For years, I’ve believed that one of humanity’s biggest missteps was letting logic slip out of the mandatory school curriculum. Government education systems have sidelined it, and I used to think that if we’d kept it front and center, we might have stemmed the tide of irrationality washing over us. But lately, I’m not so sure. Our culture, and people in general, don’t seem wired for rationality. We’re not reasonable. We’re not logical. Even if logic stayed in schools, it might have slowed the flood, but it wouldn’t have stopped it. We’re too human for that.
Ben Shapiro’s quip, “Facts don’t care about your feelings,” rings true enough. Cold, hard data doesn’t bend to emotion. But here’s the flip side: our feelings don’t care about facts either. Take my recent car-shopping adventure. I found a Cadillac I adored. It was sleek, luxurious, everything I dreamed of. My dad, a GM partsman for 50 years, warned me off it. “Cadillacs are for rich folks who don’t blink at repair bills,” he said. His wisdom won out, and I didn’t buy it. But here’s the kicker: I still want one. Logic lost that round, even if it guided my decision.
This tug-of-war between head and heart isn’t just about cars. It’s a snapshot of who we are. Scripture nails it in Jeremiah 17:9: “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” My Cadillac craving is small potatoes compared to the deeper ways our hearts lead us astray. Look at our atomized society. We’re more individualized than ever, chasing independence, yet we’re lonelier for it. Ecclesiastes 4:9-10 reminds us, “Two are better than one… For if they fall, one will lift up his fellow. But woe to him who is alone when he falls and has not another to lift him up!” So how do we fix it? With more isolation, apparently. We buy robots for companionship. We dive deeper into pornography, now with an AI twist. I don’t fully grasp AI porn (and don’t want to), but its rise alarms people. Real human connection isn’t good enough anymore. Our hearts chase shadows instead of substance.
Then there are the “mind viruses,” as Gad Saad calls them, that sweep through generations. In high school, eating disorders among girls were the crisis du jour. Endless talks, articles, and worried whispers filled the air. This past decade, transgenderism took the spotlight, dominating discourse until, it seems, we’re tiring of it. Social media hints we’re circling back to eating disorders. These waves crash in, grip us, then fade, almost like we get bored and crave a fresh obsession. Rationality doesn’t stop them; it barely slows them down.
I’m convinced people will keep being people. We can pour energy into offering godly wisdom, crafting airtight arguments, but we’ll often end up disappointed. The heart wants what it wants. I see it in my Cadillac longing, in society’s lonely pursuits, in the endless cycle of cultural fixations. Logic and reason are tools, but they’re not saviours. They can’t rewrite our desires.
So where’s the hope? Not in more education or better arguments, though those matter. It’s in a changed heart. Ezekiel 36:26 offers the promise: “And I will give you a new heart, and a new spirit I will put within you. And I will remove the heart of stone from your flesh and give you a heart of flesh.” My dad’s advice steered me from a bad purchase, but only God can redirect a stubborn soul. Look at the Prodigal Son (Luke 15:11-32). He had every reason to stay home—security, family, a future—but his heart pulled him to ruin. Only when it broke did he turn back, and his father’s grace met him there.
Social examples abound. Take the opioid crisis: facts about addiction risks didn’t stop millions from popping pills. Or consider political tribalism—data gets twisted to fit feelings, not the other way around. We’re not rational creatures at our core. We’re fallen, as Romans 3:23 says, “for all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God.”
The fix isn’t more logic. It’s mercy. It’s prayer. It’s asking God to soften the hearts of a nation chasing Cadillacs, robots, and fleeting fads. We can’t reason our way out of depravity, but we can kneel our way to redemption. Let’s pray for that change, trusting His power over our frail wills.
Covenant Presbyterian Church 