In these passages, Paul suggests that our interior depths, not just our beliefs and actions, must be healed and changed by Jesus. If people seek biblically motivated action by, say, caring for the poor or advocating for justice, but they do so without the posture of Jesus, then orthopraxy is lost amid arrogance, legalism, or self-righteous political posturing. In the same way, you can’t have orthopraxy without orthopathy. You can’t have orthodoxy without orthopathy. “Standing for truth” without humility or kindness falsifies the gospel we proclaim. They end up destroying people.Īll of us are capable of seemingly speaking truth in a spirit of contempt, impatience, pride, or fear. We’ve all seen the ugly results when someone passionate about orthodoxy doesn’t embody the internal disposition of Jesus. Isaac the Syrian said that virtue is not simply doing the right thing but doing it with “a heart that is wise in what it hopes for, and whose actions are accompanied by right intention.” Augustine told his flock that any study of Scripture and doctrine must be for the purpose of building up charity, love, and graciousness. The broader goal of orthopathy is that our total disposition would be changed to be more like that of Jesus. But more foundationally, it involves our motivational structure, our longings, and our desires-that which most deeply drives us. Orthopathy involves a redeemed and transformed interior life. It names the reality that we as Christians not only profess the truth of Jesus and practice the things he says to practice, but we also endeavor to do all this in the posture of Christ. The word denotes right passions or feelings.

But they often neglect another key part of faithfulness: orthopathy. We had entered seminary to steep in Scripture and good doctrine, but we needed to be reminded that orthodoxy (right belief) and orthopraxy (right action) are so essentially entwined that if we neglect one, we lose the other.Ĭhristians champion this unity of belief and action. We were familiar with this idea, but nonetheless it struck both my husband and me like lightning. Our pastor matter-of-factly replied, “You know, you can’t have orthodoxy without orthopraxy.” My husband mentioned that he was struggling to spend time in prayer and that he and I were fighting like cats and dogs. The conversation then turned toward our personal lives. We told him how we were savoring our courses in systematics and biblical studies.

When I was in seminary, my husband and I met with a trusted pastor.

Tish warren liturgy of the ordinary