A Quiet Defense in a Loud World

Years ago, I was part of the apologetics speaking and writing circuit. I believe in the importance of defending the faith, but over time I became somewhat disillusioned. I watched people use truth like a club—playing verbal chess matches where the goal was to win, not to love. Audiences were often bored or combative, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something essential was missing.

What bothered me wasn’t the content—I still hold deeply to presuppositional truths in the tradition of Van Til and John Frame. I believe that all human reasoning begins with foundational beliefs, and that without Christ, the foundations collapse. But what began to feel off was the posture.

Too often, the apologetics world becomes a game of “gotchas,” where cleverness trumps compassion and the goal is to outwit the opponent. And while we may win the argument, we often lose the person. Somewhere along the way, the emphasis shifted from defense to dominance.

But the biblical model paints a different picture—one I find myself returning to again and again.

Peter writes:

“Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give the reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect…”
—1 Peter 3:15

This is often quoted as a justification for sharp, reactive debates—but consider the context. Peter is writing to persecuted believers, people under real threat, and yet their lives were so radiant with hope that others felt compelled to ask, “How are you still standing?” The apologetic didn’t begin with an argument—it began with a life that glowed in the dark.

They weren’t out debating on corners. They were simply living with such supernatural steadiness that others were drawn to it. And when asked, they were ready—with gentleness, with reverence.

So how do we do that today—especially in a world that feels more than it thinks? Where attention spans are short, reading habits are shallow, and emotions often override logic?

Here’s what I’m learning:

• Learn all the arguments—but don’t lead with them. Classical, evidential, presuppositional—they’re all valuable tools. But tools are meant to build, not to beat.

• Let character lead content. A calm, humble, hope-filled Christian is more disruptive (in the best way) than any syllogism.

• Speak in story and metaphor. Many people today need their imagination stirred before their intellect can awaken. Sometimes a song, a parable, or a moment of beauty does more than a lecture. I have a lot of people give me strange looks these days when I tell them I am publishing AI music... but I'm just trying to send messaging. It's free, nothing I do is monetized.. so maybe it reaches one person in Hanoi or Ho Chi Minh city where I have my biggest group of listeners right now.

• Focus on the one. One-on-one conversations are where apologetics shines brightest. That’s where people feel safe to voice doubts, to wrestle honestly, and to meet the gospel in all its grace.

• Ask better questions. Don’t just answer objections—listen deeply. Often the “intellectual” argument is hiding an emotional wound.

I still believe in apologetics. I still believe in truth. But more than ever, I believe in hope-filled apologetics—not abrasive, not performative, but deeply grounded in Christ and visibly different from the world around us.

That’s the calling I feel today: not to win debates, but to bear witness. In blog posts, in music, in quiet conversations over coffee.

Hope without the hype.
Questions without the snark.
Truth, spoken in love.

If that sounds like a contradiction in today’s culture, maybe it’s exactly what we need to recover.

Song: Quiet Defense in a Loud World