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I used to think changing your mind was a sign of weakness.
Growing up evangelical, consistency was everything. You found the truth once, planted your flag, and defended that hill until you died on it. Flip-flopping was for politicians and people who didn't really believe what they claimed to believe. Real Christians had convictions that didn't waver, theology that didn't shift, and certainty that could weather any storm.
Then I had kids, and everything I thought I knew about God started cracking open.
It wasn't one dramatic moment but a thousand small ones. Watching my daughter's tender heart break over a death and realizing I couldn't actually explain why God allows suffering. Seeing my son's innate sense of justice flare up at unfairness and wondering if maybe kids understand the kingdom better than adults do. Reading bedtime Bible stories and hearing myself stumble over the violent parts, suddenly aware that these weren't just ancient tales but stories I was teaching my children to see as holy.
I found myself changing positions I'd held for decades, not because I was becoming “liberal” or losing my faith, but because my understanding of God was growing. And I felt guilty about it for months.
The Idol of Intellectual Consistency
We've made an idol out of never changing our minds. In Christian culture especially, intellectual consistency has become a virtue that ranks high in the list of spiritual values. We celebrate people who "never wavered" and side-eye anyone whose theology has evolved over time. We act like growth is somehow incompatible with conviction.
But this obsession with staying the same isn't actually biblical…it's cultural. We've absorbed the idea that real truth doesn't change, so real believers shouldn't either. We've confused the unchanging nature of God with the unchanging nature of our understanding of God, as if our finite human brains could capture the infinite in one try and never need to adjust.
The result is communities of people who are terrified to think new thoughts, ask hard questions, or admit when they've been wrong. We'd rather double down on bad ideas than face the humility of growth. We've turned discipleship into a commitment to intellectual stagnation.
A Different Kind of Faithfulness
But what if changing your mind was actually a spiritual discipline? What if intellectual humility was a form of discipleship?
The apostle Paul, who we often celebrate as the foundation of Christian theology, dramatically changed his mind about pretty much everything. His entire ministry was built on the revolutionary idea that his previous understanding had been wrong. He went from persecuting Christians to becoming one, from believing the gospel was for Jews only to arguing it was for everyone, from seeing the law as the path to righteousness to declaring it insufficient.
And he didn't apologize for it. He didn't spend his letters explaining how he'd always secretly believed these things or trying to make his dramatic theological evolution seem less dramatic. He owned his mind-changing as part of his spiritual journey.
Jesus himself seemed to expect this kind of growth from his followers. "You have heard it said... but I tell you" wasn't just a teaching technique…it was an invitation to let go of old ways of thinking. He consistently challenged people to reconsider what they thought they knew about God, religion, and righteousness.
The Grace of Getting It Wrong
Here's what I've learned about changing my mind: it's not actually about being wrong and then being right. It's about being human and then being more human. It's about recognizing that my understanding of God should be growing as long as I'm growing, shifting as my capacity for love and wisdom expands.
The biblical word for this is repentance…metanoia in Greek, which literally means "changing your mind." We've reduced repentance to feeling bad about behavior, but the original concept was much bigger. It was about fundamental shifts in understanding, new ways of seeing reality, transformed perspectives on what matters.
When Jesus called people to repent, he wasn't just asking them to feel sorry. He was inviting them to think differently about everything.
Three Ways to Practice Mind-Changing
Get curious about your certainties.
The beliefs you hold most tightly are probably the ones most worth examining. Ask yourself: when did I start believing this? What experiences shaped this conviction? What would it mean if I was wrong about this? Not because you need to abandon every belief, but because curiosity keeps your faith flexible.
Seek out people who disagree with you thoughtfully.
Not internet trolls or bad-faith actors, but intelligent, sincere people who've come to different conclusions than you have. Read books by authors who challenge your assumptions. Listen to podcasts that make you uncomfortable. Let yourself be taught by people you don't fully agree with.
Practice saying "I don't know" and "I changed my mind."
These might be the most spiritual phrases in the English language, and we hardly ever use them in religious contexts. Start small…admit uncertainty about minor theological questions or acknowledge when new information has shifted your perspective on something. Train yourself to see intellectual humility as a strength rather than a weakness.
The God Who Grows With Us
The most beautiful thing about changing your mind is that it doesn't threaten God…it reveals more of God. Every time your understanding deepens, every time your perspective shifts, every time you discover you were wrong about something, you're creating space for a bigger vision of divine love and truth.
God isn't diminished by your growth. God is glorified by it. The God who is "the same yesterday, today, and forever" is also the God who makes "all things new," including your understanding of who God is and how God works in the world.
Your theology is supposed to evolve. Your faith is supposed to deepen. Your understanding is supposed to grow. That's not backsliding…that's true discipleship.
So…change your mind. It might be the most faithful thing you do.
What's one belief you've changed your mind about? I'd love to hear your story in the comments.
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One thing that’s changed is my belief that it matters much the details of what you believe in the grand scheme of things. I tell folks that there’s not going to be an exam waiting on them at heavens gate. Answers are really not as important as the questions one comes to form as life and faith evolve. I’ve come to realize it’s about faith, not belief. Faith in a few things-that the Creator made me out of love and that the Creator is love itself. “From stardust you were made and to stardust you will return.”
Marcus Borg (if you don’t recognize him you should add him to your reading list) defines faith as trust. Trust in the Creator-trust in the Holy.
Welcome to the journey of spiritual formation. It began before you were created and continues throughout life and beyond.
I am a work in the progress changing my thinking that I knew anything about God. His power. His sovereignity. His mercy. His love. I let go of thinking I had any ability to define what He is. I slip back into old ways sometimes, and when I do, I remind myself to look outside to the planet he created for us to care for. That is my very real reminder that I know nothing about the awesomeness of God.