Tag Archives: belief


From Girl Meets God:

I have written [in my prayer book] this, from Diana Eck’s Encountering God:

The Latin credo means literally “I give my heart.”  The word believe is a problematic one today, in part because it has gradually changed its meaning from being the language of certainty so deep that I could give my heart to it, to the language of uncertainty so shallow that only the “credulous” would rely on it.  Faith…is not about propositions, but about commitment. It does not mean that I intellectually subscribe to the following list of statements, but that I give my heart to this reality. Believe, indeed, comes to us from the Old English belove, making clear that this too is meant to be heart language.  To say, “I believe in Jesus Christ” is not to subscribe to an uncertain proposition.  It is a confession of commitment, of love.

And then on the first page of my prayer book, a quotation from the Gospel of Mark: “Lord, I believe; Help thou mine unbelief.”

Once, when we were still dating, Steven read aloud to me from an obscure British novel…he read a scene in which a believer and a cynic are debating God. Of course I know you believe in it, the cynic says, what I want to know is do you believe in it the way you believe in Australia? Some days, I believe the Christian story even more than I believe in Australia…

Living the Christian life, however, is not really about that Australia kind of believing.  It is about a promise to believe even when you don’t. After all, when I stand up in church to say the Creed, it may well be that that very morning I didn’t really know for sure that some fifteen-year-old-virgin got pregnant with a baby who was really God.  Saying the Creed is like vowing to love your bride forever and ever.  That vow is not a promise to feel goopy and smitten every morning for the rest of your life.  It is a promise to live love, even, especially, when you don’t feel anything other than annoyance and disdain. (Lauren Winner, Girl Meets God, p. 268-269)

This reminds me of a couple of things I’ve quoted here before:

The goal of faith is not to create a set of immutable, rationalized, precisely defined and defendable beliefs to preserve forever.  It is to recover a relationship with God.  (Daniel Taylor, The Myth of Certainty)


major theories in the areas of mathematics, physics, and psychology…involve a prior decision as to what is fundamental in the area studied… All of them rest on fundamental assumptions which can be questioned.  But the questioning, if it is to be rational, has to rely on other fundamental questions which can in turn be questioned.  It follows…that there can be no knowing without personal commitment.  We must believe in order to know. (Leslie Newbiggin, Proper Confidence)

Sincere Heresy

Or, Heretics are People, too; or, Erring in Love.

Generally when you hear the word “heresy” or “heretic”, what do you think of?  In the past I would have thought of a heretic at root as someone bent on destroying the faith from the inside with unorthodox theology or doctrine.  The technical definition–belief at odds with established belief of a religious system–is less demonizing; “unorthodox belief” is a gentler way of referring to heresy.  Saying “That’s a bit unorthodox, isn’t it?” has a much more amenable ring to it than does “That’s heresy!”, even though they mean the same thing.

I was reading an essay by Rowan Williams (Archbishop of the Church of England) in which he discusses the Arian heresy, which was a 4th century controversy relating to the relationship between the Father and the Son.  “Arianism” was a particular theological/doctrinal viewpoint in that debate which posited that Jesus was the highest in the created order, but that he was nonetheless created–and subordinate and distanced from the Father.  What was at stake was the both the divinity of Christ (which was already believed, but not codified) and the nature of salvation.  The Nicene (-Constantinopolitan) Creed, which all branches of the Christian church accept, was in large part a response to Arian thought.

But I digress…

I was struck by the following phrase in Williams’ essay: “It is obvious that Arius’ main concern is to secure the uniqueness of the Father and the dependence of the Logos on the Father’s decision” and that Arius argues that the co-eternality of the Father and Son comes “unacceptably close to the ‘two first principles’ error he is keen to rule out.” (Rowan Williams, “Athanasius and the Arian Crisis” in The First Christian Theologians)

And it suddenly hit me: someone holding heretical views is not necessarily bent on destroying the church or in cahoots with devil-worshipers (to put a more popular culture spin on it).  The heretic may well be speaking out of sincere love for God and concern for how he is spoken of and worshipped; a heretic may well be speaking out of sincere love for truth, the church, the body of Christ.  A heretic may well be a person of devout faith.

Arius, at least judging by Rowan Williams’ account, was not interested in destroying the church, but seems to have been speaking out of devotion to God.

Of course, sincerity doesn’t make a heretical belief any less heretical (just as orthodoxy isn’t measured by sincerity) and sincerity can be misguided.  But the language of some in the church today and the unfortunate actions of some in the church in the past would suggest that the heretic belongs in the category of serial rapists and murderers (or worse).  I believe, of course, that heresy can be dangerous and needs correction*, but…heretics are people, too, and may well be erring in love, if that makes any sense.

EDITED TO ADD: This also, incidentally, includes those with beliefs different than ours, particularly between members of the church. Those of us brought up in a more conservative environment would do well to consider that many of those who are wrestling with and rethinking the issues of, say, abortion or gay marriage/ordination, are doing so out of love for and allegiance to Jesus Christ and his way.  Conversely, some of those among the fundamentalist ranks who refuse to even consider reexamining some of these things are doing so out of fear or self-preservation, rather than loyalty to Christ and his way.


*In the Protestant wing of the church correction of heresy is, I imagine, difficult, because implicit in the Protestant tradition is the notion that if you don’t like my ideas (or I don’t like yours), I’ll just go and start my own church.  And I suspect that there is quite a bit of heresy, in the technical sense of the term, within Protestant Christiainity.

Theology as a challenge to my faith.

A good one from Helmut Thielicke’s A Little Exercise for Young Theologians:

My plea is simply this: every theological idea which makes an impression on you must be regarded as a challenge to your faith.  Do not assume as a matter of course that you believe whatever impresses you theologically and enlightens you intellectually.  Otherwise suddenly you are believing no longer in Jesus Christ, but in Luther, or in one of your other theological teachers.  (p. 31)

That one kind of slapped me in the face.