Discernment Without Disdain

I’d like to consider myself somewhat of a reader, but I’m not entirely sure. What I do know is that if I am one, it wasn’t until after I came to the Faith. The first two books I bought and treasured soon after giving my life to the Lord were a blue-covered hardback of Strong's Exhaustive Concordance of the Bible by James Strong and Love Your God With All Your Mind: The Role of Reason in the Life of the Soul by J.P. Moreland. That was back in 1999.

Animated characters are featured in a scene promoting the theme "Discernment Without Disdain," highlighting discussions from "The Shack," "The King of Kings," and the art of discernment, inspired by Philippians 1:15-18.

Since then, the only book that nearly made me cry was William P. Young’s The Shack: Where Tragedy Confronts Eternity. Maybe it was because I had young children at the time, but the description of how Mack’s youngest daughter, six-year-old Missy, was kidnapped and subsequently murdered was, for me, the most immersive and heartbreaking part of the book.

A major theme in The Shack is the problem of evil and suffering. The novel attempts to address the question of why a loving God allows terrible things to happen. Grace, forgiveness, and the importance of a personal relationship with God above mere religious structure are all allegorically revealed to Mack through the Trinity—whom he meets at the very shack, hidden deep in the Oregon wilderness, where Missy was presumed to have been taken.

Having sold over 20 million copies, the book—originally written for Young’s children—was both widely praised and fiercely criticized. Christian men I admired, along with many others, blasted the book for its “heretical” portrayal of the Trinity: Papa (God the Father) was presented as a nurturing African-American woman, Jesus as a Middle Eastern carpenter, and Sarayu (the Holy Spirit) as an ethereal, Asian woman.

While the backlash came from, I assume, well-meaning Christians concerned with preserving orthodoxy, I believe much of the criticism was misguided. Even today, there are Christians—some of them self-appointed apologists—who seem ready to deride nearly any Christian content that doesn’t reflect a 100% theologically airtight depiction of the Faith, at least as they define it.

Take, for example, the newly released animated film The King of Kings, inspired by a children’s book by Charles Dickens. It came out on April 11, 2025, and although it’s doing well at the box office, it’s already been criticized by this same crowd and I just don’t get it.

Some of the arguments I’ve heard include claims that the gospel wasn’t presented clearly and couldn’t have been—since Dickens is believed to have held some Unitarian views, which are generally considered to water down Christian doctrine. While I don’t know the motivation of those behind The King of Kings, I highly doubt the goal was to promote Unitarian theology. Call me simplistic or naive, but I watched the movie. To me, the Gospel—the good news that the true King of Kings laid down His life for the sins of the world so that we might live—was clearly and appropriately displayed. And let’s not forget—it’s a children’s movie, not a theological treatise.

When exercising discernment, we have to consider motivation. The natural intent of Christian music, books, films, and other forms of art is to be enjoyed. No Christian painter thinks, “What can I create that will make people immediately turn away?” No filmmaker produces a movie hoping people will walk out during the first five minutes (though admittedly, I’ve been tempted with a few). Composers want their songs on repeat. Authors want their books read and reread. These mediums aren’t designed to teach theology as in a seminary classroom—they’re meant to move, inspire, and point toward truth.

At best, Christian art doesn’t replace biblical theology—it points us to it. And even when motivations fall short, we should remember what the Apostle Paul said about others preaching Christ from selfish ambition:

“Some indeed preach Christ from envy and rivalry, but others from good will... The former proclaim Christ out of selfish ambition... What then? Only that in every way, whether in pretense or in truth, Christ is proclaimed, and in that I rejoice. Yes, and I will rejoice.” (Philippians 1:15–18)

Paul’s surprising response was joy—not because the messengers were pure, but because the message of Christ was getting out. If he could respond that way, how much more should we?

Since The Shack was first published in 2007, I’ve never met anyone who based their theology of the Trinity on its allegorical portrayal. I doubt that person even exists. But I have met plenty of Christians—and even non-Christians—who found its exploration of pain, suffering, and God's love to be deeply moving and even helpful.

Likewise, I’ve never heard of anyone visiting the Sistine Chapel and converting to the Secular Franciscan Order on the spot. But many have walked out in awe, glorifying God for its beauty. Protestants have been stirred by The Passion of the Christ without becoming Catholic just as Arminians have loved The Pilgrim’s Progress without embracing John Bunyan’s Calvinism. To sum it up—no one is getting their theology on child-rearing from Amy Grant’s Baby, Baby.

There are countless examples: The Chronicles of Narnia, The Lord of the Rings, The Chosen—each created with artistic license and theological nuance. These aren’t meant to be replacements for Scripture, but signposts that point toward it. As with John the Baptist, the goal is to say: “Behold the Lamb of God.”

So yes, let’s use discernment when engaging with Christian content—but let’s do it wisely, with grace, humility, and common sense.

But what do you think?

Micah Coate, President and Host of Salvation and Stuff