Back in the Spring, I shared that I would be starting seminary again. With two courses completed and the next one about to begin, I can safely say that I am glad I’m doing this. It has been good for me in many ways. But in this short time, I’ve already been reminded that a little bit of knowledge can be a dangerous thing.
Knowledge is good
Now, here’s what I mean by that: Knowledge is a good thing. We ought to pursue growing in knowledge about everything we can. Knowing how the world works. Understanding the people we love. Knowing God himself. I’ve spent nearly 20 years independently studying the Bible regularly at this point. And I’d like to say that, while I’ve far from got it all figured out—nor will I ever—I’ve managed to get a solid grasp of the heart of its message.1
So there’s a degree to which, at least with the courses I’ve taken so far, there hasn’t been a lot of new. (I realize that probably sounds incredibly arrogant, but it is not meant to be.) Instead, much of it has clarified and confirmed different points where my independent study had already been leading. (One example being the purpose of Genesis’s creation accounts.) And even where there have been elements that pushed against some of my own lines of thinking, I didn’t have a sense of fear or anxiety the way I’ve sometimes seen described. Instead, it’s giving me opportunities to consider how a change in perspective might help me more faithfully love God and love others.
Knowledge is a good thing. And the goodness of its pursuit extends well beyond the study of Scripture. Math, science, history, art, you name it—all help us to love God and love people more fully. So don’t be afraid to learn and grow. Embrace every opportunity you have.
Knowledge without wisdom can be dangerous
But there’s also a kind of knowledge that puffs up (1 Corinthians 8:1). It’s the showy, humble-braggy kind of knowledge that is too often used to build up ourselves at the expense of others. To make us seem oh-so-very intelligent, while alienating those around us, as we liberally pepper our conversations with words like chiasm, synecdoche, and fecundity.2
We might know the words and use them correctly, but really, we’re just trying to make ourselves look important.
This kind of knowledge is unstable. It is a childish sort, likely to be “tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine” (Ephesians 4:14 NKJV). It has not been tempered by wisdom and experience. And in some instances, it can be harmful to those around us, and even to ourselves.
And again, it’s not because knowledge is bad. It’s because we’re not wielding it correctly.
Knowledge tempered by wisdom is life-giving to all
I’ve been that guy (aka insufferable). I’m sure we all have at some point or another. And knowing that makes me all-the-more grateful to be pursuing my formal education now, with a bit more life behind me. That doesn’t mean that I consider myself particularly wise or anything like that. Just that I’ve been gone the block enough times at this point to be wary of the danger of expressing knowledge recklessly.
Wisdom—which only comes with time and experience—is what makes sharing knowledge life-giving for others. It encourages us to be considerate and conscientious as we seek to reflect Christ in our words and actions. To avoid placing unwieldy burdens on people that they were never meant to bear. To seek the good of others, and not elevate ourselves.
That’s what true knowledge does. It’s the kind I want more of. And I’m grateful that I’m reaching a stage in life where I can appreciate it.
Photo by Alex Shute on Unsplash
