In a recent viral moment that sent shockwaves through both intellectual and spiritual circles, Dr. Jordan Peterson—brilliant psychologist, famed cultural commentator, and perhaps the most articulate living critic of postmodern nihilism—stood his ground before a crowd of 20 atheists. He left them stunned not by theatrics or emotion, but by the sheer weight of reason, order, logic, and—dare we say—truth. The moment was gripping, not just because he decimated the vacuous dogma of atheism, but because he did so without even explicitly declaring himself a Christian.
But therein lies the conundrum.
Peterson is clearly comfortable with the rational conclusion that God must exist. He speaks with awe about the historical Christ. He has affirmed that the death and resurrection of Jesus is "as real a truth as any other kind," and likely more real than most. He walks a tightrope with breathtaking dexterity—dissecting the truth of Scripture, exposing the emptiness of godless materialism, and yet…he stops just shy of saying what every true believer must: “I believe in Jesus Christ as Lord.”
To be clear, Peterson is not avoiding the issue out of ignorance. He has read the Scriptures. He’s explored the ancient texts, examined the historicity of the Gospel accounts, and acknowledged the weight of the evidence. If one were to put the resurrection of Christ on trial using the criteria for historical events accepted by scholars worldwide—multiple attestation, enemy testimony, early eyewitness accounts—Christianity not only holds up, it dominates. Gary Habermas, William Lane Craig, and N.T. Wright have all laid out airtight cases that would make any skeptic blush.
Even non-Christian scholars such as Bart Ehrman admit that Jesus died by crucifixion and that his followers believed they saw him alive afterward. That belief turned cowards into martyrs. The Apostle Paul—once a persecutor—became the persecuted. What explains that transformation? What explains the rise of Christianity out of a tiny, frightened band of misfits into the largest faith the world has ever seen, all under the banner of a risen Messiah?
History and science point to a fine-tuned universe, irreducible complexity in biology, and the uniqueness of man’s moral compass and longing for transcendence. Peterson is smart enough to have sifted through the data—and humble enough to say he’s “terrified” by what it all might mean.
So why not say it?
Peterson may think that his personal beliefs are just that—personal. Perhaps he fears what identifying as a Christian might do to his public credibility. Or maybe he’s still working through what full submission to Christ would require of him: a full surrender of autonomy, clarity on moral issues like abortion or gender ideology, and boldness to speak not only about meaning but about Lordship.
But that’s exactly the point. Belief in Christ was never meant to be private.
Jesus Himself said, “Whoever acknowledges me before others, I will also acknowledge before my Father in heaven” (Matthew 10:32). That’s not a suggestion—it’s a mandate. The very nature of the gospel demands proclamation. When Jesus offered salvation to the thief on the cross, He didn't whisper it. He made it known. And from that moment forward, Christians have been charged with sharing the story—not hoarding it.
To say you understand the reality of the Cross and Resurrection and not tell others is like discovering the cure for cancer and refusing to share it because “it’s a personal decision.” No—faith in Christ is a deeply personal relationship, but it’s never a private possession. In fact, if Christ is who Peterson suspects He is—the Logos, the Way, the Truth, the Life—then there’s nothing more urgent, nothing more important, nothing more necessary than to declare it.
Yes, Peterson’s wrestle is understandable. The culture is hostile. Academia is skeptical. His fanbase spans believers and non-believers alike. But courage has always been the final virtue in the Christian life. Dietrich Bonhoeffer, in the face of Nazi tyranny, said it plainly: “Silence in the face of evil is itself evil… Not to speak is to speak. Not to act is to act.”
And the world is listening. A generation adrift in anxiety, identity confusion, and spiritual hunger is watching Peterson. They see him as a truth-teller. They respect his mind. And if that mind now bows to Christ, they will take notice.
So, Dr. Peterson, if you believe—as your words often suggest—that Jesus Christ is not just a moral teacher but God incarnate, crucified and risen, then it is time.
Time to stop alluding and start professing.
Time to confess with your mouth what your heart already knows.
Time to join a line of thinkers and saints who, like C.S. Lewis, began with intellect and ended at the foot of the Cross—not in silence, but in song.
Let me end with the most poignant example I know.
It’s from a former skeptic, a man mocked and scorned, pierced and broken, and whose story appears in all four Gospels. He hung beside Jesus, nailed to a Roman cross for crimes he did commit. He had no credentials, no public following, no pulpit, and no platform. He didn’t understand all the theology. He didn’t write a bestselling book. But he believed. And he said so.
“Jesus, remember me when You come into Your kingdom.”
And Jesus answered him—not with a lecture or a list of doctrines—but with a promise: “Today you will be with Me in paradise.”
He said it out loud.
He believed, and he told it.
Dr. Peterson, so must you.
Because belief is not complete until it is confessed.
And you, sir, were made to tell it.