Apologetics Is for Everyone, Not Just Experts and Nerds, Pt. 3
By now, I hope it’s becoming clear that apologetics in the broad sense flows from our adherence to Christ. While not every believer is called to the field of apologetics, every Christian ought to be fluent on the subject of their discipleship. Far from technical inquiries concerning the mechanics of creation or the historicity of Jesus’s resurrection, most of the questions that come our way from folks outside the church will be variations of “Why are you like this?” What they’re getting at is why you refuse to conform to the current standards of your culture. In the case of the early church, fellow Roman citizens wondered why Jesus’s disciples refused to offer libations to household gods or participate in emperor worship. Serious suspicions were also circulating about the practices of those who worshiped Christ, the more colorful among them involving treason, cannibalism, and orgies.
Apart from shifting cultural mores, little has changed. True, we aren’t navigating literal household gods and meat sacrificed to idols. On the other hand, everything from weddings to pronouns has become more complex for the church, and all of us are expected to pay homage to the near-total emancipation of personal whims and urges. When we take peaceful exception to these new “household gods” in our churches and homes, we’re sometimes maligned as hateful fundamentalists with theocratic aspirations. Let’s not make the mistake of seeing these as nothing more than political attacks. They are not. They have mainly to do with why we conduct our lives in a countercultural fashion. They are in fact variations of the question “Why are you like this?” and they are occasioned by nothing less than our adherence to Christ. They are thus apologetic questions in the precise sense that Peter had in mind, and the command is for us to answer from the overflow of Christ’s abundant life in us.
To deploy nothing more than the typical culture warring tactics in such cases is simply cultural capitulation because to do so is to concede that our wellbeing is ultimately tied up in political power. If, however, we don’t “wage war according to the flesh,” our response will confess Christ’s ruling presence in our lives. When facing death from the ruling authorities of his own day, Jesus of Nazareth answered, “My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom were of this world, my servants would have been fighting, that I might not be delivered over to the Jews. But my kingdom is not from the world. (John 18:36)”
Pilate is infamous for putting the question “What is truth?” to our Lord. What’s often overlooked, however, is the implicit answer he gives to his own question in the next chapter. As the crowd grows more unruly, Jesus’s cryptic responses begin to unnerve Pilate. Why is a man in such a precarious situation giving such seemingly docile and mystical responses? Has he really made himself out to be the Son of God? In some ways, Pilate’s response mirrors that of the guards who sheepishly concede to the Pharisees that they didn’t seize Jesus because “No one ever spoke like this man! (John 7:46)” With the crowd roaring for a crucifixion in his courtyard, Pilate has a demand of his own. He wants to know where Jesus is from. In effect, he wants to know who this strange person is. He seems a foreigner not only to the Jewish people, but also to the world as Pilate knows it. When Jesus keeps his silence on the matter, Pilate blurts out his answer to the question, “What is truth?” “You will not speak to me? Do you not know that I have authority to release you and authority to crucify you? (John 19:10)” This is how Pilate sees truth. For this great statesman, truth is tantamount to political power and it resides with those who call the shots in our worldly kingdoms. It’s a view with wide acceptance to this day and any time believers stoop to these kinds of tactics, they part ways with Christ to join Pilate’s party.
To the one who seeks to use worldly power as a cudgel against him, our Lord responds, “You would have no authority over me at all unless it had been given you from above. Therefore, he who delivered me over to you has the greater sin (19:11)” (The last sentence is highly revealing because it shows that Jesus knows the fear in Pilate’s heart.) Make no mistake, our faith will put us at odds with the surrounding culture. Once again, let’s not be so naive as to assume that nothing more than politics is involved here. The main stumbling block remains Christ and our fidelity to his rulership. Our gentle, respectful answer regarding our confounding loyalty to Jesus is the core of apologetics.
For some, this answer will play out in an academic setting, reverberating through classrooms and lecture halls. Such an answer yields the stereotype of today’s Christian apologist. For others, however, the response will unfold in kitchens, little league dugouts, and farmer’s markets. A Christian who happens to be a scholar may well produce a rigorous monograph on Jesus Christ as an act of worship. Recognizing that such a case is exceptional doesn’t make it any less precious, but it ought to give us pause for thought regarding the dominant view mentioned above.
For most of us, our “defense” of our Lord and Savior will be of a general piece with our celebrations and defenses of the people we most love. In this sense, a defense of faith in Christ will often look more like a dad going to bat for his child in a parent-teacher conference than it will a formal debate on the evidence for the resurrection. Please hear me carefully: I am not disparaging the work of those who practice apologetics in formal settings. Instead, I am trying to distinguish one particular facet of apologetics—and a rather narrow one at that—so that it doesn’t overwhelm the entire picture. To say that we’re not all master chefs and gourmands is neither to undervalue great cooks nor to deny that the rest of us still have to prepare meals. Of course, we’ll continue to look to master chefs for inspiration, even if we pop the occasional frozen meal into the microwave. Similarly, we can thank the Lord for his servants who are able to translate their Christian devotion into the idiom of the academy, while simultaneously recognizing that this specialized mode of delivery is no more a universal expectation than a Michelin star chef in our own kitchens. Peter’s command concerns articulacy about one’s relationship with Christ. The manner of that articulation will be as peculiar and as diverse as the people who line our pews on a Sunday morning.
I’m aware that the distinction between the field of apologetics and apologetics in the broader sense will test the patience of some readers. As much traction as the formal discipline has gained in recent years, many of our churches remain intellectually stunted and here comes a book that appears to be aiding and abetting this sorry state of affairs by watering down the definition of apologetics. In actuality, my aim has been to point out just how capacious Peter’s definition really is.
Regarding the ongoing need for the field of apologetics, it’s impossible to improve on Austin Farrer’s justly celebrated remark:
“Though argument does not create convictions, the lack of it destroys belief. What seems to be proved may not be embraced; but what no one shows the ability to defend is quickly abandoned. Rational argument does not create belief, but it maintains a climate in which belief may flourish. “
If we are to maintain this hospitable climate in our churches, demands for lowest common denominator approaches to serious questions about Christianity do a disservice to all involved. What is needed is clarity, not oversimplification, though the two are frequently confused.