Apostolic Truth vs. Personal Opinion: Why the Catholic Faith Holds

There’s a distinct difference between seeking truth and trying to dismantle someone’s faith. This blog is born out of a series of repeated, circular conversations with someone who claimed to be seeking—but showed no intention of understanding. If you’ve ever found yourself in this type of exchange, you’re not alone.

When Seeking Turns Into Debunking

I entered the conversation in good faith. Every objection thrown my way—about apostolic succession, papal infallibility, Church history, the authority of Scripture—I tried to answer sincerely, using Scripture, history, and the wisdom of the Church Fathers. But with every response came the same tired rebuttals:

• "Where did Peter hand over the keys?"

• "Your Church killed people."

• "Scripture alone is the standard."

  
  

No matter how deeply I clarified, the same accusations were recycled.

It became clear: This wasn't about discovery. It was about disproving.

The Church Is Not Its Worst Members

Yes, Catholics in history have sinned—sometimes gravely and shamefully. But to judge the Church solely by the failures of its members is to misunderstand what the Church truly is. If Judas’ betrayal didn’t invalidate the Twelve, and if Peter’s denial didn’t strip him of Christ’s commission to “feed My sheep” (John 21:17), then human failure has never been the end of God’s plan.

The Church is not holy because its members are flawless. It is holy because its founder—Jesus Christ—is holy. That’s what we mean when we say the Church is the Body of Christ—not a museum for saints, but a hospital for sinners. It’s a living, breathing body, guided by the Holy Spirit, safeguarded in truth even when its stewards fall short.

To expect moral perfection from every human in the Church is to forget how God has always worked through history. David was an adulterer. Moses lost his temper. Paul persecuted Christians. Peter denied Christ. Yet God still used each of them to accomplish His will.

So when we say the Church is holy, we don’t mean it’s without blemish—we mean it is set apart, divinely instituted, and upheld by grace. Its holiness doesn't come from us—it flows from Christ.

When we say the Church is the “pillar and bulwark of the truth” (1 Timothy 3:15), we aren’t claiming that every pope or bishop has been a saint. We are saying that, despite the sinfulness of individuals, the Holy Spirit has preserved the Church from doctrinal error. That’s not a human boast—it’s a divine promise.

What About the Reformers?

Those who point to the Church’s dark history often forget to apply the same scrutiny to their own heroes. Martin Luther—credited with the Protestant Reformation—didn’t just “preach grace.” In 1525, during the German Peasants' Revolt, Luther urged the Princes to “smite, slay, and stab” the revolting peasants, resulting in tens of thousands of deaths. That’s not just a theological disagreement—it’s bloodshed endorsed to preserve a movement.

And yes, he added the word “alone” to Romans 3:28, changing “justified by faith” into “justified by faith alone”—a word not found in the original Greek. This was done to fit his personal interpretation, not Sacred Tradition or apostolic teaching.

No one—Catholic or Protestant—is immune to failure. The difference is: the Catholic Church doesn’t claim her leaders are sinless. She claims the Holy Spirit protects her teachings on faith and morals, despite the sinfulness of those who teach them.

Authority Doesn’t Mean Autonomy

One objection kept resurfacing: “Christ is the head, not your Church.”

To that, I say: Amen! Absolutely—Christ is the Head. But being the Head doesn’t mean He leads without structure. Christ appoints stewards—just as He always has. That’s the model seen in Isaiah 22:22, where the king entrusts the keys of the kingdom to a faithful servant to govern in his name. Jesus echoed this same model in Matthew 16:18–19, when He gave Peter the keys to the Kingdom and the authority to bind and loose.

The “keys” were not symbolic gestures—they represented real authority to govern on behalf of the King. Not for Peter’s ego, but for service to the Body. The Church does not replace Christ—it submits to Him, operates through Him, and is sustained by Him. Christ remains the eternal Head, and He works through His appointed ministers to shepherd His people.

Jesus didn’t leave us as spiritual orphans with only a book and personal interpretation—He built a Church, gave it authority, and promised the gates of hell would not prevail against it (Matthew 16:18). The Church is not in competition with Christ’s headship—it is the visible sign of His ongoing leadership in the world.

Not Everything Was Written Down

You keep asking for Peter to literally say, “Here, Linus, take my keys”—as if apostolic succession needs to be documented like a legal handover on Netflix. But that’s not how leadership, authority, or tradition worked in ancient Judaism or the early Church.

In biblical times, authority was transferred through appointment and the laying on of hands—a deeply spiritual and recognized act (see Acts 1:20–26 when Matthias replaced Judas, or 2 Timothy 2:2 where Paul instructs Timothy to entrust teaching to faithful men). The community understood this as legitimate succession, not based on paperwork or a viral video, but on the visible continuity of mission and authority.

Faith isn’t a courtroom where every truth must be proven under 21st-century forensic standards. Not everything was written down—and Scripture itself admits that:

“But there are also many other things which Jesus did; were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.” (John 21:25)

The apostles weren’t carrying iPhones. They weren’t documenting every conversation or gesture in high-definition. But the early Church knew who succeeded whom. It wasn’t random. Linus, Cletus, Clement—they were recognized leaders, not rogue replacements.

So no, you won’t find a transcript of Peter saying, “Linus, take the keys.” But you’ll find something deeper: an unbroken line of faith, authority, and teaching, affirmed by history, sustained by tradition, and guided by the Holy Spirit.

Who Validated Scripture?

You ask, “What standard do we use to know the Church’s interpretation is correct?”

The same standard that canonized your Bible. The same Church that, under the Holy Spirit’s guidance, preserved, discerned, and defended Scripture is the one interpreting it. Without the Catholic Church, there is no universally agreed-upon New Testament canon. That’s just historical fact.

We’re not interpreting apart from the Holy Spirit—we are trusting the very instrument the Spirit has always used: the Church Christ established, against which He said the gates of hell would not prevail (Matthew 16:18).

Scripture Alone is Not the Fullness

The Bereans searched Scripture—but only the Old Testament. The New Testament hadn’t been compiled yet. And Paul still had apostolic authority, which the Bereans confirmed—not rejected—through Scripture.

Even Scripture itself didn’t fall from the sky. It came through human hands, preserved by the Church, guided by the Holy Spirit. In my blogs, I don't know how many times I already said this.

Truth Is Not a Solo Journey

The Holy Spirit doesn’t lead us into private revelations or isolated interpretations—Scripture itself warns against that:

“First of all you must understand this, that no prophecy of scripture is a matter of one's own interpretation.” (2 Peter 1:20)

Jesus promised:

“When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all the truth” (John 16:13)—but He does so through the Body of Christ, not apart from it.

Truth, in the Christian sense, was never meant to be discovered in isolation or defined by personal feeling. That’s why Jesus didn’t just leave us with a book—He left us with a Church. A visible, apostolic, Spirit-guided Church tasked with preserving and proclaiming what was handed down “once for all” to the saints (Jude 1:3).

The Catholic Church holds one unified, apostolic interpretation of the Gospel—not based on the shifting winds of modern thought or 10,000 individual opinions, but rooted in what was consistently believed and taught from the beginning, handed down by the apostles, safeguarded by the early Church Fathers, and faithfully summarized in the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

This unity is not rigidity—it’s fidelity. While others debate endlessly over what each verse “really means,” the Church offers a continuity of truth that has stood for over two millennia, not because Catholics are smarter, but because Christ is faithful to His promise.

Because the Gospel was never meant to be reinvented every generation. It was meant to be received, lived, and passed on—together, as one Body.

Final Reflection: From Circular to Sincere

This exchange reminded me that not all conversations are meant to “win.” Some are meant to refine us. I walked in prepared to share my faith, but I walked out with a deeper love and understanding of it—because standing firm, even when misunderstood, is part of the journey.

If you ever find yourself in a similar discussion, remember this: respond, don’t react. Defend truth, but do it with charity. The goal isn’t to crush the other person—it’s to plant seeds, even if they don’t bloom right away.

We’re not called to win arguments. We’re called to witness—to stand in truth with grace. That means pausing, praying for discernment, reading each other's words slowly and with sincerity, and asking the Holy Spirit to guide—not just our replies, but our hearts.

So to anyone engaging in deep dialogue: speak clearly, listen carefully, and trust that God is at work—even in conversations that go in circles.

And to my fellow Catholics: keep standing. Not for applause. Not for dominance. But for Christ. Because someone out there isn’t debating to win—they’re listening to understand.

🙏 May we all be guided by truth and humility.