We need a better way to argue. If the last few years have taught us anything, it’s that our country is incredibly divided by a multitude of issues. Those issues too often divide the church as well.
Conversations in good faith, in which we debate charitably and respectfully, are notable because they are so rare. Church history isn’t much better, with Christians too often parting ways over avoidable controversies. Christians should do better. Even Jewish atheist Jonathan Haidt recently told Russell Moore that Christians have the moral foundations (grace, humility, patience) that would allow us to transcend tribalism and destructive behavior. But the proof is in the pudding: We don’t.
I want to suggest that we can make progress, having productive debates that release the potential of our foundations of grace, humility, and patience, if we rely less on logical arguments. Yes — less logic. If we argue, “If this, then that,” we can find trouble we can otherwise avoid.
That’s a provocative claim, so let me back it up. But first: a caveat.
Logic and rationality are tremendous gifts that God has given humanity. I’m not anti-reason or anti-logic; I’m a mathematical economist, after all. In fact, we would hardly have a New Testament if it weren’t for “If this, then that, and therefore this magnificent truth” arguments. Many of the most glorious chapters in the New Testament start with “therefore,” like Romans 8 and 12. Or they unpack a logical argument, like the implications of the resurrection, as in 1 Corinthians 15. I’m all for keeping logic in the Christian toolkit.
To simplify, logical arguments work like this: If premise one and premise two, then conclusion. Sometimes the “debate” is about the “then” — does the conclusion follow the premises? Other times the debate is whether the premises are true. In the world of mathematics (and maybe theoretical economics), these types of arguments are powerful and elegant. If the premises are true, there is no arguing with the conclusion.
But I don’t think the world of biblical truth is so cut-and-dried.
Here’s why. The Bible doesn’t offer us simple premises; it often requires us to hold in tension truths that are seemingly opposed or seemingly in contradiction. They don’t hold together very easily when we consider them logically. For example, Jesus is fully God and fully man. God is three persons in one God. God is just and merciful. Good luck explaining how the Trinity logically makes sense.
Because the Bible presents us with truths that we must hold in tension, we can easily get in trouble by arguing based on a limited set of premises. If you reason based on the premise that “God is just” you will draw completely different conclusions than if you reason based on the premise that “God is merciful” — but both are true.
Our conclusions can be wrong not because we start with a false premise but because we don’t start with enough true premises. In the Bible, the meaning of each premise is enhanced and clarified when held together with the “opposing” premises.
This is precisely what happens in the Bible. First-century Jews rightly believed that the Messiah was a human king who would defeat his enemies (Ps 2). The logical conclusion? The Messiah would deliver a temporal, political kingdom and defeat the Romans. However, the Messiah is not only a victorious king, but a suffering servant as well. Holding those two truths together leads to different conclusions. You don’t really know what it means for Jesus to be a victorious king if you don’t know that he is also a suffering servant. Indeed, Jesus points out that the religious leaders were considering one truth without another. “How could David call his son Lord?” It must be that the Messiah is more than the Son of David; the religious leaders needed to consider what else the Bible had to say.
First-century Jews read “Cursed is anyone hanged on a tree” and concluded that a crucified messiah is no Messiah at all. But together with the seemingly opposing premise that this crucified Messiah was also resurrected to indestructible life, the implication and meaning of “cursed” is completely changed, even overturned. According to Paul, the “proof” that Jesus was not the Messiah is actually proof that he is (Gal 3:13).
We get in trouble when we isolate particular biblical truths at the expense of others. We don’t really know what God’s justice means if we do not also hold it up with God’s mercy and holiness. We might draw unbiblical conclusions if we do not reason from both premises from the start. We need to have tremendous humility in the conclusions we draw when we argue like this.
Jonathan Haidt said that Christians have the moral foundations that should allow us to transcend tribalism and engage in good-faith debates that seek unity — so why would logical reasoning go wrong? Because we aren’t “brains on a stick” but “riders on an elephant.” The post-Enlightenment view of rationality (the brains on a stick) would have you believe that logical reasoning is the solution to tribalism, but Haidt argues that we have an emotional side (the elephant) and a rational side (its rider). More often than not, the elephant determines where the rider is going, not the other way around.
This shouldn’t surprise Christians who believe that the heart — the seat of our deepest convictions and commitments — is deceitful above all things and beyond cure (Jer 17:9). We may think we find a conclusion plausible because it is “logical” when, really, it just resonates with our sinful heart; the elephant is driving the rider. More than that, the commitments in our heart may lead us to pursue “logical” arguments that justify the conclusions we seek to reach. You can justify almost anything if you begin your reasoning with only “God is just” or only “God is merciful.” This, of course, is not actually reasoning from the biblical definitions of God’s justice or mercy, but if the conclusions satisfy the heart, we’ll feel justified in the logic of our argument, and we might turn around and beat up other Christians who don’t see it our way.
We must be extremely slow to require other Christians to adopt the conclusions we’ve reached through logical reasoning. Proverbs 26:4–5 tells us, “Answer a fool … don’t answer a fool.” Completely different instructions — why? Biblical wisdom often requires understanding how many complicated issues and contexts could lead to vastly different, yet true, conclusions. We must be humble.
So what’s the solution? It’s difficult to reason when you have to start by holding multiple truths in tension. It’s hard to even hold truths in tension to begin with even without drawing other conclusions. But that’s the point: When it comes to abstract truths or mere theological premises, there is something mysterious about how these all work together. But if we move beyond logic to the Logos, we find a mystery revealed.
The story of the Bible is propelled by the tensions of competing truths. How can God be loving and just? How can God punish sin and forgive sinners? Are the covenant promises ultimately conditional or unconditional?
Paul tells us that the mystery of how all these things hold together is found in Christ. In Jesus we see how God can be just and the justifier of many. At the cross we see God’s mercy and justice meet. In Jesus we see how God can dwell with us fully God and fully man. In Jesus, God unites all things in heaven and earth (Eph 1:10). That might sound like a logical impossibility — what categories could be more different than heaven and earth?—but in Jesus we see how it could be true, even if we don’t fully understand it. There are some forms of love that surpass knowledge.
If we start with theological premises and reason to conclusions, there are lots of pitfalls. We are likely to miss the mark, though by God’s grace we will also often hit it. But if we start with the one who reveals all these mysteries, the one who perfectly encapsulates God’s mercy and justice and steadfast love — in whom all things hold together — then I think we are more likely to maintain the variegated truths of Scripture as we reason.
We can’t get away from using logic and reasoning to draw conclusions. We must as Christians constantly answer the question, If Christ is raised, then what? How do we live in a modern, pluralistic, democratic, capitalist, technological world where our culture is being torn apart and so are our churches? We can’t simply ask, “What would Jesus do?” and be done with it. We still need to think very hard about what that means and apply it. Maybe we answer a fool, or maybe we don’t. Either way, we should be informed by the excellencies of Christ.
