Friends,
I’m taking a break for the summer. I will not be posting on social media. I will not be producing new blog pieces, nor the Jesus Changes Everything podcast. I will post the remaining episodes I have already done for this week. Have a great rest of your summer.
On the left side of the aisle we have those who insist that because Jesus commands us to care for the poor that we need more government welfare programs, that because Jesus calls us to love we must affirm the sexually confused, that because Jesus says the peacemakers are blessed the government should never go to war. On the right side of the aisle we have those who insist that since the Pilgrims and Puritans were Christians, that America is the New Jerusalem, that because President Trump made liberals froth at the mouth that he was God’s favorite, that God made the United States special and therefore calls it to be the world’s policeman.
On both sides of the aisle we have those who are a bit embarrassed by those described above, who often assume those on the other side of the aisle are all that side’s lunatic fringe. I’m a conservative. As conservative as can be. I believe in liberty. I believe the proper function of government is to protect life and property from aggressors foreign and domestic. I believe this is what the Bible calls for, what biblical justice demands. I believe Jesus reigns over these United States and that every political leader will answer to Him.
That said, I don’t believe it is a legitimate function of government to suppress false religions, not because the Constitution forbids it but because the Bible forbids it. I also believe that Jesus reigns over China and Iraq and North Korea and Mexico and that every political leader in those nations and every nation will answer to Him. One can affirm that leftist power grabs baptized in the gentleness of Jesus and rightist power grabs baptized in a sound biblical worldview are both wrong without embracing a tepid, wimpsome, purple, political stance that sits on the fence while injustice abounds.
The truth is that those most aligned with me politically do from time to time slip into a sloppy jingoism that has no place among believers. We, along with believers in every nation are a holy nation. The kingdom of God includes the United States, but only because it includes the whole of reality. The United States may be the most blessed of all nations, even the most righteous of all nations. But any righteousness is but filthy rags, nothing to be proud of, something to repent of.
What a Christian ought to seek from the state is neither special privileges nor “social” justice. Instead we ought to seek actual justice. God established the state as His minister of justice, bearing the sword that evildoers might be punished. A Christian nation is that nation that acknowledges the Lordship of Christ over all things, but whose government fulfills the ministry of justice, whose citizens walk in accordance with His law while acknowledging their dependence on His grace. Christian nationalism, as rare as it may be, on the other hand, needs to repent of its foolish national vainglory, its Judaizing co-mingling of loyalties and its shameful military bluster. Together we can repent of our own sins, and seek to press the crown rights of King Jesus.
While written creeds have their advantages, unwritten creeds have a few as well. With a written creed we are able to nail down precise language. We can affirm this and deny that. Everyone is able to make a conscious decision about whether or not they agree. This, in turn, mirrors at least one of the benefits of an unwritten creed. First, it leaves more wiggle room. Second, if the creed is unwritten, there is no place to sign on the dotted line. If there is no list of signatories, it’s so much easier to simply assume that everyone is on board. It’s not an easy thing to deny a creed that hasn’t really been written.
Sociologists and historians often wrangle over exactly what it means to be American. In a debate reminiscent of psychologists arguing the old “nature versus nurture” conundrum, these scholars dicker over whether American culture is defined by kinship or ideology. Are we Americans because our ancestors came mostly from western Europe, or are we Americans because we hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal? Is our corporate identity the result of genetic history, or the history of ideas? Is it un-American to dislike baseball, hot dogs, apple pie, and Chevrolet, or is it un-American to hail from Mexico?
Whichever side one takes, we all have to share this creed, to make this confession — that there is now, and has always been, a series of unwritten commitments we are supposed to share as Americans. Even if we think that to be American is to be anglo, we still have to confess the reality of these unwritten creeds. These may and probably will change over time (another “benefit” of having them unwritten), but they are there nonetheless. Just as with theological creeds, these creeds serve to bring unity out of diversity. In our day, however, we are unified by a creed that of necessity divides us.
The central pillar of faith for our culture, that form of unity that forms our unity is simply this: there is no such thing as true and false. This is the creed of our culture, the one, unspoken unifying principle to which everyone is expected to submit. Trouble is, this unifying creed cannot unify. It is, by its very nature, divisive. Whereas historical creeds, like the Three Forms of Unity, exist to say, “Here is where you and I agree” our modern, or, rather, postmodern American creed affirms, “You and I cannot agree, and even if we did, it wouldn’t really mean anything.” Our creed affirms that we each have our own truth, that we each create our own little world, that we are
each locked into a solipsistic cage.
Our creed also suffers from this obvious weakness: it is patently and immediately false. We are united around a creed that cannot even stand under its own weight. Our creed, if it is true, is false. And if it is false, it is false. Which tells us it is false. That is, if it is true that there is no such thing as true and false, then we cannot say that it is true that there is no such thing as true and false. This absurdity may have some entertainment value to us, but keep in mind, this quicksand is the very pillar and foundation of our culture. Suddenly, it’s not so funny.
A greater irony than the absurdity of the creed, however, is the fanaticism of its adherents. It did not become our national creed by a slow and steady winning of adherents. Instead, we have a culture that shrilly demands that all men everywhere bow before this principle, that we all bend our knee and confess with our tongue that there is no such thing as truth. If we don’t, we must be, figuratively, at least for now, crucified.
Our first creed, long before we embrace the Three Forms of Unity, or the Westminster Standards, or even the Apostles’ or Nicene Creeds, is the first creed of the church: “Jesus is Lord.” This Jesus is not a truth. He is not true for me. He is instead the truth. This confession of ours, even as it ran headlong into the creed of Rome, “Caesar is Lord,” runs headlong into the great American Creed. Because we confess that Jesus is Lord, we cannot confess that there is no such thing as truth. This, in turn, is why we evangelicals are finding ourselves more and more compared to the Taliban. This is why Islamic fundamentalism looks to the watching world to be the same thing as evangelical fundamentalism. For now they are content to disparage our character, to paint us in the public eye not merely as unsophisticated rubes, but as dangerous foaming-mouthed fanatics.
And so we should be. Our calling in this context isn’t to negotiate. We ought not labor to show the watching world how reasonable we can be, when reasonable is defined as embracing their creed. Our calling instead is to stand upon the rock, to stand firm and confess our creed with all the greater vigor. Let them despise us for not joining in their “unity.” Let us instead be united to the one who told us to be not surprised when we are hated for His name’s sake. Let us instead seek His kingdom and His righteousness. Let us confess His name before all men, that He might confess our name before His Father.
I once worked in an office that was quite caught up in a then well-known book. The E-Myth was a business book, written by Michael Gerber. His thesis, as I recall, was that successful businesses are those that learn to franchise themselves, after turning themselves into turnkey operations. The receptionist, like most people at the office, was reading the book, and she asked for my opinion. I opined in this manner, “I suspect, as with most business books, that whatever good one may find therein is common sense. Whatever one may find that is not common sense is likely not very good.”
The same holds true for the church, and her sundry strategies pouring forth from the program factory. Consider the altar call. Precious few of us, I suspect, would want to defend the whole clichéd, “the busses will wait while we play fifteen more verse of Just as I Am.” But, a case might be made for say, calling on the congregation to repent and believe. A case could be made for giving opportunity for people to come into the kingdom publicly, and for others to recommit their lives. A case could be made for coming forward for prayer. When you look at it this way, suddenly it looks both like Sovereign Grace Fellowship where I serve, and like the ancient church. We have an “altar call” every week, and everyone, after hearing gospel preaching, comes forward. We call it celebrating the Lord’s Supper.
I had a similar experience in a church I was a part of earlier in my life. I was heading for the sanctuary, only to have an earnest young man, caught up in the grip of some evangelical program, ask me an odd question. “Do you,” he asked, “have an accountability group?” I smiled and said to him, “Well, I have friends, if that’s what you mean” and went on into worship. There is no idea so simple and straightforward that we evangelicals can’t build a program out of it.
Mega-churches, of course, didn’t invent friendships. They didn’t invent the plain biblical notion that we are to encourage one another on to good works. They didn’t invent the idea that we are to confess our sins one to another. They didn’t invent the idea that we are called to love our neighbors. From my perspective these things come together not in this or that program, but in local churches that are small enough for genuine relationships.
In like manner, we have no need for “small group ministries.” What we need is a joyful commitment to the practice of hospitality. We should invite folks into our homes, and visit the homes of others. There should be no rules for this, no “dinner coordinator” that makes each family play musical chairs with each other family, all while carrying around a casserole if your last name begins with A through G, and a dessert if R through Z. Instead we ought to share table fellowship freely and happily.
I suspect that when mega-churches build these programs what they are trying to do is undo their own nature, to in some way stop being a mega-church. I am sympathetic to that sentiment. My suggestion, however, would be not to build more programs, but to build fewer mega-churches. When we simply obey what God has revealed to us, we have no need to make up programs along the way. And we find blessing.
