The Issue of Biblical Literacy.
Something that’s been heavy on my heart lately is the issue of biblical literacy—or more accurately, the lack of it—in the Church. And I don’t just mean knowing Bible stories or being able to rattle off the books in order. I’m talking about grasping the big picture: Creation, Fall, Redemption, and how that overarching story shapes and defines the gospel.
This post isn’t a breakdown of that story (though maybe I’ll post something like what I teach my 6th graders in the future). Instead, I want to look at why I think so many Christians are struggling to make sense of their faith—and what’s getting in the way.
(1) Regurgitative Faith
I’ve noticed a growing number of Christians—young and old—can recite the right phrases: things they’ve heard from pastors, parents, or podcasts. But when asked to truly explain their faith, they get stuck. They’ve grown up in church, they’ve heard the major stories and verses, they know the metaphors—but if you asked them how it all connects from Genesis to Revelation, they’d likely come up short.
To be clear, memorization isn’t the enemy. It can be a powerful tool. But without depth, it can become a crutch. I’ve seen a creeping spiritual stagnation that takes root in churches and Christian circles—a “just go through the motions” kind of faith. It looks good on the outside, but when it comes to the hard conversations and the big questions? We’re often unprepared.
And let me be even more clear: this isn’t about how you worship. You can lift your hands, dance, shout hallelujah—or sit quietly and reflect—and still have deep biblical literacy. Style doesn’t equal substance. But when our faith is mostly rooted in church culture more than Scripture itself, we start mistaking consistent interaction for spiritual maturity.
And I wasn’t exempt. A few years ago, someone asked me not just to share the gospel—but to explain it. I froze. I realized I had more questions than answers. And honestly? It scared me. I started to quietly wonder: Do I really believe what I think I do?
I was at a Christian university, surrounded by ministry majors, and felt embarrassed at how little I actually understood. Even what I did know, I second-guessed. That insecurity spiraled. And after graduating, I watched it happen in others too. Honestly, between 80–90% of my classmates either walked away from their faith or replaced it with a more progressive, watered-down version. It broke my heart—and it scared me.
Why? Because I started to realize this wasn’t just a “they” problem. It could be me, too.
(2) Little Room for Questions
One of the biggest contributors to this pattern, in my opinion, is that many churches and Christian communities haven’t cultivated an environment where honest, sometimes messy questions are welcomed.
And yes, I know that’s a tricky balance. Opening the door for real dialogue can lead to confusion or distraction if not shepherded well—there’s an art to it. That’s why I’m genuinely thankful for the pastoral leadership I’ve had (past and present) who lead with both conviction and compassion. This isn’t a critique of pastors.
But often, the resistance doesn’t come from the pulpit—it comes from the pews. From well-meaning, but self-righteous members who feel threatened by anything that sounds uncertain or unpolished. And the alternative to dialogue—shaming curiosity—can be far more dangerous. It breeds quiet deconstruction without discipleship.
Here are real things people said to me when I started asking honest questions about my faith:
“Wow, you really don’t know that? That’s like Sunday school basics.”
“You’re just too emotionally close to this topic to think clearly.”
“We shouldn’t question the Word of God—it shows a lack of faith.”
“Don’t overthink it. Just trust.”
Maybe some of those phrases had good intentions—but they didn’t invite learning. They shut down the conversation. And it made me wonder: When did we start treating questions like they were threats? When did theological curiosity get labeled as legalism or doubt?
To be fair, I don’t think most people do this consciously or with ill intent. It’s usually not pride or power—it’s just habit, fear, or maybe a sense of protectiveness. In fact, I think it’s better to attribute it to ignorance paired with good intentions before jumping to assumptions of arrogance or hostility. But even so, the effect is real. And I’ve seen it often enough—especially in Christian circles—that it felt worth writing about. Still, I want to be careful not to blanket this across “everyone and their mom.” This isn’t everyone’s story, but it’s common enough to pay attention to.
And honestly, it’s not just a church problem. This pattern shows up everywhere—in politics, education, and culture at large. We’ve grown uncomfortable with tension. We avoid hard conversations out of fear they’ll be labeled as divisive, problematic, or offensive. The moment a question points toward a larger or more complex perspective, people shut it down—not always out of cruelty, but out of discomfort. We’ve traded critical thinking for curated certainty.
From what I understand, doubt challenges God’s character or demands proof. But questions? They seek understanding. And I figured—if my faith was real, it would hold up under my curiosity.
Spoiler: it did.
Where to Start?
So here’s my encouragement—my plea, my challenge:
Know what you believe. Know why you believe it.
Don’t be afraid of hard questions. Don’t settle for half-formed answers or borrowed beliefs. You don’t have to be a scholar—but your faith should be deeper than catchy one-liners.
People are asking real things:
Why does sin lead to death?
Why does the resurrection mean life?
Why would a good God allow suffering?
Do you know?
And if you don’t—that’s okay. Just don’t leave it there. Be honest. Say “I don’t know” when you need to. Making something up to save face doesn’t serve the person you’re talking to—and it doesn’t serve the gospel. Pride over honesty is a dangerous trade. Remain humble, remain teachable.
I once had a Sunday school teacher who did the opposite. A high school girl asked, “What happened to people who lived before Jesus? If He brought salvation, does that mean everyone before Him went to Hell?” The teacher shrugged and said, “Probably, yes.” (Please note: this is not what the Bible teaches).
That girl never came back.
Final Thoughts.
If you want to know where to start, note that biblical literacy goes beyond just asking hard questions or being honest with yourself—that’s actually more of a tool than the starting line. Some of you might not even know what to ask yet—and that’s okay. The questions will come. And when they do, do not shrug them off with a, “Whatever, I don’t know,” and move on. Pause. Look into it. What does Scripture actually say?
Not just, “What does my pastor say?” or, “What did my parents teach me?”— those can be great resources, but they shouldn’t replace the Word itself.
Additionally, in my experience, sitting down with a friend and being bold enough to ask, “Hey, where are you at in your faith?” can feel uncomfortable—but it can also be incredibly fruitful. When you’re speaking openly and honestly with someone you trust (emphasis on trustworthy, boys and girls), who shares your desire to grow transparently, powerful things can happen.
Note: For the record, there are some questions even the greatest theologians don’t have airtight answers for. And that’s not a flaw in our faith—it’s part of its beauty.
God is not meant to fit in our boxes. His ways are higher, His mind unsearchable (Is. 55:9; Rom. 11:33-34). There are times when we can only say, “I don’t know—but I do know He is good.” And that mystery—that incomprehensibility—is one of the best reasons to worship Him because it reflects the boundless, infinite depth of His greatness.
In my next article, I’ll be sharing where I personally started in all of this—specifically the questions that first shook me and challenged my faith, like, “If God is good, why does evil exist?” and how those questions continue to show up in my life. Look out for that content next week.
In the meantime, I want to hear from you:
What are your biggest questions about God, the Bible, or Christians in general? Don’t be shy (but be respectful, duh). I’m still learning too!
And like I always tell my students: Let’s be brave question-askers! (Was that a cheesy ending? That was a cheesy ending, wasn’t it? I’ll work on that).
