The other day, a friend of mine made a comment about an author. He wrote:
“I’ll say he’s sloppy at best when it comes to sound doctrine and theology.”
I think the first half of that thought is awesome.
I think the author he was describing is sloppy at best.
I think I’m sloppy at best.
I think you’re sloppy at best.
I think there’s not a person on the planet who isn’t sloppy at best.
The longer I’m a Christian, the more I realize how big and mysterious and boundless God is. The idea that I can remove the “sloppiness” from my limited human understanding of him is comical. The idea that, at 36 or 56 or 106, I could reach a point in my life where I have him all figured out is silly.
In anything, the Christians I know with the deepest, most mature faiths tell me, “The closer I got to God over the decades, the more I realized how very little I knew about his wonderfulness and how very desperately I needed him more than ever.”
The fear in admitting faith is sloppy is that you’ll lose all sense of truth, and everything will become relative. As if admitting you haven’t figured God out completely is a single step away from “All religions basically say the same thing. God is too big to figure out so let’s not even try. Anything goes.”
But the more we fear that extreme example and refuse to have sloppy discussions, the more we invite something poisonous into our faith – arrogance.
My friend might not have had that in his words. But others do when they draw manmade boundaries around a boundless God.