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Popular culture still loves the trope of the lone genius—an eccentric hermit scrawling equations on a chalkboard, muttering “Eureka!” and retreating to a lab stacked with mysterious instruments. Anyone who has worked in research knows the reality is different. Most projects are collaborative; authorship lists often run from a handful of names to hundreds. Labs cross institutions and national borders. Manuscripts do not see daylight without anonymous reviewers, and conferences exist precisely to invite critique. Important discoveries almost never happen in isolation.
Modern science is a social enterprise—collaborative and competitive, collegial and contentious. We build on one another’s techniques, invite replication, and sometimes argue vigorously across lab lines. That social character raises distinctly Christian questions:
- Are my colleagues co-laborers in a truth-seeking enterprise—or mainly competitors?
- Can I see past disagreements to the image-bearer (Gen. 1:27) across the table?
- Will I treat criticism of my work as an attack on my worth—or rest my identity in Christ?
- Am I willing to be visibly Christian among my peers?
Before addressing those, it’s worth underlining why the social structure of science is a strength. Christian theology affirms what psychology documents: individual reasoning is limited and biased. We overestimate our own evidence and underrate our opponents’. Science “institutionalizes” humility—replication, transparency, statistics, and peer review harness our weaknesses for collective gain. Entering that system in good faith is both good science and good discipleship.
With that in mind, here are four faith-shaped postures for life with colleagues.
1) Colleagues as Co-Laborers (Even When We Compete)
I try to begin with this stance: we are ultimately on the same team, seeking to describe God’s world truthfully, even as we compete for grants and priority. That doesn’t mean naiveté. Motives matter. Some people—at least in certain seasons—prioritize professional advancement more than truth. Others default to perpetual attack mode, critiquing for sport rather than discovery. Charity does not require credulity.
Faith helps me sort the landscape:
- Truth-aimed opponents are gifts. A rigorous critic who cares about evidence sharpens me—even if we remain opponents.
- Partisans (pro or con) are limited aids. Cheerleaders and ideologues rarely help me see blind spots. Their work may still be useful, but I weight it appropriately.
- Self-inspection is part of love of truth. Using the same criteria, would others judge me truth-aimed—or merely strategic? “For those who are self-seeking and who reject the truth… there will be wrath and anger” (Rom. 2:8, NIV). I want my methods and tone to signal a different aim.
A story: an accomplished critic once targeted several of my published claims. His studies were strong and pressed me to rethink assumptions. Our team attempted replications and offered counterevidence—but we worked to avoid overstatement. Later, he publicly revised his view. That kind of humility increases my trust in his future work—and challenges me to hold my own ideas with open hands.
Practice prompts
- In your next peer review, name two things the paper gets right before your critiques.
- In lab, ask: “If my favorite theory is wrong, what result would change my mind, and am I designing a test that could produce it?”
2) Seeing the Person, Not Just the Paper
When our only contact with colleagues is via PDFs and podiums, it’s easy to reduce people to their positions. Scripture won’t let us. Every scientist you meet bears God’s image and is loved by Him (Gen. 1:27; John 3:16). Their worth precedes and exceeds any H-index.
Deliberately humanize the field:
- Use conferences for people, not only posters. Ask what drew them to the topic, where they call home, what they love outside the lab. Small glimpses of story recalibrate your reading of their work.
- Resist easy caricatures. I’ve watched capable scholars dismiss a colleague’s research on flimsy, personal assumptions. Often, a single coffee together upends the caricature.
- Let care shape your scholarship. When I care about a person, I read more charitably, critique more constructively, and learn more deeply. Paradoxically, that compassion often improves the rigor of my argument.
Practice prompts
- Before your next rebuttal letter, rewrite one paragraph of the opposing author’s argument in a way they would affirm (“steelman,” not “straw man”).
- At your next professional conference, schedule one non-transactional conversation (no agenda; just curiosity).
3) Ideas ≠ Identity: Grounding Worth Outside the Work
One liberating truth of the gospel: my value does not ride on my CV. The Creator loves me in Christ (Rom. 8:35–39). My salvation is “not by works” (Eph. 2:8–10), and God does not need my discoveries. He invites me to steward a corner of inquiry, but the Kingdom does not depend on my citation count.
That viewpoint re-centers academic feedback. I still feel the sting—I like a good nerd fight as much as anyone—but resting my identity in Christ lowers the temperature. I can argue hard for the sake of the truth, not for saving face. I can admit error without collapse. I can celebrate a rival’s result without resentment.
I’ve seen non-Christian colleagues model this brilliantly: years of fierce debate, yet deep respect and friendship intact. If they can separate ideas from identity, all the more should we who know our worth is secure.
Practice prompts
- When a review arrives, pause to pray: “Lord, my life is hidden with Christ (Col. 3:3). Help me seek the truth, not my ego.”
- Add a lab norm: “We challenge ideas vigorously and treat persons kindly.”
4) Visible Faith, Without the Trumpet
Discrimination against Christians exists in some settings; many of us can name stories. And yet, in my experience, most colleagues respond to quiet, steady visibility with respect—and sometimes with deeply personal questions they would never ask if we were hidden. Being a good scientist, a supportive colleague, and unashamedly Christian helps correct stereotypes and opens relational doors.
Visibility is not performative piety or jargon at lab meeting. It is integrity without concealment—letting the light be seen (Matt. 5:14–16), accepting the modest risks, and trusting God with outcomes (Matt. 6:33).
Practice prompts
- Stop the reflex to self-censor harmless markers of faith (e.g., “I’ll be out Sunday morning at church; can do afternoon”).
- When invited into personal conversations, listen first, then offer presence, prayer (if welcome), and practical help.
A Field Guide for Christian Collegiality
Keep these short questions nearby:
- Co-laborers: Where can I treat rivals as partners in clarifying the truth—even as we disagree?
- Human first: How will I learn one humanizing detail about a colleague I tend to oppose?
- Identity: What practice reminds me my worth is anchored in Christ, not in outcomes?
- Visibility: What small, non-performative step will make my faith less invisible at work?
Conclusion: People Over Prizes
If God cares more about people than about publications—and more about how we treat others than about what we discover—then the way we interact with colleagues is central to integrating faith and science. The social structure of research, rightly embraced, becomes a means of grace: our neighbors sharpen us, we sharpen them, and together we move a little closer to the truth about God’s world.
May our labs and conferences see Christians known for rigorous thinking, generous reading, courageous truth-telling, and quiet, unmistakable love.
About This Series
This blog is part of a five-part series distilled from Justin Barrett’s How Can Your Faith Fuel Scientific Discovery? Questions and Reflections for Becoming an Integrated Scientist (Blueprint 1543 Media, 2025). Each post explores one of five central questions designed to help present and future science professionals think integratively about their work. The goal is to encourage Christians in the sciences to see their research not as separate from faith, but as a vocation inspired, shaped, and sustained by it.
