Our Means in Apologetics
Toward Personalist Apologetics
Most Christians are drawn to apologetics for good reasons. We want to defend our faith. We want to give honest answers to genuine questions. We want to help others believe. But, many of the reasons we feel most compelled to do apologetics are the very things that keep us from doing it the way Jesus would.
In the past two posts, I discussed the impact this has on our vision of apologetics and our intention for apologetics:
Other than the impact on what we think apologetics is and why we think apologetics is done, there is also an impact on how we do apologetics.
Christians, especially in the West, often rush to what seems effective. Ministries absorb the tactics of modern marketing. We measure success by results. We copy what works in other fields—sales, politics, education—and assume it will work in Christian ministry too. And maybe some benefit is gained from prudent best practices. But in doing so, we are tempted to neglect who we’re talking to, what kind of truth we’re speaking about, and who we’re supposed to be.
Like everything Jesus calls us to do, it is possible to do the right thing in the wrong way. But the right thing done in the wrong way is the wrong thing. We need to consider not only the message we proclaim but also the method we use, the people we are reaching, and the kind of person we’re becoming in the process.
The Common Means: Pragmatic Persuasion
For many, apologetics has become a kind of performance. It’s strategy-driven. It’s goal-oriented. Certainly, we have Biblical precedence for wanting to be persuasive (Acts 18:4; 2 Corinthians 5:11). But, if we are not careful, the desire to be persuasive becomes a license to be pragmatic. Sadly, apologetics has often turned into modern sophistry, empty arguing with the goal of rhetorical victory.
This approach begins by leaning heavily on technique. Success is measured by debate wins, viral videos, or the number of hands raised at the end of an event. Even in casual conversations, there’s often an undercurrent of control, subtle tactics to corner or outwit.
At its heart, this method treats people as problems to be solved or audiences to be swayed. It relies on the power of arguments. The idea is that if you can overwhelm someone intellectually, they’ll eventually surrender spiritually, which is demonstrably false. It assumes that belief is the automatic result of presenting the right evidence at the right time with the right flair.
Underlying much of this is a misunderstanding of the human person. People aren’t just brains on a stick, minds in need of ideas. They are complex, relational beings with histories, fears, longings, and loyalties. They are not empty vessels waiting to be filled with facts. They are image-bearers, worthy of respect, careful attention, and patience.
Problems with Pragmatic Persuasion
The problem with pragmatic apologetics isn’t just that it occasionally fails. The deeper issue is that it often succeeds for the wrong reasons.
When persuasion becomes the goal, we quickly forget that persons are not projects. They are not objects; they are subjects. They are not the means to an end. They are the end.
Please don’t read what I didn’t write. Of course, people are not the end, in the sense of “the chief end.” But insomuch as they are the recipients of God’s mercy and grace, they should be the recipients of our consideration. When apologetics ignores this, it ceases to be Christian, no matter how “biblical” the arguments may sound.
Think of it this way: As a Christian (I’m assuming most people reading this will be), what would you expect from someone with a different belief system who is trying to convert you? Would a three-line syllogism work? Would a recitation of a YouTube video work? Would leading questions work? Would pointing out logical fallacies in your thinking work?
I would hope not.—[insert Kierkegaardian dash here]—Then why would we expect any of that to work for them?
Manipulation, even well-intentioned, is still manipulation. It violates the moral freedom of the other. It bypasses relationship. It replaces patience with pressure. It makes belief a submission to argument rather than a response to love. And over time, it trains the apologist to value effectiveness over integrity.
However, you define manipulation, I believe it is safe to say that Jesus never manipulated. He never forced. He never schemed or sold. He told the truth, even when it confused his listeners or drove them away. And he often did that on purpose! He met people personally, listened to them carefully, and called them gently.
When we rush to “close the deal,” we short-circuit the possibility of true trust. When we talk over people’s questions, we rob them of the dignity of being heard. When we reduce Christianity to a set of airtight propositions, we distort the nature of the gospel itself.
Remember: truth isn’t just a message; it’s a Person. And people are not changed by winning arguments. They are changed by encountering the love of that Person.
A Better Means: A Personalist Approach
So what is the corrective?
We must be faithful. Faithfulness means telling the truth, not adjusting it. It means being more concerned with integrity than with results. It means speaking as those under authority, not as those trying to gain control.
Faithful apologetics remembers that the gospel isn’t a product to sell, and people aren’t consumers to manipulate. It resists the pressure to simplify what is complex or to spin what is costly. It doesn’t panic when questions don’t have quick answers.
I would think that every Christian will be in agreement here. We all want to be faithful in our apologetics. The difficulty is further understanding what faithful apologetics looks like.
We must be reasonable. I mean logic is in the name, right? But, this is where we must proceed with caution. Remember the necessary ingredients: gentleness, respect, and humility. In our cultural moment of viral soundbites and “1 vs. 20 debates,” logical arguments are often weaponized as performance rather than offered for understanding.
Good apologetics utilizes reason, but it doesn’t idolize it and it doesn’t weaponize it. It honors logic, evidence, and clarity. But it doesn’t pretend these alone can carry the weight of belief. Instead of wielding arguments as weapons, we offer them as gifts. Instead of dominating the conversation, we participate in it.
[Sidenote: Perhaps Paul’s discussion of our spiritual weapons that tear down strongholds comes to mind (2 Corinthians 10:3-4). I invite you to look carefully at what is being torn down, namely arguments and arrogance, and what is being built up, namely people (v. 8). Also, notice that Paul’s appeal is done in the context of—you guessed it—meekness and gentleness (v. 1).]
We must tell the truth about doubt, complexity, and even mystery. People deserve honesty. But they also deserve space to wrestle. They deserve answers that don’t just silence questions but honor them. Reason is a necessary ingredient, but not the whole recipe.
We must be personal. We are not called to give arguments. We are called to lovingly help people. Arguments are often a way we can help. But the moment the coherence of our arguments becomes more important than the compassion of our help is the moment we are no longer doing apologetics in the way of Jesus.
Apologetics ought to be less about presentation and more about presence. Less about winning, and more about witnessing. Less about getting someone to agree with you, and more about helping them see something worth trusting.
Personal apologetics means remembering that people are not just minds—they are whole persons. They don’t just bring objections and questions. They bring their pain, their hopes, their stories. They long for belonging, not just persuasion. They want to be seen, not diagnosed.
Take time to consider the implications of Jesus identifying himself as the Truth. He didn’t say “I’ll show you the truth.” He said, “I am the truth.” Truth personified cannot be reduced to propositions. We should expect our witness of that truth to be reduced to an argument.
This kind of personal apologetics is grounded in the significance of the persons involved. The person asking for a reason for hope, the person giving that reason for hope, and the Person who is that reason for hope. Prioritizing the relationships among these three puts everything in proper perspective.
Personal apologetics requires patience. It requires humility. It requires the willingness to walk with people rather attempting than fix them. It demands that we see others not as audiences or opponents, but as neighbors and fellow seekers.
The Practical Impact of a Better Means
What does this look like in practice?
Time instead of technique. Yes, today is the day of salvation, and now is the time of repentance. But, as the saying goes, “A person persuaded again her will is of the same opinion still.” People don’t need our persuasiveness as much as they need our patience. We ought to take questions as the come and listen as long as it takes to ask them. Those of us who have been working with people for a while can attest to this: presence is stronger than any argument. When we trust God to do the work that we can’t, we give people room to think, to struggle, to walk away and return.
Conversation instead of combat. It is important to remember that the logos in apologia is the same logos in dialogia. I would dare say, we need more dialogia in our apologia. (Copyright: Travis Satterfield, 2025) Imagine a Christian apologetics that takes seriously all of the Scripture that directs how we say things more than what we say. Think of what an apologetics conversation looks like in which the Christian practices being quick to hear and slow to speak (James 1:19). What if we got really good at knowing when not to answer a fool, lest we become like him, and when to answer a fool, lest he be wise in his own eyes (Proverbs 26:4-5). In other words, our apologetics will improve when our conversational abilities do so.
Stories instead of syllogisms. One of the most prominent Christian apologists of our day begins one of his flagship books with this admonition:
“More often than not, it is what you are rather than what you say that will bring an unbeliever to Christ. This, then, is the ultimate apologetic. For the ultimate apologetic is: your life.”
I am sincerely thankful for this brilliant Christian philosopher and all the wonderful work he has done for the kingdom of God and the gospel of Christ. Nevertheless, the irony is not lost on me, that he proceeds to spend the rest of the book telling us what to say rather than how to live. Look, I get it. That’s not what an apologetics book is supposed to do. But is the Christian life the ultimate apologetic or not? Just saying.
What this means for us is that our personal testimony of what Jesus means to us is the best resource we have when witnessing to the hope that is in us.
Commitment instead of consent. Agreement with facts about God is not the same as entrusting yourself to Him. Consent can be an abstract nod of the head. But commitment is personal. It requires trust. It allows for transformation. The goal isn’t to convince someone of a set of propositions, but to invite them into a relationship. Apologetics, then, should not stop at getting someone to say, “That makes sense.” It should help them want to say, “I will follow.” That’s the difference that matters most.
So much of what’s gone wrong in apologetics comes down to forgetting who we are and who we’re speaking to. We are not agents of persuasion. We are not salespeople. We are not debaters looking for a win. We are followers of Jesus, sent to help others see the truth—not by force, but by faithfulness.
If apologetics is going to be truly Christian, it must be shaped by Christlike love. It must be truthful, but also tender. It must be rigorous, but also relational. It must speak, but also serve.
Because in the end, apologetics is not about showing others that Christianity is the best idea. It’s about helping them encounter the one who is Truth, Goodness, and Beauty. It’s about witnessing—not proving—what we’ve come to know: that life in Christ is worth everything.