Imagine you’re traveling far from home. Sabbath arrives, and you attend Sabbath School at the local Adventist church. The teacher presents the lesson, which deals with widely accepted biblical truths. Conversation is flowing well; then a class member raises their hand and says something like: “Yes, but can we be so sure this is what the text is saying? Several well-respected Bible scholars offer a different opinion, and they say that . . .” The individual proceeds to lay out a very different understanding than the lesson presents. How does this doubter appear in the eyes of the other class members? As a malcontent? a troublemaker? a heretic?
Perhaps. But in the classes I’ve visited over the years, more often the doubter appears . . . smart. Someone able to take in the big picture without being unduly swayed by past orthodoxies. Some even consider such doubters as true heroes of the faith.
And they may be correct! John Huss was just such a person when he challenged the orthodoxies of his day in the fifteenth century. So was Martin Luther in the sixteenth century (to say nothing about James and Ellen White in the nineteenth). Doubt can indeed be a great ally in the cause of present truth.
But it’s also true that doubt and the devil have been best friends for a very long time—from nearly the beginning of human history. “Did God really say, ‘You must not eat from any tree in the garden’?” (Gen. 3:1, NIV) was a doubt that set the tone for devilish deeds for millennia to come. Doubt is therefore a bit like nuclear power: it can light your lightbulb or vaporize your house.
How can doubt help rather than hinder? Space prohibits a more comprehensive answer here, but I would offer two general suggestions.
First, for the Christian, doubt is to be a reluctantly used tool rather than a perpetual way of life. Some Christians have elevated doubt to supernal status, deeming the constant questioning of previous orthodoxies to be a necessary sign of one’s superior intellect while sneering at epistemological certainty as the opiate of pedantic dullards. But the example of Christ steers us differently. He questioned the theological certainties of His day, but He nearly always replaced those certainties with more reliable certainties of His own. Whatever doubt He introduced was a means to an end, not an enduring state of being.
Second, while doubt can be necessary at times, even as we express our doubts we must not forget that the Christian life is founded on eternally persistent certainties that bring stability, courage, and hope in every circumstance. In Christ we can know that we have eternal life. We can absolutely trust that Jesus always loves us. We can be completely certain that the Bible is a sure guide for all of life’s decisions, without exception. We can understand, with unflagging confidence, that this world is not our home, that Jesus is returning soon, and that death and pain are but temporary thorns that will shortly be vanquished by the all-conquering Christ (see Revelation, particularly chapters 19 and 21:1-5).
Let us rejoice in such certainties! And let us use doubt sparingly. Doubt is a good servant, but a cruel master—and even the smartest person in Sabbath School can bank on that.