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Back in 2005, singer-songwriter Jack Johnson released the song “Good People.” It opens with these lines:

Well, you win, it’s your show now,
so what’s it gonna be,
’cause people will tune in.
How many train wrecks do we need to see
before we lose touch?
Oh, we thought this was low;
it’s bad, getting worse, so
where’d all the good people go?
I’ve been changing channels;
I don’t see them on the TV shows.
Where’d all the good people go,
We got heaps and heaps of what we sow.

Even though this song lamenting the disappearance of character, kindness, and goodness in our society is almost 20 years old now, its lyrics could have been written today. Where have all the good people gone? From sports to the academy to politics to social media and even the church, it seems like good people of character, humility, and fruitfulness (as in the fruit of the Spirit) have disappeared, and in their absence, we indeed have heaps and heaps of what we sow.

Tellin’ It Like It Is

For instance, let’s take our deeply held cultural value of “tellin’ it like it is.”

Put simply, we seem to possess a collective admiration for shooting from the hip, assessing the damage later, and speaking our own truth, no matter the cost or damage. We think we can say what we want, when we want, how we want, to whom we want, no matter what or how it makes people feel. “Just tellin’ it like it is,” we say. It’s hardly a biblical approach to the tongue, but in a culture that cares more about the well-timed jab and landing verbal shots, it often wins out over carefully weighing our words.

As Christians, though, it shouldn’t. After all, where in the Bible do we find that value? The simple fact is: we don’t. “Tellin’ it like it is” is an American cultural value that we’ve read into the Bible, but it’s not something we find there on its own. In fact, when you read Scripture and what it says about the tongue, it actually says the exact opposite: You shouldn’t always say whatever you want, speak your own truth, or “tell it like it is.” That’s not always the gracious or Christ-like thing to do. Rather, you should weigh your words carefully and sometimes not say what you think, because it turns out that’s actually the most beneficial thing to do.

Orthodoxy and Orthopraxy

You see, there’s a difference between being right and being good. “Orthodoxy” and “orthopraxy,” theologians call them. And it’s important to get the balance between those two right.

Put simply, orthodoxy is right belief. It’s right doctrine. It’s holding all the right ideas, believing all the right things, and generally being right about the positions and opinions you hold.

Orthopraxy, on the other hand, is right practice. It’s right behavior. Right action. It’s doing all the right things, living them out, and putting them into action.

And while those two things usually go hand-in-hand, correctly balancing them is by no means guaranteed. There can, at times, be a bit (or a lot) of distance between them. And it’s that distance between orthodoxy and orthopraxy that currently concerns me most in our denomination.

Not Just Being Right

Put simply, I see a lot of emphasis on orthodoxy in our denomination right now. I see people who think they’re right, say they’re right, and will seemingly stop at nothing to convince others they’re right too.

Yet the way they go about that is anything but right. That’s because, whether they intend it or not, I sometimes see them come across as self-assured, arrogant, and willing to bully into submission those who don’t agree with them. In short, they seem to care more about orthodoxy, believing the right things, than orthopraxy, living or acting the right way.

Which Matters More?

What’s more important, though? Orthodoxy or orthopraxy? Believing right or acting right? Which is more biblical? Which is more Christlike? Which is the more important value for us as Christians?

The answer, I think, is both. They’re both important. They’re both biblical. As Jesus says, “Not everyone who says to me, ‘Lord, Lord,’ will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father who is in heaven” (Matt. 7:21, emphasis mine). Likewise, James wrote, “Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says” (James 1:22, emphasis mine).

You see, being right and acting right are both important. They both matter. They’re both biblical. If, in the process of being right, we turn into people who rage against, cut down, criticize, and generally seek to condemn those we think are wrong, then the truth is we’re not actually “right” either. We might still be “orthodox” in the strict doctrinal definition of the word, but we’re no longer orthoprax. And that’s just as wrong, just as unbiblical, and just as sinful as someone believing the wrong things too.

I’ll admit I don’t always strike this balance perfectly in my own life. For instance, just this morning, as I was trying to get my boys out the door and on the way to their nanny’s house, my 2-year-old started unpacking the bag of nanny-house supplies I’d just put by the door. He did that because, 2-year-old that he is, he wanted to play with the Paw Patrol toy I’d just put in it.

I’m ashamed to say that at that moment my orthopraxy went right out the window. Instead of understanding that my son simply needed a bit of gentle correction as I repacked the bag, I started yelling instead. Now, was I “right”? Sure. Kids should listen to their parents and not unpack the things their parents are trying to get ready, even if that really fun toy is right on top of the bag.

But even if I was “right” in what I wanted or expected, I was wrong in how I handled it. I was wrong to get angry and yell at my son. I was wrong to expect a 2-year-old to understand or act any differently. And I was wrong to think, even for a second, that my right belief, my getting-out-the-door orthodoxy, justified my lack of orthopraxy, my unkind reaction toward my son.

The same is true for us. Orthodoxy matters. I’ll be the first to say that it does. But orthopraxy matters too. And if we prioritize one over the other, then the fact is, even though we think we’re right, we might very well end up being wrong.