Learning Is Often Preceded by Unlearning

Many people are educated well beyond their capacity for obedience. For those who have grown up in church, it can be easy to assume that learning is the sole way in which we grow as followers of Christ. Sadly, we have divorced orthopraxy from orthodoxy.

I’ve known Jesus for more than three decades. What I find so fascinating in this journey with Christ is that the more I encounter him, the more I need to unlearn. What I thought he wanted from me needs to be reimagined—constantly. What I believed about the kingdom of God needed—and, at times, still needs—to be reexamined. What I thought God felt about me needed—and, at times, still needs—realignment. I need to unlearn inaccurate perspectives, incomplete understandings and skewed values of life in the kingdom. My understandings of violence, power, identity, money, worry, the role of women in church leadership, national pride, poverty, prayer, relationships, race, the Holy Spirit and privilege (just to name a few) have had to go through a significant process of unlearning. In fact, they still do.

When Jesus arrives on the scene and begins his public ministry, he says, “The kingdom of heaven has come near [is here]. Repent and believe the good news!” (Mark 1:15). Repent—metanoia—can be translated as “to pull a U-turn.” Jesus is saying, “Rethink your way of life and how you’ve viewed God’s role in it.” In other words, unlearn. Rethink. Reimagine. And once you’ve done that, start to learn rightly. To unlearn is to repent. To learn is to believe.

Robert W. Hyatt. Used by permission of InterVarsity Press, P.O. Box 1400, Downers Grove, IL 60515-1426.

www.ivpress.com

DO NOT ALLOW FEAR OF CHANGE OR REBUTTAL KEEP YOU FROM A HOLY-SPRIT REDIRECTION

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The Seductive Allure of Not Thinking for Yourself

There’s something deeply comforting about letting someone else think for you.

JOE BOYD

JUL 14

Not Thinking for Yourself

Most people don’t deconstruct.

That’s not a dig. It’s just a fact.

And honestly? I get it.

There’s something deeply comforting about letting someone else think for you.

Not in the “I’m a mindless sheep” kind of way—nobody thinks that’s what they’re doing. But we all do it, especially when the system is big, the stakes are high, and someone confident stands at the center saying:
“Don’t worry. I’ve figured it out. Just follow me.”

It’s intoxicating.

It feels like safety.
It feels like clarity.
It feels like freedom.

Because it frees you from the burden of having to figure it out for yourself.

I mean… sometimes that’s good.

I’m on airplanes almost every week these days.
And I don’t want to understand the physics of lift every time I buckle in. I don’t want to double-check the engine diagnostics or cross-examine the co-pilot.

I just want to close my eyes, trust the system, and hope I land in Kansas City.

There is a kind of wisdom in trusting experts. Not every system is bad. Not every leader is lying to you. Not every structure is corrupt.

But here’s the problem:

The bigger the system—and the more it tries to encompass your entire life—the more dangerous that trust becomes.

Especially when the system revolves around a charismatic leader.
Especially when it promises you meaning, morality, or certainty.
Especially when it makes you feel chosen.

That’s when the “freedom” of not thinking for yourself becomes a trap.

And worse: It becomes addictive.

Politics. Religion. Identity.

We see this everywhere.

Politics is rarely about policy. It’s about loyalty. Identity. Vibes.
Religion isn’t mostly about love or forgiveness. It’s about certainty and control.

And when the system starts to wobble—when the story stops making sense—we don’t pull back. We double down. Because it’s terrifying to admit:

“I handed over the reins of my life to someone who doesn’t deserve them.”

That’s what deconstruction is, in the end.

It’s not about “losing your faith” or “walking away from truth.”
It’s a history project.
It’s a trust audit.
It’s a decision to ask:

Who built this system?
Why do they want me inside it?
What happens if I leave?

Most people don’t ask those questions.

Because it’s scary.
And it’s hard.
And it costs you something.

But if we never ask them—if we never think for ourselves—we’re just puppets.
Controlled by narcissists.
And megalomaniacs.
And billion-dollar machines.

Who smile, shake our hand, and make it feel like they care.

Until we need them.

So let’s make a list, shall we?

The Pros and Cons of Willful Ignorance
(or: Why Most People Don’t Deconstruct)

PROS

1. Certainty feels amazing.
Doubt is exhausting. Certainty gives you structure, comfort, and community.

2. It’s socially safer.
You’re less likely to lose relationships, face judgment, or feel alone.

3. It saves time.
Thinking for yourself takes work. A system gives you pre-packaged answers.

4. It offers purpose.
Even if it’s borrowed, a purpose handed to you can still feel real.

CONS

1. You’re easy to manipulate.
If you never think critically, someone else will always shape your beliefs.

2. You become a clone.
You don’t get to be you. You become a copy of the system’s ideal follower.

3. You’ll hit a crisis eventually.
When the system fails you (and it always does), you won’t know who you are.

4. You give away your one and only life.
To people who may care more about their own power than your actual well-being.

I’m not saying it’s easy.
I’m saying it’s worth it.

And I am encouraging you to count the costs.

Because if you take back the reins of your own beliefs, you will lose the benefits of ignorant bliss.
And there are real benefits to not thinking for yourself.
That’s why most people do it.

It’s easy.
But it’s not true.
And it’s not real freedom.

If you want that, you have to summon your courage.

Ask the hard questions.
Do the research.
Think for yourself.

Then, if you want to stay in the system—at least you’ll know why you’re there.

And no one will be able to tell you who you are
without your permission.

Or, as Morpheus—the patron saint of magic pharmaceuticals—tells us:

"Let me tell you why you’re here.

You’re here because you know something. What you know, you can’t explain—but you feel it. You’ve felt it your entire life. That there’s something wrong with the world. You don’t know what it is—but it’s there. Like a splinter in your mind. Driving you mad.

It is this feeling that has brought you to me.

The Matrix is everywhere. It is all around us. Even now, in this very room. You can see it when you look out your window or when you turn on your television. You can feel it when you go to work… when you go to church… when you pay your taxes.

It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth.

That you are a slave. Like everyone else, you were born into bondage. Born into a prison that you cannot smell or taste or touch. A prison—for your mind.

Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.

This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back.

You take the blue pill—the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe.

You take the red pill—you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Remember: all I’m offering is the truth. Nothing more."

>>>KEEP SCROLLING for RELATED CONTENT & COMMENTARY, RESOURCES & REPLIES

Reimagine Curator July 19, 2025 17:33

DO NOT ALLOW FEAR OF CHANGE OR REBUTTAL KEEP YOU FROM A HOLY-SPRIT REDIRECTION

The Seductive Allure of Not Thinking for Yourself

There’s something deeply comforting about letting someone else think for you.

JOE BOYD

JUL 14

Not Thinking for Yourself

Most people don’t deconstruct.

That’s not a dig. It’s just a fact.

And honestly? I get it.

There’s something deeply comforting about letting someone else think for you.

Not in the “I’m a mindless sheep” kind of way—nobody thinks that’s what they’re doing. But we all do it, especially when the system is big, the stakes are high, and someone confident stands at the center saying:
“Don’t worry. I’ve figured it out. Just follow me.”

It’s intoxicating.

It feels like safety.
It feels like clarity.
It feels like freedom.

Because it frees you from the burden of having to figure it out for yourself.

I mean… sometimes that’s good.

I’m on airplanes almost every week these days.
And I don’t want to understand the physics of lift every time I buckle in. I don’t want to double-check the engine diagnostics or cross-examine the co-pilot.

I just want to close my eyes, trust the system, and hope I land in Kansas City.

There is a kind of wisdom in trusting experts. Not every system is bad. Not every leader is lying to you. Not every structure is corrupt.

But here’s the problem:

The bigger the system—and the more it tries to encompass your entire life—the more dangerous that trust becomes.

Especially when the system revolves around a charismatic leader.
Especially when it promises you meaning, morality, or certainty.
Especially when it makes you feel chosen.

That’s when the “freedom” of not thinking for yourself becomes a trap.

And worse: It becomes addictive.

Politics. Religion. Identity.

We see this everywhere.

Politics is rarely about policy. It’s about loyalty. Identity. Vibes.
Religion isn’t mostly about love or forgiveness. It’s about certainty and control.

And when the system starts to wobble—when the story stops making sense—we don’t pull back. We double down. Because it’s terrifying to admit:

“I handed over the reins of my life to someone who doesn’t deserve them.”

That’s what deconstruction is, in the end.

It’s not about “losing your faith” or “walking away from truth.”
It’s a history project.
It’s a trust audit.
It’s a decision to ask:

Who built this system?
Why do they want me inside it?
What happens if I leave?

Most people don’t ask those questions.

Because it’s scary.
And it’s hard.
And it costs you something.

But if we never ask them—if we never think for ourselves—we’re just puppets.
Controlled by narcissists.
And megalomaniacs.
And billion-dollar machines.

Who smile, shake our hand, and make it feel like they care.

Until we need them.

So let’s make a list, shall we?

The Pros and Cons of Willful Ignorance
(or: Why Most People Don’t Deconstruct)

PROS

1. Certainty feels amazing.
Doubt is exhausting. Certainty gives you structure, comfort, and community.

2. It’s socially safer.
You’re less likely to lose relationships, face judgment, or feel alone.

3. It saves time.
Thinking for yourself takes work. A system gives you pre-packaged answers.

4. It offers purpose.
Even if it’s borrowed, a purpose handed to you can still feel real.

CONS

1. You’re easy to manipulate.
If you never think critically, someone else will always shape your beliefs.

2. You become a clone.
You don’t get to be you. You become a copy of the system’s ideal follower.

3. You’ll hit a crisis eventually.
When the system fails you (and it always does), you won’t know who you are.

4. You give away your one and only life.
To people who may care more about their own power than your actual well-being.

I’m not saying it’s easy.
I’m saying it’s worth it.

And I am encouraging you to count the costs.

Because if you take back the reins of your own beliefs, you will lose the benefits of ignorant bliss.
And there are real benefits to not thinking for yourself.
That’s why most people do it.

It’s easy.
But it’s not true.
And it’s not real freedom.

If you want that, you have to summon your courage.

Ask the hard questions.
Do the research.
Think for yourself.

Then, if you want to stay in the system—at least you’ll know why you’re there.

And no one will be able to tell you who you are
without your permission.

Or, as Morpheus—the patron saint of magic pharmaceuticals—tells us:

"Let me tell you why you’re here.

You’re here because you know something. What you know, you can’t explain—but you feel it. You’ve felt it your entire life. That there’s something wrong with the world. You don’t know what it is—but it’s there. Like a splinter in your mind. Driving you mad.

It is this feeling that has brought you to me.

The Matrix is everywhere. It is all around us. Even now, in this very room. You can see it when you look out your window or when you turn on your television. You can feel it when you go to work… when you go to church… when you pay your taxes.

It is the world that has been pulled over your eyes to blind you from the truth.

That you are a slave. Like everyone else, you were born into bondage. Born into a prison that you cannot smell or taste or touch. A prison—for your mind.

Unfortunately, no one can be told what the Matrix is. You have to see it for yourself.

This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back.

You take the blue pill—the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe.

You take the red pill—you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes.

Remember: all I’m offering is the truth. Nothing more."

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