Brent Pollard
Two men stand in the background of a single verse. One wrote a proverb about liars. The other rose from the dead. Guess which one the world finds easier to believe.
The Apostle Paul quotes a man often regarded as semi-mythical, believed to have lived roughly 650 years before Paul’s letter to Titus. In Titus 1.12-13, Paul mentions that this man, Epimenides, gave a truthful statement when he said, “Cretans are always liars, evil beasts, lazy gluttons” (NASB95). The irony is that, although considered semi-legendary, most people accept Epimenides’ existence without question. In contrast, the historical Jesus of Nazareth, whom Paul urged Titus to teach about faithfully, is often doubted despite the wealth of textual evidence supporting His existence.
Why? The reason for this is likely the difference in the moral implications of Epimenides’ and Jesus Christ’s existence. The former makes no spiritual demands of the one accepting his existence. The latter, of course, purports to be the Son of God and the Savior of mankind. In other words, the reality of Jesus has a far greater impact on the life of the individual than the reality of Epimenides.
Historical Evidence for Jesus Is Not the Real Obstacle
No scholar loses sleep over Epimenides. He costs nothing. A Cretan poet who called his own countrymen liars demands neither repentance nor worship; he asks only for a footnote. Jesus asks for everything. Paul understood this. Standing before Agrippa, he could insist that “this has not been done in a corner” (Acts 26.26). Luke opened his Gospel by anchoring the story to named emperors, governors, and a census (Luke 2.1-2; 3.1), because he wrote for a man who wanted certainty, not myth. Why, then, does a person weigh the same kind of evidence, accept the poet, and refuse the Lord? Jesus told us. “Men loved the darkness rather than the Light, for their deeds were evil” (John 3.19). Unbelief rarely arrives as an intellectual conclusion. It usually arrives as a moral preference wearing a scholar’s gown.
Cost of Believing in Christ
Consider the mechanics of the heart. Admit Epimenides existed, and you may go on eating, sleeping, and sinning exactly as before. Admit that Jesus existed—truly existed, did what the Gospels record, rose as the apostles swore He did—and the floor tilts. Every appetite must answer to Him. Every ambition must kneel. Peter’s hearers felt that tilt on Pentecost when the word “pierced” them, and they cried, “Brethren, what shall we do?” (Acts 2.37). Note the sequence: the fact came first, then the demand. Peter offered no philosophy to admire; he preached a Lord to obey, and three thousand submitted to baptism that day (Acts 2.38, 41). Belief that costs nothing changes nothing. James reminds us that even the demons believe and shudder (James 2.19). The demons hold better theology than the skeptic and worse obedience than a child.
Why the Demands of Jesus Are Good News
Here, the Cretan proverb turns a corner. Paul agreed with Epimenides: the Cretans lied and gorged themselves. Then he told Titus to reprove them “so that they may be sound in the faith” (Titus 1.13). Diagnosis served as a cure. The demands of Christ do not tax the reluctant; they trace the shape of the life He died to give. “The grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation to all men, instructing us to deny ungodliness and worldly desires and to live sensibly, righteously and godly in the present age” (Titus 2.11-12). Grace instructs. Grace does not merely excuse the glutton; it feeds him on something better until the old husks lose their savor. The man who fears Jesus’ claims has the matter backward. He guards his little kingdom of appetites as though God came to rob him, when God came to enlarge him. Every demand of Christ invites us into a joy the Cretan never tasted: “In Your presence is fullness of joy” (Psalm 16.11).
Faithful Christian Living Begins with Honest Belief
So examine what you actually believe. Not what you affirm on a Sunday morning, but what governs you when you’re not assembled with the church. If Jesus remains a historical curiosity to you, you have received Him as the world receives Epimenides: acknowledged, cataloged, ignored. If He is the risen Son of God, then Paul’s charge to Titus becomes your charge: teach sound doctrine, adorn it with sound living (Titus 2.1, 10), and let no appetite call itself master. The evidence was never the problem. The throne was the problem. Surrender the throne, and the gluttons of Crete—and of your own heart—become “a people for His own possession, zealous for good deeds” (Titus 2.14). Believe Him. Then obey Him. The world may keep its comfortable poets. We will keep our costly Christ.
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