Who hasn’t played devil’s advocate or admired the devil’s advocate among us? Me? I’ve done both. One definition of this idiom says that it refers to someone who intentionally takes the opposite side of a popular opinion or idea in order to encourage thought—thought that typically turns into an argument, over which the devil’s advocate can be heard yelling, “I was just playing the devil’s advocate. I really don’t believe that.”

The actual phrase has its roots in the medieval Catholic church where someone had the position of advocatus diaboli to argue against the canonization of a particular candidate, deliberately looking for flaws in character or fake miracles.

Why do we like playing devil’s advocate so much? Perhaps it’s the chance to show off how smart or quick-witted I am, or maybe we’re just bored with the discussion and want to liven things up. Sadly, I know people who think “devil’s advocate” is their spiritual gift.

Or perhaps we want to show up for the debate and argue people into the kingdom of God. We’re just being like Paul we rationalize to ourselves. Actually, the devil’s advocate style of debate is very un-Pauline. In the Book of Acts, we read that in just about every city Paul visited, he would go to the synagogue. Acts 17:1-3, describes one such visit: “. . . they came to Thessalonica, where there was a synagogue of the Jews. And Paul went in, as was his custom, and on three Sabbath days he reasoned with them from the Scriptures, explaining and proving that it was necessary for the Christ to suffer and to rise from the dead, and saying, ‘This Jesus, whom I proclaim to you, is the Christ.’”

In Athens, Paul wasn’t debating for debating’s sake. It was bigger than that. His spirit was provoked when he saw a city full of idols (Acts 17:16), and he could not, would not keep silent about the one true God.

This Jesus Paul worshiped and proclaimed was rarely on the side of popular opinion when he was on earth. Instead of playing devil’s advocate, Jesus told stories. He told stories of lost sheep, coins and sons and accounts of good Samaritans and not-so good priests and Levites. He wrote in the sand, dismissed scribes and Pharisee and forgave a sinful woman.

In John 8:11-13, the Pharisees were primed for an argument when they came seeking from him a sign from heaven. Instead of taking the bait, Jesus is described by the gospel writer as sighing deeply in his spirit because of their request. Instead of boxing them into a corner over who he was and why they couldn’t see who was right in front of them, he sighed deeply over this generation’s need for a sign.

So, when Jesus called down woes on the scribes and Pharisees or talked in extremes of losing one’s life to find it, of hating mother and father, of taking up crosses and forgiving enemies, people paid attention. We need to pay attention. Jesus will never say, “Just kidding. I don’t really believe that.”

Psalm 119:89 explains why: “Forever, O Lord, your word is firmly fixed in the heavens,” and that Word was in the beginning with God and was God and—in the greatest mystery of all—became flesh and lived among us full of grace and truth.

Why in the world do we admire someone or strive to be that person who advocates for the devil when we already have the perfect Advocate—no flaws, no fake miracles, no deceit, no going back on his word—who chose to be sin for us so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.