For Schaeffer, two inescapable truths form the bedrock of his insight. One, we live in God’s world. Two, we bear God’s image. Every human being lives in the actual world God made, and all human beings—with the mark of God on their souls—are fundamentally and intrinsically different from everything else in this world.

In the waning days of summer, 1997, two well-known and well-loved women died within days of each other, but the public reaction to each death was radically different. Mother Teresa passed away peacefully at 87—her death a quiet conclusion to a noble life well lived. Princess Diana died in her prime at 36—her death a tragic and “untimely” intrusion into a life still filled with promise.

Why did so many react so differently to the same kind of event—a life ending, a human being dying? Let me share an insight with you I learned from the late Francis Schaeffer that I think explains it—a bit of wisdom that may help you navigate in conversations with others about Christ. He called it the “mannishness of man.” Strange phrase, agreed, but a provocative notion, nonetheless.

For Schaeffer, two inescapable truths form the bedrock of his insight. One, we live in God’s world. Two, we bear God’s image. Every human being lives in the actual world God made, and all human beings—with the mark of God on their souls—are fundamentally and intrinsically different from everything else in this world.

There is a third thing, though, that makes all the difference in our conversations. Because we live in God’s world and are made in God’s image, there are things we all know that are embedded deep within our hearts—profound things about our world and about ourselves—even though we deny them or our worldviews disqualify them.

Can a person believe something but still deny it? In a certain sense, yes. Consciously, we construct a system that satisfies our demand for autonomy—for self-rule. We say there is no God—at least, no God to worry about. We say there is no ultimate purpose in life. We are free of those constraints. Rather, we chart our own course. We make our own rules. We create our own purpose. We live by our creed—“You do you,” our modern motto.

But then our words betray us when our guard is down. Our actions—actually, our re-actions—tell a different story, revealing deeper beliefs, tacit convictions that conflict with our man-made philosophies, accurate intuitions about reality we cannot deny even when we try. “That which is known about God,” Paul wrote, “is evident within them; for God made it evident to them” (Rom. 1:19). Our “mannishness” cannot be suppressed.

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