Many things changed after the day I asked, “What if I’m wrong about this?”
It started with the Bible. I had spent most of my life assuming I basically understood what it said. Then the question hit me: What if I’m wrong about what the Bible actually teaches—not just the big doctrines, but the heart of what it means to follow Jesus?
Once that door opened, it didn’t stay in the Bible. I started asking it about everything. What if I’m wrong about the direction we’re trying to take the Historical Society? What if I’m wrong about how I’ve been relating to my family, or how I’ve been thinking about the culture around me? I kept telling my mom, “At least we’re willing to ask the question—what if we’re the ones who are wrong?”
That question feels rare today. Most people won’t even let it form in their minds. We’re wired to protect our opinions and treat them as settled facts. Culture trains us to flip uncomfortable questions into positives: “Trust yourself,” “You’ve got this,” “Your truth is valid.” But when the noise quiets and it’s just you and God, the real question remains: What if I’m wrong?
I still wake up every day and ask the Holy Spirit to correct me. I have plenty of blind spots. But I’ve learned to look for the fruit of His work in me—things I know I didn’t produce on my own. A growing love for Scripture that feels more like hunger than duty. A willingness to be shown wrong without immediately defending myself. A patience with people that didn’t used to be there. A quiet sense that Jesus is actually near, not just a doctrine I believe. These aren’t things I can manufacture. They’re evidence that Someone else is at work.
The same question that once felt threatening has become an invitation. What if the willingness to be corrected is actually part of new birth? Not a single dramatic moment only, but a daily posture of being led by the Spirit into truth.
What might you be wrong about right now?