A Liberal, a Scholar, and an Evangelical Walk into a Bar
“There is nothing more that an evangelical wants than to be called a scholar by a liberal.”
That is a line attributed to Charles Ryrie. I first heard it secondhand from the late professor Robert Lightner during my first week at Dallas Theological Seminary in 1999.
A similar observation has been credited to Bob Jones Sr., though with a sharper edge. He is said to have put it this way: the evangelical essentially tells the liberal, “I’ll call you a Christian if you’ll call me a scholar.”
Both statements notice the same hunger. The second simply adds the trade. The evangelical receives the title “scholar”; the liberal receives the title “Christian.” Everybody wins?
The Strange Desire for Recognition
There is something to these observations. I’ve watched the pattern my whole life, and it is not limited to evangelical scholarship.
We often crave recognition most from those least likely to give it. Approval from outside the tribe can feel weightier than approval from within it. That is not always irrational. It can simply mean we want to be taken seriously by people who are not already inclined to take us seriously.
Wanting that respect is not automatically evidence of insecurity or compromise. Sometimes it is. Sometimes it is only the desire to be heard.
When Respect Opens the Door to Truth
There can be a better motive still. We may seek the respect of those who disagree with us because we want our ideas to receive a fair hearing. We want those who would otherwise dismiss us to recognize that we have something worth saying. We want truth on the megaphone, and earning their respect is sometimes the price of the ticket.
There is an irony here. The very thing the old observations criticize may arise from a deep commitment to the convictions they suspect we are selling. We may seek the respect of those who disagree with us precisely because we believe our position is true and want it taken seriously. What looks like a desire for compromise may actually be a desire for influence without compromise.
When a Good Desire Becomes Vainglory
Here is where the real danger lies.
We may begin with a legitimate desire to earn the respect of those who disagree with us so that truth can be heard. Somewhere along the way, almost without noticing, the desire for their respect becomes an end in itself. What started as a desire to make the truth known becomes a desire to make ourselves known.
Thomas Aquinas called this vainglory. We recently read his treatment of it, and I think the distinction is especially relevant here. There is nothing inherently wrong with wanting recognition when that recognition serves a greater good. But when recognition ceases to serve the truth and becomes a way of glorifying ourselves, something has gone wrong.
James describes desire as something that can conceive and eventually give birth to sin (James 1:14–15). What began as a legitimate pursuit can become infected by the very desires that accompany it. We may not even see the turn.
The Sin We Never Saw Coming
This is the deeper danger these observations expose. Not simply that we want the respect of those who disagree with us, but that we can forget why we wanted it.
The frightening part is that we may never consciously surrender a single doctrinal conviction. A theologian can defend justification by faith alone, write careful books, and expose serious error, yet somewhere along the way his deepest motivation has shifted from advancing the truth to advancing his own reputation. He has not changed a position. Something harder to detect has changed within him.
Jesus warned of those who loved the praise of men more than the praise of God (John 12:43). In the Sermon on the Mount he warned that even righteous deeds can be corrupted when they are done to be noticed (Matthew 6:1). The outward act may remain good while the inward motive becomes foreign to what the act was meant to serve.
Who will rescue us from this body of death? (Romans 7:24).
From the Pulpit to the Confessional Booth
This is why I still appreciate the spirit of those old observations. At their best they are not merely pronouncements from the pulpit. They are confessions from the booth.
We begin by seeking their respect so that they might hear the truth. Somewhere along the way, sin is conceived, and we end by seeking their respect so that we might hear their praise.
The most difficult part is recognizing when we have crossed that line. But it is not hard to see that it is almost always crossed, especially when we move forward unaware of the schemes of our Adamic nature.
(Now, I may be in the confessional booth myself!)
Everybody Wants Somebody’s Approval
The pattern is not limited to theology. We see versions of it everywhere:
- The conservative theologian wants to be called open-minded by the progressive.
- The Calvinist wants the Arminian to acknowledge that he believes in human responsibility.
- The Arminian wants the Calvinist to acknowledge that he takes the sovereignty of God seriously.
- The Protestant wants to be recognized as historically informed by the Catholic.
- The Republican wants to be seen as reasonable by the Democrat.
- The Democrat wants to be seen as principled by the Republican.
- The pastor wants the skeptic to grant that he is intellectually honest.
- The man wants to be seen as a good listener by the woman.
- Even the dog wants to be thought gentle by the cat.
None of these desires is inherently wrong. In many cases they are appropriate. But how easily does the desire to accomplish something good become the desire to receive the praise that comes with it? And how often do we notice the difference?
The Heart’s Hidden Motives
Jeremiah reminds us how deceptive our own hearts can be:
The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately wicked: who can know it?
Jeremiah 17:9 (KJV)
Paul admits that a clear conscience does not guarantee pure motives. The Lord is the one who will bring to light what is hidden and disclose the purposes of our hearts (1 Corinthians 4:4–5). We may be sincerely convinced that our motives are pure and still be deceiving ourselves.
David understood this when he cried:
Who can understand his errors? cleanse thou me from secret faults.
Psalm 19:12 (KJV)
Some sins are concealed from others. We know what we are doing but do not want anyone else to know. Other sins are concealed even from ourselves. We may not fully recognize what we are doing, much less why.
David was not merely asking forgiveness for sins he was deliberately hiding. He was asking to be cleansed from faults he himself might not recognize.
How do you repent of a motive you do not yet see? How do you recognize the moment when a sincere desire to advance the truth has quietly become a desire to advance yourself?
Nothing is hidden from God’s sight (Psalm 90:8; Hebrews 4:12–13).
Lord, Search Me
This is why the prayer at the end of Psalm 139 is necessary. We cannot always trust our own assessment of our motives. We need God to search what we cannot adequately search ourselves.
Search me, O God, and know my heart: try me, and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.
Psalm 139:23–24 (KJV)
Perhaps this is where the reflection should end—not by questioning everyone else’s motives for seeking recognition, but by questioning our own.
Here is the irony I find most unsettling. I can write an entire article warning about the dangers of seeking recognition and then wonder how many people will recognize the insight of the article itself. I can expose vainglory while secretly hoping to be praised for exposing it.
Am I seeking respect so that the truth might be heard? Or have I begun using the truth as a means of gaining respect?
And would I even recognize the difference?
Lord, search me. Because I am not always capable of searching myself.
