Many Christians love Jesus but feel wary of creeds and confessions. They sound old, formal, perhaps even divisive. Yet we live in a moment when truth is treated as flexible and memory is short. In such a culture, the ancient summaries of the faith are not chains but anchors. They keep us moored to the gospel that the apostles preached and the church has confessed across centuries and continents.
When Paul urged Timothy to “keep as the pattern of sound teaching, with faith and love in Christ Jesus.” (2 Timothy 1:13), he was not inventing tradition; he was handing it on. The early church quickly formed baptismal summaries of belief that crystallised the apostolic message: the goodness of the Father; the incarnation, death and resurrection of the Son; the person and work of the Spirit; the forgiveness of sins; the hope of the resurrection and the life of the world to come. These short statements did not replace Scripture; they protected its meaning from distortion.
Creeds also remind us that the centre of Christianity is an announcement before it is an experience. We do encounter God personally, but what saves us is not our feelings; it is the finished work of Christ. Saying the creed together trains our hearts to rehearse the mighty acts of God rather than the volatility of our emotions. It teaches us to say “I believe” when feelings are thin and “We believe” because faith is communal as well as personal.
In a post-truth world, creeds offer clarity and humility. Clarity, because they sketch the boundaries of orthodoxy in a time when novel ideas spread quickly. Humility, because they remind us we did not begin the church last week. We are debtors to saints who suffered, debated and prayed so that we could receive the gospel intact. Reciting the Apostles’ or Nicene Creed in worship is not empty ritual; it is an act of solidarity with the global and historic church and a guard against the drift of our own age.
Creeds also serve mission. People exploring Christianity often want to know, “What do Christians actually believe?” A creed answers succinctly. In catechesis, a creed provides a scaffold for teaching the whole counsel of God. In families, it gives children a durable map of the good news they can carry into adulthood. In times of suffering, a creed puts words in our mouths when feelings falter: “I believe in the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.”
None of this diminishes the primacy of Scripture. The creed is a signpost, not the scenery; a summary, not a substitute. But in an era of confusion, such signposts help us stay on the way of Jesus. Holding the creed with open Bibles and open hearts can renew our worship, steady our witness, and knit us to the saints who have gone before us, all confessing the same Lord.