“We’ve Always Been Taught This”: When Familiarity Replaces Truth Spiritual Language, Authority, and the Avoidance of Theological Examination

Introduction / Framing the Problem

One of the more difficult dynamics to address in certain church environments is not simply disagreement, but the inconsistency between language and lived reality.

It is not uncommon to hear strong appeals to the need to be under “spiritual guidance” and the importance of “submission to leadership,” particularly when directed toward those who have come to different theological conclusions. Yet, in practice, those same appeals are often made by individuals whose own history reflects a pattern of resistance to that very guidance.

This creates a subtle but important tension: submission becomes less of a lived discipline (or at least a pick-and-choose to whom one will submit) and more of a rhetorical tool. It is invoked when useful but not consistently embodied. Scripture presents submission not as selective, but as a posture shaped by humility and accountability (cf. Heb. 13:17; 1 Pet. 5:5). When it is reduced to language rather than practice, its meaning is quietly altered.

A similar pattern emerges in the way “secular learning” is sometimes framed. Education is treated with suspicion when it leads to theological and doctrinal reconsideration, yet it is readily embraced in other areas of life without hesitation. The issue, then, is not truly education itself, but the conclusions that education may lead to—especially when those conclusions challenge traditionally established interpretations. This tension stands in contrast to the biblical call to love God not only with heart and soul, but also with the mind (Matt. 22:37).

It is also worth noting the internal inconsistency that often accompanies such claims. Appeals against “secular learning” are not always made by those unfamiliar with it, but at times by individuals who themselves have been shaped by formal education and have even advocated for it in other areas of life. In such cases, the concern cannot simply be education itself, but rather the direction in which that learning leads when it challenges established theological and doctrinal conclusions. Ironically, what is condemned as “change” or “departure” in others may reflect the very process of intellectual or doctrinal development that has taken place in one’s own life—albeit in a different direction. Growth, then, is not the issue; it is the direction and implications of that growth that are being contested.

What is often presented as a concern for spiritual stability may, in reality, functions as a resistance to doctrinal examination. And when disagreement is reframed as rebellion (cf. Num. 16:1–3 often misapplied), or growth is recast as deception (cf. Gal. 1:6–9, also often misapplied), meaningful dialogue becomes nearly impossible.

At that point, the conversation is no longer about truth, but about preserving a particular structure of authority and interpretation.

Importantly, this dynamic does not exist in isolation. As multiple studies have shown, environments where authority is preserved at all costs often exhibit patterns of control, manipulation, and suppression of dissent—hallmarks commonly associated with spiritual abuse.[1]

The Role of Familiarity: When Tradition Becomes Authority

Another common feature of these interactions is the appeal to familiarity as a measure of truth. Statements such as, “We’ve never been taught it that way,” or “This is not how we have understood it,” are often presented as though they carry decisive weight.

While such expressions may reflect sincerity, they do not, in themselves, constitute an argument. They reveal a reliance on received interpretation rather than an engagement with the text of Scripture or the claim being made. In this framework, the question is not whether something is true, but whether it aligns with what has previously been taught.

Over time, this creates a form of doctrinal stability that is rooted more in continuity than in examination. What is familiar is treated as faithful, and what is unfamiliar is treated with suspicion. Yet Scripture repeatedly calls for a different posture—one of testing, discernment, and growth. “The one who states his case first seems right, until the other comes and examines him” (Prov. 18:17). The Bereans were commended not for preserving what they had always heard, but for examining the Scriptures daily to see whether these things (that is, what was being taught by Paul and Silas) were so (Acts 17:11). Likewise, believers are instructed to “test everything; hold fast what is good” (1 Thess. 5:21).

The danger is not tradition itself. Scripture affirms the faithful transmission of truth (2 Tim. 2:2; see also 2 Thess. 2:15). The danger lies in the unexamined elevation of tradition to the level of final authority. When that occurs, meaningful theological reflection becomes difficult, and disagreement is often interpreted not as an opportunity for clarification, but as a departure from the faith (cf. Mark 7:8–13).

In such contexts, tradition can function not merely as inherited wisdom, but as a mechanism of control—discouraging inquiry and reinforcing conformity by equating familiarity with faithfulness.[2]

The Core Issue

The concern is not simply that theological education is viewed with suspicion, but that certain forms of spiritual language are used to dismiss theological reflection without engaging it. Appeals to tradition, authority, and spiritual caution often function not as tools of discernment, but as mechanisms for preserving established doctrinal interpretations without examination.

This article examines how such language can bypass genuine theological engagement, replacing examination with familiarity and inquiry with suspicion.

Learning, Revelation, and the False Distinction

Another dimension of this pattern emerges in the way knowledge itself is categorized. When a person reexamines long-held doctrinal interpretations, it is often suggested that they have been influenced by “human learning” or “secular education,” as though this alone explains their conclusions. Yet this distinction rarely withstands careful reflection.

Every theological and doctrinal position is, in some sense, learned. It is received through teaching, shaped by community, and reinforced through repetition. “Faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ” (Rom. 10:17). Even the most deeply held convictions are formed within contexts of instruction, whether formal or informal. The absence of a formal academic setting does not mean the absence of influence. To have been taught within a particular tradition is still to have been taught.

The difficulty arises when one form of learning is acknowledged as “human” and therefore suspect, while another is described as purely spiritual and therefore beyond question. In such cases, disagreement is no longer treated as a matter of interpretation, but as a matter of spiritual condition.

This creates an uneven framework for theological and doctrinal discussion. One person’s conclusions are attributed to education, influence, or error, while another’s are attributed to divine revelation. The result is that one position remains open to examination, while the other is effectively shielded from it.[3]

Scripture, however, does not present the work of the Spirit in this way. The Spirit does not bypass understanding but illuminates it. Jesus “opened their minds to understand the Scriptures” (Luke 24:45), and Paul exhorts Timothy, “Think over what I say, for the Lord will give you understanding in everything” (2 Tim. 2:7). The pattern is not revelation in isolation, but illumination through engagement.

For a more detailed theological treatment of this distinction—particularly the difference between Divine Revelation, Divine Inspiration, and Illumination—see “The Spirit and the Word: Rethinking “Divine Revelation” in Light of Scripture and Pentecostal Traditions”

Also, listen to: “God Revealed This to Me” — Or Did He? Revelation vs. Illumination & Why It Matters

The call of the believer is not to reject learning, but to pursue it faithfully—testing, discerning, and growing in the knowledge of God (1 Thess. 5:21; 2 Pet. 3:18; Col. 1:9–10).

When the language of “revelation” is used to avoid examination, it no longer serves its intended purpose. Instead of leading to clarity, it can unintentionally undermine the very processes through which truth is meant to be understood.

Anti-Intellectualism and the Erosion of Discernment

Closely tied to this false distinction is the broader issue of anti-intellectualism within certain Christian contexts. Rather than encouraging deep engagement with Scripture and theology, some environments elevate emotional experience, “simplicity,” or “spirituality” over careful thought and doctrinal clarity.[4]

In such settings, intellectual engagement is often dismissed as “head knowledge,” and the life of the mind is subtly—or overtly—devalued. This can result in a diminished capacity for discernment, as believers are not equipped to evaluate competing claims, interpret Scripture responsibly, or recognize theological and doctrinal error.[5]

The consequences are significant. When critical thinking is discouraged, individuals become increasingly dependent on authority figures for interpretation and direction. Over time, this dependency can create an environment in which manipulation becomes easier and accountability becomes weaker—conditions that closely mirror those identified in studies of spiritually abusive systems.[6]

Epistemic Insulation and Guarded Exposure

A further layer of this dynamic appears in the way exposure to differing perspectives is often framed. Rather than encouraging careful listening and discernment, it is not uncommon to hear warnings such as, “Be careful listening to that,” or “That will only confuse you.” At times, the concern is expressed even more directly: engaging alternative viewpoints is said to produce doubt or unsettle what has already been received. People are then told, directly, that engaging viewpoints outside of the established institutional structure is wrong, and even that visiting other church organizations is committing “Spiritual Adultery.”[7]

While such cautions may be motivated by a desire to protect (cf. Acts 20:28–30), they can also function as a form of epistemic insulation—limiting the range of voices that are considered legitimate before any actual evaluation has taken place. In this framework, the issue is not whether an argument is true or false, but whether it should be heard at all.

This creates a significant shift in how theological and doctrinal discernment operates. Instead of testing ideas through Scripture and careful reasoning, conclusions are often shaped by prior boundaries of acceptable sources. What lies within those boundaries is treated as safe; what lies outside is treated as suspect, regardless of its content.

Such patterns align closely with what scholars identify as environments where questioning is suppressed, dissent is discouraged, and individuals are conditioned to rely on authority rather than engage in independent evaluation.[8]

The result is a form of stability that is maintained not through ongoing examination, but through controlled exposure. Yet the biblical pattern consistently points in a different direction. The Bereans are commended not for avoiding unfamiliar teaching, but for examining it carefully in light of Scripture (Acts 17:11). John exhorts the church, “Beloved, do not believe every spirit, but test the spirits to see whether they are from God” (1 John 4:1).

When the possibility of confusion becomes a reason to avoid examination, discernment is quietly replaced with restriction. And in such an environment, theological growth and doctrinal refinement becomes increasingly difficult—not because questions cannot be answered, but because they are never allowed to be fully asked.

Conclusion: A Call to Discernment and Renewal

The patterns described above do not always emerge from malice. Often, they arise from a genuine desire to preserve faith, protect community, and maintain doctrinal stability. Yet good intentions do not eliminate the need for careful evaluation.

Scripture calls believers not only to hold fast to truth, but to pursue it with humility, discernment, and openness to examination (Prov. 2:1–5; Phil. 1:9–10). The goal is not endless skepticism, but faithful understanding.

A healthy theological environment does not fear questions, nor does it equate unfamiliarity with error. It recognizes that truth is not threatened by examination but clarified through it.

When spiritual language is used to prevent that process, it ceases to function as a tool of discernment and becomes instead a mechanism of preservation. And when preservation takes precedence over truth, even sincere communities can find themselves resisting the very growth Scripture calls them to pursue.

The call, then, is not to abandon tradition, authority, or caution, but to place them in their proper role—under Scripture, accountable to truth, and open to examination.

Only then can theological conviction and doctrinal clarity remain both firm and faithful.

Footnotes:

[1] Karen Roudkovski, Understanding Spiritual Abuse: What It Is and How to Respond (Brentwood, TN: B&H Academic, 2024), 25–26.

[2] Neil T. Anderson, Rich Miller, and Paul Travis, Breaking the Bondage of Legalism (Eugene, OR: Harvest House Publishers, 2003), chap. 5.

[3] Ronald M. Enroth, Recovering from Churches That Abuse (Grand Rapids, MI: Zondervan, 1994), 64–65.

[4] Shawn Nelson, "Anti-Intellectualism and Christianity: Practical Reflections from J. P. Moreland’s Love Your God with All Your Mind" (unpublished manuscript, April 10, 2020), 2–3.

[5] Michael W. Austin, "Anti-Intellectualism in the Church," Christian Research Journal 39, no. 4 (2016), under "Abandoning Higher Learning" and "Grasping Difficult Ideas."

[6] Shawn Nelson, Spiritual Abuse: Unspoken Crisis (Temecula, CA: Geeky Christian, 2015), 21–22, 30.

[7] Stay tuned for another article on this concept.

[8] Anderson, Miller, and Travis, Breaking the Bondage of Legalism, 117.