Drawing the Line: Here’s something I’ve noticed. Almost all of the African-American truck drivers who come through our facility call me ‘brother.’ I call them brother too. Neither of us gives it a second thought. The interaction is spontaneous and genuine. What interests me is how freely we speak that way in ordinary life. We don’t stop to analyze every implication of a friendly greeting. Nobody is examining doctrinal statements or investigating one another’s views on justification, election, church government, or eschatology. Two people simply acknowledge one another with kindness and move on with their day.
Yet in some circles, the simple act of calling someone ‘brother’ can feel like a theological minefield. Suddenly we’re not thinking about the person standing in front of us. We’re mentally reviewing doctrinal positions, denominational affiliations, and theological disagreements, wondering whether extending ordinary christian affection might somehow be interpreted as approval of every conclusion they have ever reached.
Of course, this raises a number of questions. Most of us probably agree that there must be limits somewhere. Error matters. Conduct matters. Truth matters. But where do we draw those lines, and how quickly should we draw them? That is where these conversations often become far more complicated. The New Testament certainly calls us to contend for truth, but it also speaks often of patience, kindness, longsuffering, and brotherly affection. Those things can become difficult to practice when every conversation is approached as though it were a doctrinal examination.
The difficulty, at least for me, has never been acknowledging that lines exist. It has been understanding how so many people seem able to identify their exact location with such confidence. Who qualifies as a brother, who does not, who should be received, and who should be avoided. The immediate answer is usually that we must separate from those who deny Christ, His person, His work, and the doctrine concerning Him. Certainly Scripture contains serious warnings in that regard. What I find more challenging is determining where those warnings end and our own conclusions begin. The reason I say that is because nearly every generation, denomination, and theological tradition seems to draw those boundaries a little differently. One group draws the line here, another draws it there, and both are often equally convinced of their position. And over the years, many additional lines have been drawn, often with great confidence. Maybe it’s just me, but I’ve never found those questions quite as easy to sort out. The reason I say that is because these discussions are not merely about doctrines. They are also about people.
Sometimes it may be worthwhile to pause and consider the practical implications of our theological conclusions. Becoming convinced that a doctrine is true is one thing. Determining how that conviction should affect our view of other believers is another. Those questions are often related, but they are not necessarily identical. What has always interested me is how quickly uncertainty can disappear once someone becomes convinced that God has personally confirmed his conclusion.
Perhaps that is one reason I get nervous when people attempt to settle these questions by appealing to some special insight, impression, or leading from God. Please don’t ever try to impress me by saying, ‘God taught me this.’ Anybody can make that claim. Just because you know some Bible truths doesn’t mean you’ve somehow escaped the weaknesses, assumptions, and blind spots that seem to follow the rest of us around every day.
While we’re on the subject, phrases such as, ‘God has laid this on my heart for you,’ or, ‘God gave me a word for you,’ have always made me a little uneasy. Maybe that sounds terrible, but there it is. The implication often seems to be that God has communicated something directly to me through this particular individual, and therefore I should listen very carefully. The problem is that I’ve heard people make those claims while teaching all sorts of contradictory things. That leaves me inclined to examine the message itself rather than the certainty with which it is presented. Perhaps that sounds cynical. I don’t mean it that way. I simply find myself placing more confidence in the Scriptures than in the messenger. As usual, I may be overthinking things.
To be clear, I am not denying that God teaches His people. The gospel itself is not discovered by human wisdom. We do not naturally arrive at the knowledge that we are far worse than we imagined, that Christ is far greater than we imagined, and that our hope rests entirely in what He has accomplished on behalf of sinners. But even if a man has been taught those precious truths, it does not follow that every conclusion he reaches thereafter carries the same certainty. Receiving light concerning Christ is one thing. Being correct about everything else is another.
Perhaps the real issue is not whether boundaries exist, but whether we approach these questions with sufficient humility. Scripture warns us about error, and rightly so. At the same time, it continually reminds us of our own limitations and dependence upon grace. Those two truths belong together. If nothing else, they should make us cautious about assuming that every conclusion we reach carries the same certainty as the gospel itself. MPJ