Defenders of the Faith: One of my friends recently contacted me about a discussion that appeared beneath one of my posts. To be honest, I had not even noticed it. The discussion involved various theological labels, accusations, and warnings about different teachers and movements. As I reflected on it, I found myself wondering about something. Why are we so eager to sort people into heroes and villains? What spirit are we defending the faith in, and what are we ultimately trying to accomplish? Sometimes I simply find myself asking, “aren’t these men human beings just like the rest of us?”
Certainly there are errors that should be identified. Scripture itself commands us to contend for the faith and to expose anything that obscures the gospel of God’s grace or misrepresents the revelation God has given in His Word. But there is another question that seems just as important. At what point did learning a few wonderful truths convince us that our minds were no longer capable of error? What makes me so certain that I possess such a complete understanding that I must not only critique the message, but discredit the messenger? Why do I so quickly assume that another believer’s mistaken conclusion invalidates everything else he has to say?
The older I get, the more uncomfortable I become with that kind of certainty. I’ve touched on it before, particularly in my Carpenterism post, and I suspect I’ll continue returning to it because I see it so often. I love the gospel. I want to contend for the truth of Holy Scripture. But I also recognize something else. I’m a sinner. That doesn’t merely describe my actions; it also describes my understanding. My heart is biased. My reasoning is imperfect. My knowledge is partial. Even as a believer, I continue to see through a glass darkly. So what makes me think that learning a handful of glorious truths has somehow removed those limitations? And why should I assume that everyone who disagrees with me ought to be discredited? What if some of the men I have criticized understood certain things better than I realized? At some point, we all find ourselves standing in the same place.
Maybe the deeper issue is not whether truth exists, but how confidently we assume we have grasped it. I certainly believe truth exists, and I believe doctrine matters. Yet much of what we defend consists of our understanding of Scripture, our reading of experience, and our conclusions about God. Over time, those conclusions can become so persuasive that we begin to mistake our understanding of the truth for the truth itself.
There is another danger that I think all of us face. There is something strangely satisfying about being right. Identifying an error brings a certain sense of clarity, and if we are not careful, even a subtle sense of superiority. There is nothing wrong with loving truth or exposing error when necessary. The danger comes when our identity slowly becomes wrapped up in our ability to identify what others have missed.
Before long, we are no longer simply defending the truth – we are defending ourselves. We become more interested in proving that our conclusions are correct than in helping others see Christ more clearly. I know I feel that temptation in myself. There is a certain satisfaction in spotting an inconsistency, exposing an error, or winning an argument. But that satisfaction can become addictive. Without realizing it, we begin defending more than the truth. We begin defending our own conclusions, our own reputation, and sometimes even our own pride. Criticism becomes an end in itself. We find ourselves collecting mistakes, exposing inconsistencies, and defeating opponents, while Christ gradually becomes less visible in the conversation. Instead of rejoicing that Christ is being magnified, we begin rejoicing that our own position has been vindicated. That, it seems to me, may be one of the greatest dangers facing those who sincerely desire to defend the faith.
Please don’t misunderstand my purpose. I am not trying to expose those who defend the faith, as though they were somehow different from the rest of us. I suspect many of them love Christ more deeply than I know, and their desire to protect the gospel is both sincere and admirable. I thank God for men who care enough about the truth to contend for it. We need such men. My only plea is that, in defending the faith, we never forget how much we ourselves still need grace, correction, and light. In the end, none of us will stand before God because we got everything right. We will stand because Christ did. MPJ
PostScript: That’s a thoughtful point. Perhaps one of our greatest temptations is not simply trusting our conclusions but trusting the process that produced them as though it were beyond question. I once heard someone say that logic is a useful servant, but it makes a poor master. I think there’s a lot of wisdom in that. We readily acknowledge that sin affects our desires, our emotions, and our actions, yet we often assume our reasoning somehow stands above the very corruption we confess affects the rest of us. Perhaps we should all become a little less interested in proving that we’re right, and a little more interested in asking the Lord to keep correcting us where we’re wrong.