𝑳𝒆𝒕 π’šπ’π’–π’“ π’„π’π’π’—π’†π’“π’”π’‚π’•π’Šπ’π’ 𝒃𝒆 π’‚π’π’˜π’‚π’šπ’” 𝒇𝒖𝒍𝒍 𝒐𝒇 π’ˆπ’“π’‚π’„π’†, 𝒔𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒅 π’˜π’Šπ’•π’‰ 𝒔𝒂𝒍𝒕, 𝒔𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 π’šπ’π’– π’Žπ’‚π’š π’Œπ’π’π’˜ π’‰π’π’˜ 𝒕𝒐 π’‚π’π’”π’˜π’†π’“ π’†π’—π’†π’“π’šπ’π’π’†.” – π‘ͺπ’π’π’π’”π’”π’Šπ’‚π’π’” 4:6

As Christians, (I’ll speak as an Adventist , that’s what I know) we’re called to represent the character of Christ in all we doβ€”including online. Yet, if you wander into social media, you’ll see a different kind of church fellowship unfold: passionate believers debating the finer points of theology like they’re at a verbal fencing match, sabres drawn. And for what? Often, these discussions seem less like a search for truth and more like the theological Olympics, where scoring points is the only goal.

We all know the drill. Someone posts a thought on a biblical issue, and it takes about three seconds for responses to flood in. At first, it’s insightful, respectfulβ€”until someone decides they have a β€œduty” to enlighten the unenlightened (or, rather, set them β€œstraight”). Pretty soon, the comment section spirals into a full-blown scripture showdown, complete with five-paragraph commentaries, original language references, and the occasional β€œI’m just saying…” which, of course, means β€œI’m absolutely right.”

And let’s be real, some of us think we’re scoring eternal points by delivering the mic-drop rebuttal or correcting a complete stranger’s understanding of Daniel’s prophecies. But if heaven has an online scoreboard, it’s probably not tracking how many theological arguments we win. Instead, maybe it’s tallying how often we spoke with grace, or brought people together instead of dividing them.

Imagine if Paul or James had Facebook accounts. I’d like to think they wouldn’t be out there β€œowning” the Sadducees or dunking on the Pharisees. Instead, they might remind us that truth without love is just noise, and our loudest β€œwitness” is usually our character. We don’t always need to be the loudest voice in the room, nor the last one talking. Sometimes, the smartest move in a debate is not to win but to listen, or even let it go.

If our goal is to point others to Christ, then let’s make that our focus, even online. Debating doctrine is not inherently wrongβ€”it can deepen our understanding and sharpen our faith. But if the way we’re debating would make Jesus cringe, we might need a course correction. After all, people rarely remember the β€œbrilliant” argument you made in a comment thread, but they’ll never forget the kindness or humility you showed.

So, next time you find yourself typing out that flawless theological take-down, take a moment. Ask yourself: Is this building someone up? Is it advancing truth, or just my pride? We’re called to be salt and lightβ€”not flamethrowers. Let’s strive to make our online conversations reflect the grace of the God we serve, so that others might actually be drawn to the message we’re so eager to share.