“Theological liberalism no longer announces itself with old men in big steeples but disguises itself in young men in skinny jeans and glasses.”
I tweeted the above some time ago. From all appearances, based on the responses I received, theological liberals were not offended. Old men were not offended. Big steeples were not offended. Young men in skinny jeans and glasses were offended. It was not, of course, my intention to put down either skinny jeans or glasses. The issue I am trying to address isn’t the nature of the disguise, but the existence of the disguise.
I have been blessed to live through the great migration out of the mainline churches. There was a time when the majority of professing believers worshiped in local bodies where the pastor did not believe that Jesus was raised from the dead. There was a time when the majority of seminary students were taught by professors who did not believe that Jesus was born of a virgin. Those seminaries and churches are moribund. In my lifetime the numbers, the vitality, the strength has shifted to evangelical churches. And so I face the temptation to think that the battle is over, to dance as we sing, “Ding, dong, the witch is dead.”
The devil, however, is not only crafty, but persistent. Craftiness and persistence join hands as I am coming to understand that reports of the death of theological liberalism are greatly exaggerated. Theological liberalism has learned how to hide, how to disguise itself. We once knew how to recognize it. Typically we’d find it in old, ornate church buildings. Typically we’d find it in old, established denominations. Typically we’d find it in old, respectable men.
These, of course, still do exist. Though the pews tend to be empty, the pulpits, sustained by bequests of the departed faithful, remain full. But more often liberalism in our day tends to be nuanced. Instead of angry denunciations of the unrespectable fundamentals we now have gentle, alternative narratives. Instead of vituperations against our obstinate know-nothingism we receive invitations to join the young, the uncertain and the post-evangelical.
For all the differences, however, what matters is the same- unbelief posing as belief. In both instances the Word of God is something we judge, rather than something we are judged by. In both instances, preaching flows out of the imagination of the preacher, rather than the unshakable, uncouth, unpopular Word. In both instances we are invited to belong to an exclusive club with all its rights and privileges. All we have to do is sell our souls. Gentle accommodation and embracing of the wisdom of the world is more alluring, more dangerous and therefore more wicked than angry accommodation.
The solution to either betrayal is the trustworthiness of our Lord. We must learn to love to tell that old, old story. We need to confess that Jesus, born of the Virgin Mary, came to save sinners, that there is no other name under heaven by which a man must be saved, that He came not to abolish the law but to fulfill it, that He suffered the wrath of the Father that was due to us, and that all those who will not repent and turn to Him will suffer the wrath of the Father for eternity. We need, in short, to continue that fight which began in Eden, and which will end when He returns again to judge the quick and the dead. We must fight for, and through the gospel of our Lord.