The Reluctant Polemicist

One of the most embarrassing moments of my life happened when I was a new seminary student. I had scheduled lunch with one of my professors, excited to talk theology and ask about preaching. As I got into his car and was buckling up, he said in his strong Scottish accent, “Kyle, I’ve seen how you interact on social media. If there were a degree for being argumentative, you’d be at the top of the class.” I wanted to run, but the car was already moving, and I was stuck.

I grew up in a home that encouraged me to challenge what I was taught and to have informed convictions. My family enjoyed a good-spirited argument around the dinner table, and due to natural “abilities” I believe that if something is worth saying it’s worth saying loudly. In college I won an award for the best speaker in debate, and on one particular occasion I received applause when I reduced my rival to tears as she fled the room. I studied philosophy and was always asked to prove or disprove the world of ideas. When social media became popularized it gave me endless chances to tell people they were wrong.

In my formative years my love for arguing turned theological. I had big shifts in my thinking when I was introduced to Calvinism and Reformed theology. Far more ignorant than knowledgeable, I fiercely argued with anyone who disagreed with me, even if I had shared their view minutes earlier. I didn’t listen; I only responded. I didn’t try to understand; I just wanted to win. I thought I was being heroic, especially since John Calvin famously said: “A dog barks when his master is attacked. I would be a coward if I saw that God’s truth is attacked and yet would remain silent.”

Then came my professor’s confrontation. His words hit me hard, they were shattering. But it was an “Aha-Moment” — I wasn’t a defender of the faith, I was just being a jerk, hiding behind a think mask of piety. Unfortunately, my actions had consequences. I needlessly offended others, I hurt people not with the truth but with my words, and I dishonored Jesus. Since that day I’ve tried to blunt my polemical edge — or, to put it more accurately, I’ve tried to have that edge sanctified.

I say “sanctified” because there’s a place for Christians to stand firm and refute. After all, we believe in the authority and clarity of the Bible and this should lead us to have strong convictions on theological matters. The Prophets, Apostles, and even Jesus didn’t shy away from contending vigorously for the truth — speaking boldly and convincingly. But to do this in a godly way requires grace and wisdom — qualities that are, in my view, rare. There’s a fine line between contending and stirring up trouble (Prov. 29:22), speaking a soft word or being harsh (Prov. 15:1), being prepared or disrespectful (1 Pt. 3:15), being responsible or a busybody (2 Thess. 3:11); correcting or fault-finding (Matt. 7:3-5), being discerning or divisive (Titus 3:10). There’s a fine line between seeking peace and exhibiting pride. A godly polemicist needs to know that line, and I fear very few do.

When the Dutch theologian Herman Witsius was invited to give a response to a big theological controversy in Britain, he began his response by writing:

And I reckon it not the smallest part of our calamity, or at least the most painful of our office, that we who preside in matters of Christianity, are often constrained to bestow tedious labour in resolving the difficulties of thorny controversies. So is the age; all places resound with debates: that very temple not excepted which the Lord hath consecrated to peace and concord […] Be ye willing or unwilling, in battle you must engage; O that it were always that good fight of faith, which Paul recommended to Timothy! However, if we are not permitted to shun the conflict, the prudence of the just demands, that they, who in the defense of orthodoxy show themselves the right guardians of truth, should remember studiously to avoid [those] things which are not lawful for ministers of peace.

Witsius wasn’t unwilling to engage. Anyone familiar with his writings knows how thoughtfully, thoroughly, and strongly he did so. There’s a time and a place and a way to do so — and passivity lacks the courage that should distinguish believers. But he was also reluctant. He was reluctant because controversy can come from the spirit of the age, the fight of faith can be counterfeited, the peace of the church easily disturbed, and argumentation can become lawless warfare. Such polemics are beneath the dignity of Christianity.

What does the church need most today? The answer can vary depending on your perspective. After observing many debates on social media, you might think the church needs less arguing and more caution. I can relate to that view. Most social media interactions don’t seem to be helpful, kind, or honoring to Christ. A lot of it is just rude, uncharitable, and straining gnats. It's just a shameless craving for controversy. On the other hand, when we look at the culture, we see many Christians who are indifferent—those who aren’t deeply convicted or committed, and they avoid necessary conflicts at almost all costs. I understand that too, and wish the church had more of a fighting spirit.

In my opinion, the church needs the reluctant polemicist. We don't need reluctant people without polemics, nor do we need polemics without reluctance. We need those with an uncompromising backbone who are willing and able to zealously contend for biblical doctrine, worship, and godliness. Men who fight for the honor bestowed by God alone. But they also need to have enough reluctance to avoid, in the fight, everything unbecoming of one enlisted under the banner of Jesus Christ, and whose contending is for peace. Again, in the words of Witsius: “Those men [are] the most happy, who knowing nothing but Jesus Christ, and him crucified, and living soberly, righteously, and godly according to the prescription of the gospel” remain far from contentions and striving.