I remember one day on my commute into work, I hopped on to the bus I took every day, and pulled out my phone to read the Bible as was my custom. And whatever reading plan I was on brought me to Matthew 23.

Though I had encountered this chapter numerous times before, for whatever reason that particular day, that particular chapter really hit me hard. Each paragraph begins with a condemnation against the religious leaders, rulers and teachers of Jesus’ day. ‘What sorrow awaits you’ … ‘what sorrow awaits you’ … ‘what sorrow awaits you.’ Truly — it is an epic smackdown of the religious elite of Jesus’ day and is worth reading even if you don’t pick up all the nuance.

And I remember reading this and thinking — how can I make sure that Jesus never says anything like this about me?

These men devoted themselves to God’s teaching. They could cite chapter and verse of everything they believed. But somewhere along the way, they lost the plot. They could cite Hosea 6:6, “I desire mercy not sacrifice” — but when the religious rulers question why Jesus would take care of the lost and lowly, they can’t understand what “I desire mercy not sacrifice” truly means. And so—and to folks who dedicated their lives to learning the Bible, this insult almost can’t be overstated—Jesus told them to go learn what “I desire mercy not sacrifice” means. ( Matthew 9:13) Imagine being told to go learn something you’ve spent most of your life trying to learn. Ouch.

Somewhere along the way, studying theology became more important than putting any of it into practice. Or to put it more pithily: their thinking became more important than their doing.

And so with that in mind, Jesus’ condemnation in Matthew 23 becomes quite convicting. They were so devoted to God’s commandments around tithing (giving a tenth) that they would even make sure to give God a tenth of every herb and spice they grew (today and even then worth only a few cents) while neglecting God’s love of justice, mercy and faith. (Matthew 23:23)

If we are to understand Jesus fully, God seems a lot less interested in our performative displays of piety and a lot more interested in justice, mercy and faith. The Pharisees were so obsessed with being perceived as righteous, they went to the trouble of making sure they didn’t short God even a penny or two on their herb gardens — while robbing God blind by not taking care of those He entrusted to them.

Jesus’ warnings are dire: it is possible to love the Bible so much that you lose sight of loving the people God loves: the lost, the lowly, the broken, those far from God.

I’ve often heard people who acknowledge this problem but say something to the effect of, “Well, I am loving people by not giving them bad theology.” I’ve heard this on topics as wide ranging as end times eschatology, judgment and hell, gay marriage, abortion, and content preferences in music, books, and movies.

Let us not mince words. Bad theology can be deadly. It was bad theology that justified slavery. Bad theology for the extermination of Native Americans. Bad theology for environmental destruction. Bad theology against American democracy. And it’s bad theology that hates everything from guitars, to drums, to dancing in churches that has lead to a significant schism in both Protestantism and our witness.

What to do? I think it goes back to God’s desire in Hosea 6—I desire mercy not sacrifice. God seems to delight in extraordinary and patient grants of mercy, even to his worst enemies. We are most like him when we show people love, grace and mercy — especially at great personal sacrifice. (no wonder this is not popular!)

I also think there’s significant room for us to hold our ‘theological convictions’ with a loose grip. The Pharisees were the product of hundreds of years of serious biblical study culminating in every Pharisee dedicating their lives to the continued study and teaching of ‘biblical values’. We need to have some significant humility. If they can miss the mark so badly, so can we.

I am convinced that when I die, I will hold some beliefs, ideas and theologies that are just simply wrong. That, in the glorious light of Day, all will be illuminated. I’m not sure I can prevent that — so much of our theology is put together by piecing together scraps of scripture and trying to make sense of it. If God wanted us to have a full picture of theology, He probably would have spent more time giving us more than scraps to piece together.

But what He did reveal clearly, over and over and over again: Love Him. Love people.

And even that we aren’t always going to get right. But if He says that’s most important, we must start there. Love God. Love people. Let the chips fall where they may.