Most people today take it for granted that to be a Christian means you believe a particular set of truths (e.g., God exists, Scripture is inspired, Jesus Christ rose from the dead, and so forth). Of course, for some, this list would be rather lengthy and include such beliefs as the Virgin Birth, the miracles of Jesus, the Second Coming, and the fact that the world was created in six days. For others, the list would be very specific—baptism is valid only for adults, the bread and wine of communion are literally the body and blood of Christ, and in order to get into heaven, you must be “born again.”

Regardless of whether the list is long or short, specific or general, the common perception is that Christianity requires that you believe certain things are true, and other things are not. Indeed, in some circles, the word “believer” is synonymous with being a Christian. Hence, the question “Are you a believer?” is often just another way of asking, “Are you a Christian?”

However, this preoccupation with correct beliefs has also had a significant (albeit unintentional) consequence—namely, it has tended to intellectualize Christianity and has turned faith into something that is primarily sorted out in one’s head. Since this is the dominant way faith is currently understood, it may surprise you to learn that, prior to the Enlightenment, faith was viewed quite differently. It was not so much a matter of the head, as it was a matter of the heart.

For example, consider the Latin word “credo”—the first word in both the Nicene and Apostles’ Creed. Traditionally, we translate credo to mean “I believe.” And frankly, some people have trouble with creeds, precisely because they think that saying “I believe” is tantamount to saying “I hereby affirm the literal truth, and factual accuracy, of the following statements.”

However, if you look at its Latin roots, the word credo is actually closer in meaning to “I give my heart to,” or “I commit my loyalty to.” Thus, when we say “I believe” at the beginning of a creed, we are not merely asserting the validity of a particular set of intellectual propositions. What we are affirming is, “I give my heart to God.”

And who is this God to whom we are giving our hearts and pledging our allegiances? The rest of the creed goes on to answer that question. “God, the Maker of heaven and earth … God, whose only-begotten Son, Jesus Christ, is of one substance with the Father … God, the Holy Spirit, the Giver and Sustainer of Life.”

Put another way, the object of our faith is not a series of statements; it is a person. After all, Jesus didn’t say, “This is the truth”; he said, “I am the truth.”