or resolving a technical issue. All of these contexts involve varying degrees of refinement. Information creation is an example of a process that helps the learner grow. In a context where we now sell pre-worn jeans and generate essays on demand, our culture is losing its feel for process—in research and in life.
In the classes I teach, I always state that research is a process, just as the Framework suggests, and that the research process is often as valuable as the end product itself. Why? For me, the answer to this comes back to why I enjoy research and writing. While I do like my finished products, the process of dialoguing about my ideas with others, building arguments to support them, wrestling with opposing viewpoints, aiming to arrive at the truth, refining my positions, and editing my writing (i.e., the process of creating the information) is instrumental, as it is through the research process that God refines me and aligns me with His image.
Similarly, Gitt’s (2023) definition implies that process is crucial to information creation, because meaning ascends through the four meaning-bearing levels of UI (setting aside the purely statistical): the syntactic (that we can read it), the semantic (that we understand it), and the pragmatic (that we know what to do), until the apobetic (that we know why we are doing it). When one embraces this process, actions align according to the authenticated authority (cf. Johnson, 2014, p. 72). Understanding the crucial role of Gitt’s apobetic domain emphasizes the intended goal of information: not merely to transmit signals but to create the conditions under which meaning and coordinated understanding—significant for transformation—can occur (cf. Main, 2024; Patrontasch, 2025; van Ruler, 2018). So, Gitt’s process of information creation, coming to fruition in his apobetic domain, creates fertile soil in which knowledge can flourish.
Mike Higton (2013) captures this apobetic purpose well. Real learning, he argues, is never something the learner can stand over at a safe distance, emerging unchanged as the mere possessor of new facts. Instead, it puts her present understanding, her desires, and her whole way of being in the world at stake. To learn is to risk oneself—and yet Higton insists the gospel proclaims both that the learner must take that risk and that “that she is safe enough to take it” (p. 158). Held by God’s mercy, she is freed for the ongoing self-emptying that carries her deeper into God’s own knowledge.
How should a faithful librarian apply the frame “Information Creation as a Process”? The Framework provides knowledge practices and dispositions for each of its frames. Most of these are relatively straightforward for those familiar with the 21st-century information landscape. For example, one of the dispositions for this frame is to “value the process of matching an information need with an appropriate product” (ACRL, 2016, para. 16). In other words, if I really want this blog taken seriously, I cannot solely rely on content from Wikipedia that supports my views and opinions. I must use and interact with scholarly resources. Similarly, I should not simply peruse Reddit when inquiring about professional matters. In my opinion, applications such as these are rather elementary; faithful librarians are called to take applications deeper.
I am in the midst of preparing for a one-shot information literacy session for a course on fantasy literature. The instructor is asking the students to complete a research paper/project, and this will be my first time working in this course and with this instructor. I am sure that when I walk into that classroom next week, the students will be tethered to their devices, wearing their earbuds like badges of modern monasticism. However, despite the magnetic pull of their screens, the students will look at me and maybe even pay attention for a few minutes. In that brief time, I must invite these students to the transformative process of information creation, which can be assisted by technology but not replicated by it. Consequently, a Christian worldview directs information creation toward a truthful, loving, and worshipful process, a part of sanctification, that machines, as non–image bearers, cannot share.
For the fantasy-lit student in front of me next week, this reframes the entire assignment. The research paper is not a hoop to clear or a container to fill with sources; it is an invitation to be changed by what she finds. If she does the work honestly — sitting with an argument that unsettles her reading of a text, revising a thesis she had grown attached to — she risks something of herself in the process. Higton’s (2013) point made earlier is that this risk is precisely where the learning lives, and that under God’s mercy it is a risk she can afford to take. My task in that one-shot is not merely to show her where the databases are, but to invite her into a process that can form her, not just inform her.
It is common to focus exclusively on the end product and neglect the value of the process. As faithful librarians teach students about research, we must highlight that information creation is not accidental or merely mechanical but falls under a covenantal frame that involves intentional, meaningful acts grounded in human creativity and responsibility. In the context in which I will be teaching, this implies that, though it is countercultural, the research process is just as valuable (if not more so) than the final product students turn in. Just as God created an ordered, purposeful universe through a process, so humans create information with meaning, structure, and intentional design. This frame rightly aligns with the idea when it states that by “(r)ecognizing the nature of information creation, experts look to the underlying processes of creation as well as the final product to critically evaluate the usefulness of the information” (ACRL, 2016, para. 13). In other words, if one neglects the value of process, one’s information creation becomes merely a task, that devalues its transformative nature.
Covenant epistemology implies that knowledge plays a transformative role. Part of information literacy, then, is embracing the process of information creation, despite the frustration, irritation, uncertainty, and ambiguity that frequently accompany. Needless to say, embracing this is difficult. While information literacy is on a smaller scale, faithful librarians should be familiar with the challenges of process, as process is a key component of sanctification (2 Corinthians 3:18; Philippians 2:12–13), the long and, at times, confusing process of how God uses all the scenarios placed before us to draw us closer to Himself (Romans 8:28). The welcoming of process in the context of sanctification calls on faithful librarians to embrace it in their research endeavors.
Is information creation a process, as the Framework notes? I answer this with a resounding, YES! Information creation is a process, a human endeavor, in which people are invited to partake. The process of information creation becomes a specific expression of humans’ imaging God in their intellectual, creative, and moral agency. Rather than seeing information creation as neutral skill-building, under the Lordship of Jesus Christ it becomes a participatory knowing which submits to Scripture’s authority, orients outputs toward love of God and neighbor, and results in transformation (Meek, 2011, p. 6).
Works Cited
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