It is often the case that why we do something is just as important as what we are doing. It is easy to produce examples in which doing the right thing for the wrong reason becomes the wrong thing. This is especially true of Christian apologetics.
Again, here is my thesis: many Christians are drawn to apologetics for reasons that prevent them from practicing it in the way that is consistent with the character of Jesus. My first concern was our vision of apologetics, what we think apologetics is. I argued that apologetics done in the way of Jesus is primarily a helping ministry.
In true Willardian fashion, I now want to address our intention in apologetics, moving from what we think apologetics is to what we think it’s for, moving from the what to the why.
The Common Intention: To Prove the Superiority of Christianity
One of the most persistent misconceptions among well-meaning Christians is that apologetics is primarily to prove the intellectual, moral, or cultural superiority of Christianity. Within this paradigm, the apologetics becomes an exercise in rational dominance. The goal is to disprove rival belief systems and secure Christianity’s place as the most coherent option in the marketplace of ideas.
In my opinion, this isn't the worst motivation for doing apologetics. One of the most convincing things about Christianity to me personally is its explanatory power. I really do believe that as belief systems go (religions, worldviews, or whatever you want to call them) Christianity is superior. But, I'm convinced that it should not be our intention to prove it.
This approach, while often sincere, carries troubling theological and ethical implications. Myron Bradley Penner has offered one of the most incisive critiques of this posture in his book The End of Apologetics. He argues that much of contemporary apologetics mirrors the rationalist ambitions of the Enlightenment. We prioritize objectivity, argument, and epistemic control over relational presence and spiritual discernment. In doing so, the apologist assumes the role of a “theoretical expert,” a sort of theological technician who dispenses truth from a position of mastery rather than ministry. The result is more than a defensiveness; it's a combativeness. This intention becomes a disposition that seeks to control the conversation rather than participate in it. We become manipulative sophists rather than compassionate witnesses.
Apologetics, then, becomes an arena for showcasing intellectual superiority rather than spiritual transformation. Arguments replace invitations. The person raising objections becomes an opponent to defeat rather than a neighbor to love.
The Problem with Superiority as the Goal
This intention—however well-intentioned—subtly but significantly distorts the character of our Christian witness. When the aim is to prove Christianity superior, the gospel is reframed as a system of propositions rather than an announcement of divine grace. In such cases, having right beliefs eclipses having good news. And once the gospel is reduced to a contest of ideas, its relational essence is compromised. Being a Christian becomes more about having right ideas about God rather than having a relationship with God.
Does the content of the gospel contain true propositions? Of course! Is believing those propositions sufficient for salvation? Let's be careful to remember, demons believe and tremble (James 2:19). Let's be careful to remember, following Christ is not merely a matter of believing propositions; it is a matter of having a relationship (Matthew 7:21-23).
Not only is this a theological issue; it is a deeply personal issue. This posture trains us to treat nonbelievers as problems to be solved, or worse, as ideological threats. It cultivates suspicion rather than compassion, pride rather than humility. In time, the discipline of apologetics becomes a habit of self-assertion rather than self-giving.
This is not the way of Jesus.
Jesus never sought to prove his superiority through rhetorical finesse. He embodied truth without coercion. He responded to hostility with clarity, yes, but also with compassion. When challenged by religious leaders or questioned by political authorities, he did not attempt to dominate the discourse. He bore witness. He spoke truthfully, yet with no concern for appearing to have won the argument. He didn't simply offer an argument; he offered himself.
Dallas Willard captured this well when he remarked, “Jesus never tried to make people believe he was right. He invited them to follow him.” That distinction matters. It reflects the difference between apologetics as control and apologetics as communion.
A Better Intention: Apologetics as a Witness to Hope
If apologetics is not about proving superiority, then what is its proper aim?
The apologetics verse, 1 Peter 3:15 offers a corrective in a command. We are to always be ready to give a defense of or reason for the hope that we have. We are to be ready with an answer for anyone who asks about that hope. Most apologetics literature quotes this verse for its charge to “give a reason.” There is endless talk of rational equipping and intellectual prowess.
But the heart of the command lies in the content of the response: hope.
The Greek term here is, of course, apologia, a reasoned defense. It is a word laden with philosophical and theological significance. But Peter does not instruct believers to give an apologia for the correctness of their worldview. He calls them to articulate the reason for their hope. This is not merely a intellectual defense. It is a spiritual witness.
Hope, in the biblical tradition, is not wishful thinking or naive optimism. It is a settled confidence in the promises of God, grounded in the person and work of Jesus Christ. It is the assurance that death is not the end, that justice will be done, that beauty will endure.
The aim, then, is not intellectual conquest but spiritual invitation. We do not seek to silence objections but to embody and articulate the possibility of new life in Christ. That is what makes apologetics a ministry, not merely an argument.
The Practical Impact of a Better Intention
Reframing apologetics in terms of hope rather than superiority leads to a fundamental transformation in our posture, our practice, and our expectations.
In posture, we move from prideful certainty to humble confidence. We do not speak as masters of truth, but as witnesses to grace.
In practice, our goal shifts from disproving alternative views to offering the credibility and beauty of the gospel. We become less interested in “winning” and more invested in helping others find the hope that is available in Jesus Christ.
In expectation, we recognize that persuasive arguments alone rarely produce lasting faith. What often draws people is not the brilliance of our reasoning but the sincerity of our hope.
As an example, consider the difference in tone between two responses to a skeptic’s question about the problem of evil. One apologist might respond by outlining the free will defense, the soul-making theodicy, or the logical limits of omnipotence. These have their place. But the problem of evil is far too visceral to be treated as primarily logical. This is why the solution to the problem of evil presented in God's Word is not a logical argument, but a personal sacrifice. God doesn’t just observe human suffering; He enters into it. He became like us to suffer for us, and promises to redeem all things. God shared in our suffering so that we can share in His glory.
Effective apologetics often begins not with arguments but with presence. It offers not just ideas but attentiveness. It offers a non-anxious presence that bears witness through integrity and compassion.
All this is not to deny the importance of rigorous argument. We should think and think rightly. But God forbid that we have superior arguments to the neglect of Christ-like love. Apologetics is not just about changing minds; it’s about forming hearts. Our arguments serve best when they are tethered to deep relationships and spiritual concern.
If we misunderstand the purpose of apologetics, we are likely to misuse its tools. We may win arguments while losing credibility. We may defend truth without embodying it. And we may succeed in persuasion while failing in love.
It is fascinating to me that the one time Jesus chose adjectives to describe himself, the two that he used were gentle (πραΰς—elsewhere translated as ‘meek’) and humble (ταπεινὸς τῇ καρδίᾳ—literally ‘lowly of heart’). When Peter directs Christians to be ready with an answer, he requires that they do so with gentleness (πραΰτητος—same word different conjugation) and reverence (φόβου—different word than humble, but but, I mean, it’s hard to be reverent without humility). Conclusion: Christian apologetics should be done in the character of Christ.
So we must ask ourselves, with as much honesty as possible: Why are we doing this? What are we trying to prove—and to whom?
If the answer is grounded in worry, pride, or control, we would do well to reconsider. But if our aim is to offer the hope that is in Christ and to bear witness with gentleness, humility, and respect, then we are walking in the way of Jesus.
And that is the only kind of apologetics worth doing.