I'm Wrong, and That's OK

Humility is one of the greatest traits we can aspire to attain as humans, but it is so often an elusive characteristic in a world driven by competition and the need for certainty.

When I first began studying theology about a decade ago, I was so certain about what I believed. You could have asked me anything, and I would have had some sort of opinion, believing that my opinion was probably more correct than yours. My skin crawls when I think about how I acted during conversations with my peers as we battled with our wits.

Debating abstract ideas about the Divine was like a drug, and I constantly craved my next high. Arrogance oozed out of every pore on my body because I believed that I was right. Everyone else was misguided in their attempts to articulate their beliefs, but I was right, righteous in my attempts to convert them to my way of thinking.

The more I learned, the more I craved to debate the various atonement theories, the soteriological spectrum between Augustine and Pelagius, and whether or not babies should be baptized. Knowledge became a weapon designed for battles of the mind, sharpened in the debate arena ready to slay whoever was foolish enough to fight me.

This was how I operated in the world, seeking to impress everyone with my intellectual prowess. Frankly, higher education is filled with arrogant young people trying to make their way in this world.

I have written before about my eventual journey with doubt. (You can read about it here and here). I eventually began to doubt because I was no longer certain about anything. My hunger for knowledge was ravenous, and it led me on a path where everything fell apart.you Where once I was so certain about what I believed, I began to be filled with questions.

I had learned enough to know this one truth: God is too infinite for my finite brain to comprehend the breadth and depth of the Divine.

My arrogance began to melt away because I could no longer be sure about what I believed. I was, in all ways, humiliated.

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I think this happened when I was in the first grade.

Growing up in the Midwest, we had to be prepared for the distinct possibility a tornado could come through our small town. Thus, we had regular tornado drills throughout my schooling years. There were designated spots in the school for students to go to that would theoretically keep them safer if a tornado happened to roll through. In this particular year, my class had to go to the locker room by the gym.

This wasn’t my first drill, as I was a first grader after all. I knew what to do, so I felt confident. While in the locker room during one of these drills, the teacher asked, “Why do we need to be quiet during a tornado drill?”

No one was answering, and for some reason, I felt inspired to speak up and give the answer I was so sure was correct: “Because if we make too much noise, the tornado will hear us and find us.”

Nope. Wrong answer.

I am legitimately not sure what the correct answer was because I couldn’t hear above the sound of my own shame of being incorrect.

I was wrong, but I was six, so it is totally understandable. Children think of the craziest things to explain the world around them.

Adults also think of the craziest things to explain the world around them. It is a part of how our brains operate, seeking certainty about everything. David Rock, the CEO of the NeuroLeadership Group, puts it this way:

“A sense of uncertainty about the future generates a strong threat or 'alert' response in your limbic system. Your brain detects something is wrong, and your ability to focus on other issues diminishes. Your brain doesn't like uncertainty - it's like a type of pain, something to be avoided. Certainty on the other hand feels rewarding, and we tend to steer toward it, even when it might be better for us to remain uncertain.”

(You can read the rest of his blog here.)

We create these systems of beliefs in order to feel certain, as certain as I was as a first grader during a tornado drill or as an academic theologian learning about the ecclesiology of Martin Luther. But there are some things we have to be uncertain about.

Honestly, we are probably wrong about most of what we believe. We at least fall short in our understanding of everything we believe, especially about God. There is no way to fully comprehend the Infinite.

And I think that’s OK.

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When I first came to the conclusion that I could not be certain about anything, it felt destabilizing, but then something changed. After wondering where I could possibly go next, I felt free, free to be wrong.

You will have a difficult time convincing me that God would punish someone for being wrong about something. I truly believe that everyone is doing the best they can to make their way in a world that is full of mystery and competing ideologies.

Please don’t hear me saying that I think people should simply believe whatever because they feel like it. Not all beliefs are created equal. A belief exists out there that some ethnic backgrounds are better than others. A belief exists out there that women are inherently less capable of leading than men. A belief exists out there that people with varying disabilities are less worthy than others.

There are a million more beliefs out there that are as damned as these, so no, I do not think every belief is justifiable. Some beliefs create more harm in the world. Some beliefs lead to more hatred and harsher boundaries between neighbors. Some beliefs keep us from truly loving everyone in our path.

I held, and probably still hold, some beliefs that are harmful. Despite my good intentions, I harbored hatred within me that kept me from fully loving friends and strangers. In my efforts to be correct, I helped to create a culture of death.

My feeble attempts to be right were destructive. So, I have decided I am OK with being wrong.

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I was a truth-seeker, and my searching led me on a journey that made me realize truth is not just about being right. Let me ask you this: is love true? Of course, but can you prove it? I can’t. It’s a concept that is fluid and means a thousand different things to a thousand different people.

What is truth, even? It’s complicated. Philosophers, poets, scientists, and construction workers have all attempted to describe truth, debating over its very nature. No one knows what it is.

Ask any theologian who or what God is, and you will probably get a different answer from every single one. It’s complicated. Everything is complicated.

That’s why I am OK with the concept of being wrong. There is no way for me to actually be correct about everything. My desire is to be as correct, accurate, and true as possible, but I am fully aware that I will fall short.

This is partly why some of my beliefs have evolved. I have decided that there are certain things that are very important to me, some things that I am willing to be wrong about. My goal in my theology, politics, and personal life is to be as loving as possible. I am willing to be wrong if it means that I get to love my neighbor well. I am willing to be wrong if it means that my beliefs create more goodness in the world.

In a world divided by people with differing opinions, my goal is to create more peace and love between all humans. And sometimes that means I may be wrong which is OK with me.

Hatred is the greatest heresy.