Reasoning the Debate

In the marketplace of ideas, people are confronted with a multitude of opinions on the same subjects. Navigating through them and arriving at sound conclusions has become increasingly difficult. The problem is not always the absence of critical thinking, but rather the misuse of knowledge, reasoning, and debate. Many strive either to elevate their own opinion to the level of absolute truth or to relativise truth altogether so that every opinion may be considered valid. Yet both approaches are futile, for they contradict not only each other but often themselves.

As a result, debate easily degenerates into mockery and reasoning into little more than speaking louder than one’s opponent. Instead of engaging with ideas, people frequently attack the belief system—and sometimes even the person—behind them. Claims are made confidently, yet rarely accompanied by logical explanation or supported by evidence. What should be a pursuit of truth becomes a contest of voices instead.

These shortfalls are not confined to one side of the discussion. They appear both among atheists and theists alike. Whether one identifies as a Christian or simply as a believer in God, arguments are often dismissed by counterclaims rather than examined through evidence and logical criticism. Too often, ideas are rejected without being carefully considered.

From my encounters across the Internet, I have noticed that atheism itself is not uniform. Broadly speaking, there seem to be three types of atheists: those who simply do not believe that God exists, those who actively reject God, and those who do not want God to be true. Interestingly, Psalm 1:1 reflects a similar progression of attitudes. First, there is the counsel of the ungodly — voices that readily offer advice, yet are not grounded in an absolute standard of truth. Second, there is standing in the way of sinners, where commitment is given to live according to such counsel. Finally, there is sitting with the scorners, where comfort in that position has settled in, and the person becomes fully shaped by it.

The progression is subtle but powerful. What may begin as a simple opinion can gradually become a settled worldview. The Bible repeatedly warns about this principle. The book of Proverbs, for example, speaks directly to these dispositions of the human heart, offering wisdom that challenges both the mind and the conscience to discern between what is false and what is true.

Everyone and Me

There is, indeed, nothing new under the sun. Though this statement is well known and often quoted in sermons or Bible studies, it took me longer than I expected to truly grasp its meaning.

Recently I heard someone say on the Internet, “Everyone believes they are right.” That remark made me pause and reflect, because it is fundamentally true. It applies equally to the atheist and to the theist. Yet believing itself can take two very different forms: it may be blind, or it may rest upon evidence. The issue, therefore, is not believing in itself, but the foundation upon which that belief stands.

Once a thinker recognises this principle, he approaches conversations differently. He understands that truth has already been debated, argued, and defended across centuries. This realisation humbles the mind. It reminds us that convincing someone is not always within our power. The sincere seeker of Truth does not attempt to force truth to confirm his own conclusions, but instead allows himself to be confronted and convicted by it.

Here, both the believer and the unbeliever may either succeed or fail. In different ways, we are all ignorant and biased at the same time. Our knowledge is limited; therefore, our perspectives are inevitably partial.

A Christian may deceive himself into thinking he already knows enough about God. Feeling satisfied with his level of understanding, he may begin to rely on his own judgement while venturing into matters he no longer carefully examines. On the other hand, an atheist may simply dismiss the possibility of God altogether, constructing a self-dependent understanding of truth. Such a view may appear stable, but it reaches only as far as the horizon that human reason alone can see.

Yet the remedy remains the same for both. The Gospel is not merely a message about salvation; it is the revelation of the incarnate Truth — the One who laid His life upon the cross. For the believer, the Gospel is a continual reminder that dependence on God is not a burden imposed upon us, but a relationship we willingly embrace. For the unbeliever, the message stands clearly: self-determination may carry us through the days of this life, but it cannot provide meaning beyond it.

I may be right in the wrong, but not wrongly right. The deeper question, therefore, is not simply “Am I right?” but rather: Am I in the truth, and is the truth in me?

Speaking with Power, Proclaiming with Weakness

I would now like to turn our attention to the written truth — the Word of God — and observe a figure from the first-century church. He is a fascinating character who initially inspired me to work harder in knowing the Scriptures. Yet reflecting more deeply on his story challenged me even further. It revealed to me that eloquence, impressive as it may appear, can still fall short when it is not rooted in the fullness of truth.

Apollos was a Jew born in Alexandria, a city founded by Alexander the Great in 331 BC. Alexandria became one of the great intellectual centres of the ancient world, known especially for its famous library and its culture of scholarship and learning. In the early third century BC, the library formed part of the Mouseion — the Temple of the Muses — which aimed to gather the knowledge of the world. During its intellectual and epistemological prominence, an academic program of translation was initiated. Hebrew scholars translated the Scriptures from Hebrew into Greek, known as the Septuagint, so that they could be preserved and studied within this vast collection of ancient texts.

Against this background, we meet Apollos in the book of Acts.

24 And a certain Jew named Apollos, born at Alexandria, an eloquent man, and mighty in the scriptures, came to Ephesus.
25 This man was instructed in the way of the Lord; and being fervent in the spirit, he spake and taught diligently the things of the Lord, knowing only the baptism of John.
26 And he began to speak boldly in the synagogue: whom when Aquila and Priscilla had heard, they took him unto them, and expounded unto him the way of God more perfectly.
27 And when he was disposed to pass into Achaia, the brethren wrote, exhorting the disciples to receive him: who, when he was come, helped them much which had believed through grace:
28 For he mightily convinced the Jews, and that publickly, shewing by the scriptures that Jesus was Christ.

In Acts 18, we read that Apollos was “an eloquent man, and mighty in the Scriptures.” He arrived in Ephesus, teaching diligently the things concerning the Lord. His passion and sincerity are evident, yet the text also reveals an important limitation: he knew only the baptism of John.

Among those who heard him speak were Aquila and Priscilla. Recognising both his zeal and his incomplete understanding, they took him aside and expounded more perfectly the way of God. This moment is striking. An eloquent speaker, likely well educated and confident in the Scriptures, was still willing to be taught.

The emphasis of the passage is not on Apollos’ deficiency but on his teachable spirit. Knowledge alone had already made him a powerful speaker, yet the fuller understanding of the Gospel transformed the effectiveness of his witness. After receiving this instruction, Apollos did not merely gain additional information; he was strengthened and rooted in the truth. The brethren then encouraged him to continue his ministry, and he went on to help those who believed grow, and he publicly demonstrated from the Scriptures that Jesus is the Christ.

Knowing and Believing

The Bible teaches that knowing is not enough, because knowing is not believing. I gather that there are many people who are deceived by the thinking that knowing is believing. Though faith works hand in hand with knowledge, trusting is more than knowing. It requires stepping beyond information and allowing that knowledge to shape the heart and the life. At that point, knowledge is no longer merely understood, but lived. We surrender our understanding of God to what God Himself has revealed.

God is not a written concept, nor merely an old book preserved from the past. Not even a story carried through ancient scrolls and mighty libraries. God is the author of that book.

This is what I found particularly interesting in the case of Apollos. He knew about the baptism of John. When John the Baptist was baptising the people, he was proclaiming Christ who was to come. From what he had learned and heard, Apollos may have been justified in the limits of his understanding at that moment. Yet the fullness of the Gospel — the reality that the promised Messiah had come and accomplished redemption — was something he had not yet fully grasped.

Apollos, however, had something remarkable: a teachable mind and heart. After Aquila and Priscilla explained the way of God more perfectly, he did not resist correction. Instead, he embraced the fuller truth. Verse 28 confirms this transformation. He was now proclaiming Christ and demonstrating from the Scriptures that Jesus is the Messiah, following the same pattern as Paul and the other apostles.

Great minds are those that recognise there is still more to learn. There are moments when ignorance may be understandable. Yet we do not live in the days of the first-century church. The Scriptures have been preserved, translated, studied, and preached for centuries. Today, there is an abundance of resources available to anyone who truly wishes to understand.

More than that, the believer possesses the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, who enables spiritual discernment of what the Scriptures teach. For this reason, I am inclined to say that we are without excuse.

The Bible teaches that knowing is not enough, because knowing is not believing. I gather that there are many people who are deceived by the thinking that knowing is believing. Though faith works hand in hand with knowledge, trusting is more than knowing. I am already stepping on the side of applying that knowledge, where it is supposed to be applied, and surrender my understanding about God, to what God revealed.God is not a written concept, an olde book. Not even a story from ancient scrolls preserved in mighty libraries. God is the author of that book.

This is what I found interesting in Apollos. He knew about John’s baptism. When John the Baptist was baptising the people, he was proclaiming Christ. Though we can argue that Apollos was justified in how much he knew, as he may have based it on what was written and heard from reliable sources to that point. Hence, the gospel was a later development, and in the hands of the chosen apostles. John the Baptist was not present among them. Therefore, Apollos was falling short of the great good news that, in Christ, promised and prophesied, salvation was now the reality lived by many. Apollos had a teachable mind and heart. Verse 28 confirms this, as now he was preaching Christ, showing from the Scriptures. Following the same pattern as Paul and the other apostles.

Great minds are those which acknowledge there is more to be learned and taught. There are times when our ignorance is justified. However, we do not live in the times of the first-century church anymore. The Bible has been confirmed, debated, commented on and preached that there is a plethora of sources today. From which people can learn. What is more, above it all, the Bible has been translated and put in clear language, so that the reader or the thinker can see it and understand. Furthermore, a believer has the indwelling of the Holy Ghost; therefore, able to spiritually discern what the Bible teaches. I am inclined to state that we are without excuse.

Witnessing and proclaiming the truth can only be attained if we are in the Truth. The Truth in Christianity, as the Bible proclaims, is not a concept but a person — the One who laid His life on the cross, rose from the dead on the third day, and even now stands at the right hand of the Father in glory, grace and honour.

If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God. Colossians 3:1

A fundamental question, therefore, is one each person must ask: If I have believed in the Lord Jesus Christ, have I been raised with Him?

Witnessing and Indignation

So often, when we are out in the world proclaiming Christ, we are confronted with rejection and counterarguments. In those moments, we may feel the weight of the opposition. Yet one thing we must not forget is this: if we have been raised with Christ, we already stand in the Truth. Therefore, our righteous indignation should move its weight away from the tone of our voice and toward the strength of the argument itself. The truth must be spoken in love and sincerity, sharing both the beauty of heaven and the sobering reality of hell – loneliness and darkness.

I have seen many people publicly testify of Christ and preach the good news. Yet when they are questioned about the hope that is within them, and perhaps mocked or rejected, the witness sometimes changes into something unrecognisable. What began as testimony becomes a struggle to prove why I am right and you are wrong. When we truly stand in the Truth, such a defence becomes unnecessary. Debates built on personal vindication rarely accomplish anything. Worse still, observers may conclude that Christianity is no different from any other ideology competing for dominance.

Christ Himself never argued to justify why He was right. He demonstrated the truth through His life — through miracles, integrity, humility and suffering. Ultimately, He sealed that testimony by laying down His life. The first generation of believers followed the same path. They did not suffer and die because they were fanatics, but because the Truth lived fully within them. Whoever trusts in the Lord Jesus Christ enters a reality in which death itself is the final and loudest witnessing. They may lose this earthly life, yet they never die.

We must grasp this principle deeply. When the weight rests on the truth itself, our words and actions speak with greater power. The Gospel becomes so substantial that those who reject it do so knowingly. In such moments, the Truth is proclaimed and honoured, even when it is resisted. A gentle voice and a strong argument will not always soften hardened hearts. We may suffer for the truth; some may even face death. Yet martyrdom is a voice that never fades. Christianity itself was founded upon it. Christ did not command His followers to take up arms, but to take up the cross and bear the yoke.

We are sent into the world as sheep among wolves. Therefore, we should not expect anything less than rejection, mockery, or hostility. Sadly, there are also times when Christians themselves stumble while holding the Truth in their hands. They slip on the right side, not realising that the ground beneath them is already the Truth.

For this reason, we must restrain our natural reactions and instead present the transforming work Christ has done within us. Knowledge alone can become cold, angry, and arrogant. Christ, however, is the opposite. He is love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meekness and temperance. To witness Christ truly is to allow His character to be seen through our words and our lives.

The story of Apollos reveals an important distinction. It is possible to know the Scriptures and yet still lack the fullness of who they reveal. Knowledge of the Bible alone does not automatically mean that a person truly knows Christ. The Scriptures were never given merely to be studied as an intellectual or memory exercise, but to lead the reader to the Saviour they testify about. Apollos knew the Scriptures and spoke with eloquence, yet he still needed to understand more perfectly the way of God. Only when Christ Himself stands at the centre does knowledge become complete. True maturity in the knowledge of Scripture leads to a Christ-centred eloquence, for in Him “are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” (Colossians 2:3)

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Thy word is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path. Psalm 119:105

The Biased Tension

Since the beginning, there has been a conflict between the will of man and the will of God — between what we desire and what God commands, instructs, and prescribes for life. Human freedom, when exercised independently of God, shifts the centre of truth from the Divine to the self. In doing so, truth becomes internalised, relativised, and reshaped according to preference. Right and wrong lose their fixed reference point, and meaning begins to fracture.

Recently, I was confronted again by the Word of God and challenged to reconsider a fundamental principle of life. It became clear that this principle must rest at the bedrock of faith. A believer’s foundation does not shift, for it is established in God through Christ. Yet there are seasons when that foundation is reinforced within us — when the Word re-anchors the soul in life-sustaining truths. There are moments when maturity in Christ takes an up-turn — when conviction rises after a deep search for meaning, and growth becomes evident not merely in knowledge, but in alignment.

We may experiment with design and decoration, but a house’s foundation and structure are non-negotiable. Without them, no aesthetic refinement can preserve the building. So it is with faith. Too often we invest in appearance while neglecting structure. Scripture is not a pot of paint to colour our preferences. It is the foundation and the structural blueprint — and God Himself is the Architect.

My Path

When we move away from the Creator of the universe, truth begins to lose its weight, its clarity, and ultimately its purpose. Detached from its Source, meaning does not disappear immediately — it weakens gradually.

Not long ago, while attending a morning service and listening to a sermon from Psalm 119, I noticed a striking harmony within the text. The psalmist continually expresses gratitude. He does not merely obey God’s Word; he delights in it. He blesses God for granting him such depth of understanding, as though divine instruction were not a burden but the pathway to wisdom and life.

And here the tension rises.

For many believers, Scripture often does not feel less like harmony and more like confrontation. There are moments when reading the Word seems like a quiet competition between my path and God’s Word — as though His instruction does not quite fit the direction I have chosen. At times, we subtly resist His testimonies, statutes, and commands. At other times, we recognise that our path does not align with His Word, yet we hesitate to yield fully and trust Him to direct our steps.

Thus, the tension intensifies. Awareness grows heavier. Conviction presses deeper — until we reach a tipping point, where the path we walk becomes dangerously unstable. And yet, it remains my path, altered only by the will of the one who walks it.

As the tension increases, trust begins to erode. Purpose narrows. Meaning fades into a distant echo.

At such a moment, we begin to realise that the path itself is the outcome of an isolated will — a will detached from the Word, a trust misplaced, a freedom misused. It is not that the path was left unguarded; rather, the walking has become weary and misdirected. What once felt like progress now feels like tireless dragging.

Thy Word

The fundamental truth revealed in Scripture is that my path was never meant to exist as an isolated entity from Thy Word. God’s will is not merely that we know His Word, but that we live in harmony with it. When the path is aligned with the Word, tension dissolves. The path is no longer self-designed but divinely directed. In such harmony, the path reflects the Word, and the Word illuminates the path. This is the essential testimony woven throughout Psalm 119 — not reluctant obedience, but joyful alignment.

Harmony between the path and the Word is the most fulfilling choice free will can make. Trust finds its completion there. Freedom finds its proper direction.

Yet we are easily deceived into believing that the path must be designed by the walker alone. We assume autonomy is maturity. But life lived in tension with the Word makes every step feel heavy — as though walking upon hardened stone, leaving marks of strain behind. Christ, however, declared that He came to give life — and life more abundantly.

Proverbs 22:6 instructs: “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” The emphasis is not merely on information, but formation. To train is not simply to teach words, but to cultivate a way — a lived pattern shaped by truth. Knowing alone does not transform; living what is known does. Many are familiar with the Word, yet few allow the Word to shape their walk.

Christ declared, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.” In Him, the path is not merely directed — it is embodied. Through His teachings, He revealed the will of the Father; through His obedience, He fulfilled it. He walked toward the cross when the weight of the world’s sin pressed heavily upon Him — a weight I understand personally, for my own sin was laid upon Him, though its full measure remains beyond me.

The Holy One bore upon Himself the sin that brought death to humanity. He who knew no sin entered death not as its captive, but as its conqueror — rising victorious to redeem all who believe. In Christ, the way to life is not constructed by human effort; it is opened by divine sacrifice. Through Him, we are reconciled to God and invited into life eternal.

The three hours of darkness at midday were not mere atmospheric signs; they were a solemn witness to the gravity of sin and the cost of redemption — a shadowed moment revealing the depth of what was borne upon the cross.

The Mirror

Each Christian is called to be Christlike — to live and walk as Christ walked. Yet not blindly. Our Lord did not leave us without a witness; He displayed in full clarity the perfection of obedience, humility, and truth. Through Christ — trusting Him for redemption, and depending upon Him for growth — life gains not merely direction, but heavenly meaning.

If the Word is the foundation and the path its direction, then the walker’s motivation must be Christ Himself — Lord and Saviour. Self-examination, therefore, is not comparison with others, but reflection before Him. I am to examine myself in the light of Christ alone, allowing His character to shape what is formed in me — by grace, through faith.

Scripture does not merely inform; it reveals. When we stand before it honestly, it reflects not only what we know, but who we are becoming. The tension between my path and Thy Word becomes visible there. What once felt justified is exposed. What seemed harmless reveals its fracture lines. The instability of the path is no longer theoretical — it is reflected back to the walker.

James writes that the one who hears the Word and does not act upon it is like a man who looks at his face in a mirror and, having seen himself, immediately forgets what he looks like. The tragedy is not ignorance — it is recognition without transformation.

A mirror does not distort. It does not flatter. It does not negotiate. It simply reflects. Either I adjust the mirror to preserve my path, or I adjust my path to reflect the Word.

When the Word becomes the mirror, self-deception weakens. Alignment becomes possible. The path is no longer defended — it has been surrendered. And in that surrender, harmony is restored.

“If ye then be risen with Christ, seek those things which are above, where Christ sitteth on the right hand of God.” Colossian 3:1

To seek those things above is not to escape the path below, but to walk it differently — directed by the Word, sustained by grace, and reflected in Christ.

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Psalm 51:5 – “Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me.”

I often find myself with eyes wide open, observing my surroundings—listening intently to what people say and how they say it. This kind of observation is key to comprehending the modern worldview: understanding how people construct their arguments, form their convictions, and reach their conclusions.

The world is changing—but not because of natural phenomena or the unfolding laws of science. Rather, the world is changing because humanity is evolving away from its Creator. While society shifts, we find our anchor in Hebrews 13:8: “Jesus Christ the same yesterday, and to day, and for ever.” He is the never-changing constant, the absolute standard, and the Uncaused Cause.

By denying this absolute standard, society inevitably degrades, transforming into something odd and undesirable. When humanity finally reaches the bottom of this descent, they will cry out for a solution. I wonder, however—will they know to whom they should bring their sorrows to, now that God has been removed with such disdain from daily life?

We find profound insight into this condition within the Book of Proverbs. Those who show disdain or hostility towards God, by turning their life away from Him. There, the wise King Solomon shares from his experience—both his life with the Lord and his time spent away from Him. Solomon was a man who understood, perhaps more than we can grasp, the weight of God’s statutes and the true nature of wisdom.

20 Wisdom crieth without; she uttereth her voice in the streets:
21 She crieth in the chief place of concourse, in the openings of the gates: in the city she uttereth her words, saying,
22 How long, ye simple ones, will ye love simplicity? and the scorners delight in their scorning, and fools hate knowledge?
23 Turn you at my reproof: behold, I will pour out my spirit unto you, I will make known my words unto you.
24 Because I have called, and ye refused; I have stretched out my hand, and no man regarded;
25 But ye have set at nought all my counsel, and would none of my reproof:
26 I also will laugh at your calamity; I will mock when your fear cometh;
27 When your fear cometh as desolation, and your destruction cometh as a whirlwind; when distress and anguish cometh upon you.
28 Then shall they call upon me, but I will not answer; they shall seek me early, but they shall not find me:
29 For that they hated knowledge, and did not choose the fear of the LORD:
30 They would none of my counsel: they despised all my reproof.
31 Therefore shall they eat of the fruit of their own way, and be filled with their own devices.
32 For the turning away of the simple shall slay them, and the prosperity of fools shall destroy them.
33 But whoso hearkeneth unto me shall dwell safely, and shall be quiet from fear of evil.

These words should be a terrifying warning to any reader—regardless of age, maturity, or whether they believe in God or not. The passage presents a very logical argument, and its conclusion is all the more sobering. Consider this: if this is the depth of wisdom found at the very beginning of the Book of Proverbs, how much more remains to be discovered in the remaining thirty chapters?

However, what I would like to bring to your attention, dear reader, is how genuinely unwise we often are in times of crisis. Instead of seeking balance, we tend to fluctuate from one extreme to another. This happens primarily because of wrong advice, leading therefore to choices which are not consistent with God’s counsel in our lives, and influences that are nothing more than a wind.

I profoundly appreciate how the Apostle Paul points out that strange doctrines are nothing but a wind. As previously mentioned, we ought to seek to stay closer and closer to the unchanging God. He is the Rock, the Pillar, and the Foundation.

When comparing the influences in our lives—books, preachers, Bible scholars, teachers, friends, and the people we interact with—I wonder if you can identify whether they are motivating you toward a closer relationship with Christ, or whether they are pulling and pushing you with “winds of doctrine.” Of course, this is something each of us must assess personally.

Turning our eyes toward God and His Word, I would like to challenge you with a subject that has convicted me deeply—one that has caused me to fall on my knees and praise the Lord. These thoughts have been on my heart for some time, triggered by an event that once again shook Christians worldwide. While the specific details of that story are not the focus here, they lead us to study another important man from human history—a man who remains a benchmark of kingship in Israel.

All kings after David fluctuated in their service to God and His chosen people. In fact, the biblical narrative evaluates roughly eight kings based on whether they followed or failed to follow “the ways of David.” As a consequence, King David remains, even today, an example by which we may evaluate ourselves—if not in kingship, then certainly in our commitment to living and upholding God’s ways.

As I mentioned earlier, I would like to dive into the Scriptures to unfold God’s great wisdom and expose ourselves to it. My hope is that we can understand when and how we are unwise—especially when life takes a sudden turn. I also want to address how easily we “cancel” people who, just like David, have fallen into sin.

I am not attempting to minimize the gravity of sin. Rather, I want to show how great God is. Men like David remained faithful to God, and their lives were restored by Him—even while they suffered the consequences of their sin and the weight of God’s righteous judgment and justice.

Yet I have noticed that people often cancel someone because of a single sinful situation, judging their entire life as being in the wrong. My encouragement today, through looking into the Bible, is to learn how to wisely discern life’s situations regarding people and sin—especially within a Christian context, a Church, or the wider Christian community.

Therefore, I propose that we analyze a specific moment in the life of David—the moment from which Psalm 51 was written with such depth of conviction, dedication, and submission to God. That moment is found in 2 Samuel, chapters 11 and 12.

The King

David was king over Israel, and the nation was at war. Scripture describes this as a time “when kings go forth to battle.” Yet David sent his servants to fight while he remained in Jerusalem. Walking upon the roof of his palace, David noticed a woman bathing; she caught his eye and stirred his flesh. The story continues with David committing a grievous sin by having an affair with Bathsheba.

When the woman became pregnant, David moved forward in an attempt to hide his affair. First, he called Uriah, Bathsheba’s husband, home from battle, persuading him to rest and enjoy time with his wife. However, Uriah was more dedicated to the affairs of war and to the LORD; he refused to go home. David then used his power to send Uriah back to the front lines, arranging for him to be placed in the forefront of the hottest battle so that he would die.

It may sound like a Hollywood story, but this is a real historical event. At the end of it, David was convicted of his grievous sin. Out of that pain, sorrow, and many tears, he penned the words of Psalm 51.

The Adulterer

There is no doubt that David committed the sin of adultery. He went out of his way to have an intimate relationship with Bathsheba. Scripture is precise in its description and exposes David’s weakness: women of a beautiful countenance.

This was not the first time David had encountered such temptation. In 1 Samuel 25:3, we read of Abigail, the wife of Nabal, described as a woman of “good understanding, and of a beautiful countenance.” Later, Abigail became David’s wife. It appears David had a weakness—one which is not unique to him, but shared by many men, regardless of their standing in Christ.

There is not much more that needs to be said concerning this matter. David committed adultery.

The Murderer

Reading the account of David’s affair with Bathsheba, we see a man desperate to cover his tracks. Whatever strings he pulled while Uriah was still alive proved unsuccessful. Instead, his efforts only highlighted Uriah’s faithfulness—to his king and to his God. He was a dedicated warrior, committed to finishing the battle he had begun.

Yet this very integrity turned against Uriah, rooted in David’s desperation to conceal his sin. Whenever these chapters are read or preached, the focus often rests almost entirely on David’s encounter with Bathsheba. But David did not fail there alone. He continued to descend further into sin, blinded by transgression and darkened in judgment by momentary pleasure.

Though David did not draw the sword against Uriah with his own hand, it was he who plotted his death. By David’s command, Uriah was left alone and abandoned on the battlefield. We do not know Uriah’s thoughts as he saw his army withdraw, leaving him to face the enemy’s valiant men alone.

When Uriah the Hittite fell in battle, the news was brought back to King David. Joab and the messenger had carefully planned how the report would be delivered, expecting the king’s anger. Instead, David responded with chilling indifference: “the sword devoureth one as well as another.” Uriah was not a mere servant; he was one of David’s faithful and mighty men—one who had served him from the beginning of his ascent to Israel’s throne.

The Abuser

The story continues with David proving able to rightly judge injustice, as we see in 2 Samuel 12. But before that, it is important to reflect on how David forced Bathsheba into his house and plotted the death of Uriah. All of this was done through the abuse of his kingship, power, and authority. Chapter 12 describes David accurately, using a method we often see Jesus’ use in the Gospels: a parable. To draw his attention and give David insight into the sin he had committed.

Meditating on the story as a whole, we ought to learn that in desperate situations, to cover up one shortfall, a chain of sinful acts will follow—even the abuse of the position and authority invested in us by God. David did not earn the crown; God chose him. God delivered him from Saul and the hands of his enemies. God protected and promoted David to the throne of Israel. David did not only abuse his earthly power, but he also acted against God by assuming authority he did not have. This is plainly depicted at the end of chapter 11, verse 27: “But the thing that David had done displeased the LORD.”

Furthermore, in chapter 12, God judges David—perhaps harshly, we might say, but God is never less than just and righteous. Reminding David first of His grace and provision, God justifies how gravely David had sinned by killing Uriah and taking his wife. However, God’s judgment ends on a graver note. Though David’s life was spared, his unborn child’s was not. Verse 14 exposes the gravity of David’s sin beyond his own house and the nations of Judah and Israel: “because by this deed thou hast given great occasion to the enemies of the LORD to blaspheme.” The repercussions of David’s sin produced a wave of malice. The enemies whom David had fought and defeated by the strength of God’s arm were now scorning God. The name of the Lord was put under the feet of ungodly men. God’s name was taken in vain, and the witness of the faithful was rendered powerless because David had lost the integrity, stature, and strength to stand uprightly.

The Weeping

“I have sinned against the LORD.”

Sin is grievous. Whenever we acknowledge its presence in our lives, our knees ought to be weakened. Our cry should be lost in the depths of the horizon. Though David committed his sins in secret, God judged him publicly, setting him forth as an example and sending a crystal-clear message to society: God is both just and merciful. Sin will always be judged and brought to justice. God will not allow His name to be mocked, dragged through the mud, or disgraced by His children. David understood and acknowledged his failure. In writing Psalm 51, he expresses in plain language his shortfall and his total dependence on God’s redemption.

David is a prime example of grave failure and sin, but he is also a prime example of turning away from sin and fully acknowledging God’s mercy and grace. Psalm 51 is a poem that has encouraged many, motivating them to repent and trust in the Lord for cleansing. What I find interesting, however, is that this poem has not been “cancelled”—nor has any other poem written In recent years, several well-known Christian figures have caused the church to pause and reflect—each for different reasons, and not all in the same category. The case of Ravi Zacharias stands as one of the most grievous, where a globally respected defender of the faith was posthumously revealed to have lived a hidden life of sexual abuse and coercion while publicly ministering in Christ’s name. His fall exposed the danger of unexamined authority and reminded the Church that intellectual brilliance cannot substitute for holiness.

More recently, the ministry of Steven Lawson—long known for his emphasis on doctrinal precision, expositional preaching, and the fear of God—was brought to an abrupt end following the public acknowledgment of serious moral failure. Though differing in nature and scope from other cases, his removal nevertheless underscored the same sobering truth: those entrusted with teaching God’s Word are held to a higher standard, and hidden sin will eventually be brought into the light.

By contrast, Philip Yancey represents a different kind of public reckoning. Rather than the exposure of secret immorality, Yancey has been known for openly recounting seasons of doubt, spiritual dryness, and disillusionment with the Church—choosing transparency over pretence. His writings remind us that honesty about weakness is not the same as hypocrisy, and that public struggle, when confessed rather than concealed, serves a different purpose in the life of God’s people.

Together, these examples—though not equal—call us back to a single truth: God is not impressed by reputation, gifting, or influence. He desires truth in the inward parts, and He alone is the righteous Judge of every man.

What are we to do in such situations? Shall we “cancel” their ministry, their work, their written books, and their sermons on the basis of their failure? Are we to cast away their service to God, even though their life and character were incompatible with God’s precepts? Why is David held in high regard, while they are dismissed?

God judges hidden sins in plain sight, especially those of men in leading and teaching positions, the same as He did with David. God’s aim is to revive His people and to send a clear message: He is just and Holy. No man may fall short of that. Though such men have taught many and exposed God’s character, their teachings may remain sound even while their character is stained. God’s name may be blasphemed because of their failing, and many believers may be shaken in their faith. However, we are not to trust in men, but in God for our salvation, sanctification, and glorification. They may have started well but finished poorly.

Nonetheless, the deeds of David and many others like him are recorded on the pages of Scripture to expose God’s character and to lead every reader to fear Him. We are not to focus on David’s failures merely to reflect on him as a negative, unapproved example; the focus of this story is God.

The Final Word

Therefore, when we hear of people falling—such as Ravi Zacharias, Steven Lawson, or Philip Yancey—we ought not to judge ourselves as being better. We are under the same types of temptations and the same judgment from God. We cannot consider ourselves to be standing on higher ground than King David. We must see God in all these examples and observe how He remains Holy and just. What saved me from the penalty of hell was God, not a man. We may hear a sermon or read a book and feel deeply convicted; perhaps it was through the teachings of these men that we were led to trust in the Lord as Savior. But salvation is by grace through faith in God, not in a human being. Christ, the Son of man, must always be glorified and respected as the One who laid down His life on the Cross.

Because, there is no book, nor sermon, nor Psalm which can remove the stain of the sin, but the blood of the Lamb.

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Some journeys quiet the mind but leave the soul unrested. Recently, I found myself on such a path while watching a police serial movie—an experience meant for rest, yet incapable of touching the deeper places within. Still, these moments have their place, granting the writer a pause before returning to the servitude of the nib.

Within the unfolding scenes, two lines emerged—deliberately emphasized by the producers and skillfully delivered by the actors. They were meant to engage the viewer, but instead, they awakened the writer. From them, the nib found its inspiration.

“In an investigation, assumptions kill!”

Reading and studying the Bible—God’s Word—I have realised one important thing. First, there is a journey and a process of learning, a continual discovery and deepening understanding of the wonderful work of God. Not enough Christians have come to this conclusion. Many are deceived into thinking that by reading Scripture once or twice, and grasping some understanding of a verse, they can be called teachers. Some are even bolder and attribute to themselves titles such as prophet and apostle.

It is a shame to see how they behave and what service they render to Christ. It is less than minimal—often completely absent—yet they shine and boast in their ability to deceive people into a false understanding of God’s precepts. Please do not take this the wrong way: these individuals are not necessarily the most famous. They are among us, living ordinary lives.

Secondly, when diving into the Scriptures, it is essential to have the right mind, heart, and soul. Some use God as a genie. Others merely talk to God. There is also a category of people who are bored with God because they believe they already know so much about Him. But God is none of the above. He is not our spare wheel. He is the Almighty Creator, the Giver and Sustainer of life.

We do not truly talk to God—He speaks unto us, even when we are at the lowest point in our lives. If you remember Jonah in the fish’s belly, God was speaking unto him. One may argue that Jonah does all the talking and crying from the belly of the fish. However, God’s silence, and His allowance of Jonah’s chastisement, is the clearest and loudest message God was speaking then—and continues to speak today—to every mere Christian.

Lastly, believing that what you know about God is sufficient, to the point that you are no longer motivated to know more, proves a failure to apply that knowledge to your life. It is one thing to know, and another entirely to live by what is known.

Therefore, wherever you are today, be alerted by this line: “In an investigation, assumptions kill!” I would go even further. In reading and studying God’s Word, our presuppositions can direct us toward false conclusions about God. They can destroy us, little by little.

I encourage you to stop and reflect. Consider how your assumptions about God may have shaped—and possibly distorted—your understanding of who He is. This is highly important. We should be alert to this, and even concerned.

I know this from experience. Each time I imposed an assumption upon the Bible, my conclusions became corrupted. More than that, I noticed that the learning process was led by me alone, and not by God through the Holy Spirit and His holy Word. This later led me to realise that I was not only being dishonest, but deceiving myself.

I came to see that there was a lack of humility, and the presence of pride. I concluded that since wisdom dwells in a humble heart, pride must depart. It was not easy, but God is the One who empowered me to be transformed into His likeness—to become teachable, easy to be entreated, and ultimately to allow Wisdom to lead my learning process.

“In an investigation, details matter!”

On the pathway of wisdom are many treasures, and wealth is abundant. Moreover, there is an eternal spring of heavenly blessings awaiting those who seek to walk this path. Yet the challenge remains: how does one step onto it? Motivation matters, and what drives an individual is key to reaching the sage destination. Before embarking upon this path, Wisdom asks for one thing only—to fear God. That is the first step before walking.

In the book of Proverbs, the preacher Solomon depicts Wisdom as a person. And indeed, Wisdom is more than a person. What amazes me most is that, if Wisdom is a person, then I can have a relationship with Wisdom. Therefore, the return grows richer day by day, always to my benefit and profit.

Why, then, would I not desire such a deeply personal relationship—one through which I grow into a complete individual, lacking nothing? In the day of desolation, my strength and my armour is Wisdom. It may sound great, but it is even better than it sounds. For the person depicted as Wisdom by King Solomon is Jesus Himself.

From ancient times, we hear the echo of Wisdom’s call even today—crying aloud in the most public places, urging all to choose Wisdom. Yet that cry fades as society drifts further and further away from God. It is not that the pleading lacks strength to convince humanity; rather, it is stiffened ears and docile minds that reject the call. Many would rather listen to and obey the illusion of self-sufficiency, believing that God has no role within—or beyond—society and human existence.

Reading the book of Proverbs, we discover that Wisdom does not only cry out to call people, but also foretells what will come upon those who refuse to listen and obey the sage’s voice.

Proverbs 1:7 (KJV) The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge: but fools despise wisdom and instruction.

This is an astonishing statement. More than that, it is an objective promise and a prophecy. The moment that caused me to drop my guard and truly fear God was the realisation that the fear of the LORD is only the beginning of wisdom. Upon reflecting on this truth, I concluded that the journey never ends. Who, then, would refuse to embark upon such a path? Only the fool and the simple man would do so.

With this in mind, I desire to encourage anyone to challenge their self-sufficiency by testing Wisdom’s claim—that in her ways are satisfaction and fulfilment beyond what words can define. That is why, in the silence of the night, I write these thoughts. Not because I have attained wisdom yet—it remains my goal and my desire. It is my pursuit and, in many ways, my calling. I continue patiently, searching for deeper understanding and greater wisdom.

In spiritual discernment, details are not minor—they are decisive. Who God is, how He speaks, and the posture with which we approach Him are not secondary matters. When these details are overlooked, wisdom is misidentified, Scripture is misread, and conclusions are distorted. Just as in any investigation, neglecting the details does not merely weaken understanding—it leads it astray.

Now, have you noticed the details? Before walking, one must first acknowledge Who they will walk with—and for how long. People may hold many opinions about God, but the Bible provides clear guidance and a concise revelation of who He is, and what He is able to fulfil within our lives.

Walking on…

Each individual is given a pathway to walk in this life, and every step taken upon it bears consequence beyond this world. The path we choose now shapes what awaits us afterward. Yet it has become increasingly common to believe there is no afterlife at all. If that were truly so, why does the human heart continually reach for more, rather than settle for less? This restless longing is not accidental; it is a quiet witness that we were made for something beyond the present moment.

Scripture does not leave this longing unanswered. The Bible reveals an even greater hope for the believer in Christ—eternal life. Still, many neither possess it nor desire it. This is not because the truth lacks clarity or strength, but because of the pathway they have chosen to walk. That path gradually blinds the mind, until discernment fades and the difference between right and wrong grows dim.

I desire to enter the afterlife when my time comes—not as soon as possible, but as late as God allows. Not because I fear what is to come, but because I do not wish to arrive alone. I long to walk this path with my family, my friends, and as many souls as God will place along the way—even those I may never meet. Until then, we are called to walk the earthly road that leads there.

To step onto this pathway is an open invitation. To remain on it is an invitation marked by fulfilment, perseverance, and growth. Along the way, signs are left behind—not of our own greatness, but of growing in Christ, shaped by Wisdom, and guided by truth. This is the path where assumptions are laid aside, details are attended to, and discernment is formed in humility.

“…and unto all riches of the full assurance of understanding, to the acknowledgement of the mystery of God, and of the Father, and of Christ;
In whom are hid all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.”
— Colossians 2:2b–3 (KJV)

Here, the pathway, the Wisdom, and the destination meet. To walk with Christ is to walk toward life itself. The invitation remains open—but walking requires a choice, and wisdom begins with taking the first step.

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A mere definition

Critical thinking is the ability to analyze information, evaluate evidence, and make reasoned judgments or decisions. It involves clear, rational thinking, an understanding of logical connections between ideas, and the identification, assessment, and resolution of problems.

Critical thinkers question assumptions, seek alternative perspectives, and evaluate arguments based on evidence rather than accepting claims at face value. Critical thinking also includes reflection on one’s own thought processes in order to improve judgment and problem-solving.

The Beginning

I was curious to search the internet to find a definition of critical thinking. There were plenty of results, and I even found articles that mentioned the beginnings of critical thinking. I do not doubt that there are many good articles on this topic from which one can learn. Interestingly, I also asked an AI system to search for what it considered the best definition of critical thinking. While the answer satisfied me to a degree, it did not fully fulfil my need.

Curiously enough, critical thinking as a formal term was established around the early 1900s; however, its roots are said to go much further back in history. According to various sources, critical thinking began with the ancient philosophers, such as Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. It is said to have continued through the Middle Ages with scholasticism, then through the Renaissance and the Enlightenment, culminating in its development during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and into the modern era.

However, after analysing this information, I must say that it is insufficient. The evidence presented does not satisfy my curiosity. Moreover, I noticed there was no mention of the Bible—despite the fact that the Bible is a book of philosophy. Scripture teaches logic, reason, and understanding, and it provides insight and instruction on how to analyse arguments in order to reach true conclusions.

History appears dishonest in omitting the Bible from this discussion. Yet it is also important to acknowledge that relying solely on internet searches and AI-generated summaries, and then presuming that the Bible has been excluded, can itself be dishonest. Still, if we trust that such systems highlight what is most influential and most cited in human history, then their silence on Scripture is revealing. Sadly, history often teaches that Christianity did not promote critical thinking. Therefore, the sources themselves are not necessarily to be blamed; rather, they must be examined. We must understand where we stand today as Christians, and ask what we can bring to the world to show that truth must be sought—not purchased cheaply in the form it is presented.

Let us therefore turn to the Scriptures and the writings of the apostles, which I firmly believe are the true origin of critical thinking—primarily the Scriptures, known as the Old Testament. The writings of Jesus’ disciples are founded upon the Old Testament and continue the same pathways of thought. They do not contradict the Scriptures, but rather reveal their fulfilment in Jesus Christ, the promised Messiah. The Bible not only mentions critical thinking; it defines it with eloquence and clarity. I would argue that the book of Proverbs, which describes wisdom and how one may attain it, reflects what we today call critical thinking.

Sadly, modern society proudly claims to be smarter than past generations. In one sense, this is true—nearly every machine is now “smart” technology. Yet the human being appears to be less of a thinker. I believe we do not use our mental capacity fully, if at all. Observing what is taking place in some Western countries, I find myself wondering whether there are still active neurons in some people’s minds. Their thinking seems dulled, even silenced, by the proud assumption of being “smarter.” It is a sad reality, and it does not appear to be improving.

For this reason, I feel a certain anxiety when writing about critical thinking. Thinking itself seems to be diminishing. What, then, of critical thinking—of careful comprehension? I am not certain how we may regain it. To be a critical thinker, one must first exercise cognition. Yet today, people often accept information as it is presented. Much of it is already digested for them, leaving little perceived need to analyse or understand. When this ability is diminished, people become easily led astray.

Here, again, lies one argument for the truth of the Bible. Scripture instructs its readers to prove all things. It creates a framework that encourages thinking and reasoning rooted in reality. The Bible goes even further, commanding its readers to search, to examine, and to retain what is good: “Prove all things; hold fast that which is good” (1 Thessalonians 5:21, KJV). From this verse, I conclude that we are both permitted and encouraged to sort through ideas, keeping what is good. The Bible is not afraid to be placed alongside other sources of knowledge. Might this not be an honest argument for truth?

Let’s Put It into Practice

When I studied the first seven chapters of Book of Proverbs, I realized that they refined my ability to analyze, question, research, compare, and formulate conclusions leading to sound judgment more than any other book has influenced my beliefs, thinking, and reasoning. What is more, the book of Proverbs is authored by a wise man—King Solomon.

I approached his work with passion, attempting to decipher his craftsmanship, yet it took me years merely to untie the cover. Even now, I must labor harder still—to open the book more fully and to feed myself on the riches of wisdom it contains. The book begins in an intriguing way, and I will attempt a humble demonstration to show what a piece of sage art the book of Proverbs truly is.

One might say, How bold was I to claim that history is wrong in asserting that critical thinking began around the fifth century BC? Yet, basing my argument on the Bible—and specifically on the book of Proverbs—we can travel much further back, to the tenth century BC, when Solomon reigned as king over Israel and wrote this book. Thus, I would defend myself by saying that I was not bold at all, but rather critically thinking over the evidence presented to me.

Now, I would like to encourage you to calm your heart and mind and take the time to read Proverbs 1:1–7.

PROVERBS 1:1–7 (KJV)

1:1 The proverbs of Solomon the son of David, king of Israel;
1:2 To know wisdom and instruction; to perceive the words of understanding;
1:3 To receive the instruction of wisdom, justice, and judgment, and equity;
1:4 To give subtilty to the simple, to the young man knowledge and discretion.
1:5 A wise man will hear, and will increase learning; and a man of understanding shall attain unto wise counsels:
1:6 To understand a proverb, and the interpretation; the words of the wise, and their dark sayings.
1:7 The fear of the LORD is the beginning of knowledge: but fools despise wisdom and instruction.

Since your heart is now resonating with God’s Word and wisdom, I would like to invite you to draw out a few observations from these seven verses—observations which, I hope, will help you untie the book’s cover, at least in part.

I asked myself, What is Solomon saying in these verses? I took each verse individually, made observations, asked questions, and ultimately formed conclusions about what God was communicating to me through Solomon’s writing. The method I used to unlock the meaning of these verses was comparison.

In verse one, we find Solomon’s signature—his authorship and a description of the book’s contents. Verses two through four explain the purpose of the book. Verse five identifies its audience. Verse six reiterates and emphasizes the depth of its meaning. Finally, verse seven—perhaps the most intriguing—reveals the very first step on the path to wisdom, knowledge, and understanding.

Yet this structure raised many questions in my mind. How can I know wisdom and instruction? How can I perceive the words of understanding? How can I receive instruction in wisdom, justice, judgment, and equity? How can I attain subtilty, knowledge, and discretion? How can I understand a proverb and its interpretation—the words of the wise and their dark, deep sayings? I feared God, yet I asked myself, Why do I not possess this wisdom?

These questions seemed to have no answer. Yet God is gracious. He opened not only my eyes and my mind, but my heart also, to understand what He was saying through Solomon.

When I compared verse one with all the others, I noticed something significant. Verse one does not emphasize Solomon’s authorship as its central point. Rather, its opening words hold the key to unlocking the passage. I also observed that each subsequent verse emphasizes a particular keyword. When viewed together, verse one—when compared with the other six—quietly unlocks the meaning of the text and answers the questions that troubled me.

Below, I will show how verse one—when discreetly compared with the other six verses—by emphasizing that keyword, unlocks the meaning of the passage and answers the questions I raised.

The emphasis

Verse 1 – The proverbs
Verse 2 – To know; to perceive
Verse 3 – To receive
Verse 4 – To give
Verse 5 – Will increase
Verse 6 – To understand
Verse 7 – The beginning

Now, by comparing these verses, notice the following pattern:

• The proverbs — to know; to perceive

• The proverbs — to receive

• The proverbs — to give

• The proverbs — will increase

• The proverbs — to understand

• The proverbs — the beginning

From this comparison, I arrived at the following conclusion:

The proverbs, to know and to perceive.
The proverbs, to receive.
The proverbs, to give.
The proverbs, will increase.
The proverbs, to understand.
The proverbs, the beginning.

At this point, I must observe something important. When I first read this introduction, I imposed my own assumption upon the book—that it was I who could attain wisdom by my own effort. Yet the answer God gave me was that it is the proverbs—and by extension, God’s Word—that accomplishes this work.

As I realized this, I also became aware that the fear of God had increased within me. It is no wonder, then, that verse seven concludes these opening verses. They lead the reader to fear God and to depend on Him to guide the way toward wisdom, knowledge, and understanding. This was the first step in my reasoning with the Bible: I recognized that I was wrong to begin as I did.

Moreover, verse seven stands apart by declaring that the fear of the LORD is the beginning. Since everything that has a beginning suggests an ending, I naturally asked myself: Does it ever end? And if God is eternal in knowledge, wisdom, and understanding, can it ever end?

Then I understood—the beginning was mine, not God’s. The hidden message God was communicating to me was this: You begin the journey, and I, the eternal God, will walk with you. The only thing I can now truly claim to know about God is that I know nothing. This, too, is part of the fear of the LORD.

We do know things about God—but only what He has revealed to us, and only what can fit within the limits of time. When what we know is compared to God’s eternal existence, we come to this sober realization: in ourselves, we know nothing at all.

Conclude to presume

I would like to conclude this first part by reflecting once more on what we presume we know about God. If our presumptions about God are right, we will be able to identify where we truly stand in relation to Him and to the world around us. In order to position ourselves correctly, God’s Word must reign in our lives.

Some time ago, I was listening to John Lennox sharing insights on how to study Scripture and prepare Bible talks. He mentioned a piece of advice he once received from his mentor: When you prepare a Bible talk, ask yourself—How can this be misunderstood? Most of the time, we prepare sermons, Bible talks, or studies with the intention of explaining the subject as plainly as possible, yet we rarely ask how it might be misunderstood.

These seven verses from Proverbs chapter one have caused me to question my own ability to comprehend God—not because He has failed to speak plainly, but because my understanding may be clouded by competing thoughts and feelings, by my desires, wishes, and worries. These things can darken understanding and hinder the proper outworking of God’s precepts in my life.

Lastly, I would like to leave you with a few questions for reflection—questions meant to help you draw your own conclusions, and to encourage you to dig deeply into your mind, soul, and heart.

Questions for Reflection

1. How can I misinterpret God’s Word?

2. How can I misunderstand God?

How can I act in contradiction to God’s precepts and commands?

...to be continued!

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Season’s Greetings!

Not long ago, people commonly greeted one another with Merry Christmas. I was surprised by how quickly that language has faded, replaced by the more neutral Season’s Greetings. For some, Christmas remains about gifts—whether attributed to Santa Claus or placed under the tree by parents. For others, it is a day of reflection on what has long stood at its center: the birth of Jesus Christ. As Luke records, “For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Saviour, which is Christ the Lord” (Luke 2:11, KJV).

During this season, I encountered an objection to Christmas raised by fellow atheists, focused particularly on Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth. The objection claimed that Luke’s narrative contains internal contradictions and historical inaccuracies, especially regarding the census mentioned in Luke 2. Rather than dismissing the challenge, I felt compelled to examine it carefully—to ask whether the alleged contradiction truly follows from the evidence, or whether it rests on assumptions that deserve closer scrutiny.

The argument proceeds along familiar lines. Luke includes details Matthew does not mention, such as the census, while omitting others, like the flight to Egypt. Herod’s massacre of the infants is dismissed as legendary because it lacks independent corroboration. Most significantly, the census itself is said to be fictional, since no empire-wide census at the time of Jesus’ birth is explicitly documented in surviving Roman records.

At first glance, this seemed easily answered. Josephus independently records a census and tax assessment conducted under Quirinius. Luke himself mentions Quirinius in Luke 2:2. But closer investigation revealed a more serious chronological difficulty. Josephus dates the Quirinian assessment to AD 6–7, whereas Jesus’ birth is placed during the reign of Herod the Great, who died in 4 BCE. Jesus’ birth is commonly dated between 6–4 BCE, with some proposing 3–2 BCE. This creates a gap of roughly ten years.

That realization forced me to pause. The problem is real, has been debated for centuries, and is not easily dismissed. Early Christian writers such as Tertullian already wrestled with these chronological tensions. The question, then, is not whether a difficulty exists, but whether it requires us to abandon Luke as a historical witness—or whether the difficulty dissolves once Luke’s narrative is read carefully, on its own terms, and within the limits of surviving historical evidence.

Methodological Framework: How This Question Is Approached

This essay does not begin by assuming Luke is correct, nor does it assume he is mistaken. Instead, it applies a standard historical method appropriate to ancient sources:

1. Luke is treated as historical data, not as an authority immune from scrutiny and not as a text requiring automatic dismissal. Like other ancient historians, his testimony must be weighed for coherence and plausibility.

2. Extra-biblical sources (such as Josephus, Tacitus, and imperial records) are treated as complementary, not corrective by default. Agreement strengthens confidence; silence limits certainty but does not falsify.

3. Events are not collapsed simply because they share terminology. Administrative terms such as “registration” or “taxation” can refer to different processes or phases.

4. Geography, jurisdiction, and perspective matter. Imperial histories preserve large-scale reforms and crises; provincial accounts preserve local disruptions.

5. The goal is historical plausibility, not absolute proof. Ancient history rarely permits complete reconstruction.

On this basis, the investigation asks whether Luke’s census narrative can be read coherently—without forcing contradiction—when Luke is allowed to speak alongside, rather than beneath, other ancient sources.

Reading the Census Narrative Without Forcing a Contradiction

1 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.
2 (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)
3 And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.
4 And Joseph also went up from Galilee, out of the city of Nazareth, into Judaea, unto the city of David, which is called Bethlehem; (because he was of the house and lineage of David:)
5 To be taxed with Mary his espoused wife, being great with child.
6 And so it was, that, while they were there, the days were accomplished that she should be delivered.
7 And she brought forth her firstborn son, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes, and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn. Luke 2:1-7, KJV

One of the most debated details in the infancy narratives of the Gospels is Luke’s reference to a “taxation” or “registration” connected with the birth of Jesus. The discussion often turns quickly into a problem of dates: Herod the Great on the one hand, Quirinius on the other, separated by roughly a decade. However, once the text is read carefully and applied to the research methodology, the reader will discover that Luke was a talented writer, historically accurate and condensed in a few rows a complete picture. From there, the conclusion is sometimes drawn too hastily—Luke must be mistaken. Or, Josephus must have written the wrong dates; however, this view has little support. Josephus’s work proves him to be accurate in recording historical events. This narrative, therefore, produces distrust and rejection that the Bible is an accurate historical account and, furthermore, the inspired word of God. Turning it into a collection of fables and made-up stories. But that conclusion only follows if we assume two things that deserve closer scrutiny. (1) That silence in other historical sources equals non-occurrence, and (2) that Luke’s account must be validated exclusively by external confirmation, rather than allowed to function as a historical witness in its own right. What is more, during my research, I noticed the contention of the discussion was Luke 2:2, which seemed to be seen as the root of the gap, and the attempts were either to propose another translation of the verse or to give an explanation from the outside of the text.

Lastly, once a contradiction as such or more have been identified, the tendency is to reprove an entire worldview. I was deeply troubled when I understood this ten-year gap; however, seeing myself on the edge, was I now to reject Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth? If so, is Christianity shaken? It could have been easily done, yet now I can testify that the beauty of the Bible is immense. Because it takes the reader right to the edge, facing decisions which are life-changing and echoing in eternity. Therefore, if we consider ourselves to be truth-seekers, we ought to first substantiate a contradiction before making the decision to dismiss a worldview. And if my belief system is posing issues and inconsistencies to its own claims and narrative, it does not make it false, but reliable enough to at least attempt to explain. It’s a moral duty beyond the believer.

“The absence of evidence is not evidence for absence.”

1 Forasmuch as many have taken in hand to set forth in order a declaration of those things which are most surely believed among us,
2 Even as they delivered them unto us, which from the beginning were eyewitnesses, and ministers of the word;
3 It seemed good to me also, having had perfect understanding of all things from the very first, to write unto thee in order, most excellent Theophilus,
4 That thou mightest know the certainty of those things, wherein thou hast been instructed. Luke 1:1-4, KJV

The unfair treatment of Luke’s account about historical events he records, which cannot be confirmed by other ancient historians, such as Josephus or Tacitus, poses a greater burden. It seems that Luke’s record was treated as second-tier and not an account of its own. Josephus cannot confirm all details in Luke, and Luke does not reject or contradict what Josephus recorded. Therefore, why are we seeing these accounts as contrasting each other and not completing a wider picture? Notably, I noticed that Josephus and Luke are both writing with a different scope and motivation. Josephus is exposing an imperial and macro-view on history, whereas Luke remains provincially focused. His audience is “most excellent Theophilus“. The scope of his study and research is on those things which are most surely believed among us. So that Teophilus mightest know the certainty of those things, wherein thou hast been instructed. Therefore, his account should be equally treated as a standalone historical account of events, which other ancient historians do not cover. Treating Luke as historical data also means we should apply to him what we apply to other ancient historians. He can select, compress, summarize, narrate complex administrative realities in simple story form. That doesn’t make him “unhistorical”; it makes him an ancient historian writing for a purpose. Augustus’ own record (Res Gestae) and much Roman documentation emphasize: constitutional legitimacy, citizen body, taxation capacity in broad strokes, major reforms, wars, and monuments. They tend not to preserve granular local “how it felt on the ground” details, especially in client kingdoms at the margins. Luke is interested in local geography and movement (Nazareth to Bethlehem/ Galilee to Judea), who governed where (Herod, Quirinius, etc.), what policies did to ordinary people (registration, travel), and how imperial actions translated into village-level disruptions. That’s exactly the kind of thing imperial self-representations routinely omit. So when Luke says an imperial decree resulted in enrollment behaviours that touched a couple in Galilee, that’s the sort of micro-history you’d expect to survive only in provincial memory and local narrative—if anywhere. Mary and Joseph were not the first or the only couple to be affected by the imperial decree, as Luke notes in chapter 2, verse 3, “And all went to be taxed, every one into his own city.” They were one of the many.

Starting where Luke starts: the imperial decree

1 And it came to pass in those days, that there went out a decree from Caesar Augustus, that all the world should be taxed.
2 (And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.) Luke, 2:1-2, KJV

Luke’s narrative begins not with Quirinius, but with an imperial decree issued by Caesar Augustus. This is not incidental. It establishes the scope of the event as being imperially motivated rather than merely provincial. The decree is the catalyst—it explains why people begin moving, presenting themselves, and registering “everyone into his own city”. Right at this point, the contentious issue posed by verse 2 starts to slowly fade away. Quirinius’s census was provincial, focused on Judea (newly placed under direct Roman administration), under Syrian oversight. The scope, as history teaches us, was to annex Judea to Sirya which Quirinius ruled as governor. Therefore, it seems it was a political transition that expressed itself through administrative and fiscal measures. If Joseph responds to the decree while living in Galilee, Luke is clearly exposing a framework broader than the later Judean taxation under Quirinius. Geography alone prevents us from collapsing the narrative into a single, narrowly defined provincial census. So, we can confidently conclude that Luke narrates one birth-era registration cause by an imperial decree with a side mentioning of the 6 AD census. This does not automatically solve every chronological knot. Once we corroborate Luke’s account with the extra-biblical sources, we can see they are consistent.

The taxation as remembered history

Luke is not vague; he is deliberately precise, though he is often accused of being “chronologically sloppy” in Luke 2. That accusation only sticks if Luke 2:2 is assumed to be a causal clause rather than an identifying or contrastive one. Many read Luke 2:2 as a chronological identifier tying the registration to Quirinius; I’m arguing it functions as an aside/marker rather than the narrative’s causal driver. From a discourse-historical perspective, Luke is doing three things. (1) Anchoring Jesus’ birth under Herod the Great, this is explicit and unambiguous (Luke 1:5; cf. Matthew 2). (2) Explaining why Joseph went to Bethlehem, the cause in Luke’s narrative is the imperial decree (Luke 2:1 → 2:3–4). (3) Distinguishing that registration from the later, infamous Quirinian taxation. Therefore, Luke 2:2 functions as a clarifying aside, not as the motor of the story.

When Luke later mentions Quirinius, he does so parenthetically, almost as a historical aside. This matters, especially in the KJV, where Luke 2:2 is set apart from the narrative flow by the addition of the brackets. The parentheses are an editorial convention and not inspired punctuation; the point is that the clause functions like an explanatory aside “(And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)” The wording draws attention not to the start of events, but to a well-known taxation, the one that would later become infamous in Judean memory. That taxation, carried out after Judea came under direct Roman rule, was remembered because it was universal in effect and heavy in consequence. It marked a tipping point. Whatever administrative processes preceded it—registrations, declarations, compliance with imperial policy—were experienced unevenly. But the taxation itself was felt by the whole nation, and therefore remembered by the whole nation. This explains why “the taxing” looms so large in historical memory without requiring every prior administrative step to be equally preserved in our sources. This is further supported by the mention of Gamaliel in the book of Acts, 5:37, with a different scope and in a different context.

Luke 2:2 reads naturally as explanatory: “(And this taxing was first made when Cyrenius was governor of Syria.)” Grammatically and rhetorically: “This” (hautē) points back to the concept of enrollment, not to the journey. The clause does not introduce a new action; it does not command movement; it serves to locate the type of registration Luke has in mind, in contrast to another one his readers already knew. In other words, Luke is saying something like: “I’m talking about that enrollment, not the later one you all remember.” Luke explicitly distinguishes the two census-events across Luke–Acts; this is the crucial corroboration. In Luke 2: quiet imperial registration, family movement, birth narrative. In Acts (5:37): loud, traumatic taxation, revolt, remembered political watershed. Luke does not collapse these events; he keeps them distinct across his two-volume work. If Luke had meant the AD 6 taxation in Luke 2, then placing Jesus’ birth under Herod would be an obvious error, and Acts 5:37 would unintentionally indict his own earlier narrative. Instead, Luke shows awareness of the earlier imperial administrative context and the later Judaean annexation-taxation crisis. That is not confusion; it is historical memory carefully preserved.

Once Luke is allowed to speak as a provincial historian, the extra-biblical evidence lines up. Augustus’ reign is marked by empire-wide administrative normalization. Registrations did not require simultaneous execution. Client kingdoms could participate without becoming provinces. The AD 6 census is remembered precisely because it was politically explosive, not because it was the first or only registration. Josephus remembers the crisis, not the earlier administrative background. Luke preserves both because they mattered for different reasons. That is consistency, not contradiction.

Luke is not writing for strangers; he is writing for someone embedded in the world these events touched. By saying, in effect, “This happened before the census you remember—the one under Quirinius.” Luke gives Theophilus a temporal anchor and a clear distinction between two historical moments. That is exactly what Luke promises in Luke 1:4, “that thou mightest know the certainty of those things…” Certainty comes from clarity of sequence, not from collapsing events

A coherent, cautious conclusion

Taken together, the evidence allows for a coherent reconstruction without contradiction. Jesus’ birth is placed during the reign of Herod the Great. An imperial decree under Augustus initiates a process of registration that reaches into Galilee, and that process unfolds locally and unevenly. A later taxation under Quirinius, after Judea comes under direct Roman rule, becomes the defining and remembered flashpoint. Luke references taxation not as the narrative starting point, but as a historical marker familiar to his readers. This does not require us to prove every administrative step Luke implies. It requires only that we read Luke carefully, respect geography and jurisdiction, and avoid treating historical silence as disproof.

Ancient history is fragmentary by nature. What historians recorded depended on scale, interest, politics, and the survival of texts. The absence of a detailed account of an earlier registration affecting client kingdoms does not prove that such a process never occurred. It proves only that it was not preserved or deemed significant enough to record. Luke, however, is not writing as a distant imperial chronicler. He tells us explicitly that he investigated events and relied on accounts passed down by those who were close to them. That makes Luke a historical witness, even if not every detail he preserves can be independently corroborated.
This is where triangulation matters. We do not discard Luke because Josephus is silent; nor do we ignore Josephus because Luke writes differently. Instead, we read them together, allowing each to inform the other, while respecting the limits of both. Silence does not equal absence.

Luke’s account does not need to be confirmed in every detail to be historically meaningful. It can itself function as confirmation—one voice among several—preserving local memory that larger political histories often overlook. In the end, the problem dissolves not when we force Luke to fit a single dated event, but when we allow his narrative to speak on its own terms, within the real complexities of imperial administration and human memory. Luke treats the imperial decree as the cause of the Bethlehem journey, distinguishes this from the later Quirinian taxation, places Jesus’ birth during Herod’s reign and before AD 6, and expects his reader to remember the later census and use it as a contrastive marker. When Luke is treated as historical data, the extra-biblical evidence is consistent, not corrective. This is not a naïve harmonisation, it is a careful historical synthesis that takes Luke seriously as a historian writing from the provinces, to people who remembered, knew or were impacted by these events.

Sources and Further Reading

• The Bible, King James Version – Luke 1:1–4; Luke 2:1–7; Acts 5:37

• Tyndale House – Was Luke Wrong About the Census?

• Liberty Univesrsity, Scholar Crossing – The Census and Quirinius: Luke 2:2

• Bible Archeology Report – Quirinius: An Archeological Biography

• Bible Archeology Report – Caesar Augustus: An Archaeological Biography

• Quirinius (Publius Sulpicius Quirinius) – Wikipedia

• Cezar Augustus (Gaius Octavius) – Wikipedia

• Bible & Archaeology (University of Iowa) – FAQ: Can You Explain the Problem with the Census in the Gospel of Luke’s Story of the Birth of Jesus?

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Domnul meu și Dumnezeul meu, ce mare ești Tu!

Cât de nepătrunse sunt gândurile Tale
și cât de departe de priceperea mea 
sunt planurile Tale.
Ochii mei nu pot cuprinde cunoașterea Ta.
Înțelepciunea Ta, este mai înaltă decât gândul meu.

Îmi ridic ochii spre ceruri și le privesc frumusețea,
Vestesc munților slava și măreția Ta.
De când mana Ta le-a făurit, ele declară,
vestind tuturor popoarelor:
Domnul meu și Dumnezeul meu, ce mare ești Tu!

Toate au fost create de mâinile Tale.
Înțelepciunea a fost dreapta Ta,
Și priceperea toiagul Tau de cârmuire.
Prin Cuvântul Tău au fost făcute toate;
Tu ai vorbit și așa a fost—
frumusețea văzută și nevăzută.

Sunt smerit și plin de uimire
când privesc lucrarea mâinilor Tale.
Mă închin înaintea tronului Tău;
stau în sac și cenușă.

Domnul meu și Dumnezeul meu, cât de mare ești Tu!
Sufletul meu este cuprins de slava Ta;
inima mea se topește înaintea Ta.
Lauda mea abia ajunge până la poalele munților;
cântarea mea se ascunde în umbra munților.
O, cât iubesc să-Ți cânt laudele!
Inima mea este mângâiată când îmi înalț glasul
să cânt și să mărturisesc măreția Ta.

Cuvintele mele sunt prea puține;
cîntarea mea nu e decât un ecou 
Gândurile și priceperea mea
sunt un abur pierdut 
 în umbra măreției Tale.

Mă odihnesc în mântuirea Ta;
sufletul meu își găsește pacea în marea Ta răscumpărare.
Marele Dumnezeu, Cel ce a făcut cerul și pământul—
El este Domnul meu și Mântuitorul meu.

Iubirea Ta este statornicită în veac;
îndurarea Ta, din veșnicie în veșnicie.
Smerenia Ta a fost înainte de întemeierea lumii.

Domnul meu și Dumnezeul meu, ce de mare ești Tu!

Amin!

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My Lord and my God, how great Thou art!

How deep are Thy thoughts,
and how far above my understanding are Thy plans.
Thy knowledge passeth my sight;
Thy wisdom is higher than my thought.

I lift up mine eyes unto the heavens and behold their beauty.
I declare unto the mountains Thy glory and Thy greatness.
Their testimony is from the beginning,
declaring unto all people:
My Lord and my God, how great Thou art!

All things were created by Thy hands.
Wisdom standeth at Thy right hand,
and Knowledge is as Thy staff.
By Thy word were all things made;
Thou spakest, and it was—
the beauty seen and unseen.

I am humbled and in awe
when I behold the work of Thy hands.
I bow before Thy throne;
I sit in sackcloth and ashes.

My Lord and my God, how great Thou art!
My soul is overtaken by Thy glory;
my heart melteth before Thee.
My praise reacheth but unto the foothills;
my song is hid in the shadow of the mountains.
Oh, how I love to sing Thy praises!
My heart is comforted when I lift my voice
to sing and testify to Thy greatness.

My words fall short;
my song faileth.
My thoughts and understanding
are as nothing in the shadow of Thy greatness.

I rest in Thy salvation;
my soul findeth peace in Thy great redemption.
The great God who created heaven and earth—
He is my Lord and my Saviour.

Thy love is established for ever;
Thy mercy is from everlasting to everlasting.
Thy humility was before the foundation of the world.

My Lord and my God, how great Thou art!

Amen!

My Lord and my God,
the people of this land have forgotten Thy Name;
they know not Thy holiness,
neither do they remember Thy mercy.
Thy love is afar off from them,
and their hearts have waxed cold.

O Lord, have mercy upon their living breath;
for they are far from Thee
and near unto their own destruction.

Remember me, O Lord, in Thy tender mercy;
preserve me, I pray Thee,
and enclose me within the shadow of Thy mighty love.
As the dove flieth high in the heavens,
so hast Thou withdrawn Thy protecting wing
from them that take Thy holy Name in vain.

I will praise the Lord
and declare His wondrous works in the heights.
O my soul, trust thou in the Lord!

My Lord and my God,
have mercy upon them that walk in darkness and despair,
that blindly seek after joy apart from Thee.
Yet by Thy grace, I can say in humility:
mine eyes have beheld Thy face.

I thank Thee for the sunshine;
I thank Thee for the joy;
I thank Thee for the rain.
For this is yet another day
which Thou hast made,
beautiful and blessed.

Let Thy light shine whithersoever I go,
for my trust is in Thee.
Let Thy joy and Thy rain
be the gladness of them that seek Thee.

I will praise Thee, O Lord Almighty,
forever and ever. 

Amen.

Thy Word is written in truth;
Thy instruction is light unto my heart.

Thy holy Word is sharper than the two-edged sword,
In the hand of the mighty warrior.

I am nothing before Thee—
A disobedient servant, full of sin.
Before Thy throne I have transgressed;
I have stained the brightness of Thy glory.

Tears overflow my soul;
Bitterness and sorrow dwell within me.

I lift mine eyes unto the mountains,
I search the valleys below;
Yet my glory I find not.
But the Lord abideth in holiness,
And His throne is from everlasting.

Thou forgivest me again, O Lord,
For Thy mercy is pure love.
Thou drawest me near,
Yet my rebellion driveth Thee far from me.

I trust in Thee, O Lord!
My heart trembleth at Thy presence;
My bones are shaken with fear of Thee.

Though the earth should quake,
Though the mountains fall into the sea,
I shall not be moved,
For the Lord is my strength.

When Thou whisperest, I tremble;
When Thou speakest, the earth is shaken;
When Thy voice pierceth the heavens,
The foundations of the world are afraid.

Great is Thy love, O Lord;
It shall not be mocked,
Neither wasted upon vanity.
Thy love is treasure,
To be given unto burdened souls.

I praise Thee, O Lord, for Thy righteous judgment.
I wait in humility for Thy justice.
Yet I know Thy mercy shall save me,
For my fall was mine own,
But Thou hast borne it upon Thy shoulders.

Love the Lord with all thine heart;
Exalt His holy Name.
Declare unto all people:
The Lord, He is God!

A broken spirit and a contrite heart
Are the sacrifice most pleasing unto Thee.

Amen!

AvA blog

There is no wisdom nor understanding nor counsel against the Lord. Proverbs 21:30

There is an answer

“If God is omnibenevolent, why is there suffering in the world? If God is omnipotent and omniscient, why doesn’t He prevent and stop all evil in the world? If God is omnipresent, why is there pain, and suffering and evil in the world? GOD DOES NOT EXIST!”

It is one of the arguments many non-believers in God make against the claim that God exists and is real and that it transcends the Universe. I must say, these are all questions any worldview must answer, and Christianity is not the only one compelled to answer them. Because the problem of evil and suffering still remains when God is removed from the picture. Therefore, my answer to many atheists is to return these questions and ask them If there is no God, why is there suffering in the world? As an atheist, it is illogical to blame God when the belief is that He does not exist. At the core, you may find the problem is not whether God exists or not. It is why there is suffering and evil in the world. However, no matter what answer is given, the objection will mostly be, GOD DOES NOT EXIST!

“In a universe of blind physical forces and genetic replication, some people are going to get hurt, other people are going to get lucky, and you won’t find any rhyme or reason in it, nor any justice. The universe that we observe has precisely the properties we should expect if there is, at bottom, no design, no purpose, no evil, and no good—nothing but pitiless indifference.” — Richard Dawkins, River Out of Eden (1995)

What does this mean? There is no explanation of why there is suffering and evil in the world from a naturalistic view. Suffering and evil exist, and it is neither moral nor immoral, nor just or unjust. And yet, it is a moral question, “Why is there evil and suffering?”, which believers and non-believers ask. Both seeking justice and comfort, and hope. Sadly, for the atheist, there is nothing. For the Christian, there is at least Christ, who suffered the cross and didn’t keep distant from pain. Therefore, in the Christian worldview, suffering is not nothing, but rather something real for which God provided more than hope, but eternal redemption. But I also think, before raising the question above the sun, we ought to look at what is under the sun. As many times, when I go out there to provide an answer to the many objections the world has against Christianity and God, suffering is produced. I find myself many times in the middle of swearing, mocking, being beaten with mean words and hysterical laughter. If humanity desires a world free of evil, why this behaviour? I am hurt in those situations, and I suffer. Therefore, why?

The point I am trying to make is that people persecute people, and suffering is not caused by God. The root of all evil is the sin which has corrupted the human being. Only in Christianity is there a solution for sin the evil, and suffering. God sending His only Son to suffer unjustly, providing humanity with the way out of suffering and escaping evil, is beyond our mere understanding. Yet, when no other worldview provides an answer to the evil and suffering, the only solution that is out there is rejected by laughing at it. Which logically does not make sense. Why have people lost their common sense? But I guess it is evidently even more, that sin has corrupted so much, that it goes deeper than we think. King David makes this argument so eloquently and clearly in Psalm 51, verse 5 “Behold, I was shapen in iniquity; and in sin did my mother conceive me.” (KJV)

We ought to have a heart full of compassion towards the people actively rejecting God and Christ for whatever reason. May we train ourselves in prayer and submission to the Lord, so we can provide an answer to their questions and objections. An answer which will eventually bring them to the feet of our Saviour, Jesus Christ, the Son of God and God Himself.

Not against God

When the human was created in the image of God, free will was one of the characteristics which was given by God to man. Therefore, when the man chose to eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, God did not stop the man. Because God didn’t build in the man only freewill, but a conscious to know how to use freewill. Moreover, God gave a specific command not to eat. Above all, it was evidence to trust in God and choose not to eat. What is more, God told Adam what would be the consequence if he ate: thou shalt surely die. (Genesis 2:7) Did the man become corrupted and evil after eating? We already know the answer. Did God retract his goodness and power, and knowledge from human existence?

This argument that because there is evil and suffering in the world, there is no God, is not against the existence of God, but for the existence of God. Taking the Bible account of human history and God’s intervention into it, from Genesis chapter 3, we can see God working against sin and evil and suffering, to redeem humans from the fallen and corrupt state. Yet, I cannot see God causing the evil or the suffering. I can see God’s heart being hurt and saddened by the depraved state the human has sadly achieved. I can see God calling to repentance and blessing abundantly each human who turns to Him.

I can see God’s intervention in punishing evil. When Cain murdered his brother Abel, Cain was punished for it in order to prevent any future evil. Later on, when the whole of humanity was in such a low state, “And GOD saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually.” (Genesis 6:5) God sent a great flood to wipe out all the evil in the world. There were only eight souls who found grace: Noah and his wife. His three sons and their wives. But it proved that this intervention did not solve the core issue: the sin.

Because there is evil does not make an argument against God’s character or existence. It actually provides the evidence that there is a God. Without blemish and remaining constant in his power, knowledge and presence in the Universe. It does not prove either that God is the author of evil; it rather proves that in the presence of evil, God kept His integrity and holiness. Even if we say that the man created by God became evil, it does not make God the cause of it. When God created all things, including the angels and the humans, they were all very good. God designed a perfect and sinless world in which free will and consciousness were built into humans and the angels. I kept thinking about these objections against God, yet I concluded that the existence of evil is not an argument against God. Throughout the Old Testament, God kept calling his people to come to Him. Yet they refused. God promised Christ since Genesis 3, and kept His promise, against all odds, despite the evil state the human has reached. Christ was given, and today we live in times when evil is thriving. Is the cross still powerful enough to overcome evil? Very much so! Just think about how murderers, drug and alcohol addicts, promiscuous individuals and many other examples, including myself, have been changed into good through the faith in Jesus.

The answer

Personally, I do not have an issue with the evil existing in the world, because I cannot do much about it. I can only stop myself from being evil. Of course, I can control as much, but with Christ living in me, much more is achieved. It is unimaginable to think, how the grace works in our lives and characters. Therefore, why does God allow evil? It is a question which we ask under the sun and are unable to raise it above the sun. God’s thoughts are not our thoughts, and his plans are not my plans. There is a limit which we can achieve, and beyond that is impossible to go because it is God’s realm. Does God allow for evil to happen? God was not taken by surprise when Adam and Eve ate from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. He is omniscient after all. I guess we have a pretty good reason why there is evil in the world; however, I think we ought to ask ourselves if we pose the right question. I would suggest another approach. Is there any evidence that God does something about evil?

One of the most important pieces of evidence would be the cross. Christ took upon Himself all the evil in the world, past and present and future. That is what sin is. It only produces evil works. Through His blood, all evil is blotted out and washed away. There was no other solution in order to spot the evil doing, but by becoming a human, leaving behind the Heavenly glories and upon His shoulders, the Son of God, took all the evil and paid the full price. So that whoever believes in Him, shall not perish – as a result of sin and its evil – but be redeemed into eternal life.

Therefore

God did not create Satan. God created Lucifer. God did not create the world we live in today. God created a perfect and sinless world. What we live in today is an abnormal world which was never intended for humanity. God is not the cause of evil in the Universe. But God became the solution to redeem humans from evil.

So, Why is evil allowed in the world?, does not diminish God, nor does it stand against Him being real. So far, no human has been able to stop any evil. Wars upon wars and countless battles have been fought in the name of peace. God came to be crushed under all humanity’s evil, but not destroyed or defeated. Because He is holy, He did not cause any evil; justice stood for God and against all the evil in the world. God already did something to stop and prevent any evil, through the death and the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Whatever objections and arguments we may find against God, there is no wisdom nor understanding which can stand against Him, the Lord and almighty God.

It saddens me when I am looking
How the morning raises shadows
In the past.
It’s a sorrowful taste my heart
Cannot paint in the mind or in the dark.

In the shadows, all the past
Is surrendering its powers
And the sunrise will only last
For a day to have more sorrow.

When I think the day will last
For a glimpse in time and matter,
Shadows paint the blackened dark.
When I see the people thinking,
Building plans for days and time
Which can go beyond eternal.

But life will knit its path with doubts
Only knowing, from dawn to dawn
The darkened shadows will uncover
Human strength of mighty powerless.

It saddens me, when I am looking
Into horizons lost and lost,
My heart would jump to whisper praises,
But I am saddened to the last
Of all the people who think so mighty.
But the darkness of the night
Will clasp the hopes, desires, wishes,
All together looking in the past.