Speaking without a Doubt - Christianity Today

I wish I could speak with authority and confidence every time a church member asks me one of life’s nagging questions

“How many gunmen were in Dallas in 1963?”

“What do you think of Oliver North (or Anita Hill or George Bush, Jr., or … )?”

“How can we balance the national budget?”

And these are the easy ones! Others ask theological or moral questions:

“How can America deal Christianly with a Saddam Hussein?”

“Do my loved ones who’ve died know what I’m experiencing right now? Can they see me?”

“What should Christians do to stop abortion?”

I’m not really sure.

People expect pastors to have answers. We learn in seminary that we should preach the Word of God with boldness, much like Jesus who amazed the crowds because “he taught as one who had authority.”

Our congregations hear fearless television and radio preachers, dogmatic media personalities, and opinionated pundits who exude confidence and certainty about complex issues.

One-way communication from pulpits, even plexiglass pulpits, has an aura of authority. No wonder the pastor who admits uncertainty disappoints some parishioners.

Happy will be the day when someone asks, “Does God love me and have a wonderful plan for my life?” Whether the issues are ethical or a matter of interpreting Scripture, simple answers often do not come easily to me.

REFLECTIVE PASTORS

In his little book “The Myth of Certainty,” Daniel Taylor describes “reflective Christians” as question-askers, people sensitive to and fascinated by the complexity of things, those possessing endless curiosity.

According to Taylor, reflective people have been “blessed and cursed with minds that never rest. They are dissatisfied with superficial answers to difficult questions, willing to defend faith, but not its misuse.”

A reflective attitude brings great opportunities for contemplation, discovery, and creativity. But it can also bring great peril, not the least being indecision.

When I listen to “The Bible Answer Man” on the radio, I’m tempted to start my own show called “The Bible Question Man.” I’ll ask the questions, and listeners will call with answers! Who wrote Hebrews? How do we harmonize an alleged discrepancy in Scripture? Who is the anti-Christ? Why does God allow suffering?

I wish I knew. Sometimes the closest I get to certitude is my brand of breath mints. What causes this indecision? Typically, I’m not sure!

Possibilities run from the complex (a weird mixture of genes and temperament giving me a high tolerance for ambiguity) to the simple (I am not omniscient–much to the relief of my children).

A reflective pastor faces special challenges when teaching and preaching. I want to preach the Word of God with power, confidence, and authority. The Lord expects it, and my church needs it. Yet perfect understanding on every issue is elusive. The Word of God is perfect, but my grasp of it is not.

IMPERATIVE PEOPLE

This tension heightens when church members expect authoritative answers.

While teaching a series in Matthew, I expressed to the congregation my perplexity over Jesus’ words turn the other cheek. Of the various interpretations held by Christians, many seemed to have merit. I had to admit that even after much prayer, study, and discussion, my conclusions were only tentative.

Some listeners appreciated my honesty, but one person chided me for theological waffling, doctrinal compromise, and “letting my emotions get in the way of the clear interpretation of the text.”

Hard words, but not unusual from those who see every issue in black and white.

Author Les Carter calls these folks “imperative people,” in his book of the same title. Imperative people are decisive, dogmatic, and admit no self-doubt. They can barely tolerate people and events that seem contrary.

From the important to the arcane, they speak with authority and conviction. Their end-time chronologies are calibrated, it seems, to fifteen-minute segments. They know which Bible versions are approved, which church policies are correct, and much, much more. If they want your opinion, they’ll give it to you!

But I can’t be too hard on them. Possible causes for their decisiveness run from the complex (a weird mixture of genes and temperament giving them a low tolerance for ambiguity) to the simple (they are omniscient–much to the consternation of this pastor!).

What should we do when parishioners expect and sometimes demand greater certitude than we can delivers What is the balance between speaking with authority and admitting self-doubt? As a bona fide non-authoritative pastor, I’ve learned five skills that help me deal with the tension of occasional indecisiveness.

ACCEPTING MY LIMITATIONS

As we walked down the hallway at church, a member asked me, “What does the Bible teach about cremation?”

Some pastors might have a ready answer for that question, but I didn’t. I told the man I’d do some research on it and get back to him (and I did), but later my conscience nagged me, You should have known about this.

To be free of the expectation–my own or others’–that I should have a snappy answer to every question, a biblical conviction on every topic, or an authoritative opinion on every issue, I remind myself that God asks us to be holy, not omniscient. To be human means we have intellectual limits. Our calling is to study the Word, which implies we’ll always have more to learn.

What’s the harm if I don’t know diddly about heilsgeschichte? I can always look it up if necessary (and it would be necessary if I were asked anything about it). I think this is what David meant when he prayed in Psalm 131, “I do not concern myself with great matters or things too wonderful for me.” Yet David was clearly no simpleton. He carefully picked and chose the things to which he would give his attention. (And I’ll bet it didn’t include heilsgeschichte.)

So how do we know what “great matters” to give ourselves to?

SORTING THE ESSENTIALS

Few parishioners would be troubled if I confessed ambivalence on theories of lapsarianism. The question “Are you supra-, infra-, or sub-lapsarian?” doesn’t pop up much at our church potlucks.

I do take note of the issues I hear raised in Sunday school classes, counseling, and informal conversations. Those are important. For example, during the Gulf War many in our congregation were trying to arrive at an appropriate Christian response. I frequently heard questions like “Is this a just war?” and “How does loving our enemies work now?”

I had the same questions. It required extra study, reflection, and prayer. We addressed the issues in home Bible studies and Sunday school classes. No churchwide consensus was reached.

But on issues like war and peace–and lapsarianism!–we may practice John Wesley’s principle of “think and let think.” They are not the great fundamental truths basic to Christian life and fellowship that we must insist on.

We should commend the essentials–such as Christ’s incarnation, deity, redemption, atonement, justification, and resurrection–to our churches and to unbelievers with certainty. This is what Peter tells us to be ready to give an answer for.

Pastors must take other stands as well. At my first church, a woman came forward at an evangelistic service to commit her life to Christ. After she had attended for several months, she told me she had marriage plans and wanted me to perform the service. We talked further, and I discovered her fiance was not a Christian. I winced inside but didn’t say anything at the moment; I wanted to pray about how to approach what I knew would be a sensitive issue.

Sometime later I talked with her and gently explained what the Scriptures teach on the issue. “Why didn’t you tell me this when we were dating?” she said, deeply offended.

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” I replied. I tried to soothe her feelings, but she was still angry when our conversation ended.

The next Sunday, she came to church and made a scene, telling one of the leaders, “I’m leaving this church! The pastor is against me.”

That leader came after me. “I thought your job was to build the church, not drive people away.”

We discussed the situation, and I finally told him, “I would rather lose people than compromise our scriptural convictions.”

I had no question about what the Bible taught on that issue. To insist though, as imperative people often do, that pastors preach with the same certainty on secondary issues as on primary issues is to ask too much. There are degrees of certitude. Unlike Lewis Grizzard, whose recent humorous book title states, “I Haven’t Understood Anything Since 1962,” Christians by faith can lay hold of essential biblical truths that another Lewis calls “Mere Christianity.”

Non-essentials, however, we discuss with tolerance and patience.

ANTICIPATING DIVERSITY

Early in my career, I preached an enthusiastic sermon on the Christian responsibility for social justice. I thought I had a sympathetic audience, especially after receiving kudos from the college-age contingent. A hard-working but struggling farmer took me aside afterward and with a disgruntled expression said, “Preach like that too often, and you’ll empty the church.” He felt dumped on by the government, by a weak economy, and now by an idealist kid preacher from the city.

One sermon, two reactions. Welcome to the ministry.

Someone has said, “The only churches that are of one mired in all matters of theology are churches where only one mind is allowed to function.” As a reflective pastor, one who only rarely achieves unanimity in his own mind on complex issues like economics and justice, I now recognize every sermon is preached to a mixed multitude.

Like the poor, diversity will always be with us. And figuring out how important those differences are is difficult. In “Mere Christianity,” C.S. Lewis observes, “One of the things Christians disagree about is the importance of their disagreements. When two Christians start arguing, it is usually not long before one asks whether such-and-such a point ‘really matters’ and the other replies, ‘Matter? Why, it’s absolutely essential!’ “

When I heard reactions to my “waffling” on the Matthew 5 text, I pointed to John Robinson who said in a sermon to his Puritan audience, “The Lord hath more truth yet to break forth out of his holy Word.” I further explained that a definitive interpretation of the text had eluded me, but I welcomed further input. “I’m open to getting more truth from wherever I can get it.” This satisfied my critic.

Another time, though, I had to visit two men who had left our church. I made individual appointments with each and asked why they had stopped attending. The first told me our church was “too cerebral, too rational, and not open to Spirit-led truth.” The other criticized us for being “weak doctrinally and not expressing enough precision in our systematic theology.”

Since we cannot legislate or dictate consensus, we must allow for diversity. “Jesus said, ‘Blessed are the peacemakers,’ not ‘blessed are the firebrands, and the controversialists who major in minors,’ ” notes J.I. Packer.

Our role is to be Spirit-led, not audience-driven, and to navigate between the opposite poles of certainty and indecision without breaking our relationships over minor differences.

FINDING A SAFE PLACE TO DOUBT

A world-traveling, boredom-avoiding, daredevil, non-Christian friend of mine chides me for not taking risks. He’s never taught eschatology!

Our denomination allows lots of latitude on the particulars of end-time chronology, but our church has near consensus. Alas, I don’t share that consensus.

So when members of our adult Sunday school class suggested I expound the details of Christ’s return, my heart sank. I watch some prophecy teachers with amazement as they teach with assurance and conviction. I’m sure there will be a Second Coming, but when and where escapes me.

It’s not that I dislike the subject. I’ve done a fair amount of reading on prophecy. But this topic always surfaces my indecision. Despite much study, I’ve just not reached a conclusion on most of the details that other people hold so fervently. The few conclusions I have reached are, in our church, the minority view.

Nevertheless for weeks I diligently did my best to unscramble Daniel, Ezekiel, and Revelation. I presented an overview of the different views on the anti-Christ, the Great Tribulation, the relationship between the church and Israel, the millennium, the rapture, the seventy weeks, and more, complete with charts and graphs.

The inevitable day arrived when I had to declare my colors. The tension I faced was twofold. First, I teach the Bible to build faith not weaken it, and I feared that by expressing a different viewpoint from the majority I might create doubts and insecurity.

But the greater tension was an inner struggle of vulnerability. It’s not easy for me to admit indecision. The words of writer William Zinsser challenge me: “Leaders who bob and weave like aging boxers don’t inspire confidence–or deserve it.”

The class was forgiving. The prophecy buffs shook their heads in bewilderment that a bright guy like me could be so dense. Others appreciated and saved my notes. Some for the first time were exposed to a new–and equally biblical–way of thinking about the future.

This episode illustrates several things.

The context for this controversial subject was a class with two-way discussion. I would have frustrated people if I had addressed my indecision from the pulpit without opportunity for interaction.

We practiced the same give-and-take during the discussions about the Gulf War. The greater the opportunity for dialogue, the more self-disclosure a pastor can practice.

How much self-disclosure about uncertainties is healthy from the pulpit? Too much and we’ll end up like the pastor with declining attendance who is told (in a LEADERSHIP cartoon), “Perhaps you shouldn’t end each sermon by saying, ‘Then again, what do I know?’ “

Too much uncertainty from the pulpit is a mistake. Asaph bit his tongue during his crisis of faith: “If I had said, ‘I will speak thus [about his doubts],’ I would have betrayed your children” (Ps. 73:15).

Yet admitting no self-doubt from the pulpit may set us up as infallible arbiters of truth, a pope in the pulpit. It’s a good idea to remind the congregation we too are human and struggling to understand Scripture.

If you don’t know how to harmonize Scripture with the anomalies of physics or why God put Ecclesiastes in the Bible, don’t pretend you do. You don’t have to be Johannes Kepler and Mortimer Adler rolled into one.

GETTING THE BENEFIT OF THE DOUBTS

I was pleasantly surprised after a board meeting when, in casual conversation, one leader said a certain Bible verse perplexed him. His openness led to others expressing the difficulties they had thinking through hard issues like predestination, providence, and suffering. It was a rich time of fellowship as we pondered God’s mysteries together.

In this context we felt the freedom to express our common struggles with faith. I commented on the tension I face as a reflective pastor living in the shadow of popular media personalities who ooze certitude. In an unplanned time of openness and vulnerability, my credibility did not diminish. Rather, we enjoyed a glimpse into each other’s humanity and dependence on God. Our conclusion: we walk by faith, not by sight.

I’m able to identify three benefits of admitting self-doubt.

* It reminds everyone we’re human, growing, and have not arrived. One of the leaders at the board meeting who had struggled with doubts gained a sense of hope from our frank discussion, saying with relief, “I am not alone in this.”

* Admitting self-doubt gives opportunity for faith to grow. This occurred in our adult Sunday school class when we discussed prophecy. Rather than protecting the congregation from different interpretations, we risked insecurity for the higher good of intellectual integrity. And it worked. We all grew.

People need to wrestle with hard questions; otherwise their faith is in a teacher and not the Word of God. One of the best adult teachers I’ve known challenged students to explore options, weigh evidence, and then make an informed choice. It was education not indoctrination.

The congregation that is never told, “Universal consensus has not been achieved on this issue,” will never be motivated to think through their convictions.

I’ve had opportunity to counsel students experiencing a crisis of faith. I tell them, “When doubts threaten to overwhelm you, shelve them. They’ll be there when you get back! Give your mind permission to rest from so many nagging questions. Deal with them at your leisure, one at a time. I believe God prefers humble questioning to indifference; doubt can show God we care about truth.” This takes away guilt and relieves the pressure to get instant answers.

* Admitting some self-doubt gives us credibility. In our information age, advances in all fields of knowledge outstrip even the experts’ ability to keep up. Those who claim to know it all lose credibility.

Churches won’t reach serious seekers unless we go beyond the bumper-sticker message “GOD SAID IT, I BELIEVE IT, THAT SETTLES IT.” In his book “Inside the Mind of Unchurched Harry and Mary,” Lee Strobel says, “Unchurched Harry has legitimate questions about spiritual matters, but he doesn’t expect answers from Christians. When he senses that his objections will be respected and given reasoned responses, he’s much more willing to give church a try.” Pastors can help create a church climate that welcomes questions by asking a few themselves.

If I always have to be right, the effect on others will sometimes be terribly wrong. I’m going to be solid on the essentials and discreetly honest about questionable matters, trusting that over the long run I will give my hearers a firm foundation for faith.

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