When I was in the ninth or tenth grade, I read Hal Lindsey’s book The Late Great Planet Earth … a book that catapulted Mr. Lindsey to worldwide fame and enhanced his profile to where he became a household name in Christian circles. In that book, he promoted a theory—based upon his interpretation of Ezekiel 38 & 39 where the prophet talks about Gog & Magog—that Russia would one day lead a massive attack upon the nation of Israel. His thinking influenced many Christians to where they looked (and many, undoubtedly, still do look) for Russia to someday descend upon Israel in large numbers in an attempt to wipe them off the face of the earth. They saw in some of the events of the day evidence of this vast conspiracy and used it as the filter to interpret what was happening in the world.
Perhaps it was happening before then, but it seems like ever since Lindsey’s book hit the shelves, a number of professing Christians eagerly latch onto conspiracy theories—accounts of efforts initiated by a powerful group of folks who are working behind the scenes to orchestrate events that will produce an adverse outcome for the masses but will benefit them without them being viewed as culpable or responsible. I know, a number of years ago when the price of gasoline rose dramatically, there was chatter about it being the result of a conspiracy between governments to drive up the price of oil and create the fear we’d someday run out. During Barack Obama’s presidency, a number of professing Christians claimed he was a secret Muslim who desired to be president so he could sabotage the constitution and implement sharia law. Even in recent months, the covid-19 outbreak has been characterized by some as a conspiracy—events exploited and restrictions imposed by Donald Trump’s enemies designed to cripple the economy, drive up unemployment, and prevent his re-election.
Why is it some folks from within the Body of Christ seem so eager to embrace conspiracy theories? Why do we give in to this kind of paranoid speculation? As I’ve thought about that, I believe there are three underlying factors.
Conspiracy theories make us feel special. There’s a sense in which people who embrace conspiracy theories look at the world through a lens that says, “The general public has been snookered and made to look like fools by the media and/or government. But I’m not so gullible and naïve—I know better and I see what’s really going on.” There’s a clandestine sense of narcissism lurking in the shadows—a belief we’re keenly aware and informed while the masses are simpleminded and clueless.
And the unfortunate thing is that, in this day of 24-hour news channels with a distinctive bias and websites dedicated to content with a specific viewpoint, we can more or less isolate ourselves in an echo chamber that reinforces our beliefs. We can surround ourselves with subject matter and opinions that never challenge or question our thinking but serve only to fortify it. That’s why challenging someone’s belief in a conspiracy theory is often interpreted by them as a personal attack—they’ve entered into an atmosphere of assumptive concurrence to where any pushback is perceived as antagonistic and combative. Plus … they don’t want to admit they’re wrong. After all—once you’ve staked your reputation on your belief in a certain conspiracy, it’s harder for your ego to disengage from the illusion. Every piece of contrarian evidence becomes part of the conspiracy and expands the scope of the deception.
As someone once said, conspiracy theories are “self-perpetuating rationalization machines.” They eat facts, distort reality, and create a criticism-proof belief system.
Conspiracy theories are an attempt to make sense of a confusing and complicated world. Quite often in life, things happen we didn’t see coming, or that we never imagined we’d have to deal with. Events transpire for which there is no seeming precedent. Conspiracy theories offer a sense of plausibility as we try to understand how and why something occurred.
As humans, we don’t deal well with unanswered questions. We don’t like random. We don’t like ambiguity. And we don’t like living under the realization we’re at the mercy of forces we can’t control or, often, comprehend. We want to know who’s responsible and how they did it.
Conspiracy theories are a way for some folks to give meaning to baffling events that would otherwise frighten them. Without a coherent explanation for why certain things happen, they’re left to conclude (1) that the universe is a purposeless environment where randomly cruel things happen, or (2) God is an uncaring and incomprehensible deity. Rather than try to wrestle those ponderous questions to the ground, the development of a conspiracy theory provides a measure of solace and emotional relief. In a weird way, the idea there’s a small and powerful group of people pulling strings behind the scenes is comforting because it implies at least someone is in control of all this madness. But what’s ironic is that the far-reaching implications of the existence of such a group and their ability to pull of something of the imagined magnitude is often much more frightening than the event the theory is attempting to explain.
Conspiracy theories make life seem more exciting. Everybody loves a good thriller—that’s why the James Bond franchise has been around for decades. It’s more exciting to imagine there’s something nefarious and sinister is going on behind the scenes, even though the idea that a government—an entity notoriously characterized by leaks, inefficiency, and wastefulness—could be carrying on a secret plot that would require dozens, if not hundreds, of people to work collaboratively for months, is almost comical. The notion that a government would be able to squelch leaks and keep a secret from the general public for months or years about some secret initiative is preposterous. Again—the explanation is much more far-fetched than the event itself.
An incredible irony of this whole thing is that the people that are most likely to believe the government is too incompetent to be trusted are often the ones who believe it successfully orchestrated a massive, covert operation. Does anybody else see the inconsistency of this?
The day-in, day-out workings of government is pretty pedantic and boring, but a good conspiracy theory adds drama to what is otherwise a mundane endeavor. And … such theories are addictive—in fact, some people can become completely entrenched in a conspiratorial worldview. Just as some people are prone to see a demon behind every bush and an evil spirit around every corner, so some people see a conspiracy in every angst-creating event. In this internet age, where a plethora of information is at our fingertips, we can easily succumb to confirmation bias—embracing information that confirms what we already think and discounting information that doesn’t.
As Christians, we have to do better! Whenever anyone that purports to be a follower of Jesus puts a post on social media that espouses some conspiracy theory, I just want to cringe. For it compromises our witness … reinforces the cultural narrative that we’re a bunch of mindless people who will fall for anything … and it makes us look paranoid. We come off as folks who cannot deal with the realities of life and have to concoct an elaborate explanation to give a reason for those things in life we don’t like. It augments the notion espoused by a secular culture that we, as Christians, have a fear-and-hatred based worldview—one that no one in their right mind would want to have anything to do with.
So please—if you’re going to champion some wild conspiracy theory, don’t tell anyone you’re a professing follower of Jesus. Not only are you bearing false witness (which the Bible warns us not to do), but you’re also embarrassing and undermining those of us who are trying to live out a winsome, attractive witness before a suspicious and skeptical world.
Now—that doesn’t mean we should thoughtlessly swallow everything the government … or institutions … or the media … says. Certainly the president and those closest to him tried to deflect scrutiny during the Watergate inquiry, and the Catholic Church covered up the heinous actions of a number of priests over the course of a number of years and, in some cases, decades. Given the preponderance of spin, it isn’t wrong to be skeptical or suspicious. We should be watchful … vigilant … ask insightful exploratory questions. In his first letter to the church in Thessalonica, the apostle Paul said, “Don’t be gullible. Check out everything and keep only what’s good.” But at the same time, there’s a big difference between questioning the narrative and peddling misleading theories as truth just because it’s different than what the mainstream media is reporting. And we need to question the reliability of the sources from which we get our information just as vigorously as we question the various explanations they have to offer.
In 1 Corinthians 13—the infamous love chapter—after Paul goes to great lengths to paint a verbal picture of what love looks like, he closes out the section by talking about how he has matured and grown … how he used to think and speak and respond as a child, but now he has put away childish things. Jesus, also, said that we should be people of the truth because the truth is what sets us free. As followers of Jesus, lets quit floating out these ungrounded and baseless theories we latch on to from time to time. For the fact of the matter is … we don’t need to feel more special—we’re already deeply loved by a God who values us so much His Son went to the cross on our behalf. Nor do we need to manufacture something to make life seem more exciting, for we’re a part of the most significant, compelling cause in the history of humankind. All we need to do is live out the transformed life of character and integrity that Jesus calls us to live out regardless of the circumstances in which we find ourselves. And concocting fanciful, absurd explanations for contrary things that are going on and spouting off about a variety of conspiracy theories doesn’t add anything to our ability to do that.