A Bigger Ghetto, or a Brighter Bride?

Other articles

Like many other New Zealanders, I was involved in the Luis Palau/Leighton Ford evangelistic crusades in 1987. At that time, I heard about a church which had decided to get its own act together before allowing any new members into the church. The members had debated long and hard about whether to take non-Christian friends to the crusades, and had finally decided that they would. But if they became Christians they would have to join other churches.

It was this example which sprang to my mind when a disillusioned friend, who is even more given to extreme statements than I am, said to me one day, 'You know, the Church should just stop evangelising for a while, stop trying to bring more people in to have the same old problems, and spend maybe five years just getting its act together.' I disagreed with him at the time. But later I thought past his extreme statement to the wisdom behind it and came to agree.

I look at Christ's poor, battered, siege-mentality, emotional and windblown Church, and think, 'Do we really want more of this?' I shocked two sincere young men a while ago by saying (not entirely accurately) that I was praying that there would not be a revival in New Zealand, because the state of the Church meant that a revival would dissolve into factions and cults within five years. (I was thinking of the 'Welsh Revival,' that much-lauded flash in the pan, which, through lack of biblical teaching, fell apart so that Wales is now largely as if it had never happened, or perhaps a little worse - other than having a few more, mostly empty, chapels.) As I put it in a letter to Today's Christian magazine, 'Following the truth is more important than being comfortable, happy, uncontroversial, trendy, conservative, non-confrontational, popular, or rich; and my hope and prayer to God for my people is that they will learn this, in despite of human nature, before the church in NZ grows weaker still - or even worse, has a 'revival' which multiplies its present errors and insecurities on a wider scale and collapses into cults and factions, knowing neither truth nor love.'

Already I hear the clank of stones being picked up, the sound of nails on wood, and the reflexive scratch of matches being struck. Don't martyr me yet; I'm not the only one who thinks this, nor is it only about the New Zealand Church, or only recently. Contain yourselves a little longer; I will answer those who think the Church is going fine, right after this quotation from one of the most respected Christian thinkers of this century, written over thirty years ago:

So strongly is the breeze blowing for revival that scarcely anyone appears to have the discernment or the courage to turn around and lean into the wind. . . .
I believe that the imperative need of the day is not simply revival, but a radical reformation that will go to the root of our moral and spiritual maladies and deal with causes rather than with consequences, with the disease rather than with symptoms.
It is my considered opinion that under the present circumstances we do not want revival at all. A widespread revival of the kind of Christianity we know today in America might prove to be a moral tragedy from which we would not recover in a hundred years.

(A.W. Tozer, Keys to the Deeper Life, Zondervan, 1959, p 13, qu in Dave Hunt, Beyond Seduction, Harvest House, 1987, p 27.)

OK, now you can start yelling 'But. . . .'

'But that was America thirty years ago.'

I'm saying the situation is the same here and now.

'But it's not.'

Ah. Now we come to the nub. Is it, or not?

How sick is the Church?

I do not have space for more than a quick summary of the New Testament scriptures on the subject of the church's relationship to the surrounding culture, but, in brief, the idea is not of a subcultural ghetto of which the members are distinguished by doing many of the same things as outsiders, in a way which outsiders see as odd. Nor is it of a siege mentality. It is a position as light and salt, a group of people who collectively make society uncomfortable and curious by living by different standards, which even those outside the church recognise as better than their own.

It has always interested me, given the number of 'Go out and get them' sermons I have heard over the years, that none of the instructions of Paul, Peter, James or John to the first-century church is at all like them. The emphasis seems to be rather on being and living so that others will be astonished and react (either positively or negatively; this is not, in some ways, the issue) to this manifestation of the life of God in the world. Even the stories of 'going out and getting them' in the book of Acts (which are not necessarily a model; the early church did a number of things quite badly, which is partly why they needed so much divine guidance) are not about the propagation of a subculture but of an understanding and an allegiance. There is no doubt that they became a 'third race' - tertiem gens, a term adopted very early on and implied in Paul's phrase 'Jews, Greeks and the Church of God' in 1 Corinthians 10:32. But the very context in which this is said urges that nobody, Christian or non-Christian, should be led away from God by the actions of Christians, but rather led towards him, as Paul, following the example of Christ, tries to appeal to all so that they may be saved. This is the Church neither in conformity with the world nor in enmity towards those who are in the world, but having a dynamic distinction which can be admired rather than condemned by those who do not share it. Also, when the early church went out, they went out and made disciples - not converts.

A clarification here. The issue is not between evangelism or no evangelism. The issue is between proselytism (the recruiting of numbers) and evangelisation (a deep transformation of the church which spills over into the society around it, particularly as the unnecessary barriers between them are reduced, and paradoxically as the true distinctiveness, rather than oddness, of the Church increases).

Nor am I proposing an easier option. Consider this from one of the finest contemporary observers of Church and society, a man of deep insight and compassion:

But while millions of Americans, myself included, pray fervently for revival, we must ask ourselves whether we are asking God to save our society, ourselves, or our souls. Whether we actually know what God demands of us. Whether we really know what revival is. Far from being linked with prosperity or the righting of precarious economies, the great revivals in the history of the church have begun when people have had to submit totally, in ways that seem antithetical (by human and cultural standards) to everything they should have done to survive.A prime example is England at the time of the Second Great Wesley Awakening. Parliament's vote to support the crusading Christian Parliamentarian Wilberforce and put a stop to slave trade voted directly against their own economic interests as a nation.There are recent awakenings in nations such as Romania, Argentina and the Soviet Union that have come about under conditions of great human oppression. The key seems to be that only when individuals, whether by will or force, subordinate their own interests and desires for self-preservation, God can begin to move in a powerful way.
The message here for American Christians is put most powerfully in Alexander Solzhenitsyn's prophetic words written amid unspeakable human suffering in a Soviet prison: "The meaning of earthly existence is not, as we have grown used to thinking, in prosperity, but in the development of the soul" (Gulag Archipelago II).

(Charles Colson, Who Speaks for God?, Hodder, 1985, p 151.)

I'm afraid that when I look at God's Church, the representation of his glory on Earth, and see the false doctrine, the lack of thought, the immaturity and the dangerous wrong-headedness which prevail, the urge to go out and buy a 'Praise the Lord' fridge magnet with a happy face on it completely fails to sweep over me. The maturity and responsibility which the Pastoral Epistles and Hebrews, Colossians, Corinthians, Galatians and all of the Gospels call for is not leaping out at me from any direction whatever. And the courage to preach a sermon which cuts so much to the heart of matters that hundreds of people turn away and no longer follow you - like Jesus did in John 6 - is almost completely unknown.

I know that history is unpopular, but in this case, a little is important to give the background to what I believe is the problem.

The Church in New Zealand has never been politically powerful, and because of the advance of secularisation and the retreat of orthodoxy in the past two centuries has ceased to be an effective voice in the community at large. It is now generally regarded as something you do in private, like Rotary or stamp collecting, which shouldn't be allowed to have an impact on public or even professional life. Trevor de Cleene, former Minister of Revenue, in a newspaper article advocating active euthanasia remarked, 'In a television debate, it came down to those who believed in God and those who believed in their fellow men. Frankly, it is my personal view that if a medical practitioner lets his or her view of religion come into a professional judgement, then such a person should not be practising medicine in the first place.' ('Thou shalt die with dignity and mercy,' New Zealand Herald, 30 October 1992.) Note that he is allowing his negative view of religion to come into what because of his position is actually a professional judgement, though he calls it his 'personal view'; but this is, of course, quite different.

Such a view is not restricted to non-Christian politicians, either; the infamous American case of the Catholic Governor who declared that as a devout Catholic he opposed abortion, but as Governor it was his duty to promote it if such was the will of the people, springs immediately to mind. As Steve Taylor satirically remarked:

I'm devout, I'm sincere, and I can proudly say
It's had absolutely no influence on what I am today. . . .
I believe in the benefit for all mankind
Of the total separation of Church and mind.

(Steve Taylor, 'It's a Personal Thing', from On the Fritz.)

In response to such attitudes, the Church has dug in for a siege. There are two points about a siege. The first is that it means the enemy controls the land. The second is that, lacking an external source of fresh supplies, the besieged party is effectively doomed.

Recognising these points, some have tried sorties out into the enemy-controlled territory to bring back such supplies, or to attempt to 're-take' the land- such, in fact, has been the metaphor they have often used. They have failed, fundamentally, because they have not had anything other than enthusiasm and brute force as resources. They have not understood those who hold the ground, how they gained it, or with what strength and by what means they hold it. Or they have had a raiding mentality (again, I have heard exactly that term used: 'raiding Satan's kingdom') in which they sweep out daringly, grab what they can, and retreat back behind their stained-glass fortifications, where they continue to maintain the fiction that they are not ruled by those who are besieging them, who are setting their priorities, controlling their lives, and conditioning their understandings.

The interesting thing is, much of the early church was surrounded by similar social conditions to much of the Western church today. In Corinth, for instance, paganism, immorality, and every form of sin imaginable (including some which we probably would not find imaginable) abounded about the church. And the Corinthian church contained two types of people: Jews, with a long history of being separate from this culture though inevitably influenced by it, and Gentiles, who had recently been full participants in all its activities and who still, to a large extent, lived out of its assumptions.

This, I suggest, is much the situation of today's Church, composed of people who are at least second-generation Christians and have been brought up with a 'separate' mentality in the thought-forms and assumptions of the Church - though with a lot of secular influence - and people who have been converted from non-Christian backgrounds and who spent many years with the assumptions of the general culture.

What, then, were the problems of the Corinthians, and what solutions did Paul urge upon them? I think we will find in their situation much wisdom for ours.

The Corinthians' problem was that they were surrounded by, and had until recently been baptised (immersed so as to be identified, like a garment being dipped in dye) in a culture which was fundamentally greedy and self-centred- a rich, riotous, immoral culture with great personal freedom and little personal responsibility or sense of service to others. This was their biggest problem. But what were the problems they raised with their apostle?

'Is it all right for me to get married?'

'Can I eat meat that has been sacrificed to idols?'

'Can women speak in church?'

'Should I listen to rock music?'

Oops - that last one slipped in through a time warp. But Paul attempted to redirect their focus - to the living Christ, the Christ who lived in all of them as well as each of them, the Christ who had given as his commandment 'Love each other.' He didn't say 'You can get married as long as you get married in church,' and ignore the wider issues - are you being fair to your fiancee if you don't? Are you going to be sexually tempted and succumb? In short, are your relationships right and reflecting the relationship of Christ and the Church, Christ and the Father, Christ and each one of you? He didn't say, 'No, absolute rule, no meat sacrificed to idols, never, ever.' He said not to eat if it harmed others, but to eat if it brought others closer to knowing God - and left it to their judgement. His points on women have been widely discussed and I am not sure anyone understands them (I know I don't), but what it came down to was that the church meeting must reflect the character of God - ordered, fitting, appropriate, whatever that meant in the particular place and time. If he had had to pronounce on rock music, my guess is that he would not have said 'Pagan African music has rhythm, so rhythm is evil, so rock music is evil' - which is like 'Pornographic novels have structure and consist of words, so structure and words are evil, so Paul's letters are evil'. Nor would he have said 'You can listen to it as long as it's Christian rock music (and not too loud).' Paul was well aware of, and not averse to using, aspects of pagan culture which were not in conflict with the Gospel. I think he would have pointed to the power of music and asked if the music we were listening to was lending power to our old nature or our new nature. As an aside, don't think 'secular' music can't strengthen the new nature; there are some wonderful songs about commitment, and coping with disappointment, and paying the price, and just being human that are written and sung by non-Christians, and compare to the average Christian easy-listening tape as vindaloo to instant mashed potato, in spiritual terms - except that mashed potato is at least nourishing. I have in mind songs like Fleetwood Mac's 'Stand on the rock' (from Behind the Mask), which is about unconditional love:

My love is like a rock;

Nothing rolls it away from you . . .

- or 'Heart of Stone' (from The Chain: Selections from 25 Years) which is about repentance:

So now you say that you've been wrong,

And you want to come back home.

You know, I thought all along

That you had a heart of stone . . .

- either one of which could be sung at a Christian music festival without exciting any comment (except 'Hey, what great music!').

(End of irrelevant rave.)

The alternative of the heart is love - not the pale pastel greeting-card love and false camaraderie of the average church, but real passion with real pain. This is the first and greatest secret, and the others, frankly, are like it. They all focus on Christ and on interrelationship - with him and with his church. But for all of this to work, we must have alternatives of the mind also. Our actions result from our decisions, and our decisions result from our beliefs, about what is true, what is real, and what works. So let me propose an alternative to the prevailing thinking in the New Zealand church, in the hope that it might help give tools for clearing away the lush and useless weeds which many churches are growing, not among the wheat but instead of it.

Responsible Christianity

The essence of what I call responsible Christianity, as the name suggests, is that the believer takes appropriate responsibility for his or her own actions, rather than speaking and acting as if God and the devil are the only responsible agents in the universe.

The book Decision Making and the Will of God by Gary Friesen expresses a basic idea of responsible Christianity. Briefly, Friesen argues that, contrary to traditional understandings, God does not have a mysterious and detailed 'perfect will' for each believer's life which must be discovered through a complex process involving the advice of other believers, the indications of circumstances, and subjective 'impressions' from God in addition to the Scriptures. Instead, he regards the Scriptures as fully adequate to reveal all of God's will which the believer needs or is required to know (in accordance with 2 Timothy 3:16-17 and many doctrinal statements, though not all of the latter are put into practice in this area). Outside God's revealed moral will of what is eternally right and wrong, the believer is free (and responsible) in each individual situation to reach a decision based on a wise consideration of the factors, including the principles of love, the advice of wise counsellors, and the believer's own preferences.

Such a complex decision is acknowledged as being the believer's own responsibility, and is not passed off upon God, so the believer is free to alter the decision if other factors arise which seem to make this advisable, without the guilt, introspection and worry which would be involved if the original decision was thought to have been a divine command. Also, if the decision turns out to be a poor one, the believer takes responsibility for making a poor decision and attempts to learn from this and do better next time, rather than wasting time and energy in speculation as to whether they 'misheard' God, perhaps because of sin, or whether Satan was responsible for the failure, etc. Finally, believers in leadership positions who follow this 'wisdom' view of decision-making are not claiming false divine sanction, and are required to take personal responsibility for decisions which turn out badly.

Many Christians who reject Friesen's conclusions in detail (mainly because he has a tendency to represent God as uninvolved in our lives) adopt some form of the 'wisdom' view in practice. They realise that inner, subjective 'guidance' is not taught in Scripture, that it is not reliable, and that it can lead to bad decisions and emotional confusion, as in Petra's lyrics describing a Christian who is unsure of God's 'leading' and afraid of missing it:

It's not a matter of submission,

I'll go anywhere I'm led . . .

And now I'm at another crossroad,

And I don't know which way to go. . .

('Another Crossroad', from Back to the Street.)

Compare, incidentally, the secular wisdom of a song by Eric Clapton, which starts similarly but unlike the Christian song does not end in confusion:

Standing at a crossroads, trying to read the signs,

That tell me which way I should go to find the answer,

When all the time I know -

Plant your love and let it grow.

('Let it Grow' from The Cream of Clapton.)

A second area in which responsible Christianity is a significant change from the prevailing ideas of parts of the NZ church is its rejection of large-scale demonic influence as an explanation for many events. Such explanations are, firstly, untrue to the Scriptures in the excessive attention they pay to the demonic and the level of power they credit to it; secondly, alienating to secular people who perceive believers as frankly weird (not without some justification); and thirdly and perhaps most importantly, again a denial of personal responsibility for sin and error on the part of the believer. Rather than attempting to cast out a 'spirit of lust,' the responsible Christian accepts that he or she has a problem with the sin of lust and needs to act accordingly. Rather than explaining the fact that a colleague is justifiably upset by one's foolish actions as a 'satanic attack,' one accepts that one has behaved foolishly, seeks forgiveness and attempts to learn from the experience. (I have a real example in mind.)

Thirdly, responsible Christianity tends to lead to a skepticism of elaborate and fanciful schemes of the 'End Times' constructed on individualistic interpretations of frankly obscure Scriptures in the light of ambiguous current events. Having seen what loose, subjective, 'God-told-me' interpretations of the Bible can lead to in terms of disastrous decisions and bizarre doctrines, responsible Christians are very wary of the same thing as applied to eschatology. This does not, of course, imply a disbelief in the return of Christ, for instance; however, rather than seeking Antichrist in the morning newspaper and the Mark of the Beast at the supermarket checkout, responsible Christians who have given thought to eschatology pay primary attention to Jesus' instructions about how to live in the end times: as if the master may return at any moment and require an accounting for what has been concretely achieved with the resources he left them. This includes their intelligence and their status as morally responsible agents.

Finally, the 'despiritualised' approach to much of life tends to lead to a consideration of the role of prayer. Many Christians use prayer as a substitute for thought, a role which responsible Christians reject. (Consider the phrase 'Let me pray about it and I'll get back to you.') Prayer can also reflect the twin errors of attributing all harm to Satan and depending for all positive action on God, which means that the believer's responsibility is to 'just pray'. In effect, the Christian's only role becomes cheering God on against Satan, like a spectator at a boxing match. Responsible Christians acknowledge, in prayer, the provisions God has made for them to be effective as thinking moral agents in their own right, and also acknowledge their need for his grace in order to become more like him and to act in accordance with his character; but they are also aware that prayer alone will be no more effective than faith which is not demonstrated by works, and do not rely on prayer as the sole means of resolving complex human and circumstantial situations. The Scripture never says that if someone is upset by your behaviour you should 'just pray' about it; it says to go to them and do something. It never says that moral transformation is brought about by 'just praying,' but commends - in fact, commands - discipline, perseverance, and positive action to overcome sin. The fourth chapter of Ephesians does not say that 'he who has been stealing must just really pray about it,' but that 'he who has been stealing must steal no longer, but must work. . . in order to have something to share with those in need.' The solution given lies in substituting a right action for a wrong one (in prayerful reliance on God, who works in us both to will and to do according to his good pleasure).

This is the difference between mature and immature dependence on God. Mature dependence is relying on him to do things for us which his Word tells us we are incapable of doing, such as saving ourselves or transforming ourselves into his likeness. Immature dependence is relying on him to do things for us which he has already given us the resources to do ourselves: make decisions, find parking spaces, discover the meaning of a biblical text, get an income, sort out real-life difficulties with people and things.

One emphasis which has been neglected in New Zealand has been the conservative tradition of sound biblical interpretation. If responsible Christianity is not to be simply a loss of faith among disillusioned people, one of the greatest needs is for sound principles of biblical study and exposition to be widely taught and practised (which will also advance the spread of responsible Christianity). In addition, attention needs to be given to teaching the principles of thought, not only within the churches but also in the NZ community at large, so that the situation which has produced responsible Christianity as a reaction can be eroded away, and young Christians will not need to go through disillusionment in order to attain it. This is actually possible. I know a young Christian who gained remarkable maturity in a very short time through spending time with Christians who, at his age, were encountering desperate disillusionment with their naïve faith. He avoided this process, much to the relief of all concerned.

There is great potential for responsible Christianity, if it becomes widespread, to open up the NZ Church beyond its present subcultural ghetto mentality. At present, the stumbling block of the Cross (which is indispensable) is often not reached by unbelievers, because they are put off by the unnecessary stumbling blocks of Christian jargon and odd behaviour based on naïve assumptions. Many Christians remain immature, not only in their faith but also in their general behaviour, because they are encouraged to be dependent and non-responsible. Unscrupulous or misguided pastors and other leaders also exploit this immaturity and dependence, and do much harm.

Having said this, responsible Christianity is not the final word or the movement which will cure all the ills of the church. It has its dangers; it can become overly sceptical, deistic, barrenly rationalistic and bitter, partly because of its genesis in disillusionment with the current NZ Christian mindset. It has, however, potential to help many NZ Christians to a long-delayed maturity and to equip the Church to speak credibly to the general culture.

Responsible Spirituality

Along with responsible Christianity comes responsible spirituality.

Most of the church and most of the world seems to mean by 'spiritual' what I mean by 'spooky'; something other-worldly or supernatural or any of these other terms that are only meaningful in non-Hebrew, post-pagan cultures. The Bible doesn't know about any of this. What it means by 'spiritual' is that you love God, love your neighbour, act justly and mercifully and help widows and orphans in their distress. (James 1:27 is the specific verse alluded to, but the concept is throughout the Old and New Testaments.)

How do I, practically, relate to God day by day? The answer is by obedience to his revelation, by setting all that I do in the light of that revelation, and in relationship with his people.

I was talking with two friends some time ago about the failure of attempts at Christian community, something with which we all had experience, and one of the reasons we came up with for such failures was that Westerners are unable to consider themselves as fully belonging to any unit larger than two people. (In fact, given the current Western problems with marriage, it seems that Westerners are becoming unable to do even this much.) This is one part of a dual problem I see within the Church: People are living individualistically, while thinking (I use the term loosely) as a group. This is almost the opposite of what I believe the Scripture teaches. Part of the point of Romans 14 is that each individual is personally responsible for his or her beliefs, values and standards, and the actions which follow from these, but that they must be taken in the context of our relatedness to each other; while much of the point of the book of Ephesians is that the Church is an organic whole, comparable to an individual man or woman in its essential unity. Both of these points are being widely, almost universally, missed.

I believe that the idea of 'spirituality' as somehow having to do with mysticism, fasting, meditation, prayer, and/or a subjective 'relationship' with something fuzzy which is identified as 'God' is false, and derives more from Greek matter-spirit dualism than from anything found in Old or New Testaments. True, the Old Testament prophets were into some of this stuff; but I am arguing that this is not, and indeed was not, the norm for believers living in the real, everyday world. There, spirituality has much more to do with whether you are honest in your business, helpful to your neighbours, human to your family and don't slander people you dislike than with how long your quiet time is. The Puritans used to refer to things such as prayer, Bible reading and study, listening to the teaching of the Word, participating in worship, receiving the sacraments, and meditation as 'means of grace', and we do well to remember that they are means not ends. The point is not to do these things. The point is (partly at least through doing these things, but never entirely) to be transformed into the image of Christ.

Again, this transformation has much more to do with how you treat other people than whether you smoke (while alone), swear (while with people who won't be offended), wear particular styles of clothing (except when it is excessively provocative to the other sex), or do a number of other things which have been defined by traditional pietism as 'unrighteous'. Righteousness is having your relationships right; with God, but also with others. A friend of mine used to work with a man who made a considerable fuss when a product with the brand name 'Lucifer' was brought into the office, because it offended his Christian sensibilities. Yet he was well known in the office as a pilferer who would take any company property which happened to be lying around. This does not impress the average non-Christian in the slightest, and I can't say I'm much impressed either; but it differs only in degree rather than kind from the actions of hundreds or thousands of Christians every day.

Another, more trivial example: before displaying your piety by naming your son after one of the more obscure ancestors of King David, consider the way in which Ephesians instructs you clearly to display your piety: 'Fathers, do not exasperate your children.' (Eph 6:4.)

This is responsible spirituality.