There's plenty of pop culture tendencies that manifest in our overly-connected world of social media that are both obnoxious and obtuse. Chief among them perhaps is the habit of pseudo-intellectuals posting a premise or claim, only to exhibit indignation when someone dares to question or challenge it.
Of course this is commonplace in political exchanges – where shallow, emotion-based, thought-averse hot takes flow like milk and honey. But it's also become second nature to those issuing declarations about public health, business ethics, and even theology.
Though I have largely sworn off any fascination with futilely engaging philosophical adversaries on Twitter, I'm constantly amused by those who use the medium to share their ironclad conclusions about heretofore metaphysical quandaries. When anyone doubts those conclusions or asks for clarification, the would-be social media Socrates will curtly respond with, "Look it up" or, "I'm not going to do your homework for you."
Colin Wright, an evolutionary biologist and managing editor for Quillette, expressed a similar observation recently:
There's probably some truth to his conclusion. But I admit that what strikes me is not the insecurity of the legions of Twitter crusaders, it's how foreign this philosophical approach is to me. It's contrary to the most basic tenets of my worldview.
It's not enough for me to tell you that I think all human life from the moment of conception is sacred and inviolable. I need to tell you why I think that. I need to explain that our value is based not in what we do, but in who we are – beings that unlike all other creatures, bear the image of Almighty God.
It's not enough for me to tell you that I think transgender ideology is cruel and abusive primarily towards the very individuals it claims to protect. I need to tell you why I think that. I need you to understand that blurring the meaningful distinctions between the two sexes is robbing humanity of a divinely crafted balance; that erasing the fascinating mystique and grandeur of femininity or the intriguing purpose and aura of masculinity will create a calamitous cultural poverty from which we will never recover.
It's not enough for me to tell you that I trust the Bible. I need to tell you why I am convinced of its divine inspiration, its inerrancy and infallibility. I need you to understand the trustworthiness of its human authors, the supreme confidence that can be placed in the preservation of its manuscripts and faithful transmission of their message. I want to marvel with you at the spine-tingling, jaw-dropping accuracy of its predictive prophecy, the unfathomable scientific accuracy of words written millennia prior to modern scientific knowledge, and the overwhelming accumulation of archaeological evidence validating its claims.
It's not enough for me to tell you I'm a Christian. I need to tell you why I am. I need you to understand that Christianity provides the only meaningful, logical explanation for all that is: an ordered, purposeful universe, mortally wounded with a terminal curse that inflicts pain on its inhabitants – inhabitants that somehow possess the ability to reason, feel, experience, and discover. I need to explain how the Christian worldview alone not only elucidates these otherwise inexplicable realities of existence, but simultaneously provides their only hopeful culmination.
Of course I want others to "do their homework" on issues like these, but I'm so convicted by truth, and so eternally grateful about the implications of that truth for the fate of my own soul, I am driven by an urgent, unyielding desire to do that homework with them, side by side – in the desperate hope that just some of the joy I possess will rub off on them.
My eponym, Jesus' impulsive disciple Peter, commanded Christians to "always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have."
I have so much hope. The reason for it all begins in a borrowed manger and ends at an empty tomb. And contrary to current social trends, I'd love for you to ask me why.
