Beyond Defense: Reframing Apologetics Through a Non-Nicene Christology

I have never been particularly enamored with Christian apologetics, at least not in its dominant forms. Much of what passes for apologetics today feels less like an honest exploration of truth and more like a carefully constructed legal defense—one that only works if the jury agrees in advance to a specific set of presuppositions. The classic examples, such as the “liar, lunatic, or Lord” trilemma, reveal the problem clearly. They assume not only that the Gospel texts preserve Jesus’ words verbatim, but that those words were framed in a modern, literal, metaphysical register. That assumption is rarely argued for; it is simply smuggled in as a starting point. Once that foundation is questioned, the entire structure wobbles.

My difficulty with traditional apologetics is not that it affirms too much about Christ, but that it affirms too little—at least at the wrong level. Nicene Christology, as defended by apologetics, often reduces Jesus to a metaphysical exception rather than a revelatory disclosure. Jesus becomes the singular divine anomaly, ontologically distant from humanity, rather than the one in whom the true nature of humanity and divinity is unveiled. Apologetics then exists to protect that exception, to fence it off from scrutiny, rather than to invite reflection on what Jesus reveals about God, consciousness, and ourselves.

My Christology is high, but not juridical. It is high in the sense that Christ reveals the Logos—the divine consciousness, the creative and indwelling presence that has always been at work in the world. Jesus is not Lord because a set of propositions about him passed historical verification; he is Lord because his life discloses what reality itself is like. He reveals a God who is not primarily a judge requiring satisfaction, but a Father whose nature is love, presence, and participation. This kind of Christology does not need to be defended by manuscript counts or harmonized resurrection timelines. It stands or falls by whether it illuminates reality and awakens recognition.

In this light, apologetics must be reimagined. Instead of asking, “Can we prove Christianity is true?” the better question is, “Does the Christ-event disclose what is already true?” Apologetics becomes less about winning arguments and more about clarifying vision. Scripture is not a divinely dictated transcript to be defended at all costs; it is a witness—layered, interpretive, and profoundly human—pointing toward encounters with the divine. The Gospels do not function as courtroom evidence so much as iconography: they invite contemplation, not cross-examination.

A reimagined apologetics begins with lived experience rather than abstract certainty. It acknowledges that transformation, not intellectual assent, is the real test of truth. Jesus’ authority is not established because he fulfilled predictive checklists or left an empty tomb that defies alternative explanations, but because his way dissolves fear, exposes false gods, and calls humanity out of its forgetfulness. In this sense, Christ is Victor—not over divine wrath, but over death, alienation, and the illusion of separation.

Such an apologetic does not collapse into relativism, nor does it retreat into mysticism detached from history. It simply refuses to confuse modern categories with ancient meanings. Jesus need not be reduced to “liar, lunatic, or Lord,” because those are not the only options available to a first-century Jewish mystic operating within a symbolic, participatory worldview. Prophet, revealer, wisdom-teacher, embodied Logos—these categories are not evasions; they are historically and theologically richer.

Ultimately, the apologetics I can affirm is not one that defends Christianity against all challengers, but one that invites honest seekers into deeper coherence. It does not demand belief before understanding, nor does it threaten disbelief with cosmic consequences. It trusts that truth does not need coercion. If Christ is truly the Logos—the light that enlightens everyone—then apologetics is not about guarding the light, but about removing the veils that prevent us from seeing it.