On Second Thought
There are moments in church history when controversy rises like a storm tide, threatening to unsettle everything believers hold dear. In 1866, such a storm swept through England. A bishop publicly questioned the authenticity of the first five books of the Bible. What followed was not quiet academic discussion but ecclesiastical upheaval. Congregations fractured. Clergy divided. The ground beneath the church felt unstable.
In the midst of that unrest, a pastor named Samuel J. Stone chose a different response. Rather than fueling debate, he wrote hymns. His most enduring, “The Church’s One Foundation,” did not argue footnotes; it proclaimed Christ. “The Church’s one foundation is Jesus Christ her Lord.” In a season when Scripture’s authority was being questioned, Stone anchored his congregation not in polemics but in the Person of Christ.
That historical moment illuminates the heart of our study. James writes, “Let him ask in faith, with no doubting, for he who doubts is like a wave of the sea driven and tossed by the wind” (James 1:6–7). The Greek word for doubt, diakrinomenos, conveys the idea of divided judgment, inner wavering. It is not the honest question of a seeking heart; it is the instability of a divided allegiance. James is not condemning intellectual inquiry but spiritual vacillation.
When Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 3:1–11, he contrasts the fading glory of the old covenant with the surpassing glory of the new. The Spirit writes not on tablets of stone but on human hearts. The Greek term bebaios, often translated “firm” or “secure,” captures the idea of something legally guaranteed and immovable. Faith rooted in Christ is not subject to every intellectual breeze.
History reminds us that winds will always blow. Philosophies rise and fall. Theological trends surge and recede. Cultural pressures mount and dissipate. Yet Scripture consistently calls believers to a different posture. Ephesians 4:14 speaks of no longer being “children, tossed to and fro and carried about with every wind of doctrine.” The imagery is maritime—waves, wind, instability. James uses the same metaphor. A life without firm trust resembles open water in a storm.
Samuel Stone understood that unity is not built upon unanimous agreement in secondary matters but upon shared allegiance to Christ as Cornerstone. The hymn he composed was not sentimental; it was theological. To call Christ the Foundation is to say that everything else rests upon Him. The Greek word used in the New Testament for cornerstone, akrogōniaios, describes the stone that determines the structure’s alignment. Remove it, and the building collapses.
In our own generation, we face no shortage of controversy. Questions about biblical authority, ethical boundaries, and cultural integration swirl constantly. Social media amplifies debate. Voices compete for allegiance. It becomes easy to feel unsettled. Yet the issue is not whether storms will come; it is whether we are anchored.
James’s warning is pastoral. The one who doubts in the sense of divided trust “should not suppose that he will receive anything from the Lord.” Why? Because instability disrupts communion. Faith is not blind denial of difficulty; it is settled reliance upon Christ’s character and Word. When questions arise, we bring them to Him. We measure every argument by His revealed truth.
The steadfast mountain of Christ does not eliminate inquiry; it gives inquiry direction. On Him we stand prepared to evaluate every controversy. As John Stott once wrote, “Truth is not a weapon with which to fight others, but a light by which we see ourselves.” Christ-centered faith provides that light.
Consider how this applies personally. When doubts whisper, are they drawing you toward deeper understanding, or are they pulling you toward cynicism? When controversies erupt, do they sharpen your focus on Christ, or distract you from Him? The foundation of your faith determines your stability in the storm.
The beauty of 2 Corinthians 3 is that it reminds us the Spirit transforms us “from glory to glory.” Our confidence does not rest in flawless comprehension but in faithful transformation. Christ remains Head of the church, not commentators or critics. His Word remains living and active.
So when the winds rise—and they will—return to the Cornerstone. Rehearse the gospel. Revisit Scripture. Reaffirm that Jesus Christ is Lord. Foundations are rarely noticed in calm weather, but they are everything in the storm.
On Second Thought
Here is the paradox: controversy, though painful, often clarifies foundations. We assume that peace strengthens faith, but frequently it is disruption that reveals what truly anchors us. When the bishop questioned Scripture in 1866, it seemed like disaster. Yet from that crisis emerged a hymn that has strengthened generations. The storm did not destroy the church; it refined its focus.
James warns against being like a wave, yet waves have a purpose. They test what is secure. Doubt, when surrendered to Christ, can deepen conviction rather than diminish it. The paradox is this: stability is not achieved by avoiding hard questions but by asking them from a settled trust in Christ. If your faith has never been tested, you may not yet know its foundation.
On second thought, perhaps the storms we resist are invitations to examine what lies beneath our confidence. If Christ is truly the Cornerstone, then no controversy can displace Him. The winds may howl, but the stone does not shift. And when the storm subsides, what remains is clearer than before: Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, today, and forever.
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