09/04/2026
Okay, Christians, I think sometimes we need to remember that people are watching us.
And I don't mean that in the slightly terrifying “someone saw you lose your patience in the Walmart parking lot” kind of way. I mean people are watching how Christians talk to each other, how we talk about people who believe differently than we do, how we respond when someone asks a difficult question, and how quickly a conversation about theology can turn into two Christians standing on opposite sides yelling, “I HAVE THE BIBLE,” while both of them are holding the exact same Bible.
And then we wonder why somebody watching all of this says, “Yeah. Absolutely not.”
Because sometimes I look at the way Christians interact and I understand why people want nothing to do with Christianity. Not because there is something wrong with Jesus, but because sometimes we are doing an absolutely terrible job of showing people Jesus. We can become so determined to prove that I am right and you are wrong that somewhere along the way the person standing in front of us stops being a person and becomes an argument we need to win. Calvinist. Arminian. Catholic. Protestant. Baptist. Reformed. Pentecostal. Young earth. Old earth. Pretrib. Midtrib. Posttrib. Sons of God were angels. Sons of God were humans. Somebody asks one question about the Book of Enoch and suddenly half the internet is preparing the theological trebuchet.
Guys.
God is bigger than the little box we keep trying to put Him in.
That doesn't mean truth doesn't matter. It absolutely matters. It doesn't mean every belief is equally true, every interpretation is correct, or we should shrug our shoulders and say, “Eh, believe whatever makes you happy.” Jesus made enormous truth claims. Scripture gives us things that aren't negotiable. But there is a very large difference between standing firmly on what Scripture clearly says and pretending my interpretation of every difficult passage must also be infallible.
Those are not the same thing.
Sometimes the most biblically responsible answer is, “I don't know.”
Sometimes it is, “There are several ways Christians understand this.”
Sometimes it is, “I used to believe that, but then I learned something that made me reconsider it.”
And somehow Christians can get nervous about saying those things, as though admitting we don't completely understand the infinite God who created the universe is going to be terribly embarrassing for Him.
I promise you, God is not sitting in heaven worried that somebody discovered Genesis 6 is complicated.
We should be willing to learn. We should understand what atheists actually believe before arguing with an atheist. We should understand Islam before telling a Muslim what Muslims believe. We should know where stories like Lilith came from before confidently announcing what they supposedly prove. We should know what the Book of Enoch actually is before either declaring it secret Scripture that the church hid from us or acting like reading three pages of it will cause lightning to strike the house.
And sometimes we should learn simply because the person standing in front of us matters.
Paul understood that.
In Acts 17, when he stood in Athens surrounded by pagan temples and idols, he didn't walk into the city, cover his ears, and announce, “I refuse to learn anything about your beliefs because I might accidentally be exposed to another worldview.” He paid attention. He observed their culture. He knew enough about their beliefs to talk about their altar “To the unknown god.” He even quoted their own poets.
Paul understood their world well enough to speak the Gospel into it.
That matters.
Because how are we supposed to be a light to the world if we refuse to understand the world we're trying to reach?
You don't have to agree with someone to understand them. Understanding isn't endorsement. Listening isn't compromise. Learning isn't abandoning your faith. Asking a question isn't rebellion. And being willing to say, “That's interesting. I haven't considered that before,” does not mean your Bible spontaneously combusts.
Actually, I think strong faith should make us more willing to investigate difficult questions, not less.
If I believe Scripture is true, why would I be terrified of examining something that challenges what I believe? Maybe I'll discover the challenge isn't nearly as impressive as somebody made it sound. Maybe I'll discover I've misunderstood a passage for years. Maybe I'll learn why another Christian reads it differently. Maybe I'll understand another religion well enough that when someone from that religion talks to me, I can actually have a meaningful conversation instead of arguing against something they don't even believe.
And maybe, occasionally, I'll discover that something I was absolutely certain the Bible said was actually something I had always been told the Bible said.
Those moments are uncomfortable.
They're also important.
Because following Jesus should involve humility. If I enter every conversation assuming I already know everything worth knowing, I'm not really listening anymore. I'm waiting for the other person to stop talking so I can explain why I'm right.
People notice that.
They also notice when Christians tear each other apart over secondary issues. Imagine being someone who doesn't believe in Jesus and watching Christians tell each other they're heretics because they disagree about the timing of the rapture. You're standing outside Christianity thinking, “So...these people both believe Jesus died and rose again, both believe the Bible is God's Word, both say Jesus is Lord, and apparently they're currently trying to spiritually body slam each other over whether Christians leave before or after the tribulation.”
That probably isn't the shining-city-on-a-hill moment we imagine it is.
Jesus said people would recognize His disciples by their love for one another.
Not by our ability to win Facebook arguments.
Not by how quickly we can produce twelve Bible verses proving somebody else wrong.
Not by whether we successfully destroy a stranger in the comments section and then walk away thinking, “Excellent. Surely they will want to know Jesus now.”
By our love.
That doesn't require becoming wishy-washy about truth. Jesus was certainly not wishy-washy. But He could speak truth while seeing the human being standing in front of Him. He ate with people the religious crowd avoided. He answered questions. He asked questions. He met people where they were and then pointed them toward something greater.
Maybe we could try a little more of that.
Learn about the world.
Learn about other religions. Learn about other Christian traditions. Learn some church history. Read the weird ancient texts people keep mentioning. Learn why someone interprets a passage differently than you do. Talk to people who don't believe what you believe and, occasionally, try listening without mentally composing your rebuttal while they're still talking.
Then go back to Scripture.
Study it.
Test what you've learned against it.
Keep what is true. Reject what isn't. Be willing to change your mind about the things Scripture doesn't clearly settle while refusing to move on the things it does.
Because God does not need us to protect Him from questions.
And the world doesn't need more Christians who can shout louder than everybody else.
It needs Christians who know what they believe, know why they believe it, are humble enough to keep learning, strong enough to hear a different perspective without panicking, and loving enough to remember that the person across from them matters more than winning the argument.
We are supposed to be a light to the world.
It helps if we're willing to actually look at the world we're trying to illuminate.
