The Most Likely Scenario is That We're Both Wrong
some thoughts on the depth of truth and the audacity of watch dogs
Last week I had a discussion with some people about truth, faith, and Christian unity. We were all raised in a very “we have the whole thing figured out” kind of Christianity, which would be endearing if it wasn’t so dangerous.
It’s kind of like when a toddler brings a picture of multi-colored scribbles. They’re proud of the work they’ve done, and you’re rooting them on for developing fine motor skills, but while they think they’ve arrived, you know they have a whole lifetime of learning to express themselves in new mediums and with new levels of complexity and depth.
Why Everyone is Wrong About Everything—Well, Maybe Not Everything
When I reflect on eleven Daniels ago, I’m totally rooting for the college kid who dealt with the anxiety of being in a new world and taking on way too many classes by falling back to the one thing he could be confident in: smashing people with biblical jujitsu. And so as he marches around campus calling out college campus pastors who are there to just pray with people like himself and challenging students on their eternal salvation who are just reading their Bibles on benches before class, I can only think, “Wow, look at him go.”
I have to hold this version of Daniel with a lot of grace and love because he has no idea what’s going to happen in just a few years.
All of that certainty, all of that cockiness, all of that anxiety is going to spiral in a whirlwind of questions, doubt, and existential crisis.
But I also have to view this version of Daniel through a lens of grace lest I forget my own propensity for delusion and ignorance and a smug level of cockiness unbecoming of a Jesus follower.
One thing that has helped me to at least try to present myself as humble is to remember that when I’m engaged in any kind of discussion (particularly religious), then the most likely scenario is that everyone involved in the conversation is wrong.
We can’t see our own limitations or proclivity for growth due to a thing called the end of history illusion. You can read about it here:
That is not to say the that we don’t all have some truth. I think it’s fair to say that everyone has some truth. But none of us have all the truth.
If we buy the idea that God is omniscient, or at least that God’s knowledge converges towards omniscience, then you and I are infinitely ignorant in comparison to God.
If you aren’t sure what to do with this language, then think of it this way: even compared to a finite resource, like the internet, you are still pretty ignorant. There’s a lot that you don’t know.
So anytime you enter into a discussion about religion or the nature of truth or the Bible or whatever, nobody in the room, especially yourself, has it all figured out.
Even if everyone in the room, especially yourself, is incredibly smart and talented and gifted and God has your term papers on the fridge with a big golden star right at the top, then you still have an infinite sea of knowledge and wisdom into which you are invited to dive.
I’m not saying this to discourage you from studying and learning and discussing; instead, I’m inviting you to reframe how you view your endeavors. Recently, someone commented on my books in my office and questioned if I thought that I needed all of those books to know God.
To be honest, those books behind me on videos I film in my church office can be more of a hindrance to knowing God than they are a help.
I’ve learned so much more about God through holding my son for the first time, having my children hand me soggy puffs to eat or showing me their scribbles, watching a sunset, contemplating how each car that passes on the highway far below a mountain overlook contains a person who is infinitely loved, praying with my friends, or sitting around a campfire singing songs and knowing there is something more among us.
I used to consider the kind of knowledge that comes from those books to be superior, but the more I realize that I don’t know, the more I favor this other kind of knowing.
I can’t bottle up this kind of knowledge and sell it in a bookstore or offer it to those of you who have graciously become paid subscribers—thank you—but I can invite you on a hike with me, or maybe we could kayak together and talk about faith and love. Or we can just sit on a dock over a river and pour out our hearts to each other just to know there is someone out there who sees you in a way that reflects how another Someone sees you.
This deeper way of knowing is what Paul had in mind in one of my favorite passages:
Now concerning food sacrificed to idols: we know that “all of us possess knowledge.” Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up. Anyone who claims to know something does not yet have the necessary knowledge, but anyone who loves God is known by him. 1 Corinthians 8:1–3
The Audacity of Watchdogs
My favorite comment on social media is from a guy who responded to someone who shared one of my posts: “Daniel Rogers is a known heretic.”
Lol
I didn’t realize the church held an ecumenical council to declare me a heretic, but it could have been a council of one.
Actually, this isn’t far off from the truth. If people like Augustine were unsuccessful in getting people like Pelagius declared heretics, they would just recall the council and move it further West to get the numbers they needed.
But even if it was a council of one, a dozen, or a couple of hundred, where did we get the idea that any of us are equipped to look at a complicated theological issue and say, “That’s damnable heresy.”
First off, “Who do you think you are? What gives you the right?”
The Office is hilarious, but seriously, who do you think you are?
You aren’t Toby…well maybe. But you are a finite human being with limited experience who has all sorts of issues and things to work out. You have finite knowledge, and you can live and study for several lifetimes and would still have finite knowledge.
Which means…
Given how big of a book the Bible is, how complicated theological issues (like the Trinity or eschatology) can be, and how dumb we are, it would seem that our default posture towards each other would be grace and understanding.
Yet, we build elaborate theological fortresses that we construct through a complicated set of questions written and defined by ourselves that can only be answered in a very limited way so we can cosplay as people who have it all together. We then use these structures, vocabulary words, and ways of approaching the Bible to fight each other, condemn everyone else, and congratulate ourselves on a job well done as defenders of the truth who boldly contend for the faith once delivered.
Hopefully you are at least laughing at and with yourself at this point.
And so when people with no formal education, no knowledge of the original languages behind the Bible, and who have never sat under a teacher they didn’t already agree with go onto social media or into a YouTube comment section and call each other heretics. you can see why that looks like nothing more than a toddler’s scribbles on construction paper, which is an insult to toddlers everywhere.
What, then, is required of us?
Well, if you want to call yourself a Christian, it’s actually pretty simple as far as our beliefs go:
And this is his commandment, that we should believe in the name of his Son Jesus Christ and love one another, just as he has commanded us. 1 John 3:23
When it comes to stuff beyond this, I think having discussions and even debates can be loads of fun, but since our knowledge is so limited, Jesus told us to look at the fruit produced by different prophets and teachers.
You will know them by their fruits. Are grapes gathered from thorns or figs from thistles? In the same way, every good tree bears good fruit, but the bad tree bears bad fruit. A good tree cannot bear bad fruit, nor can a bad tree bear good fruit. Matthew 7:16–18
If a doctrine doesn’t bear the fruit of love, joy, peace, etc., then it isn’t Spirit-led.
When we depend upon this kind of knowing, pointing out toxic or unhelpful doctrines or views can be natural. But when we depend on the other way of knowing, the way expressed by all of the books in my office and years of theological training and study, it’s easy to be “carried about by every wind of doctrine” because of our immaturity and general gullibility as humans.
This line about winds of doctrine is a reference to Ephesians 4. We’ll take a look at it in the next article.
What way of knowing do you prioritize?
I’ve been wrong enough in my life to prioritize knowing through love.
The reason for all those books in my office and in my Logos library isn’t because I think I need them to understand God or to be saved; they’re there because since I prioritize knowing God through Love, I feel free to read and explore and imagine what God is like and what the Bible is all about with no strings attached. They are an invitation to dive into mystery, not shackles to bind my joy, peace, and security to my degree of head knowledge.
Because at the end of the day, we’re probably both wrong, so let’s collaborate and explore together with no fear, no judgment, but unimaginable joy and wonder.
Credits
Special thanks to Corri Johnson and Jordan Winkert for reading and editing what I write and for all of you who pitch in through liking, sharing, and otherwise contributing to the community here.
Man, I can relate to a lot of different aspects of this. Really needed to see this right now.
Love it, Daniel. May we all grow while holding our former selves with immense grace.