IN THE MARGINS: Loving the truth in the age of conspiracies

By Tony Martin
Editor

There have always been real conspiracies — actual secret plans hatched by real people. But that’s not what I’m talking about today. I’m talking about conspiracy theories that have no basis in fact yet still gather followers — ideas like the moon landing being staged or shadowy groups controlling every outcome from a basement somewhere. My question is simple: why do people cling to these stories, and what happens to our witness when Christians embrace and share them?

First, a quick trip to Scripture. After Jesus’ resurrection, Matthew records a rumor that spread like wildfire: the disciples stole the body while the guards slept (Matt. 28:11–15). That’s a conspiracy theory. It provided a tidy explanation that protected the powerful and soothed those who couldn’t face the inconvenient reality of an empty tomb. Notice the ingredients: a threatened status quo, a narrative that preserves reputations, and just enough plausibility for people already inclined to believe it. Nothing new under the sun.

So why do people cling to unfounded theories?

  1. A sense of control. When the world feels chaotic, a secret storyline can feel like an anchor. “If I can name the hidden cause, I’m not powerless anymore.”
  2. Identity and belonging. Conspiracy communities provide a tribe. Believing together becomes a badge of membership.
  3. Confirmation bias. We all tend to seek information that supports what we already think. Algorithms gladly serve more of the same.
  4. Pattern-seeking brains. Humans connect dots—even when the dots don’t connect. Randomness is uncomfortable; a secret plot is coherent.
  5. The allure of special knowledge. Knowing “what others don’t” can feel like wisdom, even if it isn’t (1 Tim. 4:7).
  6. Distrust in institutions. Sometimes institutions have failed us, so we swing from healthy skepticism to blanket suspicion.

Here’s the problem: when Christians pass along falsehoods, our credibility leaks. If I’m careless with facts about the world, why should anyone trust me about the gospel? The good news is rooted in truth — public events, eyewitness testimony, and a Savior who said, “I am the truth” (John 14:6). Our calling isn’t to be first with hot takes; it’s to be faithful to what’s true, lovely, and praiseworthy (Phil. 4:8). That includes how we post, share, and speak.

How to Recognize a Conspiracy Theory

  • It’s unfalsifiable. When evidence is presented, the claim morphs to absorb it (“That’s what they want you to think”).
  • It leans on secret sources. Anonymous experts, hidden studies, or “my cousin’s friend in Special Ops.”
  • It cherry-picks anomalies. A few odd details are elevated above mountains of ordinary evidence (Prov. 18:17).
  • It requires a vast, silent network. The bigger the alleged cover-up, the more unlikely it becomes that no one credible has blown the whistle.
  • It moves the goalposts. Predictions fail, but the date gets reset and the core claim stands untouched.
  • It feeds on outrage. The emotional appeal is stronger than the evidential one. If a claim makes you angry before it makes you thoughtful, slow down.

A Christian Response

  1. Love the truth more than the thrill. Pray, “Lord, make me a person of truth.” Then slow your scroll. “Everyone should be quick to hear, slow to speak” (Jas. 1:19).
  2. Check before you share. Look for multiple reliable sources that disagree with each other in healthy ways. If only fringe sites support it, that’s a sign. The Bereans tested claims against Scripture; we can test claims against sound evidence (Acts 17:11).
  3. Ask honest questions. “What evidence would change your mind?” If the answer is “nothing,” we’re not in a truth-seeking conversation.
  4. Guard your witness online. Before posting, ask: “If a nonbeliever read this, would it help or hinder them from trusting Christ?” “Do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus” applies to clicking ‘share,’ too (Col. 3:17).
  5. Speak truth with gentleness. Mockery hardens hearts. Curiosity and humility can soften them (1 Pet. 3:15; Eph. 4:15).
  6. Know when to disengage. Scripture warns us against “foolish, ignorant controversies” that breed quarrels (2 Tim. 2:23–24). You’re not required to fight the internet.
  7. Redirect to what’s solid. Point people to Jesus, to Scripture, and to the hope that rests on a resurrected Lord—an event not explained by sleepy guards and sneaky fishermen. Our faith is not a house of cards; it stands on a stone rolled away and witnesses who staked their lives on it (1 Cor. 15:3–6).

Back to Matthew’s rumor. Why did it spread? Because it gave anxious people a way to avoid the disruptive truth of the resurrection. That’s often what false theories do: they prevent us from facing reality, repenting where needed, and trusting God in ambiguity. But followers of Jesus can live without secret certainty because we have public hope. We don’t need to grasp for hidden plots when we’ve been given a revealed gospel.

So here’s my invitation: the next time a claim hits your feed that feels too perfect, breathe. Ask, “Is this true? Is it helpful? Does it honor Christ?” If you don’t know, don’t share. If you’re sure it’s false, resist the urge to dunk on people. Instead, model patient, quiet confidence. Be the non-anxious presence in a noisy, suspicious age.

Christians aren’t called to be conspiracy hunters; we’re called to be truth tellers, peacemakers, and good neighbors. In a world drunk on speculation, let’s be sober with the truth. The tomb is empty. That’s enough wonder for a lifetime — and more than enough credibility to guard with our words.