The nascent days of the Protestant Reformation was a bit like the Wild West. When the reformers threw off the shackles of the Magisterium and sought religious freedom, they did so without their own system for dealing with “heretics.” The Roman Catholic Church had a well-oiled system for dealing with dissenters, just ask Luther and others. But what would that look like for the Reformers themselves?
Take the Anabaptists as an example. They were teaching things on baptism that did not square with other Reformers. In fact, in the mind of some, they were taking religious liberty way too far. Luther, Calvin, and Zwingli would consider this group to have wrong theology on more than one point. How should they deal with them?
Zwingli had a solution. He’d drown them. And that is what happened to several Anabaptists in Zwingli’s Switzerland. (I’m simplifying a bit — Zwingli did attempt to persuade them of their error. And it was over a little more than having a theological disagreement, there were many factors. But at the end of the day, Zwingli’s solution was still to drown those whom he believed had wrong theology.)
Luther had a different idea. He wrote:
“It is not right, and I am deeply troubled that these poor people have been put to death so cruelly. Let everyone believe what he will. If he is wrong, he will have punishment enough in the fires of hell. Unless they are seditious, one should contest such people with God's Word and the scriptures. You will accomplish nothing by executions.”
Though we have, thankfully, moved away from drowning as a solution, the question still lingers. How do we deal with wrong theology? Here are five right ways to deal with wrong theology.
Photo credit: ©Getty Images/kieferpix
The first key is to understand how serious the matter is. There is a difference between heresy and error.
Some have spoken of theological triage. When someone comes into the emergency room, they are assessed to see how serious the concern. Someone with a gaping wound from a shooting will take precedence over the teenager with a severely sprained ankle from the basketball game, even if that teen has been waiting a couple hours. The same, it has been argued, should be the case with theology.
We can have a difference of opinion about the timing of certain End Times events and even remain in the same church. One of us (maybe both of us) is clearly wrong — but it does not necessitate needing to go to a different church. Likewise, we might disagree with another believer on whether or not we should baptize infants. Our conviction here will make it difficult to be in the same local church, but we still consider each other believers. Lastly, there is a foundational difference between someone who denies the resurrection and someone who builds their faith upon the reality of a resurrected Christ. One is to be a Christian; the other is to deny the faith.
We do well to at least attempt theological triage. Yes, there are even arguments here. What constitutes a first level offense? Yes, we know that it’s more important if a doctrine is close to the gospel itself; but if the gospel is the A to Z of the Christian life it becomes difficult to discern what isn’t a gospel issue.
One more thing should be said here. There is a difference between someone who says, “I believe Paul taught X, and I don’t really care what Paul says” and someone who says, “I do not think Paul meant what you think he meant.” Am I knowingly denying a key doctrine of the faith or am I merely wrong on a key issue? There is a difference in the Proverbs between the fool (who is settled in his error) and a simple person (who is ignorantly in error).
When we are dealing with error, we need to understand both how serious the issue is and how seriously the person is holding onto the error. This helps us know how best to respond. But this begs a question, should we even bother with doctrine? Doesn’t doctrine divide and love unite?
Photo credit: ©Getty Images/Serhii Brovko
Some will tell you that doctrine does not matter, or at least it doesn’t matter as much as love. I think it was Francis Asbury who said, “If you can do but one, let your studies alone. I would throw by all the Libraries of the World rather than be guilty of the Loss of one Soul.” D.L. Moody once quipped, “My theology, I didn’t know I had any.” And baseball-player-turned-revival-preacher Billy Sunday, as he was fond of doing, took it a step further. “I do not know any more about theology than a jackrabbit knew about ping-pong.”
There is always a temptation to holding doctrine with a loveless heart. But there is also the temptation to have a groundless love. We need love and doctrine. I like the way that Greg Dutcher illustrates this in his book, Killing Calvinism. He tells the story of trying to admire a beautiful evening sky with a dirty windshield. Once they cleaned the windshield, they were able to fully see the beauty. Windshields work best when nobody notices they are there. Dutcher likens our theology to a windshield.
Good theology is like a clean windshield — it allows us to see the beauty and glory of God more clearly. Some theology, we might argue, is so bad that it entirely obscures our view. As an example, a theology which denies the deity of Christ would obscure the glory. You wouldn’t want to stay in the car to see a sunset with a fully darkened windshield.
But some theology is like a dirty windshield. The view of Christ isn’t entirely obstructed, likely not even mostly obstructed. We can stay in the car and still enjoy the sunset together — and maybe even help our friend by grabbing some Windex.
Theology matters because it helps us to see God well. We want clean windshields. This also helps us to know what we are “fighting” for. If we want to correct the theology of someone simply because we want to be right and we want to prove them wrong, we are aiming far too low. We want our theology, and the theology of others, to be accurate because of the glory of God. I want us to see better. That is the goal of theology.
Photo credit: ©Getty Images/Pamela D McAdams
When we do venture to deal with wrong theology, we must be certain to ground everything in Scripture. Early in my ministry God was using us to reach a group of skateboarders. They had been coming to youth group for a while, but hadn’t made that big step to Sunday morning church. One Sunday, when one of their friends was being baptized, they made the leap.
They wore hats, ripped up jeans, and always had a board in their hands. They entered the church being just who they were. They had no idea that most of the people in there weren’t wearing ball caps. But they soon found out. One elderly gentleman came forward and thumped the hat off the head of one kid. He railed at him for being disrespectful in God’s house. I didn’t hear all of the conversation but I did hear him say, “We do not do things that way here.” Thankfully they kept coming to youth group. Sadly, they never came back to a Sunday morning service.
I could also share this story on the next point, but it fits here too. We should be sure that our correction is grounded in Scripture. What wrong theology did that young man have? Was it a wrong theology about how to dress in a sacred space? Or did the young man have better theology than the elderly gentleman — that God wants us to come as we are? We never were able to have that discussion because the correction wasn’t grounded upon Scripture.
This is what our debates should be founded upon. What does God’s Word say? And how does God’s Word referee our interactions with one another? We are looking to Scripture for more than just proper views of God, salvation, the church, and the End Times. We also look to God’s Word to know how we are supposed to live, and that includes how we interact with others.
Photo credit: ©Getty Images/sticker2you
Galatians 6:1-2 says, "Brothers and sisters, if someone is overtaken in any wrongdoing, you who are spiritual, restore such a person with a gentle spirit, watching out for yourselves so that you also won’t be tempted. Carry one another’s burdens; in this way you will fulfill the law of Christ."
That passage reminds us that when we correct someone, it should be with a gentle spirit. And it should be done with humility that we ourselves could be soon trapped in the same sin or error. We are imperfect people correcting an imperfect person. Because of this, humility and love must be the foundation of any correction.
We can be wrong in so many things. It’s possible that we ourselves are wrong in this point of theology. It may also be that we have misunderstood the other person. We do well to approach with humility — listening, loving, and gently correcting when necessary. This ensures that the correction is received in the right spirit and aims to build up rather than tear down.
Photo credit: ©Getty Images/AnnaStills
I could write a few other articles on how John Newton interacted with those who had wrong theology. But for now, I’ll simply summarize. Newton was absolutely convinced that we do best to entrust people into the hands of the Lord. He would share the truth as he saw it, but refused to “bang notions” in the head of others. When he corrected, he did so gently and with humility because at the end of the day he knew that God was sovereign in his care for others.
Newton understood from his own life that he had periods of profound error. He also knew that God patiently loved and cared for him even in the midst of wrong belief. God straightens out crooked sticks. We can entrust others to the work of the Spirit. The best way to deal with wrong theology is to share the truth as you understand it in Jesus and then entrust the other person to the Lord.
Someday, because of Jesus, there will be no more wrong theology. It is to this day that we look. And it is to this day that we are certain to arrive because of what Christ has, and is, accomplishing on our behalf.
Much more could be said here about dealing with wrong theology. This is certainly not an exhaustive list. But if you follow these five things, you’ll be in a good position to deal with wrong theology — even your own.
Photo credit: ©Getty Images/artplus