There's a famous line in Lindsley lore, spoken by my father back when my brother and I were kids, as the three of us played in the surf at Daytona Beach. Right before a mammoth wave would crash down on us, when little eyes would grow wide with excitement and a tinge of fear, Dad would look at us and smile and say: Ah, don't sweat the small stuff. And we understood what he meant - not only with what was spoken, but what was implied as well: Don't sweat the small stuff, because it isn't as big as you think it is.
I couldn't help but think of my father's words (words I've said to my two boys as we've stood in the waves) when I heard how some folks - some who are good friends of mine - reacted to this recent Newsweek article. The title itself is ominous enough and designed to appeal to one's fears: The End of Christian America. Nobody likes for anything to end, especially when it's something we've been led to believe we should want.
I don't think it'd be presumptuous to say that there's a wide swath of America who's assumed for years that ours is a "Christian nation." To be honest, I've always wondered what that term means. Is it reality that's being talked about, or an ideal? Does it mean that every single American citizen is Christian, or should be? Are we talking about a simple majority? Or are we referring to supposed "Christian values," a nebulous phrase that is such because 1) there is disagreement over what values are inherently Christian, and 2) there is ignorance of the fact that other faiths profess many of the same values Christians hold dear.
Nevertheless, this hasn't stopped many well-meaning people from pursuing the notion of a "Christian nation" - not only because they think it's a good thing, but because they believe it's what God wants. In recent years, however, these folks have found themselves increasingly frustrated in their quest. The election of a "Christian president" (another nebulous expression) at the turn of the century did not usher in an expected reformation of right-thinking religious ideology. Some of the hot-topic issues, such as homosexuality and abortion, continue to be in flux. And a recent study on religion in America has shown that those professing the Christian faith, while still in the majority, experienced a sharp decline in the past decade. The area of greatest increase? Those professing no faith at all.
So this has caused some in Christian circles to go into a general state of freaking out; from which they emerge with some pretty ominous conclusions: there is no hope for our country, we are all doomed, and God has given up on us. Personally I think that's just plain silly, as is the notion that we were, are, or ever will be a "Christian nation." This may sound strange coming from a pastor, I know. But therein lies the stereotype that people like me - a middle-aged male Caucasian pastor of a small congregation in a rural part of the Bible belt - get a lot. And perhaps for that very reason I've often found it hard to put into words how I feel about all of this and why. Stereotypes aside, these issues are incredibly complex and multi-faceted. It's not simple stuff we're dealing with.
And then this past week I ran across a blog by noted evangelist Jim Wallis of Sojourners, who I admire a great deal, and his comments on a "post-Christian America." And in my humble opinion, I think he hits the nail on the head, especially with this paragraph:
Personally, I am not offended or alarmed by the notion of a post-Christian America. Christianity was originally and, in my view, always meant to be a minority faith with a counter-cultural stance, as opposed to the dominant cultural and political force. Notions of a “Christian America” quite frankly haven’t turned out very well.
It's as if Jim got in my skull and spoke my thoughts. I simply could not have said it any better.
What Wallis is referring to, by the way, is the less-than-stellar history of the church whenever it's been coupled with political/governmental power. When the church first started, it was not only in opposition to the Roman empire of its time, it was hiding from it. Churches were held in the privacy and seclusion of people's homes - which, incidentally, served to foster fellowship. Over its first two hundred years the church continued to grow and become more public, but it never assumed a position of authority or influence in the culture. It was always, as the expression goes, counter-cultural. All of that changed in 313 AD, however, when the Roman emperor Constantine issued the Edict of Milan. And before you could say "Apostle's Creed," Christianity became the official religion of the Roman empire. Every Roman citizen - and there were a few of them, mind you - literally became Christian overnight. This did absolutely amazing things for the church rolls - membership morphed to an unprecedented magnitude. But it didn't do much for the spirit of the church. In fact, if anything it served to deaden it. So whenever the church takes on a position of privilege, power and entitlement in society, it's almost always never a good thing for the church, and usually not for anyone else, either.
Why? Because in the process the church loses its soul. It recasts the church's mission in the world from one of service and fellowship to one of entitlement and duty. Leadership in the church confuses Christ's power with worldly power - after all, that is humanity's greatest temptation: absolute power corrupts absolutely. It increases intolerance of other peoples/faiths/religions, because if one truly is the majority, it's almost impossible to see things from the other's perspective.
But perhaps the greatest ill effect of the church/society marriage is just plain laziness. Not too long ago it was standard stuff for every business in town to be closed on Sunday mornings. This meant that if people wanted to interact with others and get out of the house, church was it. Now there are many "options" for people to choose from on Sunday morning: kids' soccer games, other community functions, the golf course at the country club or the Starbucks down the street. The church doesn't have the same influence over the culture that it once did. I've often heard fellow clergy complain and lament this because, as someone once actually said to me, "Now we have to work harder to get them here." And see, I don't think that's a bad thing at all. In fact, I think it could be the best thing that's happened to the church in a long time.
So the thought of the end of a "Christian America" does not threaten me in the least, nor does it give me any reason to mope, whine, or declare the imminent end of Western Civilization as we know it. As a matter of fact, I think it's because of this very development that the best days of the church are ahead of us. But it's going to take a lot of work on our part; a huge joint effort across lots of lines (racial, gender, denomination, ideological, etc.) that we've gotten pretty good at drawing before. It will involve a drastic undoing of many of the perceptions and habits we've acquired over the years as Christians living in America, along with an intentional adoption of a new way of doing things. Many folks have written lots of good stuff about how the church should negotiate this change; allow me to offer up a few of my own.
First, we must stop expecting and demanding perks from society, such as the absence of "competition" on Sunday mornings, partisan prayer at municipality meetings, or the Christianization of anything outside the church. We should not feel a sense of entitlement just because of our faith. The early church had no such thing and they flourished. Seems to be a lesson there...
Second, we need to quit feeling insulted, angered or worried about expressions like "the end of Christian America" or even the tongue-and-cheek title of Wallis' blog: "A Christian Mistake." The truth can be good for us. Besides, contrary to popular opinion, the job of a Christian is not to always be right. Our job is to be faithful.
Third, we must come to terms - and quick - with the fact that our society is becoming increasingly multicultural and reflects many different religious perspectives. And we should stop being scared of this. We should view this as a wonderful opportunity to partner with people of other faiths - or people of no faith at all - to focus on what we have in common and how we can make ours a less violent, less wasteful, and less divisive planet.
Fourth, we must put forever to rest the notion that being Christian and being patriotic are one and the same. A Christian can be patriotic, but a Patriot does not equate being a Christian - or any person of faith.
Fifth, Christians should work diligently to assume a more humble and gracious stance in the world, instead of the arrogant and entitled image we've done such a good job of creating over the years. Somehow we've got to come to grips with the fact that the man we believe to be the son of God was a peasant Jew who made a meager living as a carpenter, who didn't own any property or wardrobe, whose only sense of self came from the people he hung out with and the God he once called "Daddy." I know people like to claim otherwise, but I honestly believe that if Jesus came back today in our society in the same way he appeared in first century Palestine, the vast majority of us would not only fail to recognize him but do our best to get rid of him. That right there should tell us something.
And lastly, I really think we should listen to my Dad, when the wave is about to crash down on us and we think it's all over: Don't sweat the small stuff, because it really isn't as big as we think it is. Because when it comes to the mission Christians believe they've been sent on, what's more important: identifying a nation with a particular religion, or helping to heal a broken world? While we're in the throes of debating a cultural religious identity and what values are part of that, there's a child dying of hunger every six seconds. While we're worrying about shrinking percentages of adherents, wars are claiming the lives of too many and ruining forever the lives of even more. While we're debating things like sexual orientation and other hot-topic issues, there is real pain and suffering out there that we are turning a deaf ear towards. In the big scheme of things, whether our nation is Christian or not is small stuff indeed.
So let's not sweat it. Instead, let's sweat the stuff that really does matter: hunger, poverty, injustice, disease, corrupt systems, inequality, racism, gender bias, a warming earth, bigotry, hate crimes, overflowing landfills, joblessness, a crumbling economy, mental anguish, human brokenness, and people who need us to show them, in so many ways, God's far-reaching love.
Where might all of this lead people of faith? Wallis offers this: Making a real impact on the values and directions that
a democracy will choose is, perhaps, a more exciting kind of influence than relying on the illusory and often disappointing hopes of cultural
and political dominance.
If that's what awaits us, then bring on a post-Christian America. Let's not sweat it! In fact, let's welcome it with open arms.
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