Dealing With False Teachers — Further Thought

Good morning, everyone.

What if Paul walked into our church next Sabbath?

I mean the Paul of 2 Corinthians, preparing to visit Corinth for the third time, unsure of what he will find.

He has already told them what concerns him: jealousy, quarreling, pride, disorder, sexual immorality. People who have sinned and still have not repented.

Now imagine him walking through our doors. What would he notice?

I'm sure he would notice what we believe. But I don't think he would stop there. He would watch how we treat one another. How we speak about people who disagree with us. How we respond when someone corrects us. How quickly we defend ourselves. Whether our love for truth has actually made us more like Jesus.

And that is where this lesson becomes uncomfortable for me.

We have spent the whole week talking about false teachers. That is easy, because when we hear "false teacher," we naturally look somewhere else. Who is teaching error? Which preacher should I avoid? Which church has gone wrong?

Those are legitimate questions. But Paul takes us further:
"Examine yourselves, to see whether you are in the faith." 2 Cor 13:5

He is not talking to pagans. He is talking to church members. People who knew the truth.

That one gets me. Because we are very good at examination. We examine doctrines, sermons, churches, other people's theology. We can tell you exactly where someone has gone wrong.

But how often do I sit down and let the Word examine me?

That is what caught me in Ellen White's statement: "The Lord designs that our opinions shall be put to the test."

Our opinions. Not just somebody else's. That means I have to be willing to take something I have believed for sixty-plus years and place it back on the table. Not because truth doesn't matter, but because truth matters enough to examine me.

And here is the danger we don't talk about enough: I can become so convinced that I have the truth that I stop allowing the truth to question me.

I can defend the truth and still have a bad temper.
I can defend the church and still wound people.
I can argue against false teaching while pride quietly grows in me.
I can be right about the doctrine and wrong in the spirit with which I represent it.

I can know the truth without allowing the truth to change me.

Truth was never meant to be a badge I wear. It was meant to bring me to Christ.

Paul said, "For the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh" 2 Cor 10:4.
Sometimes we try to fight a spiritual blindness with an argument. It doesn't work.

So before Sabbath, I am praying something harder:

"Lord, show me where I have become so sure that I am right that I have stopped letting You change me."

And not, "Lord, show me who is wrong."

Because if Paul walked into our church next Sabbath, I don't think the most frightening question would be whether he agreed with everything we believe. It would be this:

Would he find that we only know the truth — or that the truth is making us like Christ?