A Different Kind Of Adventure…
I’m in Bible College this year, working towards a Diploma in Biblical Theology (this will, I know, NOT COME AS A SHOCK TO SOME OF YOU…) and really, it’s the dream of a lifetime to spend 5+ hours each week in biblical conversation with others of a similar persuasion. As an aside, can I absolutely recommend it to anyone thinking about it, whether you see yourself moving into formal ministry afterwards or not? And in my opinion, there’s no better place to start than with Romans and Pauline Theology. One of these days I might attempt to articulate just how great that letter really is…
In other news, the academic learning curve has been steep but worthwhile. It’s a particular kind of discipline to learn to read Scripture more academically and to engage with different voices in the scholarly world, some of whose thoughts and opinions I have given a wholehearted thumbs up to, and others about which I have reserved my conclusions.
A recent assessment required the reading and summarisation of selected writings from the Pietists, a movement that arose in Germany in the late 17th and early 18th centuries. It was a beautiful piece of writing; sincere, grounded in Scripture, with a clearly pastoral heart at its core.
The author, one Philip Jacob Spener, was part of the Pietist Movement that, while affirming the work and progress that had been achieved by the great reformers, was concerned that faith had become merely an intellectual exercise, a dry assent to theological truths that had failed to reach the heart. Pietists were concerned that believers may have been sufficient in their orthodoxy, passed along through preaching and sermons, but, in contrast, their orthopraxy, or right living, was woeful.
In his work, Pia Desideria, Spener paints a picture of a “lax, coarse, and generally decaying Christian society that pays no attention to the fruits of those articles of faith to which they affirm.” As one commentator puts it, “being proved right in doctrinal disputes had superseded love for others and devotion to the way of Jesus.”
It’s Not Enough To Just Know
To be honest, it’s hard to adequately convey the depth of warm regard I felt reading the words of a man of faith, long since passed, and to hear in his impassioned pleas both the lament and longing he felt for the church of his day. It’s especially telling that he didn’t exclude himself from his own criticisms, much like Moses, who had pleaded before the LORD for Israel in Old Testament times (Exodus 32:31–32).
And this, I guess, brings me to the heart of this blog. I could summarise Spener’s words in many different ways; he makes more than one excellent point about the importance of reading Scripture, the value of communal study of it, and the advocacy of the priesthood of all believers.
But, for me, one particular point, more than all the rest, really struck a chord of conviction in my heart. And it’s this: it’s not enough to know the Christian faith. One must also do, and in that doing, must be shaped in all things by love, by which all the commands are summed up (Romans 13:9).
Or, perhaps to put it another way, being kind is better than being right.
Now, I will need to disclaim that statement for any reader who hears me to be saying that doctrine isn’t important or that having convictions is negligible. That’s not what I’m saying, and it’s certainly not the picture Scripture paints.
The Christian faith is built on many doctrinal affirmations: that Jesus Christ was born of a virgin, that he suffered and died for our sins, and that he was raised again the third day are just a few. Our faith is creedal, in that we recite the things that we believe to be true, according to the word of God, and these statements of belief hold Christians together, as non-negotiable boundary markers of the Christian faith.
These beliefs are summarised for us in the Apostles’ Creed, one of the oldest and most enduring summaries of the Christian faith, written around 200AD. You can read more about that here.
What Is Our Doctrine Doing To Us?
Doctrine is important.
In a world where beliefs are often shifting, doctrine anchors us in the unchanging truth of the gospel and unites us with Christians across centuries and nations. But doctrine is only one half of the whole. We’re not given doctrine simply so we can say we know stuff, or demonstrate our theological proficiency or, worse still, use it to beat our ‘opponents’ – believers, unbelievers, or heretics alike, over the head with it.
Doctrine is given to change us. In Romans (there, I couldn’t help myself), Paul begins his letter by highlighting the failure of humanity, who, although they have adequate proof in the earth and sky of God and His invisible qualities, both His eternal power and His divine nature, refused to let this knowledge lead them to worship Him. The sweep of creation is intended to function as both witness and sign of an ever-living, glorious God, worthy of all worship, and yet it’s possible to see such things and remain unchanged by them.
It’s the same with doctrine. The Old Testament Scriptures, the gospels, the pastoral letters, the weird and wonderful world of Revelation – these things weren’t given so that we can simply argue over end times, whether baptism is essential, who can serve as an elder, or which spiritual gifts remain today. They were given to teach us how to know God, and in that knowledge, be empowered to follow Christ, and live faithfully in our time and place.
There are many interesting and, sometimes, important conversations to have. I have engaged in many of the above topics on this site, and I’m a firm believer that every Christian should “be ready to give an answer to those who ask” of what he or she believes. If you’re not convinced of your particular position from Scripture, then I’d really encourage you to dig into Scripture a little more and grow in your depth and confidence in it (and I also want to say that its okay to sit out the conversation until you are confident. We don’t have to have the answer to every question in the moment, and oftentimes we don’t, and it’s okay to say so!).
Conviction is a good thing (when, of course, it’s rooted in Scripture; otherwise, it’s really just personal opinion). But conviction held without the generous, open-hearted life of love that bears faithful witness to it is a flawed expression of the very truth one claims to defend.
If we’re not changed by our encounter by Christ, have we truly encountered him at all?
God’s Kindness Leads To Our Repentance.
Doctrine is never meant to terminate in knowledge. It’s meant to lead us into worship, obedience, holiness, and love. And that love ought to reflect the character of the God we proclaim, whose very kindness, Paul reminds us, leads us to repentance.
Yet purity of doctrine and of the Word of God is maintained “not only by disputation and writing many books [or podcasting, YouTubing, blogging…], but by true repentance and holiness of life” (Spener). Who we are matters just as much as what we say. In fact, I would argue it matters more, because who we are – that is, how we act and be in the world – is a reflection of our true inner heart posture.
Not that we want to create a false dichotomy, as though we can somehow be good, loving, and kind apart from any theology of God. Those very virtues are themselves rooted in the eternal character and goodness of God. The point is that truth is meant to take flesh in us. What we believe about God should become visible in the kind of people we are.
And, in that context, being kind is more important than being right. We don’t minimise truth, we don’t dissemble, and we don’t soften conviction simply to avoid discomfort. But neither do we treat truth as permission to be harsh, combative, dismissive, or uncharitable. There’s no virtue in being technically correct if the manner in which we hold and communicate that truth bears little resemblance to Christ.
And this, really, was the very heart of the Pietist Movement: that a holy life is not of less consequence than diligence and study, and that study without piety is worthless. Belief and practice aren’t two separate endeavours that we can pursue independently in Christian life, but one united expression of a living faith in which what we confess with our mouths is borne out in the shape and substance of our lives.
Faith That Works
I believe we live at a time in Christianity where the great mantra of the Reformation – saved by grace through faith alone – still casts its long and glorious light. The Reformers rightly recast the gospel in the warm glow of Christ’s saving work, in his meritorious obedience, and in the truth that we are not made right with God by human endeavour but by confessed trust in Jesus as our Lord and Saviour.
Yet, like Spener, I think we live in an age where the definition of faith has perhaps become a little thin. It’s all too easy for Christianity to be reduced to belonging to the right church, affirming the right doctrines, or adopting the right outward practices, while leaving the inner person largely untouched. Making true Christians goes far beyond denominational walls; indeed, it is a task that must traverse the depths of the human heart, changing not merely the way we appear but who we really become.
There’s a reason Jesus told Nicodemus in John 3:3-5 that a person needed to be born again to enter the kingdom of God. Regeneration, to be born anew, is the termination of people of the old creation with all their deeds and the germination of them in the new creation with the divine life. They must die in order to live, they must be buried in order to rise again (Romans 6:3-5).
The miracle of the gospel, Paul says, is its power to save everyone who believes, delivering us not only from the hold of death but from the slavery of sin, and bringing us into a new life of righteousness, obedience, and freedom in Christ. As a result, we can produce “a harvest of good deeds for God” (Romans 1:16, 7:4-6).
Orthodoxy + Orthopraxy Go Together
Perhaps, then, the question isn’t simply whether our doctrine is right, but what our doctrine is doing to us. Is it making us more like Christ? More humble, more patient, more generous, more willing to repent, more eager to love? Are the truths we defend with such conviction actually bearing fruit in the lives we live?
I confess, I haven’t always gotten this right. I regret more than one harsh word spoken, more than one fruitless argument over doctrine that should really have been a civil conversation over shared faith. I know I’ve crafted several clever but scathing Facebook comments or messages, then (thanks Holy Spirit!), deleted them before posting. I’m sure there’s plenty I didn’t think twice about and posted anyway.
And it’s always a fine line between holding a conviction faithfully, with passionate vigour, and holding it in a way that forgets the person on the other side of it.
But in the end, Christian maturity can’t be measured merely by how much theology we know, how confidently we can articulate it, or how successfully we can prove someone else wrong. The gospel that saves us is also the gospel that remakes us.
And perhaps that’s why, in the Christian life, being kind is better than being right: not because truth matters less, but because truth, rightly known, is supposed to make us more like Christ.
