Theological innovation is the fruit of theological rebellion, not biblical Christianity. Or to put it more precisely, theological innovation grows directly from the theologically rebellious. False teaching does not float in abstraction. It always has a face; it always has a mouth. It flows out a defiant heart.

Golden statues, empty rituals, and corrupting bondage. Many conceptions flood our minds when we hear the word “idolatry.” We envision everything from crass idol worship to sophisticated religions like Hinduism, Shintoism, Animism, and even Islam.

In any of these versions of idolatry, as evangelical Christians, we get off scot-free. We have no statues in our living rooms, no incense in our parlors, and we surely do not embrace false religions. We glibly identify ourselves with Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego.

Idolatry, as we tend to see it, is someone else’s problem. We maintain such a posture smugly and confidently; that is, until we read the Bible.

With permeating frequency, prophetic and apostolic teaching warns of false doctrine and false religion—not because others are at risk, but precisely because we are. Vulnerability to idolatry plagued the first century Church and continues today with a vengeance. Why? Because the womb of heresy is the heart, not the head.

Because of the deceptive permutations of our hearts’ reasoning, those who consciously place idolatry in the file folder of remote problems may well be at the greatest risk. Vulnerability to idolatry corresponds to a denial of its power. The master deceiver himself parades about as an angel of light, and how better to compel the heart of the unsuspecting than to convince him of his immunity! Denial of idolatry’s power swings the heart’s front door wide open to it.

Arming the Church for a successful assault, Paul offers a three-pronged assault against idolatry and its subtle magnetism. In his counterattack, he starts with divine authority. As we assessed in the last column, Paul constructs his argument around the truth of the gospel.

To set the stage, I include once again our focal passage:

“[3] If anyone teaches a different doctrine and does not agree with the sound words of our Lord Jesus Christ and the teaching that accords with godliness, [4] he is puffed up with conceit and understands nothing. He has an unhealthy craving for controversy and for quarrels about words, which produce envy, dissension, slander, evil suspicions, [5] and constant friction among people who are depraved in mind and deprived of the truth, imagining that godliness is a means of gain. [6] But godliness with contentment is great gain, [7] for we brought nothing into the world, and we cannot take anything out of the world. [8] But if we have food and clothing, with these we will be content. [9] But those who desire to be rich fall into temptation, into a snare, into many senseless and harmful desires that plunge people into ruin and destruction. [10] For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evils. It is through this craving that some have wandered away from the faith and pierced themselves with many pangs.” (1 Timothy 6:3-10)

We saw first that we must call the gospel what it is—God’s truth. Having established the centrality of the “sound words of our Lord Jesus Christ and the teaching that accords with godliness” (1 Tim. 6:3) and to trusting the gospel as given, we turn now to Paul’s second principle: we must call theological error what it is—unbelief and rebellion.

Paul goes to some length here to expose the damaging, even damning, character of theological originality. Believers in Christ Jesus and teachers of the Word of God mustnever offer novel theological paradigms for new generations of the Church.

Theological innovation is the fruit of theological rebellion, not biblical Christianity. Or to put it more precisely, theological innovation grows directly from the theologicallyrebellious. False teaching does not float in abstraction. It always has a face; it always has a mouth. It flows out a defiant heart.

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