A few days ago, I found myself in a conversation that stayed with me much longer than I expected.
It began under one of a young YouTuber’s videos. He often shares about his recent conversion after what he describes as a near-death experience, and many of his teachings have attracted a large Christian audience.
One particular video focused on the Sabbath.
As I listened, I realized that many of his conclusions closely reflected Seventh-day Adventist doctrine, although he never presented his channel as such. Believing he might simply be unfamiliar with other Christian perspectives, I joined the conversation.
I wasn’t trying to win an argument. At least, I don’t think I was.
I simply wanted to offer what has long been the more widely held understanding among Christians, hoping he might reconsider some of his conclusions.
He kindly replied, but remained completely convinced that everything he taught was based solely on Scripture. At one point, he even remarked that an AI would reach the same conclusions if asked.
That sentence made me pause.
Not because I was offended, but because it reminded me how easily we can mistake confidence for truth. Scripture has never promised that merely reading the Bible guarantees right interpretation. Without the Holy Spirit, we cannot understand it properly. Faithful believers have wrestled with the same passages for centuries, and humility has always been as necessary as knowledge.
I tried to respond once more, suggesting that AI often reflects the assumptions found in the questions we ask and the sources we consult. But it quickly became clear that neither of us was going to persuade the other.
So I decided to let the conversation end there.
For several days afterward, though, I carried an unexpected heaviness.
Had I spoken when I should have remained silent?
Should I have said more? Or less?
Then, while watching another of his videos, I came across a comment from another Christian. She expressed many of the same concerns I had quietly been carrying. Reading her words didn’t prove that I was right, but it reminded me that I wasn’t carrying this burden alone.
More importantly, it reminded me of something I too easily forget:
Conviction belongs to the Holy Spirit.
We are sometimes called to speak the truth. We are never called to force someone to receive it.
Paul instructed Timothy,
“The Lord’s servant must not be quarrelsome, but must be kind to everyone, able to teach, and patient when wronged. He must gently instruct those who oppose him, in the hope that God will grant them repentance leading them to a knowledge of the truth.”
— 2 Timothy 2:24–25 (BSB)
Recognize the boundary of your calling. We offer the words, but God opens the heart. We present the truth, but God gives the vision. Not every dialogue is a door; some are merely battles. True wisdom lies in knowing which to enter.
This experience also made me realize something about myself.
If the channel had openly presented itself as Seventh-day Adventist, I probably would never have entered the discussion. Everyone is free to follow their conscience, and I have no desire to spend my life debating every theological difference I encounter.
My concern wasn’t that someone held different convictions.
It was that many new believers might assume they were hearing the historic consensus of Christianity without realizing they were being introduced to a particular denominational perspective.
Perhaps this matters to me because I know how easy it is to be sincerely led in the wrong direction. Before I fully entrusted my life to Christ, I spent years exploring spiritual paths that claimed to offer truth but could never deliver it. My family of origin has also been touched by cults and deceptive teachings. Those experiences shaped the way I think about discernment today.
Still, even that concern must remain submitted to Christ.
Because the longer I walk with Him, the more I realize that discernment without humility can become its own temptation.
Sometimes faithfulness means speaking.
Sometimes faithfulness means stepping away.
And perhaps both require the same thing:
Trusting that God loves that person even more than I do.
Some questions to ponder
Have you ever found yourself wanting to correct someone you sincerely believed was mistaken?
How do you discern when love calls you to speak—and when love asks you to entrust that person to God instead?
I’d love to know your thoughts!
Shalom and Love of Christ!
Samara
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