The Christian life begins with spiritual astonishment at the
glory of the gospel and the goodness and beauty of Christian truth, with the
wide-eyed surprise of the infant brought into a new world of grace.
But over time, our eyes grow heavy and our tastebuds dim—and that’s when errors
creep in. Spiritual sleepiness results in a sagging sense of God’s love and
diminished commitment to pass on the faith to the next generation. We become
sluggish with the Scriptures; bored with the Bible; drowsy toward doctrine.
Overfamiliar with the truth, we gravitate toward “exciting” new teachings or
practices that promise to awaken us from spiritual slumber. And error—always
dressing itself up as more attractive than truth—seizes opportunity when we are
most prone to wander.
Why do we
so easily lose our wonder at truths that have informed and inspired Christians
for generations? How is it we find ourselves no longer wowed by old truths? Why
are we drawn toward theological error? To better understand our susceptibility
to this spiritual malaise, we should take a closer look at our context, to see
the forces at work—in our world, in our churches, and in us—that diminish our
devotion.
Cultural
Chaos
We begin
with the anxiety and unsettledness of these chaotic times, a result of
political polarization, technological advances, and worldwide disasters. We are
inundated by information (and disinformation), flooded by various views and
opinions ranging from the absurd to the abstract, which make it difficult to
discover what sources are credible. Anyone can grab a megaphone and shout down
those who would deviate even slightly from whatever new orthodoxy unites a
particular community or political party. We don’t know who, if anyone, we can
trust.
For
Christians, this sense of disorientation is magnified by the shifting moral
landscape. No longer can we expect religiosity to be respectable. Long-held
beliefs and values drawn from Christian doctrine are now “extreme.” Assumptions
shared by nearly everyone a few decades ago are suddenly beyond the pale. As
fewer and fewer people identify with a religious tradition, those who adhere
today to institutional forms of religion fall further outside the mainstream.
In
generations past, respectable religiosity and cultural Christianity presented
their own set of challenges to true faith and practice. The way of Christ is
never easy, and believers in every era are prone to forget their first love
(Revelation 2:4). In our era, the danger of abandoning our first love manifests
itself through the pressures of a society where Christianity is not the norm,
and common Christian beliefs and morals no longer seem plausible. In the midst
of constant flux, “stability” is now regarded with suspicion. Like everything
else, faith is caught up in the whirlwind of change.
Church
Confusion
Meanwhile,
many churches are in a stupor—bewilderment drains the energy of the believers who
attend. Congregations and denominations are embroiled in conflicts that
resemble the world of hardball politics. Widespread disillusionment has
settled into the church following the scourge of sex abuse scandals, abusive
leadership patterns, and institutional coverups of atrocities committed by some
of the world’s most trusted and admired faith leaders.
Hypocrisy
has bolstered the anti-institutional sentiments of many toward the church,
leading to an explosion of new religious options and narrowly tailored
spiritual experiences. Cultural observer Tara Isabella Burton says many people
are trading institutional religion for intuitional
spirituality: “a religion decoupled from institutions, from creeds,
from metaphysical truth-claims about God or the universe . . . but that still
seeks—in various and varying ways—to provide us with the pillars of what
religion always has: meaning, purpose, community, ritual.”
In
response to this crippling confusion, some Christians call for the updating and
improvement of the faith for a modern era. Others disavow aspects of historic
Christianity but try to hold on to a few preferable parts. Several high-profile
leaders have renounced the faith altogether. Meanwhile, large swaths of
once-faithful churchgoers have quietly closed the door and just slipped away.
Christian
Complacency
What
happens to those who are left, the rank-and-file Christians who love their
families and cherish their churches? In every generation, we face the danger of
longing for the past while fearing the future. And this mix of nostalgia and
fear leads us into a state of complacency—a mission-less faith. We file in and
out of the sanctuary week after week, content to recite the same words with our
lips, but our hearts remain unstirred by the truths we confess, and we are less
likely to invite others to believe the good news.
Complacent
Christianity causes compartmentalization—a convenient separation of Christian
truth from the beliefs that frame our day-to-day activities.
Christianity
becomes just one aspect of a busy life. What we believe, we’re told, isn’t as
important as how we live. And even then, it’s fine if our life choices don’t
line up with Christian teaching as long as our faith helps us be true to
ourselves and keeps us from hurting anyone.
What’s
missing from this scenario is any sense of Christianity as a mission that
requires obedience to a King, a rollicking adventure that brings us face to
face with opposition, as we proclaim something bigger and more satisfying than
personal preference. Christianity’s call to costly obedience may not appear on
the surface as heroic or radical—we may experience seasons of stress as we
struggle to raise our kids, clock in and out of an unfulfilling job, and do our
best to serve the believers in a church filled with problems—but we must
remember that the pathway of repentance and faith imbues even the smallest acts
of self-sacrifice with eternal significance. The mission remains, and it stands
in contrast to a complacent Christianity that would domesticate the faith and
dampen its revolutionary passion. In countless ways that may not seem obvious
to us or others, we are to rebel against the rebellion of a fallen world and
witness to the rule of the risen Jesus over the universe.
The
Diagnosis
I’m
convinced that one of the primary causes of this spiritual malaise is our loss
of confidence in the truth and goodness of the Christian faith. In every
generation, we risk losing our wonder at the glory of Christian truth and the
enduring witness of the church. Amid chaos and confusion, we can easily turn
our focus on ourselves and, as a result, forget God. It’s as if we have
inherited a vast estate—sprawling grounds surrounding beautiful buildings
filled with priceless heirlooms—but we stay cooped up in a broom closet,
complacent and bored, with no desire to explore all that we’ve been given in
Christ.
We’ve
been here before. Chaos and confusion are not new. Every generation faces these
challenges, for different reasons. The key to renewal is not to do away with
the aspects of Christianity we find unsettling in our time. (After all, if
Christianity is true, we ought to expect every culture to come into conflict
with its claims at some point or another.) Neither should we ignore new challenges
and wave away hard questions about what we believe and why.
No, the
key to renewal is to return to the only truth that is reliable and sturdy when
so much in the world seems fleeting and faddish: the gospel of God delivered
once for all to the saints. The gospel is the royal announcement that Jesus
Christ, the Son of God, lived a perfect life in our place, died a
substitutionary death on the cross for our sins, rose triumphantly from the
grave to launch God’s new creation, and is now exalted as King of the world.
This announcement calls for a response: repentance (mourning over and turning
from our sin, trading our agendas for the kingdom agenda of Jesus Christ) and
faith (trusting in Christ alone for salvation by the power of the Spirit). Much
more can and must be said about this good news and its impact on us and on the
world. I’ve merely scratched the surface of what J. I. Packer used to tell his
students is “the biggest thing that ever was”; ancient truth, ever new. The way
forward is to reach back, to find renewal in something old—foundational truths
tested by time, a fount of goodness that refreshes and satisfies,
long-forgotten beauty from the past that lifts our eyes above the suffering and
sorrow of the present.
The
Thrill of Orthodoxy
What the
church needs today is to recapture The Thrill of Orthodoxy
We need the “old, old story” of “how a Savior came from glory.”
We need to be part of a courageous choir of Christians—reawakened to the beauty
and majesty of the Christian melody, committed to right belief and right
worship. To join our voices with the apostles of two thousand years ago,
singing the one song that by the power of the Spirit still resonates today.
By Trevin Wax, an adapted excerpt from his new book "The
Thrill of Orthodoxy"
