By Steve Longenecker

“A time for every matter under heaven” (Eccl. 3): This pithy line from the Wisdom literature calls us to a balanced faith walk. Balance understands that faith is complicated, and that some practices are appropriate sometimes but not always. “For everything there is a season.”

Well, not quite. For some things there is never a season.

Genocide, racism, sexism, and nativism are devoid of a plausible faith-based argument and always wrong. The Brethren categorical opposition to slavery was correct. Balance, moderation, or complexity do not excuse us from opposition to certain outrageous sins.

On the other side of the coin, devotion to Christ is limitless. Balance doesn’t apply here, either. We are fools for Christ. We forgive seven times seventy, love our enemies, go second mile, and feed the hungry. The early Brethren liked John 15:5, which suggests that the measure of faith is the fruit it produces. May our vines sag heavy with fruit.

But, other than a few exceptions, mostly for everything there is a season.

There is a time for the head and a time for the heart.

At bottom, faith embodies a relationship with Jesus, which is the heart. Faith that doesn’t tug on the heart from time to time feels cold.

If, however, we have too much confidence in our personal pipeline to Jesus—if we have too much faith in our heart—mistakes happen. The traditional Brethren believed that the ultimate authority was the faith community rather than individually discerned wisdom. The Dunker God spoke to the church, not to individuals, and the early Brethren firmly circumscribed the Self. They understood the risks of unfettered individualism but also lacked balance between the head and the heart.

In our time, the pendulum has swung the opposite way with the disappearance of congregational and denominational authority. We, too, lack balance; we have unfettered individualism. Perhaps we can restore moderation by offsetting our confidence in ourselves with rationalism drawn from small groups, mentors, formal education, and a well-rounded reading list. There is a time to listen to the still small voice and a time to test our heart against the wisdom others.

There is a time to be silent and a time to speak.

I was raised to vote my conscious in church meetings and, if necessary, be the only dissenting vote. I have done this. One of my pastors told me to “cause trouble,” by which he meant that I should challenge the congregation to think in new ways. I considered this a calling. On the other hand, Paul was very explicit about subordinating the Self for the sake of unity. There is a time to stir the pot and a time to go along.

For everything there is a season in our public lives.

For Jesus there was a time to overturn tables and drive cattle out of the temple. Faced with injustice, he found a season for anger, leadership, and decisive action.

But normally Jesus was civil. He entertained cordial discussions with Pharisees, Sadducees, and tax collectors, mostly opponents, and he most certainly rejected the Zealots, violent insurgents.

The gentle path of Jesus nevertheless broke new ground. Through his uplifting treatment of social outsiders, notably Samaritans, lepers, unclean women, the woman by the well, and Zaccheaus, a tax collector, he upended prevailing thought and inverted the social order.

In our troubled era, we might best be fools for Christ by practicing Christian civility with someone whose politics or theology we consider very wrong—someone we consider a Pharisee—and having coffee with them. Without caving on core values, we might confess that we do not monopolize wisdom, and we might learn something from our alleged-Pharisaical-friends. Indeed, in these times, this Christ-like civility would be revolutionary. May we find the balance between listening and witnessing. For (almost) everything there is a season.

Steve Longenecker is Professor of History, emeritus, at Bridgewater College (VA).